After we'd finished the dessert course at Grappa, gracious owner Claudio Nunes approached our table with a bottle of the restaurant's namesake liquor (something he was offering all the patrons this evening), and some handblown glasses produced especially for this potent, woody alcohol. It occurred to me that I hadn't tasted the stuff in years, not since some hearty Sardinian hosts insisted upon my doing so, in abundant quantities, leading to what my wife calls "the olive oil incident." The grappa being served back then was dripping from a homemade still, in a garage that had been converted into something of an epicurean paradise, stocked as it was with the numerous products this particular farm produced. We sat surrounded by baskets of vegetables and two barrels, the first containing olives, the other olive oil; cured legs of wild boar hung from the ceiling, one of which was taken down and, after an appreciable amount of dust was brushed off, whittled into thin pink... More >>>