In praise of Trebbiano Abruzzese - a short personal history

Dino Illuminati, me and Daniele Spinelli,- 30 years ago

Without a doubt, the one indigenous Italian white that I have the most experience with over the years is Trebbiano Abruzzese. Because of that, I have a fondness for this wine. When I mention it in conversation I often get raised eyebrows before the verbal comments. I know what’s coming, and I brace myself. I’ve been repeatedly flogged with that whip over the years. It doesn’t hurt anymore.

Take a walk on the wild side – Abruzzo’s love pat to Barbera and Chianti.

While this week has been all about Barbera in Piedmont, on the wine trail in Italy Texas has been all about Abruzzo. The jovial, fresh wines of Montepulciano have brightened up many a wine for Tuscans, The Veneto and points beyond. And as the world debates the value of wine in places like Napa, New York and Nizza Monferatto, these past few days with Stefano Illuminati and the Illuminati mini-van on the run has been a virtual Gospel revival bus of Italian wine.

Not that there haven’t been the occasional introspective moments. We happen to live in a wealthy part of the world, so the aftershocks of the economic quake that hit months ago aren’t felt as intensely. But one of my Italian friends admonished, “stay attentive” – we are not finished in this cycle quite yet. Folks in Abruzzo understand such things, having been rippled by the earth below their feet countless times, the last time almost a year ago when Aquila was almost leveled.


Surprise of the trip? An experimental wine from Illuminati, the Nico. I first had this wine in the 1980’s when Illuminati was making their charge up the hill to be seen as one of the leaders for quality wine from Abruzzo. Made from passito Montepulciano, this wine has been a laboratory for ideas from the Illuminati winery. It has also been the wine that the older winemaker Spinelli symbolically passed the baton to the younger winemaker, Capellacci. Now the wine, for me, has taken on a life of its own, the conversation is now between me and Nico, no longer between the generations of winemakers that are part of the history of illuminati.


Old friend and colleague Guy Stout was in the room this week when we tasted the 2003 Nico. At the first whiff of the wine, prickly and a bit wild, I walked over to Guy. “You detect a little volatile acidity?” I asked him. “ I do – a lot.” He said and smiled. The lack of “polish” made us both happy. Here was a wine with a life life that someone hadn’t styled into a pretty little high-test velvet bomb. Note to Barbera producers- take a walk on the wild side, free the Barbera- it’s working for some of the upcoming producers in Abruzzo. And we like the results here in Texas and America.

Stefano said it well, and this isn’t the first time I have heard it. He said, “Our grandfathers used to sell their grapes to Tuscany, to Veneto, to France. We don’t have time for that now. We need our grapes.”

We need our grapes. And while not every grape from Abruzzo is destined to be put in a bottle that says “Made in Abruzzo,” the young generation has a reason to be fiercely proud of their progress.

Yesterday as the minivan was carrying us from hotel to meeting, Stefano made a call to his friend and colleague Leonardo Pizzolo, who is also barnstorming Texas towns with his Montepulciano from Valle Reale. The two talked, will miss each other in Texas, one in Austin while the other is in Houston, I overheard the conversation they were having in Italian. Leonardo was seeing the wine lists with scores of Chianti wines on them, but maybe only one wine from Abruzzo. “How is it they can put so many Chianti’s on their lists and half of them are so awful. They don’t speak of where they come from.” Maybe Leonardo, because the wine in the bottle doesn’t come from Tuscany? Or maybe because too many people in Tuscany have lost their way?

Two days ago, sitting around a table in Houston with a group of young sommeliers we had that same discussion. “I just don’t think of Chianti as an interesting wine anymore,” one of them remarked. After a heated discussion that got into the styles and the areas, I think they are more confused about the style of Chianti because there are so many expressions of what Chianti is. And while we won’t solve the problems for Tuscany or Piedmont at a table in Houston (we’ll save that honor for the halls of Vinitaly in a few weeks) the discussion rages on.

