New Beer Friday, A Walk in Florence Edition (November 8)

Steve at Pitti Palace

Preamble by Steve Siciliano

It was Sunday afternoon in Florence and Barb and I were dead tired. We had just left the Uffizi Gallery, and after the trudge up to the fourth floor and the five hours of working our way through the massive art museum we were running on empty.

The works by Botticelli, Michelangelo, da Vinci, Titian and Raphael roused our intellects and perked our senses, but the cumulative effects of two weeks of travel had taken a physical toll on our weary bodies. It was our last day in Italy.

Our plan after leaving the Uffizi was to find an outdoor café where we would sit for an hour or so, drink a few beers, and relax before an early supper. There was a flight to Frankfort the next morning and then a ten hour plane ride back to the states.

Santo Spirito

We walked on our leaden legs through Florence. Every seat in every outdoor café in every piazza, it seemed, was occupied by tourists and Florentines enjoying late lunches. We made our way through the Palazzo della Signoria, past its wonderful Neptune fountain and its magnificent Renaissance sculptures, over the jewelry-shop-lined Ponte Vecchio, past the massive stone walls of the Pitti Palace, where the Medicis once resided, and we kept walking until we found ourselves in the square in front of Santo Spirito, a church that has a wooden crucifix carved by a 17-year-old Michelangelo. We walked until we came to a little piazza where I spotted an empty park bench. “Sit down,” I said to my exhausted wife. “I’ll be right back.”

Inside a bar just off the piazza I bought two bottles of Pilsner Urquell. “Aprire?” asked the man behind the counter. Si, I wanted them open.

We drank the beer while sitting on the park bench in the piazza. We watched Italian men wearing scarfs reading the Sunday paper. We watched their wives standing in groups talking and their children chasing pigeons and eating gelato.

I have many delightful memories of our travels in Italy—from gazing in amazed wonder at the magnificence of St Peters, to looking out at rolling acres of vineyards and olive trees from the height of a Tuscan hill town, to drinking that rejuvenating Pilsner Urquell while sitting on a park bench in a piazza in Florence on a Sunday afternoon.

Here's to making your own delightful memories with a little help from Siciliano's and the newest beers to arrive on our shelves.

