I’m in an Asian restaurant. On one side a party is drinking Gavi on another side Chilean Chardonnay. Across from me the couple is having a Chardonnay from California’s Central Coast. I’m trying a Sauvignon Blanc from Chile. There are no sommeliers to work the floor, but we all make it through the night, our palates intact.Now it wasn’t a night that I’ll remember forever, but it was one in a string of nights, dining out, where it was just fine.
So what do we need a sommelier for?
With the market shrinking for wine stewards, economic slowdown, hours being cut, positions being eliminated, I have to imagine that there are not just a few sommeliers asking that question too. What am I doing? How do I support my family? Where is this leading? What have I gotten myself into?Sure there are the Michael Jordans out there, somms who have carved out a niche for themselves. Larry O’Brien, Laura dePasquale, Greg Harrington, Doug Frost. And yes all of these fine folks have risen to the rank of the Master Sommelier, they’ve passed through hell and beyond. But for all those young lads and lassies who are crawling their way up the mountain, what are some of the biggest obstacles in their path?
I’d say that many of the ones I have been encountering lately suffer from the misperception that the world can’t live without them. Listen, the world will use every one of us in whatever way the fates decide. But to the young grasshoppers out there who really care to read to the end of this post, number 1 thing to note: The world doesn’t “need” you.Sound cruel? Get over it.
One of the cool things about the wine biz is how everyone talks to one another. Winemakers, reps, distribs, brokers, retailers, restaurateurs, export managers; it’s one extended cocktail party. Kind of like Twitter. It’s ongoing and there is no end to the conversation. And while there will be an occasional dominant thread, there will be no single person or wine who will or can dominate the room. It’s a party, remember?
The next big thing? Gruner, been there done that. Greek wine from Paros? Oh please. Biodynamic wine from Georgia? Yeah, tell that to the young couple who just came in for some spring rolls and a sashimi platter. Get real. Stop trying to discover wine and bleeding all over your customers with your new found close-out that you just “discovered”. And please, stop thinking this is just about you, don’t pout, there are many out there who are thinking this way. Which makes it comical, because here we have these guys and gals going out and thinking they have just found the next “it” wine and there about 20 of them who have just done the same exact thing.
Ok, you say I’m being hard on you? Wake up. Somms have so much more support to learn their trade these days. There are groups, there is the Court of Master Sommeliers, the Society of Wine Educators, the Institute of Master of Wine, various wholesalers and importers have their very own educational programs. Thirty years ago? Good luck getting a wine rep to bring you something from the Loire, or an Italian wine that wasn’t Bolla Soave or Fontana Candida Frascati.
I’m not saying you shouldn’t be interested in new and esoteric wines that are flooding the markets. But let’s put it in perspective. These are not bread-and-butter wines. They cannot sustain a restaurant or a sommelier, indefinitely. And unless you are a place like Catalan Food & Wine in Houston and have the intellectual curiosity of an Antonio Gianola and the traffic in the dining room to support an exemplary program like he has put together, than you need to learn to walk. First.
And one of the main messages that young sommeliers never seem to get, is that they walk tall because of the shoulders they stand upon. And they stand high because the shoulders are those of giants. A friend and a colleague, someone who has carved out their very own niche in this business as a broker (not an easy place, always between a rock and a hard spot) said it best, and I quote: “I'm reminding buyers every single day that they better support the generations of winemakers who created a product for them to even have a 'career' these days.”
To even have a career these days, listen to those words, folks. We don’t need any more wine snobs; fortunately, that generation is dying off. And we don’t need any dilettantes. The god of Wine is clear about this; we are all soldiers, we are all one infinitesimal piece of a multi-millennial movement of the grape and humankind, working our way through earth, life and evolution to finer expressions of humanity and vinosity. There is no room for pomposity.Remember, Columbus didn’t discover America. It was never missing.
So the next time you think you are the first one to have this idea, feeling or inspiration, by all means, be excited. But don’t go putting your byline below it. Or you will have legions of centurions to contend with. Open the bottle, enjoy it, share it, but don’t go thinking you are the god of Wine. Scores of Ancients, from the Greeks to the Romans will attest that is a road which goes deeper than the seven layers of Hell our dear friend Dante wrote about.
