Easter of the Immigrants – A Feast for the Ages

Over the past month, as my personal fog has lifted, there have been dreams. And in these dreams, many of them have had family who are no longer with us. The Grande Cinema of them all is one which has taken on a life after waking.

San Gimignano – Vernaccia, Fireflies and the Dark Energy of Hope

The vault of memory stores more than kisses, licks, slaps, bites and stings.

A long-time colleague of mine obsesses over Vernaccia from San Gimignano. A white wine from red wine-dominated Tuscany. He must put it on wine lists. A wine that has been forgotten by today’s cadre of sommeliers, searching for brighter, shinier objects. Something newer, more exciting. Sexier. Oh yeah, just wait, Vernaccia from San Gimignano will be back, as soon as someone under 30 “discovers” it.

In the meantime, before they were born, one spring night, I found myself on a dirt path, walking towards a home. Those of us in our group, my future wife Liz and my friend and importer, Eugenio Spinozzi, were heading to dinner with the Arrigoni family. Pietraserena is a peaceful little enclave at the base of San Gimignano. So peaceful, the film director Franco Zeffirelli used the location to film some of his story about St. Francis, “Brother Sun, Sister Moon.”

Sangiovese and the Duel of Sex

From the "Hello, is it me you're looking for?" dept.

No one looked, no one asked, when Sangiovese frolicked in the hills of Tuscany with childhood friends, Canaiolo, Malvasia, Trebbiano and Colorino. It was a simpler time. Sure, there were reports of Sangiovese co-mingling with the Cabernets, Sauvignon and Franc, near Florence. Florence was more liberal, less discriminating in who they chose as their partners. But in the rugged country, it was loyalty to long time workmates that cast the pattern. And then along came Tachis.

Chianti was boring. Property values made walking away from historic estates a realistic alternative. Head to Florence, embrace the 20th century, have some fun along the way; that was the pattern. No one wanted to stay back at the farm.

But Sangiovese couldn’t go. Rooted to the land, and as with so many marauders over time, overcome by the international army that was hitting the shores of Tuscany.

Giacomo Tachis and his Legacy of Disruptive Innovation

“One riot, one ranger”

Looking out the window on an early morning in March, leaves are falling from the trees. Spring is pushing the last of the old expressions out, making way for new growth. It’s been a month since Giacomo Tachis died. I have some things to say about his life, now that the obituaries and articles have come and gone.

You had to be there. I mean in the streets. Selling Italian wine. What it was like. What was it like? It was dark. It was gloomy. It was discouraging. The gatekeepers, like Pierre, with his aquiline nose and tarnished tastevin, would see us coming with a bag of Italian wine. They’d put up their hand, motioning us to stop there. “This is no place for you. We are a serious establishment. We already have an Amarone on the list. Go somewhere else with your bag of (inferior) Italian wine.” You think it didn’t happen? Oh, it happened. For years.