By day, Alla Sosta dei Papi hides along a street near Sant’Ambrogio church. At night, the area comes alive, as the enoteca greets its customers with a lively atmosphere, the opportunity for discussions and enjoyment, all over several glasses of wine.
The three tables positioned outside on the street are claimed immediately, with chairs sought after and mustered from unknown sources. People gradually commandeer the street, laying claim to the pavement and roadside, some cheekily appropriating the porch steps of houses, all sat with the eagerness of sociability.
Inside, Alla Sosta dei Papi houses a variety of wine and drinking apparatus, notably, some large wine vats…
I hold treasure, Bacchus’ own nectar. Irrespective of my shiny allure, I’m often ignored on entrance. People crowd in, immediately drawn to the multitude of bottles that adorn the inside walls, stacked in cabinets up to the ceiling. After ordering from the counter and the far end, taking a glass of wine and a plate of crostini, they gravitate towards the long table, moving quickly to occupy the few seats available. Only when they’re seated do they realise I’m there. Containing their precious ruby and gold drinks, I wait in the corner.
The owner moves in my direction, empty bottle in hand. Cautiously, he fills up from my wellspring, attentive not to spill a drop. He returns to the counter and presents the bottle to an eagerly waiting signore.
I stand with the group, us five, the comrades. We wear our names ‘Cabernet Sauvignon, Vino Bianco, Chianti…’ with pride. From the outside we may only vary in height, but our insides differ, made unique by what we contain.
As the sun sets, I watch enjoyment each evening as people gather to relax in each other’s company. I’ll be here when you come: bring a demijohn and I’ll fill it up, partake in a communion of enjoyment and taste Tuscany’s own produce, in every hue of white and red.
