It was nearly fifteen years ago now, and I was about to fulfill a life long dream. We were on our first trip to Italy. The first stop on our 11 day tour was Venice, the city of post card panoramas, silent waterways, murano glass and as I was about to find out Prosecco. It was early evening, and my husband, Jim, and I had just checked into our hotel near Santa Maria del Giglio. We hadn’t slept in about 36 hours and we were famished. Our bags were quickly abandoned in our room, and we were off to find Piazza San Marco, apparently a five minute walk from the hotel. We proceeded down the narrow hallways, through the maze of stairwells, and dropped our very large room key off at the front desk.
Piazza Santa Maria del Giglio, Venice
Across the little piazza Santa Maria del Giglio, small signs stenciled on buildings led us down a narrow alleyway lined with shops selling beautiful paper, murano glass, wooden puppets dangling on their strings, designer clothes draped over lithe manikins, and the famous Venetian masks which watched us as we bustled by. The street made a sharp turn to the right past more designer clothing stores, banks, book shops and sidewalks lined with street vendors selling Gucci knock offs. Then, we encountered our first of the approximately 450 small bridges that connect the 117 islands that make up Venice. At the foot of the bridge was a gondolier stop where we paused to watch them putting on a show for the camera
A little further up the street we finally spied the grand opening beyond which lies Piazza San Marco. It was May and a good, but not overwhelming crowd was in the Piazza feeding the pigeons, taking photos of Saint Mark’s cathedral and the bell tower, and just lounging at the outdoor tables in front of two of Venice’s most famous cafes: Café Florian and Café Quadri, both of whom boast a long and illustrious who’s who of clientele, dating back nearly two centuries.
Piazza San Marco, Venice
We joined the crowd in front of Café Florian to have an aperitivo . Having spent most of my adult life as a sparkling wine drinker, and having read about Prosecco, the sparkling wine served everywhere in Venice, that is what I ordered. The flute arrived, filled with a most fair, nearly clear liquid, so unlike the amber of many champagnes. Small bubbles joyfully floated to the surface. I lifted the glass to drink in the scent– green apples, pears, a hint of almond. Then the first taste, it was light on the palate, so intoxicating in a blissful way, like a moment of anticipation. It was drinkable, too very drinkable, pure pleasure in a glass emitting a hint of sweetness while simultaneously crisp and clean. I had reached a state of euphoria or was it just jet lag? Well, that is how it began, my love affair with Prosecco and all things Italian on a mild May evening in Piazza San Marco.
Since that day in Venice so many years ago now, I have been an Italian sparkling wine aficionado. Now, I live in Le Marche, Italy where I am constantly discovering new sparkling wines from a large number of grape varieties. Some of these wines are made in the classic Champagne method while others, like Prosecco, are made by the charmat method. This site is a record of my voyage of discovery of all things sparkling in Italy. Follow me on this intoxicating journey.
Since that day in Venice so many years ago now, I have been an Italian sparkling wine aficionado. Now, I live in Le Marche, Italy where I am constantly discovering new sparkling wines from a large number of grape varieties. Some of these wines are made in the classic Champagne method while others, like Prosecco, are made by the charmat method. This site is a record of my voyage of discovery of all things sparkling in Italy. Follow me on this intoxicating journey.
