So I’ll leave it with a few pictures and keep the deep thoughts off these pages for a while. I reckon that looking at a woman for an hour on the train from Milan to Verona and then writing a quick allegory on the state of Italian wine could seem (to some folks) “sad that I paint the woman that way”. Sorry Mary Ewing, it was just an exercise, part of the non linearity that I learned from Bucky Fuller. But thanks for tweeting in. I’ve had my Master of Wine check. Always nice!
Guy Stout chimed in from the Master Sommelier department. He also sent me a note about the last post. I wish you were here Guy. By the way, Guy is the consummate tester and he was the only one who wrote in with the correct answer to the visual quiz we had on that post. It was D – Veneto. Thanks Guy!
Speaking of the Veneto, I have to get on my best suit and “git” to the Pavilion – we have a seminar today with Franco Ziliani and I cannot miss it – Sorry Luca Zaia, I’ll miss your speech in the next room, we’ll have to meet later and drink some Mascarello, which I found very reasonable priced for vintages from the 1990’s – all under €80.
One last stab. When I went to Vinitaly to get my pass yesterday, they handed out a satchel. First they handed me a white one, which just wouldn’t work. So I asked, politely for a brown one, or so it looked like brown under the green fluorescent lights. But the official behind the counter made sure, in her finest Veneto-Zaia to correct me. “Non é marrone, é Bordeaux!” she quipped. Well I just came from Bordeaux (see my official invite from Pétrus, pronounced Pet-ruhz, not Peh-troos) and conosco I miei Bordeaux. And that is no Bordeaux, Madam.
I got a girl name of Boney Maroney
She's as skinny as a stick of macaroni
Oughta see her rock'n'roll with her blue jeans on
She's not very fat,
just skin and bo-o-one