New and Returning Beer

• Shorts Evil Urges, $2.19/12oz (limit 2/person) - "Evil Urges is a Belgian dark strong ale with a deep dark brown color. A sharp aroma of chocolate and molasses hits the senses, reminiscent of a rich liqueur. Aided by additions of Belgian amber candy sugar, the initial flavors are sweet and malty, with some unique, dark fruit qualities. This full bodied beer is defined by its roast malt character and slight black coffee bitterness that lead into an intense warming finish" (source).
• Stone Double Bastard, $7.69/22oz - "This is a lacerative muther of a beer. The evil big brother of Arrogant Bastard Ale. It is strongly suggested you stay far, far away from this beer. Those foolish enough to venture close enough to taste will experience a punishingly unforgiving assault on the palate. ’Course there’s always the masochists" (source).
• He'brew Jewbelation Reborn, $13.79/22oz - "With a brand new 20,000 square feet brewery in Upstate New York, Shmaltz Brewing is rarin’ to go with this year’s limited-edition Anniversary releases, including Jewbelation Reborn® (17 malts, 17 hops, 17% alc)" (source).
• Southern Tier 2Xmas, $1.99/12oz - "Double spiced ale brewed in the tradition of Swedish Glögg" (source).
• Southern Tier  Old Man Winter, $1.69/12oz - "With the onset of winter, the brewer’s mind turns to providing warmth. For our winter seasonal, Southern Tier offers Old Man Winter Ale, a rich and complex amalgam of hops and barley that will put the feeling back in your toes and lift your spirits above the snow. Old Man Winter throws a deep and inviting hue with a thickness that clings to the glass and the warmth of an open flame. Because of its high alcohol content, Old Man Winter is a heady brew that encourages sipping and pondering its essential richness. Drink it fresh now, or cellar some bottles to see how this old man becomes wiser with age" (source).
• Boulder Beer Shake Chocolate Porter, $1.89/12oz - "Our twist on the traditional american porter, Shake chocolate porter is black in color with rich, dark chocolate aromatics and flavors and subtle coffee-like notes. This unique brew blends five different grains, including Chocolate Wheat, that along with cacao nibs create a devilishly delicious chocolate finish with a velvety mouth feel." (source).
• Atwater Winter Bock, $1.79/12oz - "This malty, sweet, dark amber colored German-style bock beer is brewed with imported malt and hops. Its uncommon smoothness and impeccable taste make it the perfect companion for a cold night" (source).
• Frankenmuth Christmas Town Ale, $1.69/12oz - "Brewed with American hops and sweet dark malts, the Christmas Town Ale offers a distinct taste that undeniably calls to mind the memories of Christmas past. The tree, the feast, the snow falling through the winter air and now Christmas Town Ale will all be a part of your holiday traditions" (source).
• Scaldis Peche Mel, $5.49/12oz - "A fruit beer with big taste and out of this world peach aroma. Pêche Mel’s Dubuisson signature yeast gives it a peppery kick and keeps it from being too sweet. A unique beer that pours a deep russet color and forms an absolutely gorgeous rocky head. Think of it as the moscato of the beer world" (source).
• D'achouffe Houblon Chouffe, $4.59/12oz - "A unique marriage between the English tradition of IPAs, the new American revolution of Imperial IPAs and the classic Belgian way of brewing. Houblon Chouffe, although very much hopped as it is, showcases the unique balance between a very strong IPA and a very special Belgian Tripel exclusively created for this ale (Big malty body, distinct dryness, expressive estery fruitiness). IBU: 59, Original Gravity: 1092" (source).
• D'achouffe N'ice Chouffe, $4.59/12oz - "A dark brown, fruity, lightly hoppy, sparkling, strong beer and is not pasteurized" (source).
• Dogfish Head American Beauty, $14.09/22oz (limit 1/person) - "More than 1,500 loyal fans of the brewery and band suggested an ingredient idea and the Dead-inspired story behind it. Our favorite was granola, from California Dead Head and craft beer lover Thomas Butler. “The components of granola – honey, toasted grains, oats and fruit – offer a lot from a beer perspective,” says Thomas, a chemist by day, homebrewer by night. “The idea is to have a bold pale ale that highlights the oats and honey with a nice ‘dank’ hop selection.” American Beauty is brewed with all-American malts and hops, granola and little bit of soul. It’s malty with a big hop kick, and notes of toasted almond and honey round out the flavor profile and balance out the hop bitterness" (source).

Picture of the Week

Big Bass Lake, Irons, Michigan
(A far cry from Italy, but not a bad place to spend the day)

Cheers!

The Boss Abroad: Six Days in Loro Ciuffenna, Tuscany

In the fall of 2013, Siciliano's Market owners Steve & Barb Siciliano spent two weeks in Italy. What follows is an account of one leg of that trip.

The streets of Loro Ciuffenna

By Steve Siciliano

Loro Ciuffenna is a small town tucked in the southern foothills of the Pratomagno, a range of medium-sized mountains located in the northeast region of Tuscany. The town was built up along the sides of a deep gorge and, if you’re brave enough, you can cautiously shuffle up to the waist-high railing of an ancient stone bridge just off the central piazza and gaze far down below at a tumbling mountain stream. Among the stone buildings that rise up along the steep cliffs is a water-powered mill dating from the 13th century, and just downstream from the mill is the small hotel called Casa Eugenia where Barb and I stayed during our six days in Tuscany.

Many Tuscan hill towns are surrounded by immense stone walls that were erected as protection from invasions during the middle ages. If you’re traveling in Tuscany by car, you park in lots outside those walls and walk up to the towns on steep, narrow, stone paved roads called vicolo (little streets). There are no walls surrounding Loro Ciuffenna—apparently it wasn’t strategic enough to be worth invading. But, as in most Tuscan towns, unless you live there or work there, you are not permitted to drive on the streets. After parking our rental car, Barb and I rolled our suitcases up and down the vicoli looking for Casa Eugenia.

