Italy is destroying my life. It just doesn’t get any better than this so I
may be dissatisfied with everything that happens to me from here on in.
Everything I eat is my new favourite dish. Every gig is the best yet.

We arrived in Italy exhausted from traveling by plane, train and bus from
Amsterdam to Asti. Our first appointment was with Sylvia - the owner of
TastingTours.it. Asti is in Piedmont - a region famous for wine,
hazelnuts, white truffles and chocolate. I decided to eat eggs on this
tour which has made things a lot easier in Italy (I’m told by several
Italians that free-range farming is the norm here anyway. Since Italians
are obsessed with only eating the best products, I wouldn’t be surprised
if that is true). Sylvia had designed a taylor-made tour for Liz and I. We
started by walking to a local artisan chocolate factory where we watched
sweets made by hand and tasted the most incredible dark chocolates, nougat
with local hazelnuts, chocolate covered bread sticks and a type of
hazelnut chocolate that is in fact, not chocolate as it contains no cocao
but is made from roasted hazelnuts. They tasted like nutella without the
milk - which makes sense as the Ferrero factory (who makes Nutella) is in
the same area and were obviously inspired to turn this local delicacy into
the world-famous spread. Our tasting was accompanied by a glass of Moscato
- a local white. Apparently 9am isn’t too early for dessert wine!

Truffles were next on the list. Our truffle hunter, Natale, was named
after the Italian name for Christmas. I thought this was appropriate.  We
found our first piece of ‘white gold’ just 5 minutes into heading into
Natale’s private piece of forest with his youngest dog, Diana. It looked
like a small clay rock but smelled like heaven - a deliciously bizarre
combination of honey and garlic. Our first catch was also our last but
luckily Natale had a stash of fresh truffles set aside for our tasting. He
insisted on making lunch for us in his farm house - a white stone,
two-storey cottage with dark brown window frames, external shutters and
old barn doors. The house had been in his family for all five generations
of truffle hunters. He laid out a table with a blue and white checkered
cloth and spread tumblers, napkins and cutlery. We ate for no less than 3
hours - first, warm homemade bread with fresh truffle oil (olive oil with
large chunks of truffles floating in it that needs to be made fresh every
week). Salad from Natale’s garden - endive, capsicum, cherry tomatoes and
fennel bulb drizzled in truffle oil. Then, local fresh pasta similar to a
very thin tagatelle generously topped with flakes of white truffle. Next
up, the supreme combination of egg and truffle in the form of lightly
scrambled egg thoroughly coated in truffle shavings - (since this we have
had truffle meals in restaurants and discovered that the average truffle
serving is 3-4 thin slices… on this day we had a handful of slices on
each dish!) This was followed by vegan hazelnut cake and coffee. Natale
apologised for the rustic nature of the service so I quickly learned “it’s
perfect” in Italian so I could try to convey that this was exceeding my
wildest Italian fantasies. After coffee, the four of us drank local wines
and Natale and I read poetry aloud in our respective languages.

Eventually it had to end, but we had a final tasting to ease the blow -
wine from an award-winning vineyard that happens to have a kiwi cellar
master. We met Jeff inside the impressive tasting room. He greeted us with
a kiwi accent and then seemlessly flowed into perfect Italian to discuss
plans with Sylvia. The wine was incredible, the company delightful, and
the scenery magic, as we sat watching a lengthy sunset over vine and tree
covered Piedmontese hills. We were enjoying ourselves so much that Jeff
invited Liz, Sylvia and I to join him for dinner at a friend’s restaurant
in Alba - where we enjoyed another five courses of amazing vegetarian
Italian food!   The next day we headed south to La Spezia for gig numero
uno. It was in a cute cafe/ restaurant at the end of a pedistrian alley -
owned and run by Guacomo (Jack-o). The Italians turned out to be an
attentive and appreciative crowd, sitting in silence during the songs and
clapping loudly and shouting “Bravo!” in between. After the show we met
Massimo, a vegetarian punk musician who had been to New Zealand and spoke
perfect English. Within an hour, we had all silently decided to be friends
and Massimo cemented the decision by offering to drive us to Cuneo the
next day for gig number two. The only catch - before leaving we must join
him, Jack-o and some jazz musician friends of theirs for lunch on an
island. We said yes before he even finished offering.   The island -
Palmario, was off the coast of Porto Venere - an old pirate cove with
steep white and pink cliffs, multi coloured houses straight out of an
Italian postcard, and cobbled walkways leading to 12th century churches.
On the island we served vegan pizza fresh from a clay pizza oven and salad
of bitter greens soaked in olive oil. Then we sang songs to each other and
kissed goodbye. Our drive to Cuneo was filled with Italian crooning
blaring from Massimo’s car stereo, breath-taking views over Genova and a
two-hour-long sunset that perfectly co-ordinated with our travel so that
we arrived at the venue in Margarita, Cuneo, just after dark.   Jeff made
the journey from Alba for the gig with some of his workmates and brought
with him a bottle of their finest grappa. My first sample of the famous
liquid blew my senses wide open. It was cold in the mouth and yet warm in
the throat, smelled of stale grapes yet tasted sweet and although clear in
appearance, had the depth of an oaked scotch. I offered the bottle around
the room to the leftover audience members and from there the night
dissolved into a haze of party tricks with cigarette papers and trying to
learn how to make origami lotus flowers with napkins from the Chilean
venue owner.   To be continued…