We just returned from a road trip to Emilia-Romagna, the province just north of Tuscany. We visited a sweet little town, Finale Emilia, where we stayed for 2 nights. From there we made day trips to Ravenna, Modena, and Bologna. During our visit, we were treated to an insider’s peek into the production of aceto balsamico, balsamic vinegar.

We had no idea of the magic that was in store for us when we booked a tour at the nearby Villa San Donnino, where we learned the process from the proprietor, Davide Lonardi. He explained that 2 types of grapes are used to create the unmistakable condiment that we casually splash onto our daily salads. The grapes and juice are cooked to create the mosto, must. No other fermenting additives are needed because the concoction is left to its own devices in the attic. Oddly enough, even though natural fermentation happens, there is no alcohol produced. Hmm. The high heat of summer contrasted with the cold of winter create the mysterious fermentation process. But here’s the part that was a complete surprise: the balsamico is stored in graduated barrels. Six of them to be exact, and when lined up in sequence they’re collectively known as a batteria, battery.

The freshly cooked slurry of grape juice is placed initially into the biggest barrel (the mother). The next year, after controlled evaporation, some of the initial contents are moved into the next smaller barrel down the line. The following year, the process is repeated and the third barrel receives the sweet evolving potion. You guessed it, by year six, each subsequently smaller barrel has been filled with some of the contents of its bigger buddies up the line. So by the end of six years, you have the earliest form of aceto balsamico. Wait a minute, you might think. I can buy quarts of balsamic vinegar at the local grocery store. Well, maybe you can. But probably what you are buying is its cheaper cousin, the commercial version. Don’t be fooled into thinking you got your hands on the real thing though.

The mass-produced version has more than just grapes and juice—a lot more! If you don’t mind coloring, preservatives and a only hint of concentrated must, it’s a reasonable choice. But here’s the strange part: even though the commercial version contains preservatives, it’s not really stable. The flavor diminishes over time. The “traditional,” on the other hand, is infinitely stable and can be kept and used with absolutely no variations in taste FOREVER.  Well, maybe not forever, but for as long as you can resist scarfing it all down.

Italians are Foodies, as you probably already know. They love their foods and have broad knowledge about them, as well as rules. Even though after six years you may have aceto balsamico in each of your barrels, it cannot be declared “traditional” for another three. That’s right, it takes nine years for the balsamico to be certification worthy of the “traditional” label. So if you’re looking for authentic balsamico, here are some clues. Look for the shape of the bottle, which has been approved by the governing board to designate traditional status. The labels indicate the producers but the bottle is always the same. And it’s small. Batches of real balsamico are actually tasted, and if judged not to be ready, the producer has no choice but to wait another year and repeat the whole evaluation process again.

So we started by sampling commercial balsamico. It was fine. A bit thin, but tasted okay.( The bottle looked like the one we have on our shelf at home.) Then, we tasted four-year old balsamico. Wow. What a difference! It was sweet and spicy. Really good. Then, we tasted the “traditional” version. Even thicker (thanks to all that evaporation) and tastier (thanks to nine years in the barrel). Definitely the best we’d tasted so far. Then we had a drop of twelve-year-old balsamico on a spoon. It was so flavorful, it could knock your socks off. And finally, we enjoyed some twenty-five-year-old balsamico which is the minimum fermentation time for the really, really good stuff, they call it Extravecchio, extra old. And it just gets older and better from that point.

Sure, you might experience some sticker-shock when you hear the prices of the authentic versions, but they’re meant to be enjoyed sparingly—say for example, a drop on freshly shaved Parmigiano. Or drizzled atop vanilla ice cream. (Really . . . don’t make that face. It’s surprisingly delicious). So an expensive bottle of balsamico is meant to last for years. In fact, it often comes with its own eye dropper.

In fact, true Italian balsamico from Modena is a prized possession, not only because of its extraordinary taste, but it’s also one of Europe’s first health foods—”good for what ails ya.” Due to the length of time it takes to create it, balsamicowas historically a family affair. Sons were given a battery as a wedding gift to continue the family production. Legend has it that balsamico was sold for the first time by order of Napoleon to generate money for his troops.

So we left San Donnino sort of starry-eyed and dreamy. Our last morning in Finale, we accompanied our new friend, Franco to a local baroque church to have a look-see, and then on to his mother’s home. After admiring her beautiful house, Franco had a great idea—he wanted to show us something else “beautiful, but in a different way.” Up a few flights of stairs, we found ourselves at the attic door. He slowly opened it to reveal three of his own batteries tucked away in the recesses of the upper floor. Two were earmarked for his sons according to tradition. The third? Well, Franco also has a daughter, and in these days of gender equality, she was gifted with her very own battery as well. But here’s the twist: Italians love their traditions, as does every culture, so Franco’s daughter had her own personal battery differentiated from her brothers with a light coat of PINK paint over the stand on which the barrels rest. A sweet touch.

Sweet afternoon.

Sweet elixir.

Buon appetito!

Posted on April 17, 2011

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