The front door of Casa Eugenia

Because we were a bit frazzled after getting lost on our drive up from Chiusi, and because we had such a hard time communicating our predicament, we were euphoric that we were able to find the hotel so easily. That euphoria quickly dissipated after discovering that the only entrance to the hotel—a glass door—was locked. After a few minutes of knocking and peering into the dark lobby, Barb noticed a hand written sign—suonare il campanello—and after consulting our Italian/English dictionary we were able to deduce what the words meant—ring the buzzer. We kept ringing that buzzer for five minutes. Finally I left Barb with our luggage and walked back up the vicolo where I saw an old lady walking slowly behind two little white terriers.

“Buongiorno,” I said.

“Buongiorno,” she answered.

“Inglese?” I asked hopefully.

She stared at me. I pointed down the vicolo towards the hotel. “Casa Eugenia,” I said. “We’re staying there. The door is locked.” I made a gesture that I’d hoped would convey an attempt at opening a door.

“Eh?” the lady said.

“Casa Eugenia.” I said again, pointing. I put my palms together and laid my head on my hands. “We’re sleeping there,” I said, pointing again. “We can’t get in.”

She walked a little ways down the vicolo until she spotted Barb standing at the door with our luggage. “Ah,” she said, followed by a lengthy stream of (to me) unintelligible Italian.

She began walking and not knowing what else to do I followed. After a few minutes we were in Loro Ciuffenna’s piazza. She stopped abruptly and pointed towards one of those little cafes with a few outdoor tables that in Italy are called bars.

“Andare,” she said.

“Andare?”

“Si, si. Andare.”

Before the rain

I relunctantly left my new friend and walked into the bar. Two old men were standing at the counter drinking espressos and there was another old man standing behind the counter. All three eyed me suspiciously. “Inglese?” I asked the man behind the counter without much optimism.

“Yes, I speak English,” he replied in a British accent. I was so surprised to hear perfect English, let alone perfect English with a British accent, in a small hill town in Tuscany, and so relieved that I was actually able to explain my dilemma, that I had to restrain myself from hugging him. He happened to be the hotel owner’s father. He told me that his son Carlos was running errands and that his daughter-in-law Francesca was at the dentist. He made a phone call. “Carlos will be there in five minutes.” I found out later that Carlos’ Italian grandfather was stationed in England during World War II and that his father had been born there.

Carlos and Francesca turned out to be extremely charming hosts. They too spoke very good English, minus a British accent. Each morning they laid out wonderful breakfasts of sweets, fresh fruits, meats, cheeses, cold cereal, crusty Tuscan bread and huge, steaming cups of excellent coffee. They offered advice and printed out directions for our day trips in Tuscany. They gave us suggestions on where to eat, places to go and things to see.

After the rain

One morning after an all-night rain they convinced us that it would be too dangerous that day to drive. When Barb and I were walking through Loro Ciuffenna’s narrow streets after breakfast we saw that the tumbling stream had transformed into a roaring, deep-plunging, mist-generating torrent. We hiked up a high hill on the outskirts of town, up through neat vineyards and stands of olive trees to an ancient stone church. While we rested we gazed out at the mist-draped valley and watched bolts of lighting flashing in the distance. The next day we heard that some tourists had died in Chianti when their car veered off a rain-slick road.

On our last evening in Loro Ciuffenna we were sitting outside the bar in the piazza when the old lady walked up with her two little dogs. Communicating with fragments of Italian and a good deal of hand gestures, we learned that her name was Deena, that the names of her dogs were Romeo and Juliet, that her husband had recently died and that she was suffering from a lung ailment. She went into the bar and came out with a pack of cigarettes.

“Buonasera,” she said and smiled as she walked past us.

“Buonasera,” we answered.

Steve & Deena