Pigging Out

Back in October, we openly mocked our friend, Molly, for suggesting that we go to a Truffle and Sacred Chestnut festival.  Then it turned out to be one of the most fun days in Italy.  Since that time, when someone says "There's a random festival for [insert food item here] going on this weekend, do you want to go?"  The answer is unequivically 'yes.'  This past weekend it was 'cinghiale' or wild boar.  We met up with 11 of our closest friends and hopped into various cars, driving northward to the tiny town of Dugenta. 

About an hour later we arrived.  And it was decidedly not open.  A few humorous photo shoots later and we had an open bottle of prosecco, some plastic cups, a blanket and 3 iPhones coming up with a new plan.  The reason I love our friends here is this: killing time normally takes the form of wine tasting.  With an iPhone in one hand, a glass plastic cup in the other, our good friend, Gillian, was quickly chatting with a winery and setting up a tour.  So up we drove, through vineyards and cute little towns as I squealed about my deep love of roadside produce (which I will still note, we did not procure.  Totally a missed opportunity.  Drat!  Those peaches!  They would have been lovely for the ride back.  Drat!). 



The little vineyard was adorable.  For about 20 minutes, we wandered around on a tour of the vineyard in Italian.  Now, I'm not fluent in Italian.  I won't pretend to be.  I know enough to figure out that when someone points to a huge cask and says something about it that they are probably talking about fermentation.  Then they point to bottles and say something and it probably still has to do with winemaking.  See?  I've had enough practice at this whole "drink wine at a vineyard" thing to know what comes next.  Explain your product, nod, nod some more, wait a bit, then, at long last, drink.  The wine was fairly good, for 5 Euro and a way to kill some time, it was definitely worth it.

And we were off!  Back at the festival, things were not quite as bumping as I thought they might become.  To be fair, it was the last day of the festival and 2:30 pm and a Sunday.  That's pretty prime riposo (similar to "siesta" in other countries. I have also very recently discovered that I've been saying "riposto" which is a town in Italy, NOT the afternoon rest. [Re-read above where I am very honest about not being fluent in Italian]) time in Italy, so the festival was more like a smooth jazz crowd than an electronica concert.  Regardless, there was a little menu and cinghiale (wild boar) was a star in almost every dish.  Cinghiale ravioli was probably the best, second to the Wild Boar festival caraffes of wine, of course.  They were stamped with a wild boar.  Oh stop it!  That is too darn cute!  They were 3 Euro and as the festival was winding down and they people running it had brought us more and more caraffes for free, we figured we'd take one or two for momentos.  The rules on whether 3 Euro bought you a caraffe were fuzzy.... 

Fat, dumb and happy, we piled back into the carivan of cars (with a quick and delicious gelato stop on the way back.  Mmmmmm gelato....) and back we came to Napoli!  A quiet little weekend, but still something fun nonetheless.