The young sommeliers want to know more about the Italian wines, especially being exposed to young producers who are their peers, who have come up in similar times. And honestly, the experience of growing up in the last 20 years, where communications have flattened the world, where we get around more, have allowed for a closer sharing of the life experience, more so than ever before. Just look around you, people are plugged into their electronic tribes like never before.

And that, dear readers - especially anyone looking out, looking in on the ground at one the battlefields to save Italian wine from becoming “international” - that is what we have been meeting about here on the wine trail.


The bus leaves out of here in 45 minutes and I have to get packed and ready - we have a gig in Dallas @ 10:30 AM!

written and photographed by Alfonso Cevola limited rights reserved On the Wine Trail in Italy

Cerasuolo is the Name & Gumbo is the Game

On the road with Stefano Illuminati and “other” celebrities

After our Big Night in Houston, the next day we had a lunch appointment with the sommeliers of Da Marco, Poscol and Tony’s at Tony’s. A power table at a power restaurant run by one of the most powerful restaurateurs in Texas. Tony Vallone has been “in the biz” for as long as I can remember and his eponymous restaurant is a shrine to wine, food, art – and power. My Austinopoli colleague has written so much more eloquently about it. I was even looking for his cousin Marty when I walked in for lunch.

I ran into Tony in the bar and we exchanged greetings. Our orbits all these years have been in different galaxies but we’d occasionally cross over into each other’s world. Just a couple of busy Italian-American fellows making their way in the world. I had to gasp when I actually had time to sit down and gaze upon some of the art in the dining room. Was I at the Mesnil Collection, or the Houston Museum of Modern Art? It was quite impressive. I was an art student in college, so the works of giants like Robert Rauschenberg and Mark Rothko are familiar. The unusual sculpture of The Three Graces by Jesus Moroles is one of those iconic pieces that harkened back to the day when wealthy patrons like the Medici’s would commission an “important” piece.

The night before I had gone a little overboard, so I was looking for simple clean, light food that would complement the Illuminati wines we were showing to the accounts. And though folk like our dear Tom Wark lament that the three tier mechanism is broken beyond repair, there are those of us who are in the trenches trying to keep the world safe for wine, Italian and otherwise. Some of us choose to be stewards of our trade, even when the ship occasionally hits an iceberg. For the record, I am not against wineries that cannot get their wine going through the regular channels to try to find ways for their wines to reach the public. At the very least, those folks will get an education in the blunt realities of getting your wine to the final consumer. It is already not easy through the established channels, so if someone finds a way to the New World, good on them. Spend two weeks on the road knocking on doors and it is very clear. Very few people "in the industry" have time to read blogs, wine or otherwise. They just want their wine delivered at the right time and with the right discount. Isn't that right, Yelenosky?

I saw gumbo on the menu and thought it might be the perfect starter for the lunch to go with the Illuminati Montepulciano d’Abruzzo Cerasuolo “Campirosa” Rosato. A sixteen hour skin contact impressed the wine with a color that isn’t a blush and isn’t a red. The color is animated – very bright, almost a hot crimson – gorgeous. It is the wine we drink in the summer by the Lungomare in San Benedetto del Tronto while a server brings out a perfect plate of Mezze Maniche (rigate of course) with a spicy Arrabiata sauce. Cool wine that is almost red, but still refreshing. A great match

But today it was Gumbo. Thick rich roux, with gobs of seafood. No skimping, no shortcuts. And the wine with the gumbo was a terrific match.

We moved on to reds going from lighter to richer. I was still looking to maintain my new waistline, so I ordered up a simple plate of carpaccio. Again the simplicity of the dish sailed through the three wines, from the basic Montepulciano, the Riparosso, to the riserva Zanna, to the more international Lumen.


As we were talking and I was shooting the food and the folks at the table I spied a table in my lens. One of the ladies dining looked familiar, but it wasn’t until I got home and did my Antonioni “Blow- Up” exercise on Photoshop of the images that I spied someone that looked like the daughter ( and grand daughter) of past presidents of the USA. The Illuminati connection? When the younger one was governor of Texas he conferred the status of Honorary Texan on Dino Illuminati.


