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come from all over the world to work here and learn the arts
of making wine, honey, olive oil, and raising cows, chickens
and, most important, pigs.

The farm specializes in a “heritage” pig called the Cinta Se-
nese, a cross between local wild boar and domesticated pigs
from Asia. They look like they’ve been painted for the Vene-
tian Carnavale. They’re all black with a collar of white around
their shoulders and front legs. We were told they date back to
Roman times. Perhaps. But we know for sure they date back
to at least the 1200s because we saw one in the background of
a 13th century painting in Siena.

The farm itself has a heritage; one of its buildings is a stone
tower from the 11th century. The Cinta Senses live an organic,
free-range life in pastures divided by electric fence so they can
be rotated to preserve the land.

Of course this visit involved a meal. A big meal at a nearby
trattoria which began with a tasting of the Cinelli pork prod-
ucts. We tried prosciutto, capocolo, salami, soppressata, ri-
gatino, lardo, and something called “rosamarina” a delicious
concotion of lard and rosemary. The tasting was followed by
impruneta (a kind of stew), bean soup, and quiche they call
“sformato.” Then we had lunch.

At lunch, one of Luisa Donati’s friends, Nicoletta Amicieia,
confirmed what we’d already suspected, “In Italy life revolves
around food,” she said. “In the morning my boyfriend wakes
up and organizes dinner for that night. My mother starts or-
ganizing Sunday lunch on Friday. Everything’s based on food.”

Love, meets The Godfather. Each year the Palio is a chess match of
J&J skullduggery. There are payoffs (gasp!), collusion (horrors!),
fights (no!). Everybody knows it. Everybody loves it. (Except
one half of this writing duo, the horse nut who thinks it’s cru-
Dear Ron, el because horses can wipe out and crash against the stone
walls.)
Yesterday we visited Siena. The whole town -- founded some-
time in the BC’s -- is a UNESCO world heritage site. It has We learned all this during a tour of the Contrade Bruco
a huge cathedral (begun in the 12th century), a serious art headquarters. (Each Contrade has a mascot; Bruco means
museum and reknown frescos. But its real claim to fame? A Caterpiller.) Behind an unassuming door facing a narrow
horse race. medieval street, we were ushered into a multi-story hideaway
complete with sleek new Palio museum – featuring racing
Right in the center of Siena is the Piazza del Campo, an open banners the Caterpillers have won over the centuries -- a hid-
square ringed by medieval buildings that looks like a movie den backyard for everything from cook-outs to weddings, and
set. It’s around this square — the size of a couple of football a chapel where the Caterpiller’s horse is brought to be blessed
fields — that the horses gallop madly, with bareback jock- before the race. “The Palio is life,” our host tells us.
eys atop, crashing into walls and other riders as the crowd
goes wild. It’s called the “Palio,” so named after the holy grail Afterwards, we strolled the cobbled streets. It wasn’t racing
banner that’s at stake (along with the millions of Euros in season, but the city was vibrating -- crowded with shoppers
side-betting). It is a twice-a-year nationally televised race that and students from the University of Siena. We checked out
the Siennese seem to take as seriously as going to war. boot shops and galleries; looked for bargains in belts and
purses. It was enough to work up an appetite.
We’d heard about the Palio, which has been run since the
mid-1600s. But we had no idea about the “Contrades,” the Five o’clock? Must be time for gelato.
17 neighborhood-clubs behind the race. There's no Olympic
Committee overseeing the Palio, just 400 years of neigh- Love
borhood rivalry between these Contrades. Think Seabiscuit J&J

Wine Dine & Travel Winter 2015 73