I asked my AI assistant Claudio to analyze my wine cellar.

With the onrush of everything AI in these moments, there was an article recently by Eric Asimov in the New York Times entitled “A.I. Is Coming for the Sommeliers.” It dovetailed neatly with a project I have been doing at home with my AI assistant, Claudio, who I tasked with analyzing my wine collection. The exercise was straightforward enough: I uploaded my inventory — some 250 bottles accumulated over 45 years — and asked Claudio for a deep dive. Which wines to drink now, which were at or near peak, which merited more time in the cellar, and which had probably given up the ghost. Claudio went to work and produced a spreadsheet laying out the potential and possibilities in store for me. After going over the results, I realize I have my work cut out for me, especially in the next two years or so. It seems I have a preponderance of “drink now” wines, and by my reckoning I will have to open a bottle a week for the next two years, come hell or high water. It presents a bit of a dilemma, albeit a first-world one, in that most of the wines in question are red, and here we are in March in Texas already registering 90+℉ outside. Not exactly the stuff of steaks and stews, hearty meals, that kind of thing. So I have asked Claudio to lay out a schedule for the next two years, plotting a course in which to open these bottles before the wines or the humans involved get much older.

The Miracle of Montalcino ~ A Master Class from a Young Master – Pt.II

In the last week or so, I've been mulling over why Brunello latched onto the American wine imagination as easily and rapidly as it did. The fine wine world here was so French-driven until the 1970s, when Napa Valley took honors at that famous blind tasting in Paris and swept the imagination — and the trust funds — over to the west coast. I grew up on California wines, produce of my native state, and witnessed that excitement firsthand. To have it happen in one's lifetime was a blessing. To then see a similar trajectory ignite in Tuscany not long after — that's like winning the lottery twice, for a wine person. And so it was. The miracle of Montalcino.

Brunello di Montalcino ~ An Honest-to-Goodness Master Class from a Young Master – Pt.I

The Environmental Mosaic

Anyone who has read this blog over the years knows that I have a cynical and sometimes impatient attitude regarding the proliferation of master classes in the wine world. I have been to master classes where revered restaurateurs, momentarily anointed, have stumbled and bumbled their way through a PowerPoint presentation, their ambitions having overshot their capabilities.

And then there comes a class that sets things right again. Such was the occasion last week in Dallas when Gabriele Goretti presented before a receptive crowd his vision of the 2021 vintage for Brunello di Montalcino.

An offshoot of Benvenuto Brunello that the Consorzio del Vino Brunello di Montalcino has initiated, this is an elaboration of the Brunello Forma Series, where designated experts in the field dive deeper into what makes quality Brunello. I found it fascinating, as this subject has been rolling around in my head for years — questions of location, altitude, soil, geological formation, and of course the size of the winery and its production capabilities. Thankfully, younger souls have taken on the task and made great leaps forward in communicating just why and how Brunello aspires to greatness in the world of wine.

Italy: Without a Doubt

...from the archives

When it all gets to be a little too much, when the heat of the day goes from tepid to searing, when all this running around and shuffling and commotion becomes just so much noise and distraction, I pull in. I want my own little vision of Italy to wield its power over me. I don't want to worry about whether or not I speak or understand the language well enough. I never will. I'll never be an insider in the language of words department. That's for other people with those talents. No, the little universe of Italy that's wrapped around my heart and mind is a place somewhere in the middle, with rolling hills and a nearby beach with salty water and the setting for the happiness that Italy represents to me. My Italy isn't perfect, but it's damn well near, and it works just fine for me.

“Errand Boys Sent By Grocery Clerks”

Notes from the Last Wine Blogger Standing

I. The River

The mission came through, as it always does, in the fog.

I’ve been on this river a long time. Long enough to remember when the three-tier system made a kind of sense — when the distributor felt like a partner, when the rep walking your route knew your customers by name. Knew which sommelier was quietly building an Italian list and which retailer would gamble on an Etna Rosso nobody had heard of yet. Selling wine was inseparable from loving it. The rep knew the producer, the place, the reason it mattered.

That world didn’t just change. It was hollowed out, quietly, with an acronym.

A Billion Heartbeats Ago

2026 has been challenging, so far. A short visit at the beginning of the year, to see a friend whom I might not ever see again, started it off. I returned home to receive a vet’s diagnosis that our oldest cat, Buttercup, had an inoperable growth attached to her trachea, preventing her from eating solid foods. We were advised to initiate palliative care and prepare her for hospice. About that time, I realized I had gone down this road 25 years ago with my wife, Liz, who in 2001 was in the last stages of her young life. She made it to her 48^th birthday on Feb 14, 2001, but on the 17^th she surrendered her mortal cloak and passed away. Now, I know a cat and a human cannot be seen by many folks as being equivalent, but the pathway I found myself on this early in the year has had a triggering effect. And I don’t like it.

