Fiore is the Italian word for flower.
It is also the name of a rather gorgeous little Italian restaurant in McLaren Vale.
And on a hot afternoon during this Indian summer, it was the best place to spend a wedding anniversary.
The restaurant is situated at a great little winery on Binney Road, at the foot of the Mount Lofty Ranges, ‘Down the Rabbit Hole,’ and the path from the carpark befits its name, as it winds between the trees and into the magical space overlooking grapevines, an unexpected double decker bus parked stolidly on the edge of the lawn, and an array of wrought iron seats and tables, colourful cushions and shady trees around the edges.
Fiore itself is reminiscent of an upmarket beach house: white, timber-clad walls, the décor crisp and unfussy with natural wood chairs and tables, each table dressed with a glass of freshly picked flowers. There is also a bit of a poppy theme going on.
Through one large picture window, we could see where the flowers came from: a meadow filled with late summer wildflowers. Another fitting name, then. We were ushered to our table overlooking a wooden deck, and the double decker bus that is used for wine tasting. I hope that he has an appropriate name, too!
Mangiamo is Italian for ‘Let’s eat!’ and for $95 per person we didn’t even have to make choices – we just sat back happily, and the chef prepare a four course meal for our delight and enjoyment. Our lovely waitress explained that dessert was extra, but to be honest, it was an unnecessary extra – and more icing on the cake than I really needed. (Yes, of course I had one!)
You may remember we brought the family here for a casual lunch just before Christmas. This involved sitting on picnic rugs, sipping glasses of Chardonnay, and waiting for the gourmet pizzas to arrive. This time we sat gleefully in the coolth of the air-conditioned dining room, sipping a glass of Chardonnay, and waiting for the gourmet feast to arrive. Over the next hour or so, our lovely waitresses brought out a fabulous array of flavour-filled Italian dishes. I was keen to take notes so that I wouldn’t forget a single mouthful, but the waitress kindly told me not to worry, she would give me a copy of the menu before we went home.
So now, a few days later, I can recall every mouthful…
First to the table was two beautiful slabs of sourdough focaccia with a crunchy top served with half a dozen slices of beautifully aged San Danielle prosciutto and homemade vegetable pickles known as ‘giardiniera’ (literally: ‘from the garden’). These arrived with a dish of butter whipped to a cloudy lightness and topped with a blood red blackberry, beetroot and lavender salt. We did try to eat it slowly and savour every mouthful.
Next, a pizzetta – a mini pizza, obviously. The base was quietly crispy around the edges and the soft, doughy centre was filled with stracciatella. Until that afternoon, I knew stracciatella as either a chicken broth with filaments of egg stirred through it, or a gelato with chocolate sprinkles stirred through it. This version was a soft, creamy burrata-like cheese from Puglia stretched into strings, like a soft mozzarella without the rubbery chew. This was topped with Parmigiano Reggiano curls, a dollop of honey from Kangaroo Island’s Ligurian bee, and a side serve of figs and plums doused in aged balsamic vinegar. It felt like a heavenly cross between entrée and dessert. All too soon we had licked the plate clean and were pausing hopefully to let that settle, when everything else turned up in a rush: a pasta dish – tagliatelle amatriciana – a plate of charcoal chicken in a scrumptious sherry jus and salsa verde, a generous serve of crispy kipfler potatoes tossed in a crème fraiche, lemon and mustard dressing and a bowl of heirloom tomatoes mixed with peaches and basil. The flavours in each dish were mouth-watering, so I really don’t mean to complain, but perhaps we could have had just a soupçon of something to cut through the prodigious richness of all those wonderful dishes. A light green salad perhaps? Or a bowl of steamed white rice? It is something I find all too often in menus these days – a luscious array of intense flavours that overwhelm the palate and bloat the stomach. May I humbly suggest a little balance?
Having said that, did I turn down a single dish, or leave a bowl untouched? And when dessert was offered, could I deny a deconstructed – or is that re-invented? – limoncello tiramisu? Not in a million years! But we did pause for breath, and went for a slow meander through the garden to inspect the interior of the bus, and examine the outdoor dunny – a very elegant version of this iconic Australian bathroom, I must say.
We also inspected the wines on the bar. I was always going to rate the Chardonnay, Joy & Bliss, but it did get extra points for its label, which sported a VW camper. Actually all the labels were eye-catching and I would have been hard pushed to pick a favourite – above and beyond the previously mentioned Chardy, of course. (Needless to say, it won my vote for the best wine too, but I can assure you that the rest are excellent, including the Friends & Lovers Rosé and the Secret Garden Grenache.)
We had planned to drop in on the newly opened cellar door at Fleurieu Gin on the way home, but sadly, that would have to wait another day, as I needed to be horizontal on the sofa and let all that glorious food digest…