VILLA VIGNAMAGGIO
CHIANTI, TUSCANY
It's before six in the morning and I’m awakened by the unfamiliar sound
of a rooster crowing. Since this is our second morning at Villa
Vignamaggio, an agriturismi located in the Chianti Classico region of
Tuscany, I know the futility of trying to go back to sleep. Soon, a
symphony of roosters from farms all across the valley join together in
their morning wake-up call.
I stumble out of bed and throw open the shuttered windows, breathing
in the sweet fragrance of wisteria drifting up from the vine-covered
stone terrace beneath the window. As the sun rises over the cypress-
lined hillside, shafts of translucent light illuminate the mist rising off
perfectly aligned vineyards and groves of hazy silver olive trees.
This is Chianti, Tuscany.
A region of Tuscany nestled midway between Florence and Siena
whose name immediately brings to mind a cheap bottle of wine
encased in a straw flask. Such a shame- because it’s so much more.
My family and I discovered Chianti to be many things-Italian
grandmothers, porchetta stands, blue iris-covered hillsides and simple
food served only when in season. But most of all we’ll remember
Chianti for its golden Tuscan light; it’s rays warming the soil of
centuries old olive trees and the hearts of the region’s vivacious and
welcoming people.
VILLA VIGNAMAGGIO
We spent five nights at Villa Vignamaggio, a 15th century Renaissance
villa known primarily as the birthplace of Lisa Gherardini, the young
woman who sat for Leonardo da Vinci’s Mona Lisa. The lush,
manicured gardens are its most recent claim to fame; they were
chosen as the film location for Kenneth Branagh’s film, “Much Ado
About Nothing,” starring Emma Thompson.
In the evenings, after driving up the serpentine one-lane road, the first
glimpse of the pale pink villa glowing in the twilight was a welcome
sight. After a day of touring hot and dusty hill towns we looked forward
to a glass of Chianti and a stroll along the stone pathways rambling
through the estate’s extensive rose gardens.
Vignamaggio’s location, high atop a vine-covered hillside two miles
south of Greve, was an ideal base for touring the Chianti region. We
could even see the church steeples of Panzano, a tiny village famous
for its hand embroidery, from the villa’s pool.
We drove up the curvy SS222 Chiantigiana to investigate and
discovered Antica Maceleria Cecchini, a 250-year-old nationally
renowned butcher shop. Famous for its artisan meats, Cecchini’s is
not your typical meat store. Classical music played as customers sat
patiently at the counter, drinking wine and nibbling samples of salami
while waiting their turn. After one peek at the magnificent selection of
meats, I understood why residents of Florence pack coolers and make
the four-hour round trip to purchase the shop’s specialty meat and
prosciutto. The owner, Dario Cecchini, guarantees his meat tastes its
very best by also handing out recipes and food preparation tips with
each order.
Across the street, strands of beads hid the doorway of a grocery store
offering warm, homemade apple cake and fresh pecorino cheese. I
raved about the cake until the young proprietor’s wife shyly admitted
she rushed home every day during her lunch break to bake the cake
and other pastries for her regular afternoon customers.
After accidentally stumbling upon Panzano’s specialties, we wondered
what else we might be missing by following the normal tourist route.
We decided to wander down dirt roads and back alleys in search of
interesting people and places not mentioned in the guidebooks.
The effort paid off.
On the road to Lamole, we met a winery owner who told of sneaking
out of the house with his brother in 1944 to watch the fighting over
Castellina in Chianti during World War II.
“During the war, my brother and I used to sneak out and climb to the
top of that hill to watch the fighting,” he said, pointing to a cypress lined
hillside across the valley. “I was only five years old but I remember it
like it was yesterday,” he continued. “But after bombs killed several of
the local citizens in Castellina our Mama threatened to whip us good if
she ever caught us sneaking out again.”