What do you think- is this Jenna Bush Hager lunching with her lady friends?


Great food, great art, some pretty good wines, stimulating conversation and a possible celeb-sighting – all in a day’s work on the wine trail, this time in Texas, making the world safer by showing the wines from Stefano Illuminati.

written by Alfonso Cevola limited rights reserved On the Wine Trail in Italy

The Joy of Selling

Last month at the Illuminati estate in Abruzzo, I had lunch with my people. No, they weren’t Sicilian or Calabrese cousins. They weren’t my co-workers or clients meeting me in Italy. It was much more visceral than that, almost tribal in the connection. I was invited to have lunch with a wine sales team, guys who sell to wine shops and restaurants in Rome. Over the years I've had many meals at Illuminati. In the early days we had meals on the second floor of the old house, sometimes outside. If it was cold we’d invade the dining room. As the winery grew and the Illuminati family redesigned the old stable on the main floor, we settled into the space they called the Luperia, a space with a kitchen and an open hearth. And a larger dining room. Many great memories exist in this room, but I had never sat down to eat with my own regiment. And during those years, friend and cellar master, Agostino, has opened many a bottle for us to enjoy. We’ve grown into the job together. I was really excited about this meal. I was prepared to pick the brains of rookie and veteran alike. Who would know better the travails of selling wine than a salesman from Rome? What kind of kickbacks did the Roman restaurateur demand? How did one go about getting control of the wine list or selling a wine from Abruzzo to a Sardegnan? I was hoping for all mysteries to be revealed. Dino Illuminati, the patriarch of the estate, motioned for me to sit next to him. Lunch is serious business for Dino and he didn’t want anyone to get too near him with idle chat. He wants to eat and drink first. I know the drill. When Dino and I sit down we both go after food and wine pretty well much in the same way. Except Dino has a capacity that I will never be able to match. One of the older veterans sat across from me. He reminded me of one of the salesmen back home. This gent had a peaceful air about him, he was the elder statesman; he grew up in Amatrice in northern Lazio. I asked him how his route was. Was it competitive? Cutthroat? Was it hard to collect money? Did you get resistance with all the new wines coming out? What about the prejudices of owners from one region against the wines of another region (i.e. Piedmont vs. Tuscan). I was surprised to be reminded that they don’t go around tasting wine, sampling as we call it. Now they just carry their list, with maybe some Gambero Rosso review (very big in Rome) and the price list. Pretty cut and dry. Rome was a city that was prepared for all comers, and has been this way for hundreds if not thousands of years. Anything goes. I was looking for their “hook”. How did they catch the big fish? Figuring Rome would be like NY or LA or Houston, there was always the particular technique that worked for the peculiarity of the particular city. He was a thoughtful guy. And we were starting to drink pretty well by then. The big slurpy purple stuff they make in Abruzzo that they call “Montepulciano in purezza.” All the while the young salesmen would come over to him and bear hug him or jostle him around. You could tell these guys liked working with each other; there was camaraderie among them. “Alfonso, what really works best is the rapport we build with our customers. Trust, time and relationship.” Ah, the “R” word. So the secret was, there is no secret; daily treading, pressing the flesh, and being reliable. Showing up. Building trust. Just like almost everywhere else. Look at these people. They’re having fun. They’re enjoying their lives. They’re enjoying each other. I told some stupid story, trying to be funny, about a sales experience here in The States, but I don’t think the experience translated so well to their frame of reference. No matter, platters of grilled lamb, sausage and pork were pulling up to the table and we soon were diverted to the main course.

Dino, me and Spinelli, back in 1988

The Luperia is a wellspring for me. I come back here to re-connect with those souls who are manifestations of the timeless energy that travels through the vine. Daniele Spinelli was one of the early winemakers I came to admire. I loved hanging out with him. When we would sit down to eat, as the night progressed, and as we went into red wine, the stuff he made, his head, shaped appropriately like a grape, would turn redder and redder. My Italian would get better and he would bestow his bodhisattva-blessing on me as a way to replenish me for another year. And send me back out to the outer regions to spread the word. It worked. And we came back every year or so, like pilgrims.