A rosé by any other name is Leonardo. This little guy, who looks strikingly like his handsome dad, 
As these words appear on the page, outside my window the sky has its own idea about what a rosé is. Of course, in the early morning the idea of a rosé is an evolving one. Right now we’re in a Franciacorta rosé moment. As Spring winds down and Summer is setting the stage for its moment, wine lovers love to talk about rosé.
Copper River salmon are streaming into the local food shops, and at $27 a pound, one cannot always afford a Bandol Rosé from Domaine Tempier. One of my go to wines is the La Scolca Rosa Chiara. I know purists probably won’t agree with me, but they don’t run my life. And I love this wine. It’s lively, had a wonderful color and enough body to go with the salmon I love. Maybe it’s my lack of agenda when it comes to enjoying a wine, but I find pleasure in the enjoyment of this rosé. I love the color. I like the aromas. I like the fruit. And the body. It’s gulpable. And on a picnic in the park, listening to a Beatles or Stones or Texas Swing cover band, it’s pure summer. Not quite tiny bikinis, but enough skin to tempt and tantalize.
Texas foods, like chicken livers and the baked Italian chicken that my aunt taught me to make go well with anything. But if I have a bottle of a deep rosé like one from Abruzzo, Calabria or Sicily, all the better. Three that I like are the Illuminati Campirosa, The Librandi Rosato and the Regaleali Le Rosé. These are more deeply colored and with a fuller body. The spice and the fuller flavors match well with fried foods and again make for a wonderful evening on a porch or a patio, sipping with friends and your favorite warm weather comfort foods.
Seasonal warming brings out the grills and makes for a nice transition to the outdoors, if only for an evening. Here in Texas we are preparing for the onslaught of mosquito season, so while we feast we will also be feasted upon. Fish on the grill reminds me of the Maremma and so a rosé from that area is a great way to sooth oneself. Marco Bacci’s estate near Grossetto, Terré di Talamo, brings some of us his Piano Piano, a Sangiovese/ Cabernet blend (with maybe a little Alicante as well, eh Marco?). Light in color, fresh, in a word, deelish.
Last summer I trekked to Chicago for a few days. One of the highlights of the trip was to make the pilgrimage to one of the great pizza ovens in America, 
We started with a sky the color of Franciacorta rosé. For me the morning are serious stuff, so Franciacorta gets the nod for my serious morning rosé fix, if I were on vacation or if I stayed up all night. But a little to the east over in Valdobbiadene the Prosecco folks are jumping on the rosé bandwagon. And our friends at Bisol have come out with this little rosé called Jeio. It’s a perfect wine to sip on the porch while I watch my bees working furiously before the light of the day comes to an end. Here we are, not for me it is time to go to work, selling, not blogging. Getting through another tough month. Ah well, the bees don’t complain, why should I? I’ll just chill a bottle of the Jeio rosé for this evening. That’s reason enough.
I got a call from IWG, he was heading out, could I come over and watch his house and his tomato plants? $100 a day to look after the old man’s crap, sure why not? As the taxi pulled up he was rushing to catch up with his adventure. “Where are you going?” I asked. “To a place where these cell phones and internets don’t go.” “When will you be back?” We were changing places in the cab. “I’ll be back soon. Just watch the house, don’t let your friends leave anything in their cars if they park in front of the house. And one more thing, that interview with the Italian wine sommelier, why don’t you test drive it around my blog?” He handed me the keys to his silver bullet, cool, quick German sedan and told me to drive safe. Yeah. Uh huh.
First question: So, Andrea, tell me what are people drinking?
Q- They won’t make it through the summer if they do. But enough about what I’m seeing, over here most of the folks except crazy-wonderful Antonio think they have to mark things up like they’re a gentleman’s club?
Q- I hear more from my friends here that getting a sommelier certification doesn’t get you the dream job? How about your life, how goes that?
I would (and do) advise to simply take the hit and close them out. Now. Lesser wines are taking the hit. Dolcettos and Barberas are streaming through the wine bars having been discounted to ridiculously attractive levels, ones that even I would bite on. And I need no more wine in my closet.
The Barbera. I started hearing about this little beauty from SB (somm-buddy) who comments on this site. I knew the place, went up to the estate in Castiglione Falletto back when the crust of the earth was cooling. I got it then, just stood up a bottle of their ’81 Nebbiolo to let the dust settle. Had first communion with Alfredo, OK? I get it.