My husband, David and I listened in awe to the man’s story, finding it
difficult to picture the peaceful blue iris-covered Chianti hillsides as the
scene of a bloody battle. The German bombs destroyed the Florentine
city gate and the now rebuilt church of S. Salvatore but fortunately many
of the medieval walls remained unharmed.
Our most memorable meal of the trip came unexpectedly in the scenic
town of Radda.
“Are you sure this is a restaurant?” I asked, as my husband ushered
me off the cobblestone streets and into a dark lobby no bigger than a
closet.
“I’m sure,” he answered, waving me up a steep set of stairs leading to
a closed wooden door. To my surprise, the door opened into a
spacious dining room lined with long wooden tables filled with
workmen. A heavy-set woman hurried over to seat us at the only
available table. Before we could ask, she stated, “No menu. Pasta?”
and pointed to a heaping platter of pasta on the customer’s table
behind us.
“Si. Pasta’s good,” we answered, relieved to have the communication
problem solved so easily.
Our waitress rushed through a swinging door to the kitchen, where we
could see an elderly woman furiously kneading dough for the pasta.
The two women, sisters we later learned, argued loudly as they worked
like mad; running back and forth from the kitchen to the dining room to
place steaming bowls of food in front of the men.
Unlike the noisy atmosphere of most American restaurants, the room
was quiet, almost reverent as the men enjoyed their lunch.
Occasionally, I caught them peeking at us curiously, probably
wondering what an American couple with a child was doing eating in
“their” trattoria instead of the tourist packed restaurant around the
corner.
We finished our pappardelle pasta, a difficult task considering the size
of the portions, and then realized with dismay the pasta was only an
appetizer when our waitress delivered more food. This time the bowls
held mounds of tender marinated beef and garlic mashed potatoes.
When our bill arrived, my husband insisted there must be a mistake.
The cost of the outstanding price fixe meal for three people, including a
bottle of wine and a quart of milk totaled only $15.
GREVE
On Saturday, we visited the open-air market in Greve, where merchants
selling a little bit of everything set up booths to offer their wares. The
choices ranged from hand-embroidered tablecloths to live rabbits and
yellow baby ducks nestled in milk crates.
Before noon, a large crowd began to line up at the market’s biggest
attraction-Falorni’s porchetta stand. The cart resembled a hot dog
stand you might see at a high-school football game with one exception-
an entire roasted pig, including the head, was proudly displayed on a
spit. I hesitated only for a moment before jumping into line.
Ten minutes later, I was still in the exact spot while several people had
already been served. Finally, after being physically shoved aside by
more than one smiling but determined Italian grandmother, I realized
queue lines are non-existent in Italy. If you want to be served, you push
your way in. Doing just that, I made my way to the front of the line. The
cook looked at me with new respect and even generously offered me a
few slices of the pig’s liver- a delicacy I politely declined. After only one
bite of the succulent pork sandwiches my family declared the long wait
worthwhile.
On our last evening, we walked to the central Piazza Matteotti in Greve
to watch the nightly passeggiata of the local residents. Elderly women
strolled through the streets, their arms linked unselfconsciously;
catching up on the town’s gossip and giggling like young schoolgirls.
Gray-haired men huddled in tight groups around shop doorways while
children kicked soccer balls across the wide plaza. Frequently, bursts
of joyful laughter rang out.
I watched quietly as the setting Tuscan sun bathed the scene in golden
light, finally recognizing the true Chianti as an exuberant celebration of
life.
GETTING THERE:
You can fly into Milan or Rome, then drive or take a train to Chianti. The
travel time is approximately five ½ hours from each direction. If you fly
into Florence, drive time is one ½ hours.
LODGING:
Villa Vignamaggio, Via Petriolo, Greve, Italy; 011 39 055 854661.
$175-$300 per night.