Farewell to Barbetta

You know, there come along those once in a lifetime restaurants. For me, some of them are Gualtiero Marchesi in Milan, Chez Panisse in Berkeley, Barbetta in Manhattan. All marching to the beat of their own different drummer, but noteworthy and unforgettable. Gualtiero Marchesi is long gone (but not forgotten). Chez Panisse still has a warm hearth and a welcome mat. But Barbetta lost their beating heart. Laura Maioglio passed away January 17 of this year. And on Feb 27, the restaurant will close. I am heartbroken.

Italian Wine's Premiumization and "Affordability" Problem

What happens when you aggrandize and enshrine something that for generations has served as daily ritual

The news keeps contradicting itself. Alcohol causes cancer. Alcohol prevents loneliness. Wine sales collapsing. Warehouses overflowing with unsold inventory. Public health crisis. Social connection crisis. All true at once, all missing the point.

This isn't just a story about wine industry economics. It's what happens when you try to scale something that was never meant to be optimized—when wine went from just what you did to something you now have to decide about.

Flying Over the Future: Why Vinitaly Can't See Texas

"Vale più un rimprovero di un amico che un bacio di un nemico"

Year after year, I've witnessed the Italian wine paradox in America. Producers, consorzi, and government wine agencies trace the same familiar circuit: New York to Chicago to San Francisco, ending up in sunny LA or Miami. Meanwhile, cities like Houston, Dallas, and Austin get bypassed. Flyover country. BBQ country. Cowboy country. Translation: No country for Italian wine.

Flooded with Memories

It was finally a clear day in San Diego. I was visiting a friend whose brighter days were behind him. But he said, “Let’s take a ride around the island (Coronado, where he lives) and get some fresh air and sunshine." Uncharacteristically, it had been raining for what seemed like weeks in one of the sunniest cities in America. And after not having been in my native state since way before Covid, it was disarming not to see the sun. Just clouds and rain, and that piercing humidity that days, weeks, of rain brings. Bone soaking cold.

Earlier, the night before, we sat at a table on the top floor of a building downtown, overlooking the Pacific ocean, eating salmon and drinking French Chablis. Or rather I was. My friend had eaten before I got off the plane. He was content to watch me while sipping on a cocktail, something with bourbon, an Old Fashioned or Manhattan. I’m bad at remembering that sort of thing.

I’d really wanted a Puligny Montrachet, my guilty indulgence. But I don’t think they had one by the glass, and if they did, it would have probably been $50 for three ounces, or something to that effect. So, Chablis it was. I thought to myself, “I’m in California, I really should me drinking California wine, shouldn’t I?” I would tomorrow, with my friends wife.

But the bike ride.

Wine Doesn't Miss You

When someone you love dies—a mate, a pet—there's a hole. They don't stop loving you, but they're gone. The loss is indescribable.

Wine is different.

Does wine love you back? Does it miss you when you stop drinking it? No more than the chatbot misses you when you close the browser.

But for a long time, I couldn't parse the animate from the inanimate connections and emotions associated with them.

From the Sixes: A Surprising and Encouraging Start to 2026

The three wines that began 2026 so well

I’m plodding my way through the puddles in Southern California, on a personal mission. Before I got on the plane, we were invited to a friend’s house for New Years day celebration. It’s a yearly event, and lots of old friends show up, mainly from the Italian wine and food community. It was a pleasant day to sit outside and eat cotechino con lenticchie while sipping on Franciacorta and mature Barolo.

I used the day as an opportunity to liberate some of my older wines. Seeing as the new year ends in a “6” I opted for wines from years ending in “6,” namely 2006 and 1996. Three wines were picked.

20 Years of Wine Blogging: Now What?

Well, that twenty years went in a flash. Frankly, I really don’t want the next twenty years to go as fast, I’m already older than I want to be. But this is where I’m at, where we’re all going to be, one day. And instead of regretting it, I look forward to what this stage of life means.

Twenty Years In: A 2025 Retrospective

Twenty years ago this month, I started this blog. Nearly 1,800 posts later, I'm still here. I was contemplating an end the blog at twenty years. But 2025 brought a bevy of posts (and new readers) that were rewarding and widely read. Strange thing, for I really thought wine blogs and wine blogging were heading to the Smithsonian to rest next to the dinosaurs. It seems Substack has renewed the category, albeit in a different format, of sorts.

What Makes Someone an Italian Wine Expert? (And Why It Doesn't Matter)

I was in my local Italian market last week, picking up olive oil and pasta. A woman nearby stood staring at the wine section, Brunellos lined up like soldiers. She looked lost. I asked if she needed help. She did—looking for something specific. I found it for her, pointed out a couple alternatives, and moved on.

Walking away, a thought flickered through my mind: "I bet she doesn't know she just got advice from someone who spent forty years working with Italian wine." I laughed at myself and kept walking toward the eggs. What a ridiculous thing to think.

But it raises a question I've been chewing on for years: what actually makes someone an Italian wine expert?