The hum of le cicales (cicadas) rises and falls in the heat of a summer afternoon spent lounging in the countryside of the Piemonte, lulling you into a state of pure relaxation. The smell of the sun-warmed grasses wafts on the breeze along with the smell of wild mint that has taken over a corner of the nearby field. It is accompanied by the earthy tang of the sun-warmed stone of the street. There is a hint of ozone in the air, hinting at the possibility of a refreshing late afternoon thunderstorm blowing in.
Far-off rumbles of thunder confirm this suspicion, but instead of being worrisome, they add to the relaxing buzz of the insects. The sharp but hushed slapping and tapping of card games adds a staccato beat to the chorus of sounds, mingling with the players' chatter, the sounds of the Piemontese dialect. It's fracophonic syllables sliding smoothly off their tongues. Far off in the distance, the church bells ring in the hour.
You reflect on the morning ride, which had you pedaling past vineyards and fields. A chorus of birdsong serenaded our departure. The smell of fresh-cut hay drying in the fields mingled with the astringent and slightly sweet smell of grapevines warming in the morning sun. Since you already went on your ride, you aren't worried about the rain. You're sitting on a covered terrace at a vineyard, waiting for your wine tasting to start. As the sommelier hands you your first glass, you inhale a breath full of the complex scents of an aged Barolo: tobacco, leather, cinnamon, nutmeg, with hints of ripe red fruits. The tinkle of wine glasses and the swishing sounds of wine fill the air as your group swirls their wine under the expert eye of the sommelier. You can smell the aperitivo arrive before you see it, the distinctive aroma of sun-ripened tomatoes hits your nose along with the herby smell of fresh-picked basil and the tang of garlic. Bruschetta is such a simple dish, but when made with fresh ingredients and served on a summer's afternoon, it becomes a sumptuous indulgence.
This is summer in Piemonte: not loud or showy, but full of quiet, enduring pleasures. It lives in the details: in the scents carried on the wind, the music of everyday life, and the way time seems to stretch, warm and golden, like the hills themselves.
Ready to experience it yourself? Andiamo!