DINING:
IL Girarrosto, Via Roma 41, Radda in Chianti 53017, Italy. 011 39 0577
738010
For more information: Italian Government Tourist Board, 12400
Wilshire Boulevard, Suite 550, Los Angeles, California 90025, (310)
820-0098
CHIANTI, TUSCANY
It's before six in the morning and I’m awakened by the unfamiliar sound
of a rooster crowing. Since this is our second morning at Villa
Vignamaggio, an agriturismi located in the Chianti Classico region of
Tuscany, I know the futility of trying to go back to sleep. Soon, a
symphony of roosters from farms all across the valley join together in
their morning wake-up call.
I stumble out of bed and throw open the shuttered windows, breathing
in the sweet fragrance of wisteria drifting up from the vine-covered
stone terrace beneath the window. As the sun rises over the cypress-
lined hillside, shafts of translucent light illuminate the mist rising off
perfectly aligned vineyards and groves of hazy silver olive trees.
This is Chianti, Tuscany.
A region of Tuscany nestled midway between Florence and Siena
whose name immediately brings to mind a cheap bottle of wine
encased in a straw flask. Such a shame- because it’s so much more.
My family and I discovered Chianti to be many things-Italian
grandmothers, porchetta stands, blue iris-covered hillsides and simple
food served only when in season. But most of all we’ll remember
Chianti for its golden Tuscan light; it’s rays warming the soil of
centuries old olive trees and the hearts of the region’s vivacious and
welcoming people.
VILLA VIGNAMAGGIO
We spent five nights at Villa Vignamaggio, a 15th century Renaissance
villa known primarily as the birthplace of Lisa Gherardini, the young
woman who sat for Leonardo da Vinci’s Mona Lisa. The lush,
manicured gardens are its most recent claim to fame; they were
chosen as the film location for Kenneth Branagh’s film, “Much Ado
About Nothing,” starring Emma Thompson.
In the evenings, after driving up the serpentine one-lane road, the first
glimpse of the pale pink villa glowing in the twilight was a welcome
sight. After a day of touring hot and dusty hill towns we looked forward
to a glass of Chianti and a stroll along the stone pathways rambling
through the estate’s extensive rose gardens.
Vignamaggio’s location, high atop a vine-covered hillside two miles
south of Greve, was an ideal base for touring the Chianti region. We
could even see the church steeples of Panzano, a tiny village famous
for its hand embroidery, from the villa’s pool.
We drove up the curvy SS222 Chiantigiana to investigate and
discovered Antica Maceleria Cecchini, a 250-year-old nationally
renowned butcher shop. Famous for its artisan meats, Cecchini’s is
not your typical meat store. Classical music played as customers sat
patiently at the counter, drinking wine and nibbling samples of salami
while waiting their turn. After one peek at the magnificent selection of
meats, I understood why residents of Florence pack coolers and make
the four-hour round trip to purchase the shop’s specialty meat and
prosciutto. The owner, Dario Cecchini, guarantees his meat tastes its
very best by also handing out recipes and food preparation tips with
each order.
Across the street, strands of beads hid the doorway of a grocery store
offering warm, homemade apple cake and fresh pecorino cheese. I
raved about the cake until the young proprietor’s wife shyly admitted
she rushed home every day during her lunch break to bake the cake
and other pastries for her regular afternoon customers.
After accidentally stumbling upon Panzano’s specialties, we wondered
what else we might be missing by following the normal tourist route.
We decided to wander down dirt roads and back alleys in search of
interesting people and places not mentioned in the guidebooks.
The effort paid off.
On the road to Lamole, we met a winery owner who told of sneaking
out of the house with his brother in 1944 to watch the fighting over
Castellina in Chianti during World War II.
“During the war, my brother and I used to sneak out and climb to the
top of that hill to watch the fighting,” he said, pointing to a cypress lined
hillside across the valley. “I was only five years old but I remember it
like it was yesterday,” he continued. “But after bombs killed several of
the local citizens in Castellina our Mama threatened to whip us good if
she ever caught us sneaking out again.”
My husband, David and I listened in awe to the man’s story, finding it
difficult to picture the peaceful blue iris-covered Chianti hillsides as the
scene of a bloody battle. The German bombs destroyed the Florentine
city gate and the now rebuilt church of S. Salvatore but fortunately many
of the medieval walls remained unharmed.
