The Drive to Villa Vignamaggio

Sitting in the car, ready to begin our trip to Villa Vignamaggio and the hill of Chianti, the first thing Michael tells me is, “I don’t want to go on the Autostrada.”   

I can’t help but sigh, even though this is our basic MO. It is always the journey, not only the destination; however, this particular journey may be a bit harrowing. I am used to maps, roads, and signs with numbers. Names fill the highways and byways of Italy, some of them located on buildings, difficult to find.

The GPS is my friend and saves our marriage. Following MapQuest would have led to divorce court since the only directions MapQuest gives are roads with numbers. A friend told me to watch for the blue and white arrow signs with names of towns. I hold my breath as we get in the car, leaving the safety net of Lucca behind. I remind Michael that everyone tells us it is fun to drive in Italy.

After missteps, backtracking, and unplanned detours placed before us by well-intentioned city workers, where every road we take is blocked, we finally wind our way into Chianti, through Greve. We find Villa Vignamaggio — the birthplace of the infamous Mona Lisa — and check into the Mimosa Suite. The room is old-world lovely. However, the wine tour with lunch I had hoped to take today is postponed until tomorrow, and it is well past lunchtime.

Lunch in Greve

I can tell getting in the car once again is not what Michael has planned, but I am all set for an adventure, and cajole him into thinking he is too. We stop at the very first place we see that indicates it is a trattoria — a universal sign of food — a fork and spoon. The restaurant is empty, except for us. Ordinarily, I would think this is not a good sign.

I order what I can’t get at restaurants at home — cinghiale. Michael has finally found a steak in Italy that he likes. Generously sharing his bounty, he lets me have a bite. The steak is thinly sliced, well-seasoned, tender, dressed with olive oil and thin shavings of Pecorino Romano, sitting on a bed of fresh arugula. He is a happy man.

“Where do you want to go?” he asks once we are back in the car.

“Follow your nose,” is my reply.

Lost in Chianti

Our drive is a serendipitous delight. The hills are ablaze in color. A week later and the vines would be without leaves — a week earlier and they would still be wearing shades of summer. The curving path — with turns based on our whims — offers gifts; a forest of amphoras; undulating terraced hills; silvered orchards of olives; ancient towns kissed with sun and shadows. White clouds are vast, painting wind rippled shapes across the skies.

Clicking off pictures everywhere, we check through the digital images. Sadly, we note that a camera’s eye cannot capture the charm or the expansive beauty of this world.

Regretfully the angle of the sun tells us it is time to point our GPS in the direction of Villa Vignamaggio — The villa is a few km outside Greve, up a curling mountain road on the way to Lamole—which is in the middle of Tuscan nowhere. We do not want to be caught in the dark, inching our way to parts unknown. 

Villa Vignamaggio

We stop at the enoteca on the Villa Vignamaggio estate and purchase a bottle of wine — Obsession, a Super Tuscan — and ask for a tray of bread and cheese to take with us to our room.

In the morning, leaving the villa I take note of the three additional cars in the guest parking lot, thinking we will have company for breakfast. Under cloudless skies, we walk down to the farmhouse where our repast awaits. I place my purse in a chair and head for the table that appears to be set for a buffet, but find it is a table set for two — ours alone. It holds an array of rolls, cakes, croissants, jams, honey, two warm hard-boiled eggs, thinly sliced ham, yogurt, cheese, muesli, and juice. There is enough food for six.

When breakfast is nothing more than a sweet memory, we take the opportunity to discover parts of the estate open only to resident guests. We stroll through the formal gardens which have enticed exploration ever since we saw them from our bedroom window. Enchantment surrounds us as we wind our way down to a large pool overlooking the valley and the hills beyond. The sun is so bright it blinds.

A Morning Drive

We pile back in the car, taking advantage of the three hours till our wine tour begins, following the mountain road above us till it crests on the top of a ridge and leads to a small hill town directly across the valley from Villa Vignamaggio; it is a town with only three roads, yet we can’t seem to find our way out. The GPS thinks we are in a field.

The Tour

Our wine tour of Villa Vignamaggio is a private one, not intentional — serendipitous.

The wine caves are beneath the villa and we are educated on the ways of Tuscan wines. Instead of a cork, each barrel contains a delicate glass sculpture as a stopper. Invented by Leonardo DaVinci, it helps the winemaker keep track of his liquid gold, ensuring no air gets in the cask, turning the wine into vinegar.

The tour ends under a shaded canopy overlooking the vineyards with a table set for two. Our guide tells us we will be sampling three wines, from three different fields, all from 2008. We will also sample nuovo olio di oliva, pressed only yesterday.

A Private Food and Wine Pairing Lunch at Villa Vignamaggio

First Course or Primo

Sangiovese accompanies the first course. Small chunks of meat braised in white wine combined with finely chopped sautéed zucchini, all tucked into a flaky phyllo pastry shell. The delicate package sits in a pool of white scamorza cheese sauce while the pale golden nuovo olio di oliva glistens on the pure white plate. It is delicious and I ask our guide what type of meat I am eating and how it is prepared. Afraid that as Americans we will be horrified, he whispers the word rabbit.

Second Course or Secondo

Our second course and second wine are equally as good. If you asked me my preference I would not choose. This pool of sauce is fresh tomato puree holding a timbale of eggplant lasagna — the noodles handmade. The taste, ethereal.

Lunch is exquisite — the wine enhances. “We always eat food when we drink wine,” our guide tells me, “That is why Italians do not get drunk.”

Side Dish or Contorno

When I think I can eat no more we are presented with a course of beef braised in Chianti wine with a touch of honey and an unctuous side of cream-laden sliced potatoes. The wine is the same we drank last night, Obsession, only a different year. Everything is perfectly seasoned and delicious. I am ready to move in permanently – char maid, cooks’ helper, lady of the manor, you name it, I’ll gratefully accept.

Dessert or Dolce

Their precious Vin Santo is poured into small port-sized glasses and is accompanied by a wedge of dark chocolate flourless cake, served with a touch of thick orange sauce. We eat it all, including the orange and tiny fregola which decorate the plate. This dining experience ranks with the best — if not the absolute best — I have had in Italy, or perhaps, anywhere.

The Vin Santo is exquisite, and I have to buy a bottle, along with a bottle of freshly pressed olive oil and one of the Castello di Mona Lisa Chianti Classico Riserva.

Goodbye Chianti

Tearing ourselves away from the villa, the sun, the vines, the olives, and the rolling hills, I am grateful for the serendipity of the last thirty-six hours, and the fact that the cold, clouds, and shuttered doors of Lucca chased us south for a time, and that the magic of Villa Vignamaggio called our name.

To learn more about Villa Vignamaggio, click on the following link: https://vignamaggio.com/accommodation