Luigi, me, Stefano and Claudio

Now, Dino isn’t so hands on. Spinelli passed away in 1992. But the next generation is upon us and there are more of them. As it is in the streets of Rome, so it is in the vineyards of Abruzzo. This is something that has been happening for hundreds of years and will continue, hopefully, for many hundreds more. After lunch we went outside for espresso and cigars and fresh air, what a combo, eh? The sales crew had to get back to Rome. It was only three hours we’d had to sit down and break bread, but in that time I felt like a huge gift had been dropped in my lap; An afternoon with my selling tribe; with the young ones, the veterans, the crazy ones, the calm ones. Its not a closed brotherhood but it is a deep connection, to capture what is growing right out there in the land and transform it to wine and take it to Rome and NY and Austin and try and share with all those folks in those places these amazing miracles in bottles. Not just wine, but the lives, of Spinelli and Spinozzi and Illuminati and you and me and anyone that wants in on this. This is the joy of selling. This is why I am on the wine trail in Italy and anywhere else the road takes me.

Thumbs up from a couple of Romans? I'll take that as a good sign.

written and photographed by Alfonso Cevola limited rights reserved On the Wine Trail in Italy

Dino Illuminati: A Remarkable 90 Years in the History of Italian Wine

(photo, courtesy of the Illuminati winery)

This whole cycle of life thing here on earth, it’s a peculiar one. It goes slow, then it speeds up, then it slows down, and then it seems there just isn’t enough time to finish anything. I cringe when a memorable character in Italian wine dies – and with it an outpouring of obituaries. Sometimes they read like a resume, and sometimes they take their cues from the perspective (and biases) of the scribe.

But why wait for someone to die to celebrate their life? Why not beat the drum while their heart is still beating some of that fine red Italian blood?

Which brings us to a figure whose life in Abruzzo has most definitely left its mark for the better. That person is celebrating his 90^th birthday, Dino Illuminati.

The Joy of Selling

From the archives October 15, 2008


Last month at the Illuminati estate in Abruzzo, I had lunch with my people. No, they weren’t Sicilian or Calabrese cousins. They weren’t my co-workers or clients meeting me in Italy. It was much more visceral than that, almost tribal in the connection. I was invited to have lunch with a wine sales team, guys who sell to wine shops and restaurants in Rome.

Over the years I've had many meals at Illuminati. In the early days we had meals on the second floor of the old house, sometimes outside. If it was cold we’d invade the dining room. As the winery grew and the Illuminati family redesigned the old stable on the main floor, we settled into the space they called the Luperia, a space with a kitchen and an open hearth. And a larger dining room. Many great memories exist in this room, but I had never sat down to eat with my own regiment. And during those years, friend and cellar master, Agostino, has opened many a bottle for us to enjoy. We’ve grown into the job together.

I was really excited about this meal. I was prepared to pick the brains of rookie and veteran alike. Who would know better the travails of selling wine than a salesman from Rome? What kind of kickbacks did the Roman restaurateur demand? How did one go about getting control of the wine list or selling a wine from Abruzzo to a Sardegnan? I was hoping for all mysteries to be revealed.

Dino Illuminati, the patriarch of the estate, motioned for me to sit next to him. Lunch is serious business for Dino and he didn’t want anyone to get too near him with idle chat. He wants to eat and drink first. I know the drill. When Dino and I sit down we both go after food and wine pretty well much in the same way. Except Dino has a capacity that I will never be able to match.

One of the older veterans sat across from me. He reminded me of one of the salesmen back home. This gent had a peaceful air about him, he was the elder statesman; he grew up in Amatrice in northern Lazio.