Our most memorable meal of the trip came unexpectedly in the scenic
town of Radda.
“Are you sure this is a restaurant?” I asked, as my husband ushered
me off the cobblestone streets and into a dark lobby no bigger than a
closet.
“I’m sure,” he answered, waving me up a steep set of stairs leading to
a closed wooden door. To my surprise, the door opened into a
spacious dining room lined with long wooden tables filled with
workmen. A heavy-set woman hurried over to seat us at the only
available table. Before we could ask, she stated, “No menu. Pasta?”
and pointed to a heaping platter of pasta on the customer’s table
behind us.
“Si. Pasta’s good,” we answered, relieved to have the communication
problem solved so easily.
Our waitress rushed through a swinging door to the kitchen, where we
could see an elderly woman furiously kneading dough for the pasta.
The two women, sisters we later learned, argued loudly as they worked
like mad; running back and forth from the kitchen to the dining room to
place steaming bowls of food in front of the men.
Unlike the noisy atmosphere of most American restaurants, the room
was quiet, almost reverent as the men enjoyed their lunch.
Occasionally, I caught them peeking at us curiously, probably
wondering what an American couple with a child was doing eating in
“their” trattoria instead of the tourist packed restaurant around the
corner.
We finished our pappardelle pasta, a difficult task considering the size
of the portions, and then realized with dismay the pasta was only an
appetizer when our waitress delivered more food. This time the bowls
held mounds of tender marinated beef and garlic mashed potatoes.
When our bill arrived, my husband insisted there must be a mistake.
The cost of the outstanding price fixe meal for three people, including a
bottle of wine and a quart of milk totaled only $15.
GREVE
On Saturday, we visited the open-air market in Greve, where merchants
selling a little bit of everything set up booths to offer their wares. The
choices ranged from hand-embroidered tablecloths to live rabbits and
yellow baby ducks nestled in milk crates.
Before noon, a large crowd began to line up at the market’s biggest
attraction-Falorni’s porchetta stand. The cart resembled a hot dog
stand you might see at a high-school football game with one exception-
an entire roasted pig, including the head, was proudly displayed on a
spit. I hesitated only for a moment before jumping into line.
Ten minutes later, I was still in the exact spot while several people had
already been served. Finally, after being physically shoved aside by
more than one smiling but determined Italian grandmother, I realized
queue lines are non-existent in Italy. If you want to be served, you push
your way in. Doing just that, I made my way to the front of the line. The
cook looked at me with new respect and even generously offered me a
few slices of the pig’s liver- a delicacy I politely declined. After only one
bite of the succulent pork sandwiches my family declared the long wait
worthwhile.
On our last evening, we walked to the central Piazza Matteotti in Greve
to watch the nightly passeggiata of the local residents. Elderly women
strolled through the streets, their arms linked unselfconsciously;
catching up on the town’s gossip and giggling like young schoolgirls.
Gray-haired men huddled in tight groups around shop doorways while
children kicked soccer balls across the wide plaza. Frequently, bursts
of joyful laughter rang out.
I watched quietly as the setting Tuscan sun bathed the scene in golden
light, finally recognizing the true Chianti as an exuberant celebration of
life.
GETTING THERE:
You can fly into Milan or Rome, then drive or take a train to Chianti. The
travel time is approximately five ½ hours from each direction. If you fly
into Florence, drive time is one ½ hours.
LODGING:
Villa Vignamaggio, Via Petriolo, Greve, Italy; 011 39 055 854661.
$175-$300 per night.
DINING:
IL Girarrosto, Via Roma 41, Radda in Chianti 53017, Italy. 011 39 0577
738010
For more information: Italian Government Tourist Board, 12400
Wilshire Boulevard, Suite 550, Los Angeles, California 90025, (310)
820-0098
FAMILY TRAVEL FUN.COM
VILLA VIGNAMAGGIO
VILLA VIGNAMAGGIO
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