Wednesday, August 28, 2013

Why, you ask, am I ear-worming Glenn Miller?

Strung out along a relatively short stretch of less than 50 km of Italy’s stunning Tyrrhenian Sea coast highway, there are no fewer than 13 towns that collectively are known as the “pearls” of Amalfi.

If you enter the drive from the north, they flow in this order: Vietri sul Mare (the ceramic centre we visited in my previous post); Maiori; Minori; Atrani; Ravello; Amalfi; Conca dei Marini; Furore; Praiano; Positano; Cetara; Tramnti; and Scala. In addition to Vietri, as you’ll soon note, our tour saw stops in Ravello, Positano and, of course, Amalfi, where our hotel was located for this part of the trip.

Among the upcoming highlights on the Amalfi part of our trip is one of the best views ever – from the Terrace of Infinity in Ravello, and the surprising location – another massive basilica – where, in an unbelievably elaborate crypt, lie several bits of the patron saint of Scotland!

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In my trip diary's notes at this point, I have written, “Saturday, June 1… Happy Birthday to me! And in Amalfi, no less.”

Our hotels throughout the trip – and la Bussola was no different – all had in common some wonderful breakfasts. After fuelling up, we climbed aboard a small ferry for a trip to the Isle of Capri. (I’m really restraining myself here not to make a reference to “Spinal Tap”’s “Isle of Lucy”. You’re welcome.)

Leslie and I both agreed that the highlight of this part of the tour was the boat trip to and from the island. It was actually Leslie’s second try at getting to see the famed Blue Grotto but, as fate would have it, a windy day meant that some pretty brisk waves were pounding away at the entrance to the grotto and it was closed for the day. (There are, however, online videos shot at the attraction, including this one.) What they all show, frankly, are several reasons why we don’t really regret not having gotten in – a line-up of tourist-packed little doreys chugging in through the grotto’s minuscule opening one after the other like a long floating train and people – whether the hosts or the tourists is not made clear – who seem to feel the need to bellow “Volare” at the top of their lungs inside the echoing chamber.

Sadly, that same “over-touristing” (I just made that up) was also our experience when we landed on the Isle – with a sea of junky tourist shops at the sea level landing and, once up to the higher part, which we reached by funiculare, a sea of really high-end tourist shops fronted by names like Bulgari, Versace, Ferragamo, Fendi, Gucci, Prada and just about everyone who is anyone in the fashion world and possessed of a name ending in a vowel.

That said, the views from the island's heights are spectacular and we did take considerable pleasure in just wandering around some very narrow little streets framed by privacy walls and quite lovely, intimate little gardens. We also found a house where Chilean poet Pablo Neruda lived for a time – his unlikely friendship with an Italian mailman is the basis for a wonderful film called “Il Postino” (“The Postman”), a 1996 Best Picture Oscar nominee and well worth viewing. For God’s sake, do NOT confuse it with Kevin Costner’s execrable 1997 bomb, “The Postman”.

Hmmm… Wandered away from the trip diary there. Sorry.

Here are some shots to confirm the stunning scenery to and from Capri, as well as one from the heights at the upper end of its funiculare:

A typical scene along the coast between Amalfi and Capri includes a seriously fortified Martello style of tower down close to the water, aimed at discouraging pirates from landing, and countless hillside structures clinging to the cliff face at each of the “pearls”.

Positano from the water, the one stop on the Amalfi to Capri ferry run.

Approaching Capri. I tried to count how many shades of blue there are in this photo and gave up after 97.

From the lookout at the top of the funiculare. Imagine drifting out onto your patio and sipping a day-starting cappuccino with a view like this in front of you. Every morning.

PS1... It turns out that one of the most spectacular public restrooms you will encounter in Italy is the one right at the top of the Capri funiculare. Decorated in a tasteful, spotless combination of chrome, glass and ceramic tile, it is well worth the modest fee you have to pay to enter. (Leslie confirmed that the women’s side was every bit as much an oasis as I told her the men’s side was.) In fact, so impressed was our guide, Sharon, she said she was going to add it to the list of tour highlights and encourage all her future group tours aboard the Amalfi-to-Capri ferry to “hold it” until they reached the top end of the funiculare after docking in Capri. (I’m pretty sure she was kidding, but it was an amazing comfort station!)

PS2... Getting on the ferry is one thing, DIS-embarking is positively an adventure when the boat is pitching among the waves at dockside. It is accomplished by means of a drawbridge-like ramp that is lowered from the boat’s stern and rests on the pier with nothing to hold it in place but the ferry captain’s goodwill and about ten guys arrayed along its full length as we were bodily (and very competently!) passed along the ramp to time our last leaping step from its end onto the pier, hopefully at a moment when the underside of the ramp was actually resting on concrete.

This still photo doesn’t do full justice to the experience of trying to get off an alarmingly pitching “Positano Jet”, but it does show the set-up quite well. Everyone on the ramp is a company employee and passengers are passed from hand to hand from the back of the boat along the entire length of the ramp to the pier – much like the suitcase you can see in the hands of the two guys at the pier-end of the precariously rock-and-rolling footpath. Incidentally, what looks like a snowpile by the people's feet at the extreme right edge of this photo is the very start of an eruption of water as another wave breaks against the face of the pier. Three quarters of a second later, the splash is as tall as the people themselves!

