Grappa in the morning

The first step out of our hotel in Trento early in the morning was somewhat sobering, despite the shining sun: everyone in the small old town was wearing a mask, even though there were no crowds in sight. Very unreal, almost like in a science fiction movie. This concentrated irrationality led to a tiny outburst of anger on my part, which Roby promptly fought by stuffing me into the car and driving me to Pilzer. Nothing beats a good dozen tastings of strong spirits in the morning to bring peace of mind. To prevent any further choleric attacks, we did some shopping: clear grappa from Teroldego and Traminer, barrel-aged grappa (one aged for 5 years in an oak barrel, and the other in a whisky barrel, which is absolutely sensational), as well as two different types of gin should last a while - and they are all great, just like the surrounding landscape.

We spent the lunchtime in Rovereto, a cozy provincial town with comparatively few mask wearers, surrounded by mountains - a bit like Innsbruck, but less threatening. There, we always observe a minute of silence for Franco Bonisolli, who was a son of the town (he worked as a ski instructor in his youth). He was Roby's youth tenor god - not so much mine, but decades of indoctrination have also convinced me of his qualities.

Our attempts to taste Trentino's sparkling wine were partially thwarted by Corona: at Letrari, we were allowed to buy but not taste, as we would have to disinfect everything beforehand, we were told. This was not necessary at the neighbors' at Cantina d'Isera (just over a mile away). So, Trentodoc and Marzemino (which Don Giovanni sang should be excellent, but which is usually not the case anymore) ended up in the trunk here.

Dinner in the mountains, very rustic with dumplings and a beef soup that reminded me of the liver dumpling soup of my childhood (here it was made with spleen), but nothing really great.

Tomorrow our actual program starts with the first Baschenis church.