I asked him how his route was. Was it competitive? Cutthroat? Was it hard to collect money? Did you get resistance with all the new wines coming out? What about the prejudices of owners from one region against the wines of another region (i.e. Piedmont vs. Tuscan). I was surprised to be reminded that they don’t go around tasting wine, sampling as we call it. Now they just carry their list, with maybe some Gambero Rosso review (very big in Rome) and the price list. Pretty cut and dry. Rome was a city that was prepared for all comers, and has been this way for hundreds if not thousands of years. Anything goes.

I was looking for their “hook”. How did they catch the big fish? Figuring Rome would be like NY or LA or Houston, there was always the particular technique that worked for the peculiarity of the particular city.

He was a thoughtful guy. And we were starting to drink pretty well by then. The big slurpy purple stuff they make in Abruzzo that they call “Montepulciano in purezza.” All the while the young salesmen would come over to him and bear hug him or jostle him around. You could tell these guys liked working with each other; there was camaraderie among them.

“Alfonso, what really works best is the rapport we build with our customers. Trust, time and relationship.” Ah, the “R” word. So the secret was, there is no secret; daily treading, pressing the flesh, and being reliable. Showing up. Building trust. Just like almost everywhere else.

Look at these people. They’re having fun. They’re enjoying their lives. They’re enjoying each other.

I told some stupid story, trying to be funny, about a sales experience here in The States, but I don’t think the experience translated so well to their frame of reference. No matter, platters of grilled lamb, sausage and pork were pulling up to the table and we soon were diverted to the main course.

Dino, me and Spinelli, back in 1985

The Luperia is a wellspring for me. I come back here to re-connect with those souls who are manifestations of the timeless energy that travels through the vine. Daniele Spinelli was one of the early winemakers I came to admire. I loved hanging out with him. When we would sit down to eat, as the night progressed, and as we went into red wine, the stuff he made, his head, shaped appropriately like a grape, would turn redder and redder. My Italian would get better and he would bestow his bodhisattva-blessing on me as a way to replenish me for another year. And send me back out to the outer regions to spread the word. It worked. And we came back every year or so, like pilgrims.

Luigi, me, Stefano and Claudio

Now, Dino isn’t so hands on. Spinelli passed away in 1992. But the next generation is upon us and there are more of them. As it is in the streets of Rome, so it is in the vineyards of Abruzzo. This is something that has been happening for hundreds of years and will continue, hopefully, for many hundreds more.

After lunch we went outside for espresso and cigars and fresh air, what a combo, eh? The sales crew had to get back to Rome. It was only three hours we’d had to sit down and break bread, but in that time I felt like a huge gift had been dropped in my lap; An afternoon with my selling tribe; with the young ones, the veterans, the crazy ones, the calm ones. Its not a closed brotherhood but it is a deep connection, to capture what is growing right out there in the land and transform it to wine and take it to Rome and NY and Austin and try and share with all those folks in those places these amazing miracles in bottles. Not just wine, but the lives, of Spinelli and Spinozzi and Illuminati and you and me and anyone that wants in on this.

This is the joy of selling. This is why I am on the wine trail in Italy and anywhere else the road takes me.

Thumbs up from a couple of Romans? I'll take that as a good sign.

written and photographed by Alfonso Cevola limited rights reserved On the Wine Trail in Italy

Success in America, One Bottle at a Time

Stefano Illuminati "emphasizing" to Jeff Miller

The Wine Waltz across Texas with an Italian goes like this. Start in Dallas. Rent a mini-van. Drive (4 ½ hours) to Houston. Lunch appointments, meeting, dinner event. Next day, work the Houston market with salespeople, usually another lunch appointment with clients, sommeliers, buyers. Then a late afternoon sales meeting. Drive to Austin. Get to Austin late. Long days. Tired. Hungry. That’s where we found ourselves on this particular portion of the wine trail, rolling into Downtown Austin, near the Capitol, in search of some mighty fine pizza.

