Balsamic discoveries and thoughts on time
As I sit in a small café, warming my hands around a cup of coffee, I'm struck by how quickly time seems to be passing. Today marks day 91 of my journey, which means I've used up 91 of my precious 500 days. The mathematical side of me immediately calculates: 18.2% gone already. The thought makes me pause mid-sip.
This morning began with my tour of Acetaia Giusti, which I had booked yesterday. I arrived at 9:50 for my 10:00 AM tour – the guide smiled knowingly as I waited outside, despite the chilly 7°C temperature. The historic acetaia has been producing traditional balsamic vinegar since 1605, making it the oldest producer in Modena.
The tour itself was fascinating. We walked through rooms filled with wooden barrels arranged in batteries called "batterie," each containing vinegar at different stages of aging. The smell was intoxicating – sweet, acidic, and woody all at once. Our guide explained the traditional process: cooked grape must is transferred between progressively smaller barrels made of different woods (cherry, oak, mulberry, juniper, chestnut), with each wood imparting distinct characteristics to the vinegar.
What struck me most was the time involved. Traditional balsamic vinegar of Modena DOP must be aged for a minimum of 12 years, with some varieties aging for 25 years or more. As someone counting down days until my 51st birthday, this perspective on time resonated deeply.
"The barrels are never emptied completely," our guide explained. "Each contains traces of all previous productions, going back generations."
I thought about this as we reached the tasting portion. We sampled three vinegars: 12-year, 18-year, and 25-year. The progression was remarkable – from tangy and bright to increasingly complex, sweet, and almost syrupy. The 25-year vinegar was so concentrated that just a few drops transformed a piece of Parmigiano Reggiano into something transcendent.
"This is why we call it black gold," the guide said, noting my expression.
After the tour, I wandered through Modena's historic center, which was quiet on this Tuesday afternoon. The mostly cloudy sky and 7°C temperature kept most people indoors or moving purposefully between destinations. I ducked into the Palazzo Comunale, appreciating its warm interior after the chill outside.
For lunch, I found a small trattoria and ordered tortellini in brodo again – this warming soup has quickly become my comfort food here. The owner brought a small bottle of aged balsamic to the table, suggesting I add a few drops to enhance the flavor. He was right – it added a depth I hadn't experienced before.
As I ate, I overheard talk about an upcoming strike. I asked the owner about it, and he explained that a national general strike is planned from Thursday night through Friday, affecting transportation and other services. I made a mental note to plan accordingly – perhaps extending my stay in Modena by an extra day rather than risking travel complications.
Now, as afternoon settles in and I look out at the historic buildings of Modena, I'm thinking about time in different ways. There's the quick passage of my journey days, contrasted with the patient aging of balsamic vinegar in wooden barrels. There's the history contained in these medieval buildings, standing for centuries while people like me pass through briefly.
Perhaps there's something to learn from the balsamic tradition – the value of patience, of letting experiences mature and develop complexity over time. Not everything worthwhile can be rushed.
As I finish my coffee, I realize I'm developing a new relationship with time on this journey. Back in my previous life, time was something to optimize, to maximize productivity within. Here, time feels more fluid, more precious, more to be savored than spent.
409 days remain. How will I age them?
!Traditional balsamic vinegar barrels at Acetaia Giusti The batterie of barrels at Acetaia Giusti, where time transforms grape must into liquid gold