27 Luni

Upon settling into my site here in Valea Călugărească I was making regular trips into the center of town to buy supplies for the house and to do my grocery shopping.  Along the way, just a short walk from my home, on the main road is a small foldable table with three five-liter bottles of wine; all tied together and then to a fence post.  Two are of different shades of yellow (white wine) and one is red.  Admittedly this was an early pleasant surprise for me.  Being that this region is known for its wine, it shouldn’t come as much of a shock that people make their own batches, it just simply never occurred to me.  Of course, I knew that people made their own țuica from the plethora of plums that grow in this country but how could I be so lucky as to be placed in a region where people take pride in their grapes too.

For several weeks I walked by those three bottles of wine, wondering who sold them and more inquisitively, how could they possibly still be good after such a long time in the daily hot summer sun.  Whenever friends came to visit or I cooked a recipe that required wine I would go to the local magazine and buy a typical bottle of fetească regală which is quite similar to sauvignon blanc.  The normal size wine bottle of 750ml was 13 RON or about $5 USD, quite the deal, or so I thought.

In early September several friends came to visit, some in turn and some over lapping.  One such friend swung by my village for several days before the start of the school year; she is on her second year as a Peace Corps Volunteer, and thus much more fluent in the Romanian language than myself.  As we walked into town trying to decide what to cook for dinner we passed by the little table of wine and I explained my curiosity.  Knowing that we would need wine for dinner anyway, she without hesitation insisted that we investigate on our way back from grocery shopping.  The table is set up immediately in front of what appears to be an abandoned barbershop which shares a common wall with a closed up fish shop.  Since neither of the stores offered an obvious answer to our quest, we walked down a short adjacent driveway to a metal gate.  As luck would have it there was a family relaxing in a little courtyard just beyond the gate and in front of a tight cluster of houses and farm buildings.  As we announced our presence, a strong, middle aged, tall gentleman with short graying hair and a proud round belly stood up to greet us.  His name was Nicu.

My friend communicated our intention of unraveling the story behind the wine bottles along the roadside; our host encouraged us to put down our groceries and to follow him.  So we went halfway back up the driveway to a stairwell that lead to a basement below the old barbershop.  At this point I was very confused; I fully anticipated him cutting one of the bottles off the set tied up out front and handing it to us.  As he unlocked the basement door we followed him into the dark, cool room and to our amazement dozens of five-liter bottles, barrels and jars lined the walls. It turns out that the table out front is simply meant to represent the selection he offers inside.  Before the astonishment could wear off a tasting glass was thrust into my hand full of white wine.  Having worked in the wine industry for a short time I was afforded the opportunity to taste some excellent wines, so I immediately questioned how good this basement made wine could possibly be.  Fortunately, it was amazing.  In the minutes that followed, our proud wine maker encouraged us to taste three different types of wine; all were good.  So the big question on my mind at this point was “How much does a five-liter jug of wine cost?”  Astonishingly, only 25 RON or $7.68 USD.  Yep, that’s right, 6.66 bottles of really decent, organic and sustainably grown wine for less than eight bucks. “This could be trouble.” I thought.

After we picked out the wine jug that was lucky enough to go home with us we began to say our thanks and goodbyes.  Not so fast; Nicu wanted to show us what “life in the country” was like.  So we followed him back through the main gate to his little compound of buildings and around the corner where a pen of chickens came into view.  Across from that was a little barn with loud snorts and grunts coming from within.  Housed inside were three hogs, as big as I had ever seen, being fattened up for the upcoming winter.  After a short exchange between Nicu and my friend in Romanian, she apparently procured me a front row seat at the pre-Christmas slaughter.  After messing about with the pigs, Nicu showed us his garden, a seemingly endless array of various tomatoes, cucumbers, squash, herbs, etc.  He even has a walnut tree in his backyard.  Knowing that the chicken we had purchased earlier in the day was slowly warming up out front we again tried to make our move for the exit.  Before we could move an inch Nicu placed a bag in my hand and explained that I should take as much from his garden as I wanted.  Unsure of what the custom was here and not wanting to offend, I gladly obliged.  In not taking advantage of the situation, I took a modest amount of tomatoes and cucumbers and offered him some money in exchange.  He refused the money and explained that the garden was “din Dumnezeu” or “from God.”  On top of that, Nicu indicated that I could come back anytime if I wanted more produce.  That was only the beginning of the hospitality that this family has shown me.

Over the following weeks I went back several times to Nicu’s, either for more wine, or to share a jar of a recently prepared culinary delight from my kitchen.  His wife Dana has also been very nice as we exchange recipes or chat on their patio.  One day they invited me to return that afternoon for “ciuperci maioneza”.  “Did I hear correctly” I thought, “Mushroom Mayonnaise…no way.”  Not having a clue what that was supposed to be, I accepted the invitation and returned promptly at 6pm as earlier indicated.  As I have been slowly learning, nothing in Romania actually starts at the prescribed time.  It turns out the barbershop actually belongs to Nicu and at the time of my arrival he was in the middle of giving a haircut.  Dana was tending to her own choirs but stopped long enough to introduce me to their son Cristi and his wife.  As the Saturday afternoon went on Nicu’s daughter-in-law did in fact make mayonnaise with mushrooms and garlic.  The end result is more of a chunky spread used to top fresh baked bread and is actually quite good.  Not knowing what I was in for when I received the invite, the night moved from mayonnaise and mushrooms to a full chicken dinner, lots of conversation and of course plenty of Nicu’s wine in-between.

It turns out that Nicu is not only a barber but in a past life was also a boxer and later a boxing referee.  His son is studying divinity and has passed the necessary tests needed to be assigned a church, but is now awaiting an open spot in his district.  Before the night was out, they packed me a large to-go bag of left over mushroom mayonnaise, two bath towels and two soup bowls.  I’m still not completely clear on where the towels and bowls actually came from but from what I gathered Nicu’s son had somehow received them through his service with the church.  At the end of the night Nicu insisted that his son and daughter-in-law walk me home even though its only five minutes away.

It just goes to show you that nothing meets the eye here in Romania, but if you are adventurous enough to knock on a few gates there is a whole other world behind those closed doors.  I went into a situation expecting little more than vinegar and received a treasure trove of good wine and great hospitality.  It’s my hope to continue to build on this relationship with the Pițu family throughout my two years here and to hopefully develop many more.