Audi 2011 Annual Report Download - page 30

Tuscany in a bottle: In Montalcino’s enoteca, wine expert Gail presents something special
made from Sangiovese grapes – a bottle of Brunello.
I need to make an apology. What for,
you ask? Because after this week, our
vacation plans for the coming fall
will be changing. What do I mean
by that? Well, I can explain. And you
will need to be very brave now.
You know my passion for Tuscany.
After all, we’ve enjoyed it together
many times. How I love to recall our
time on that estate south of Siena.
How we relished the quiet behind
those stone walls that were more
than two hundred years old. Those
walks in the garden that was more
like a park. And I remember how
we sat at breakfast the last day, our
hearts a little heavy, the air smelling
of spring, a few sparrows bathing in
a puddle by the pool. You said it had
been a long time since you had seen
a place of such harmony.
Or lunch near Montefollonico.
Though that osteria did not look too
inviting from the outside, we asked
for a table for two. The landlady led
us through the sparsely decorated
dining room and onto the terrace,
which featured a few metal tables in
the shade of a white awning. A wide
vista opened up across the village
roofs and the Crete hills with Monte
Amiata in the background. And
then the cuisine, surprisingly good,
pappardelle with wild boar ragout,
risotto with fresh porcini. And you
made a little speech about the link
between good food and happiness.
A year later, we took our station
wagon to a few wine estates with
spectacular architecture – too big
and too modern for us. Later, we
discovered a little enoteca near
Buonconvento. The owner served
us his favorite Tuscan wines; we
particularly enjoyed a Rosso di
Montalcino with berry tones. We
lowered our noses into the glasses
and held the glasses up to the sun,
and you said there was no need to
taste the wine – its color alone was
reason enough to buy some.
So it must be all the more diffi cult
for you to understand why I will be
going to Tuscany next fall without
you. You may ask whether this
has anything to do with when you
begged me two years ago not to
“drive like a madman” when I was
imitating a Mille Miglia participant
on that winding road to Asciano?
Could be. Or is it because last fall,
you decided to fl y to Manhattan
Tradition meets
modernity:
the key to an
idyllic country
estate on an
R8 GT Spyder’s
carbon-fi ber
center console.
Dearest S.,
PHOTOS | TOM SÓLO/FRÖHLICH MANAGEMENT