I love to tell this story because it’s a story with a moral.

Some of us here in ABC Wine Country are lucky enough to be able to travel the great wine regions of the world. We taste wine and are taken out to top restaurants. We are sometimes privileged to taste the greatest and most expensive wines in the world and dine at some of the most famous restaurants. But this story has nothing to do with that.

We were traveling in Tuscany--my colleagues Marie Griffin, Paul Quaglini and myself--and after a rather hectic two weeks of winery visits all over north and central Italy we had a few days that allowed us to visit wineries but also gave us time to drive around, stop where we pleased and take in the soul of the countryside.

Our hotel--for convenience sake rather than for esoteric beauty--was in Scandicci, very near the airport. Like most suburban areas near airports, the hotel was first class but the neighborhood itself left a lot to be desired. Basically the hotel was in the middle of block upon block of cheap apartments that all looked very much alike, relieved only by a few sorry looking strip-malls.

On our penultimate evening we returned to our hotel a little tired and didn’t fancy the drive into the Centro of Florence, so we inquired if there was a pizza place nearby. The receptionist gave us directions to one that was about four blocks away and off we walked. Sometimes a change is as good as a rest and
after weeks of fine wine and gourmet food it was a pleasure just to sit with friends and enjoy some pizza and beer. But this is where the story takes a turn.

The owner/head chef of the pizza restaurant--a young man named Mauro--got to talking with us and, learning that the following night would be the last of our visit, suggested that we return to his restaurant
and he would prepare a special meal for us. How could we refuse?

So we returned the next night and found ourselves at a table right next to a wedding party of about sixty people. Everyone was in high spirits and the talking and music and noise was a joy to hear. A little
boy of about seven or eight stood on his chair facing me and questioned us in very loud Italian and with a beaming smile about our names. “Maria...Paolo...Guglielmo.”

Mauro allowed us one choice--whether to have beef or fish--and said he would take care of everything else. To be honest, we didn’t know what to expect and couldn’t guess what we would be charged. But it was an adventure! And Mauro didn’t let us down. He personally served us a four course meal that I will
remember all my life. Nothing fancy, but honest, fresh, well-prepared family-style food. We all chose to have the fish, and I’m ashamed to say that in the joy and excitement of the moment none of us remember what the fish was. Likewise the wine. Mauro wouldn’t let us order from the wine list. He chose a local wine made from a local white grape that none of us had heard of or can remember and, yes, it paired perfectly with the fish. And when the bill arrived it was so miniscule that we felt happily obliged to leave a very large tip. Shaking his hand upon leaving I just had to say “Mauro, we have had many fine meals at many fine restaurants in Italy, but we have enjoyed no meal more than this one tonight.”

So what’s the moral? Well, I think it’s that the finest wines and gourmet meals may be wonderful, yes, but sometimes the things you truly remember come from a more simple sense of humanity--enjoying a meal with good friends at a pizza restaurant you can’t name, eating a fish you can’t remember, with a wine you
never heard of.

Speaking of which, our dear friend and colleague Marie Griffin will be retiring later this month. It will be difficult to imagine ABC without her. She is quite irreplaceable and we thank her for her knowledge, her friendship and for having a heart as big as the world. Stay in touch, Marie!

Bill Stobbs, ABC Wine Supervisor

Follow me on Twitter @abcwinebills