Rather than return directly to Amalfi, we did our Flying Wallenda Brothers tightrope disembark routine at Positano where an afternoon limoncello tasting was on the agenda. The experience was classic Italian, but in terms of organization, the polar opposite of our earlier wine tasting at the Mustilli Winery.

For one thing, it was held in a jammed delicatessen where the product was freely offered in wave after wave of cup-filled trays. And the product wasn’t just the classic lemon liqueur; it also showcased two really incredible variations: Cremoncello, a creamy version (think Bailey’s Irish Cream vs. Irish Mist) and a startling taste-bud-eruptor called Meloncino, made with – you guessed it – a melon (cantaloupe) base rather than the lemon base used for the other two.

For another thing, the deli (whose shelves were boggling and would give Ontario’s liquor sales authorities fits – I saw a bottle of Talisker single malt scotch offered on a shelf immediately underneath a box of Rice Krispies) was in full operation during the full time of our tasting, which happened to be set up along the same counter where customers brought whatever they wished to buy to the cash, which was at one end of the counter.

Back-Roads of Britain had arranged – and paid for – platters of traditional Italian antipasto hors d’oeuvres for us along with the unlimited flow of the potent liqueurs, but the message didn’t quite get to a group of young, boisterous US Marines on leave and clearly in town for a good time judging by (a) the quantity of beer and wine they were running through the cash and (b) the quantity of lovely young women with whom they were sharing their shopping. Later, Leslie framed it perfectly when she said they “kind of filled the place”. Our poor guide, Sharon, was left to tackle head-on a group of party-minded American soldiers who were merrily helping themselves to the hors d’oeuvres and tasting cups as they made their way along the cash line.

Which apparently she did very effectively, because to the credit of the US military, these guys – to a man – were (apparently) mortified when it was pointed out just whose food and “free” liqueur samples it was to which they were helping themselves; and as soon as Sharon pointed it out, they pretty much tripped over themselves to apologize to her and anyone in the tour group they saw. They also immediately collected a pretty generous handful of US cash among themselves and tried to push it into Sharon’s hands by way of reimbursing Back-Roads. Sharon, however, refused the cash and said the apologies were more than enough and thus was US – UK détente preserved to fight together another day. (Syria, if current headlines are anything to go by, but I digress.)

Limoncello is a deceptive liqueur. Weighing in at a hefty 30 – 35 percent ABV (Alcohol By Volume), more than twice a typical bottle of wine or about four times the potency of a strong ale, its strength is masked by a wonderful lemon sweetness that makes it seem more like a liquid dessert than a liqueur.

This online description is a tad over-the-top… oh hell, no it isn’t. The writer nails it: “Limoncello is a lemon liqueur. And it's delicious. But it's not a quiet, contemplative drink to savor on a solitary evening at home. Limoncello's flavor is big and bold and bright -- as brash and provocative as a scantily clad Elizabeth Hurley bursting from a pool. It's like swallowing tart sunshine; it carries with it the flavors of the fresh outdoors and the Southern Italian lemons known worldwide for their potency. It's a taste that demands to be shared with someone special, particularly since its simultaneous sweet-and-sour flavors will leave your kisser puckered up.” (From a website called Bar None Drinks – barnonedrinks.com)

Rossi D’Asiago is the brand you’ll find most typically in Ontario’s liquor stores (where, sadly, Rice Krispies are nowhere in sight), but occasionally one or more alternates will show up. So far, Leslie and I both will enthusiastically vouch for any of them as fine examples of the product. Oh, and it's best when served ice cold. Some people even keep both it and the intended serving glasses in their freezers.

For day’s end, Leslie had reserved a table for two at what is not merely Amalfi’s best restaurant, it might well be one of the best restaurants in all of southern Italy – la Caravella. The dinner was just a delight and merits this recitation (just in case you’re ever in the neighbourhood): Appetizers were a shredded fish with butter and fennel sauce sandwiched between crisped lemon tree leaves (me) and a toasted potato mash with anchovies (Leslie). For the main, we both had sea bass in a (surprise!) sauce made from Amalfi lemons with a rich creamy potato mash on the side. I’ve said it before, but it’s worth repeating. In a restaurant on the seaside – any seaside – you’re almost always going to find that their kitchen does fish well; because they won’t be in business long if they don’t. And in a really nice restaurant, they do it incredibly well! (It’s the same principle that assures you of an inevitably excellent wine when you order the “vin maison” in a restaurant located in the middle of a wine-producing region.)

Later, we both tried – and failed – to recall when we’ve enjoyed a dessert more. We shared a house specialty – profiteroles filled with the lushest cream filling ever and topped with a drizzle of (surprise!) Amalfi lemon curd.

And being in Campania, we scored an especially tasty locally produced wine – yet another Falanghina. (Hey, don’t mess with success!)

Fortunately, la Caravella was a scant five-minute walk from our hotel – because with the accumulated effects of the evening’s wine and the afternoon’s limoncello, I’m not sure we could have managed much more. (So Les… what are we going to do for my next birthday?)

Here’s their website – and check out the history tab to see (near the bottom of the brief summary of their 50-plus years in business) just who else has been served in their dining room. Talk about some amazing company to be counted among.

Oh, to return to the question I asked in this post's title, here's a brief interlude for the Miller fans in the room to conclude this update.

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