"The Pre-Alpies" a Strigno Travel Page by mapakettle

Ma Kettle and I are fortunate to have befriended Alfio and Graziella, the owners of our favourite pasticceria in Padova (Alfio's). Even more fortunate, they have invited us to visit the home of Parampampoli, say it again, Parampampoli, with emphasis put on the 'pam' part. Isn't that fun to say?

Now, I know you are wondering what Parampampoli is. We were introduced to it while spending Christmas Eve at Graziella's home. At the end of a five hour dinner (honest), coffee was served in a fiery pot, and poured, flames and all, directly into special Parampampoli cups. Obviously, you wait until the flames die off before drinking it. Now, coffee in Italy is often served to guests, corrected, with various liquors of their choosing, but this drink is unlike anything remotely resembling corrected coffee. Much, much smoother. However, more on this later.

The drink was the hit of the evening for us, and we sampled it again on New Years Eve (once again after a five hour dinner), and Graziella, noticing our great interest, invited us to visit the plant in the mountains, and see how it was made. Unknown to us, they are close personal friends of the owners.

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note the snow covered roads...

From dry pavement, to two feet of snow in 10 min.

We drove for about an hour and a half from Padova to the turn off to Strigno, just a short distance from Trento. Our first stop was at a little town called Scurelle, less than five minutes from the highway. It was here we met one of the family, who showed us through the Parampampoli bottling plant.

The process is pretty straighforward, but the ingredients used are a big secret. The interesting thing however, are the very stringent requirements for the bottling, and the heavy restrictions imposed by the government for taxation purposes. Since Parampampoli is alcohol, each bottle is carefully accounted for, and labels affixed with proper serial numbers duly recorded. We were hoping for a taste, but alas, not possible on site.

Elsewhere on the site, a cantina stocked with all the products made are available for sale to the public. They also have cheese and sausages which they serve to guests to try before purchasing. Easy enough to find, just ask any of the locals for directions.

From Scurelle, we proceeded up the mountainside to Strigno, a small hillside town, with countless twists and turns, high rock fencing, and a combination of Alpine/Italian influenced buildings.

Just outside the town, is the family hotel called Hotel Spera. It was from the parking lot of this hotel that I took the picture of Ma Kettle. What a beautiful sight with the mountains as a backdrop.

Immediately as soon as we left Hotel Spera, we ran into snow, which bacame deeper the higher we climbed. I was a tad worried because the road was narrow, no barriers preventing our sudden descent over the edge, snow cover on the road surface, and the occasional vehicle which edged past us on the way to town. I appreciate four wheel drive.

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start of the Brenta River

This is the start of the Brenta River...

The picture you see is taken at the beginning of the Brenta River, flowing down the mountainside, eventually running through Padova, and then empties into the lagoon waters of Venice. My first thought was to throw a rubber duck into the stream below, or better still, an empty wine bottle with a message contained within, but I'm not Kevin Kosner.

The scenery was unbelievable, the setting was from the early twenties. It appeared as if time had stood still for the past eighty years, and the little stone houses had stood up to the ravages of time quite nicely. I asked about mosquitoes, imagining that they would be horrific in the woods, but oddly, no mosquitoes make an appearance thoroughout the year. Bonus for this Kettle.

It was eerie when we pulled off onto a little clearing and shut the motor off. Not a sound, nothing stirred. The slightest whisper echoed throughout the valley, and we could hear the occasional radio transmission from a telephone repair crew who were tucked against the face of the rock cliff hundreds of feet below us. For those of you who have seen Rambo, imagine the sheer rock surfaces Sly scrambled across, then you can get a visual of the Pre-Alpies. The term Pre-Alpies is a local name given to this area by the long time inhabitants. Whether it is recorded as such on a map, I can't say.