As we were driving from Houston to Austin we were rolling past one great BBQ place after another. I felt guilty because I know the Illuminati family love roasted meats. Anyone who has visited the Illuminati winery and been invited to eat at the Luperia, their on sight dining room, has had the pleasure of tasting great meats, (not to mention pasta, appetizers, you name it) with the wines of Illuminati. Great hospitality and the perfect way to show the wines of Abruzzo and their place on the gastronomic Italian proscenium

I’m not sure Stefano was thinking about his family’s place in the scheme of things that night. We were tired, we were hungry. He was jet lagged. We had close to a three hour drive and it had been less than 48 hours since he had landed in Texas with barely a moment to relax. “Alfonso, I need to buy my boys some gifts. Do you think we will have time?” Not yet Stefano, we have an appointment with a pizza oven.

Quattro Gatti on Congress in Austin was where we were to meet one of our salespeople. Well not just any salesperson, one who I met through the blogosphere, became friends, introduced to her husband, became their best man at their wedding. In other words, family. Added bonus, fluent in Italian, albeit with a Southern twang (Stefano commented on how she did not look like someone from Campania for sounding so much like one). Any way, the stars aligned, the oven was kicking out pizza, we were set.

A gorgeous pizza arrived, and then another one, the Montanara. A Bottle of Fiano from Mastroberardino appeared, and the Naples-Austin vortex started twitching. We are a few days out in front of SXSW, the annual gathering of musical talent combined with geekdome's most eloquent attenders. A little Burning Man, a little Haight-Ashbury, throw a love-in or two, and a high-speed conduit between the rest of the world and the current center of it, Austin, and, well, you just have to come to Austin to experience it.

Stefano ordered a pasta dish with clams. I was a little worried, because I know where he lives, San Benedetto del Tronto, and clams from there (and the pasta) are a true expression of la cucina Italiana. Yeah, yeah, we give it tons of lip service in the US, but in Stefano’s town, they walk the walk. But hey, the dish showed up and Stefano seemed pleased. I was too busy munching the pizza and anticipating the Branzino Al Forno.

And the Branzino? Well, take a look. It was perfect. Fish, salt, lemon, oil, parsley, five ingredients. Simplicity. Perfection. And with the Fiano? Austin is transmitting the signals from the Mother Ship with perfection.

After dinner (and the restaurant service) we finished up with a tasting of the wines with the owner, heading out around 10:30 to the hotel. The next day, Get up early get to a 9:00 AM sales meeting and tasting and then work the market, concluding with a stop at Fonda San Miguel, and finishing up out in Driftwood with a wine dinner for 80 people with Damian Mandola. Damian and Stefano have known each other for 25+ years. Damian was in Texas before heading out to his other home in Piedmont the next day. “Why don’t y’all come to the house for drinks, I'd love for the kids and my wife to see Stefano. “

Damian lives large. Big house. Lots of them. Big Family. Lots of them. Big restaurants. Lots of them. Big heart. Only one. Now spending half his time in Italy, his understanding of Italian food, especially how to present to America, has made him famous and wealthy. But we kind of remember him like we always have, a good guy with a big heart.

The dinner for 80 (at Trattoria Lisina) for 80 was spot on- great food, great wine, lots of friendly folk out in wine country. You have to experience it to believe it. The other day I got a call from my son wanting me to come out and visit him, near Marble Falls. “You won’t believe it, Pop, it looks like California or Italy out here in the vineyards.” I’m a believer, up until the point comes when it’s 100°F and humidity at 85% and snakes start slithering around between the vines.

Well, I have reached the 820 word point, so it’s time to wrap this one up. I’m sure I’ve lost the scanners and the folks who don’t read past the jump, and I can’t say I blame ‘em. I’ve been pretty wordy. And I’ve gotten a little mommy blogging lately. With Dr. P on the Barbera road, someone had to carry the torch. But he should be back by now, so I’ll get out of here real quick and pass the baton.

Stefano is a trouper. We hung with Damian till 10:30, another late night, and said our goodbyes. We have to get up and leave the hotel at 7:00 AM to drive to Dallas for a 10:30AM appointment. We’re waltzing two days on the road so far, with three more to go, before we skedaddle him back to Italy. More to come.

written by Alfonso Cevola limited rights reserved On the Wine Trail in Italy