Look, for a generation now some of us have been carrying this donkey up the hill. The Italians always undervalued their wine, almost apologizing for it because of the price. A Chianti Classico Riserva selling for $7 when a 3rd growth was going for $12. And the Italian was contrite, ashamed, sorry. So the wine got discounted down to $3 and all of a sudden lots of buzz from a restaurant here, a wine shop there. It was rampant in the 1980’s with Rosso di Montalcino, the “throw away” wine. The distribs had to buy the Rosso to get the Brunello and when it didn’t sell they’d schlep a bottle to Don Cazzu and make him an offer he couldn’t refuse. Great stuff, from Costanti to Il Poggione to San Restituta. I am not kidding. How many times I sat there with my bag of wine while Don Cazzu tells me what a great deal he got for the ‘74 RdM for only $2 a bottle. And he was right! But it perpetuated the image of Italian wine value. A Rosso di Montalcino was only worth $2-3 a bottle because it wasn’t bought right in the first place and it surely was never sold right. And so the true value of the wine never made it into the hearts and minds of the wine buyers.
Truman Capote was a young literary genius whose emotional maturity never quite caught up with his talent. His writing was fierce, fearless and so very sharp for the times he found himself in. A child born from a child, his life raced furiously in the fast lane until he was 59. And then, it was finished. Much has been written about his life, bio-pics have been made, numerous books and articles about his life, his writing, his escapades, his demons. But when he was alive, Truman Capote became a big star. A bestselling brand. Along the time his star was traversing across the winter skies, television and heightened attention to the new media brought many people into contact with him. I still remember seeing this funny little short, squatty man on the TV in my parents’ home when they were watching Mike Douglas or Jack Parr or Johnny Carson. He seemed a lot like some of the people in my home town (Palm Springs) so it wasn’t too out of context to see it on TV. But the number of times he kept showing up registered in my brain. I once saw a copy of “In Cold Blood” on the table in the living room and picked it up. I was probably 12 at the time. I was more interested in tennis or getting out of my parents home, going outside and riding my bike. But Capote was big. So big. What people thought of him, be it the high-society types or the artistic ones, they shaped the Capote from there on. He never had a chance. Partying and drinking and smoking and talking and twittering about. What great works of literature were stolen by taking his time? It was an era when a writer as a media star was something new, and he was so damned talented. But he was diverted. And before long, the brand “Capote” overtook the man.
Robert Mondavi was a visionary, a leader, driven to pursue a dream that shaped Napa Valley and beyond. Because of his relentless stubbornness any of us who work in the wine business today are in a better place, thanks to Mondavi. He was Moses and he led us out of the wilderness. I remember the early days in the 1970’s, when what he was talking about was so rare. Single varietal wines made in a fashion, at a level of quality that there was no market for. Yet. But he persevered, and everyone around him did too. And Mondavi became a monster brand.
Gary Vaynerchuk. He’s on top of the world. Thousands visit his sites daily. His number of followers on the new social platforms like Twitter have grown six-fold in two months. He’s on CNN, his American Express miles must be in the stratosphere from all the travel. He has a ten book, seven figure deal with a major publisher. And he still has time to personally return an e-mail. How does he do it?
He doesn’t have a blog in which to schlep his wines or his philosophy. He hasn’t sent out samples to wine writers and bloggers. He didn’t go to Vinitaly (or the alternatives) and he isn’t planning on going to VitignoItalia or Terroir Vino. He doesn’t have air-miles or instant-upgrades in which he can rely on to get him over to Italy on a regular basis. He doesn’t have a patron or a mate who is making tons of money. And it’s not that he isn’t a sociable guy. He has many friends. It’s just that he has to make it work. He cannot fail. He doesn’t have a fall-back plan. He must succeed. I’m betting he will.
This week, he called to tell me that:
There isn’t a day that goes by when I don’t think of Abruzzo from my first visit there in the early 1980’s, when they adopted me as one of their native sons, to the years of friendship and collegiality among the many winemakers there.
The land oozes soul; the grapes burst their energy forth for lively wines. When one hears about all the tankers of Montepulciano that move north at night to vivify weaker wines in the north, this is an unsung hero of a region.
My friends at Illuminati, not trampled by the crashing bricks or rumbling dirt, but none the less affected by their neighbor’s cries of pain. Over the years their wines have changed, like their labels, but always for the better. Today they are a success story for Abruzzo. Some of their neighboring wineries near Aquila are searching for their way through back to the future.
Some day they will open bottles of sparkling wine to celebrate a gathering, a success, a landmark.
