Italian Odds and Ends, Primi Piatti

We’re coming to the end of our stay in Novi Ligure and, as dowdy as the town is, we’ve enjoyed being here. The people are friendly, the shopkeepers remember us, and Coco is a minor local celebrity. We saw two standard poodles in Venice but that’s been it for the breed so far. We’ve met lots of doodles and miniatures, for sure, but standards are rare and dog lovers really take to her.  We’ll miss being in Italy but the heat has set in and it’s time to find higher ground. We’ll definitely be back in 2024 to check out different areas of the country. Meanwhile, here’s a short wrap-up of some of the places we’ve visited on day trips. 

Gavi, Voltaggio, Parco Naturale delle Capanne di Marcarolo, Ovada. This was a nice loop drive that took us most of the day to complete. On the way into Gavi, we saw a giant fortress on the hill north of town: originally used to fend off the French invaders in the 17th-century, it was repurposed in WWII as a prisoner of war camp, specifically for prisoners who had escaped other camps. First, we parked in downtown Gavi and walked through the old town, a really beautiful medieval city, teeming with locals doing their morning shopping and workmen tearing up the streets for repairs (as expected in 2023 Italy). We had a quick caffé at the counter of a combination cafe-wine shop and I bought a bottle of organic Gavi wine, made at the local commune, for six euros. Up the road, we were getting hungry and found a picnic spot in Voltaggio, right on the Torrente (or River) Lemme, in a small park adjacent to a sulfurous spring. It was just noon so all 700 of the residents had closed up shop and headed for home for the extended lunch break, leaving the town to us. 

Back on the road, we started climbing into the Parco Naturale delle Capanne di Marcarolo, and were rewarded with stunning views of the northern end of the Apennines. At Sacrario della Benedicta, we stopped for a break and discovered a monument to the members of the monastery who were slaughtered in 1944 by German troops when a nearby villager accused the Brothers of being spies. It’s hard to imagine such brutality but the fact is that not much has changed. We took our next break in the city of Ovada, where the main square is dominated by the enormous, if plain, facade of Our Lady of the Assumption church. We took a peek inside, not expecting much from the drab exterior, and instead found one of the most impressive church interiors we’ve seen in Italy, especially considering the population is only twelve thousand souls. I imagine that, if I were a peasant in the 14th century, I’d be so impressed with that edifice that I’d do anything the priests told me to do. After another caffé in the square, we took a walk around the town but it was mostly a place to live, not visit. Apparently, they get a fair amount of snow in the winter thanks to their unique geography. Go figure. 

Later that afternoon, we decided to track down a winery in the nearby town of Tortona that the folks at Assetati in Alba had recommended. The winemaker, Claudio Mariotto, had almost-single-handedly revived the once-important Timorasso grape in the district and now made award winning wines that featured this unusual white varietal. We showed up to the farm on a Friday afternoon and soon realized that they didn’t have a formal tasting room or hours. Claudio’s wife and son, the latter home for the summer from viticulture classes in Tuscany, were kind enough to open a few bottles for us and tell us a little about their winery. The wines were complex and structured, unlike the easy-drinking Gavi whites (Timorasso had been the dominant grape in that region but was replaced with Cortese, which is much easier to grow). The wines were a bit pricey but we felt bad about showing up without an appointment and bought six bottles. I’d love to see how these age in “the cellar” but, given our current situation, I might not have that luxury. After Tortona, we took a spin through Viguzzolu, where Denise had read about Santa Maria, a small ancient Romanesque Church, but it was closed to the public. 

There’s not a lot to recommend the town of Busalla as you drive through on the highway: the town is obscured by the largest, most comically complex gas refinery I’ve ever seen, and I’ve driven through New Jersey! Denise, however, found us a scenic hike on Komoot that promised a beautiful lake as payoff so we set off early on a Sunday, full of hope that the refinery wouldn’t choose that day to explode. The trail took us up and out of town and we were soon walking along a path next to a river that took us through a series of private garden plots, many with chicken coops, that belonged to the houses high up on the hill above us. We ultimately had to turn back before the lake because the trail became progressively overgrown and I wasn’t going to push my luck with running into any vipers. 

We walked back through the streets of the small towns above Busalla and, looking at her map, Denise announced that the trail continued through a gate to a path leading us to the street below. I was too tired and hot to notice that we were walking into someone’s backyard but, as soon as the gate closed behind me, I had a feeling of doom. Denise continued down to the street, only to find that the gate there was locked, as was the one behind us. We were locked in with no way out. We called over to a family having lunch on their deck next door but they seemed more amused than worried and signaled for us to contact the people in the apartments of the complex in which we were trapped. After several minutes, while I considered the idea that we would be spending the rest of the day on a driveway between apartments in Busalla, Denise was finally able to find a resident who was willing to come down and open the gate for us. If no one had been home, we might still be stuck there, living off the focaccia we had bought pre-hike until that ran out and we started eyeing each other as food. Scary. 

Having warmed up with several small towns, we felt ready to tackle the large city of Turin, which the Italians call “Torino” for reasons unknown. Can’t they get the spelling of their own cities correct? We caught a train from Novi and were in beautiful downtown Turin about 75 minutes later. It’s a grand old city, with miles of covered arcades, making it possible to stroll much of the downtown without getting rained on — or, as was our case — overheated in the sun. It’s a brilliant design, conceived by a long-dead royal who didn’t want to get wet, and enjoyed by everyone. Stores use the extra space for displays and cafes and restaurants turn the wide, covered sidewalks into seating: score one for the King. While Denise was there to soak up some old-world glamor, I was more interested in the Auto Museum. As a boy, I was way into cars and the walls of my bedroom were covered with Ferraris, Lamborghinis, and Maseratis, torn from car magazines. 

First things first, though, and we made a beeline for the sandwich restaurant that Reilly had recommended from when he was in the city for his Bitcoin-financed, post-graduation tour of Europe last summer. Mollica is a popular street food destination in Turin and did not disappoint. Both Reilly and Finn are foodies, always seeking out the best places, especially when they’re affordable and family run, and we’re proud that we raised them to appreciate good food. The place didn’t disappoint, even though they only give you the choice of four or five ingredients — whatever is freshest that day — and, after finishing their sandwich, I didn’t even think about food until well after we returned home. After a quick cup of espresso at Orso Laboratorio, another Reilly rec, I hopped on a city bus for the museum while Denise headed for the Duomo.  The car museum was a lot of fun: they focused on Italian cars and industry naturally, but didn’t ignore the classics from other countries, like the Citroën DS, Chevrolet Corvette, or the Jaguar XKE. Turin was their Detroit, and nearly every Italian car or designer you’ve heard of came from there. 

After that, I met back up with Denise and we enjoyed a cold beverage under one of the arcades. If you’re wondering where Coco was, she spent the day with our Airbnb host, who had graciously offered to watch her after we failed to find an available dog sitter. All of our hosts have been swell but Jila is amazing. 

Let’s end Part One here and give you a chance to catch your breath. Secondo course coming up soon! Have some sherbet.