Don’t you hate superlatives in letters home from tourists abroad? A number of people have asked for a narrative of our voyage to Northern Italy. I intend to oblige in a fairly matter of fact manner. I do so to avoid refuge to my thesaurus to find adjectives for great or beautiful or delicious.
We arrived at Milan’s Malpensa Airport on Friday morning, October 2, after an uneventful flight (the best type) from JFK. We rented a Mercedes A160 from Hertz, a small diesel that appears to be getting 50 mpg or better along with a GPS containing a rather scattered, inconsistent, inaccurate, yet arrogant British woman. She is a companion we tolerate and frequently abuse on drives.
We traveled up the autostrada into the Alps, stopping first to wander the streets of Aosta, the provincial capital, before driving up the Cogne Valley to Cogne, where we checked in at the Hotel Bellevue. We arrived in paradise. I say this in a matter of fact way. If I believed in heaven, the Hotel Bellevue in Cogne would be it. From there, we hiked up the banks of Gran Paradisio, a 13,000 foot glacier covered peak. At the Bellevue, we ate a tasting menu at the Michelin 1 Star Petit Restaurant. Our room had a balcony from which we looked up to the summit of Gran Paradisio. On Saturday, the town was enveloped in the annual festival when the cows that graze on the high mountain meadows during the summer come down to their valley pens. Each cow wore a large bell that clanged through the night. One of the nicest features of the hotel, which was filled with antiques, was that there was always food on the bar: pastries in the morning, bruchetta and sliced meats in the afternoon, crystallized ginger, and butter-rich cookies. Perhaps some pictures would augment the description:
The view from our room. Cogne is at 1534 meters. Grad Paradisio summits at 4061 meters.
Off the other side of the balcony, this is a view of the town of Cogne. It looks more Swiss or German than Italian. And, indeed, Cogne is only one hour from Switzerland and one hour from France.
The hotel is not as pink as it looks in this picture. Everything about it was quite tasteful.
High above the town of Valnontey, which is the highest town in the Cogne Valley, is an alpine botanical garden which closes in September. In early June, it is alive with flowers.
Liz on the trail above Valnontey. The summit of Gran Paradisio is behind her, but bleached out in the photograph. Notice her Swiss look.
One of the highlights of Cogne was the cow parade. Liz ran down off the mountain to catch up with a herd heading into town. She paraded with them in front of the crowds on the street.
Note the size of the cowbells.
We had the sense that the cowherds always dressed that way. The Tyrolian look was not just for the benefit of the festival.
The most important point, of course, is that these cows, fed on mountain herbs for five months each year, produce the milk that makes the fontina and fromadzos we enjoyed so much.
The cows encamped directly below our window. Despite the similarity in size, the large beast in the front is me, not a cow.
Which brings me to the issue of food. Just below our room was the hotel’s herb garden. Whenever we ordered a meal, a member of the kitchen staff would walk outside to pick the herbs necessary for the dish. Our tasting menu at Petit Restaurant on Saturday evening consisted of the following eight courses:
A scallop set in a bisque of mild fish stock and sorrel.
Pureed dried cod in a napoleon of translucent potato chips over a bed of diced fresh vegetables.
Goose liver with poached peaches and pears in a fig reduction.
A tomato risotto cooked in a ramekin skinned with thin tomato slices, with a huge lagostine.
Cheek of veal, finished with dill.
A cheese course consisting of four cow cheeses and four goat cheeses of the region.
A dessert plate containing eight desserts ranging from an Aostian custard made of hazelnuts to a yogurt gelato.
A plate of truffles: the chocolate stuffed variety, not the fungus which is the mission of this trip.
Paradise, as I said.
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