...Probably Around That Next Bend

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Geo: 41.1929, 0.775447

As the girls had been very patient during the preceding day's long afternoon visiting with the Pahi brothers, we promised them a more exciting day. That would, however, require a lot of time in the car. Plus, as I wrote, the roads in this area are incredibly windy with constantly shifting widths and rarely any shoulders. Our target for the morning was the Royal Abbey of Santa Maria Monastery in the town of Poblet. As the crow flies, it would probably be 10-15 miles. On these roads, it was over 30 miles, with speeds rarely exceeding 20 miles per hour given the curves. The scenery was breathtaking, but the driving got old, very quickly. I was very happy when we came down from the hills and could see the massive monastery complex sitting off in the distance.

We arrived just in time to join a tour entering the abbey and monastery complex, though the tour was not in English. It worked out fine that they gave us annotated maps with lengthy descriptions of each room in English. The buildings date back to the 1100's, and is it still an active monastery today. One monk was leading a tour group from Gate1 -- the company we used in Ecuador, whose bus was parked outside. It was the only organized tour group we saw during our entire time in Priorat. We also watched as they set up the lunch room -- which looked the dining hall at Hogwarts from Harry Potter.

The church proper was very nice, and it houses the tombs of eight kings of Aragon, and many of their queens. Among them is Alfonso -- the man who ordered the killing of Ines, or Peter and Ines fame.

We enjoyed a nice sitdown lunch at a cafe just outside the buildings, and the loaded back up. The day before, the Pahi brothers had suggested we visit a look-out spot close to the abbey, from which, it is said, you can see more than half of Catalonia, including all the way up to France on a clear day. They described the general area and how to reach it, which involved a small parking lot and then about 10-15 minute hike. We asked at the information booth at the abbey, and they seemed to know about what we were asking, but their directions on how to reach it were vague at best. Using what little information we got from these folks, and a rudimentary map, we set out in search of the elusive parking area. The drive was nice, but we weren't gaining any altitude and were about to turn around when we looked ahead and could see that the road began to climb -- and climb quickly, with many switchbacks -- up the mountainside. That was a good sign, so up we went. The sheer number of blind switchbacks became exhausting, and I had to crane my neck as we approached every turn, as if a car had been coming the other way, one of us would have to stop to allow the other to pass safely. We were lucky and only passed one lone car the entire time, but just maintaining vigilance was tiring.

We hit one fork in the road and had to take a chance on the direction, and while I think we ultimately chose correctly, we never did find the exact location from which to hike. We kept saying and thinking, "it's probably just around the next bend." We passed one candidate location, but it was impossible to turn around anywhere, until we had gone all the way back down the mountain on the far side and reached a small town, in which there was a traffic circle. We debated going back, but all agreed it would not be worth the hassle.

We continued on to the largest town in the area -- Falset -- which has a whopping population approaching 3,000 people. We wanted to visit a couple of wine shops, but everything seemed shut down for the Spanish version of siesta. We explored, instead, visiting the small castle overlooking the town and sneaking in some outstanding gelato. The wine shop opened as we returned and we were able to pick up some recommended bottles.

We were debating what to do for supper, and relied on TripAdvisor. Falset had a few restaurants, at all of which the Rieckhoffs had eaten during previous trips. They vouched for them all and were willing to return, but TripAdvisor recommended the restaurant at a winery located just outside Gratallops, where we were staying. They were only open for dinner on select nights. I called to request a table. They told us we could come "early," at 9:00pm.

At this point, it was well after 5:00pm and we had a 6:00pm tasting scheduled with a family winemaker in Gratallops. The girls elected to not join us for this one, so we went back to the hotel, dropped them off, and then walked about three minutes to reach the winery, which was enclosed in the middle of the town, inside a 400-year-old family manor, purpose built over a wine cellar. There were no signs on the door. Aside from the address, which Jeff kept rechecking as we approached, the only giveaway was a palate of empty yet-to-be-filled wine bottles in a small area across from the door. We were greeted by the owner/winemaker, who was a man in his late 30's. As with the other winemakers we'd meet and would meet, his was a family business, which he had inherited from a long line of family vintners. The winery itself was small, and after he gave us an incredibly detailed description of the operation and his "philosophy," we retreated downstairs to the very nicely chilled stone cellar. Here we had the tasting. Jeff had sought out this particular winemaker as, during his last visit to Gratallops three years ago, he had ordered a bottle of a white wine from this winery. He knew nothing about it when he ordered it, but the bottle was so good, it stuck with him, and he vowed to visit the place. The vast majority of wine from the Poirat is red, but this white was simply beyond compare. It was as good as he remembered, and the three of us were in love at first sip. The other wines we sampled -- all red -- were good, but the white was the clear stand-out. He explained that the white comes from a very small number of "ancient vines," on the oldest portion of his families vineyards, which are scattered throughout the valley. As such, he was only able to produce 497 bottles of this wine. For comparison sake, his total annual production of wine is 20,000. We were nearly giddy when we asked if he would sell us any of the white, and he agreed to sell each of us one bottle. He had fewer than 50 remaining, and was unable to fill orders from restaurants in the area and in Barcelona.

We wrapped up the tasting at 8:00pm, and only then because his wife called and said he needed to get home. We walked back to the hotel and had a little time before leaving for the three or four minute drive over to the other winery, where we had booked a table for dinner.

We arrived exactly at 9:00pm, and as we walked up the hill to the building from a lower parking lot, a car shot past us. When we got up top, we saw that three people had arrived in the car together and they were unlocking the restaurant. It was the chef and two waitresses/hostesses. This didn't bode too well. After waiting on the patio a short while, we went in. They seemed surprised we were there and asked us to wait a little longer. We were all annoyed at this point, concerned that we were "wasting" our dinner opportunity on a place that was obviously not ready for us. I started to come up with theories as to how this place ended up being listed as the number 1 restaurant in the area on TripAdvisor. We were certain phantom reviewers were making up reviews. With little option to change our minds, they finally came, got us, and seated us at a table inside the tiny glass-enclosed dining room. There were maybe 10 tables, and aside from one other couple, we saw no other patrons, and we left well after 11:00pm. Our waitress, who spoke only Catalan and Portuguese, brought us pre-printed prix fixe menus, as they were only offered the single multi-course meal. This, too, deflated our expectations. The menu was in Catalan only, which left us trying to figure out what we'd be eating. The wine list came, and upon seeing that they offered the white wine we had tasted earlier in the evening, we gave up any reservations, ordered a bottle, and settled in. Later in the evening, after we'd had our second bottle of the white, we calculated that those two bottles, the two we purchased earlier, the one from which we had tasted, and the one Jeff drank three years ago, all collectively accounted for more than 1-percent of the total production.

As we enjoyed our first glass of wine, the chef come in from the kitchen. He spoke limited English, but wanted to go through the menu with us. He was clearly excited about the menu and after hearing what was to come, we perked up. What did follow was a six- or seven-course meal, with each course better than the one before. All of us were simply gushing about the quality of the food as we savored every course. This was, by far, our best meal in Spain, and was on par with the meal we had at Sessente in Lisbon. We got in several debates in the following days as to which meal we enjoyed more, if such a distinction was even possible.

The chef checked on us several times during the meal, and I believe he enjoyed seeing how much we were enjoying ourselves, particular as we were the bulk of his clientele for the night. As I noted, we left well after 11:00pm. Perhaps more people came; who knows. I do know, however, that the memory of this meal will not soon -- if ever -- leave me.

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