The Angry White Man’s Guide to Italian Wine

Un po' pasquinata, per piacere

God, Guns and BBQ - That's what makes America Great!

The lawn chairs are gathered, the Roman candles have been foraged from the local fireworks store (just outside the city limits). The AR-15 is all ammo’d up and the P938 is locked and loaded, safely holstered and at the ready. We’re coming up on the Big One – Yessir – Independence Day – and aside from Beer and Bourbon, you might need to get “liquored up” with a little bit of Vino. And that Italian immigrant family who just moved into your gated community - you want to show the refugees some of that good ‘ol American hospitality? Offer them up a nice bottle of Chianti or Prosecco or – STOP!

Forget what they want – let’s show them what they need – and what you need to be a better balanced man, when it comes to Italian wine. Here’s your Million Dollar Primer – your screaming eagle guide - to the most important, best Bang! for your Buck!! wines from Italy. That is, until they get religion and switch over to “America First!” wines.

First off – None of those sissy white wines! Forget Pinot Grigio or Moscato or Prosecco. In fact the only white thing should be the person drinking the stuff. But like our blood (and our meat!), let it be red and let it bleed! Do you hear me? Red wine is what Jesus made and if it’s good enough for HIM, then it’s good enough for the rest of US.

Lesson One - Any true-blooded American (aside from those castaways we found, living off the land, when we discovered the place) needs a mouthful. Find it in Big Red Country - First stop is Super Tuscany. They got it right with American grapes, Cabernet and Syrah in small, tight barrels, rich and oozing of affluence and power. Hey, you may be angry, but you like the finer things in life. Yeah! This is the Talladega Superspeedway of wine. And bring your money, lots of it. Because everyone knows cheap wine ain’t worth the money you waste on it. It’s also got to be Super Expensive. While you’re at it, don’t just buy one of those little bottles – little bottles are for the little people – belly up to the bar and buy you a Magnum, just like that little thing hanging by your side, there. (Hey, that is supposed to be a concealed weapon, friend).

And while you’re at it – Do not – I repeat – DO NOT - buy anything that got less than 95 points in the Wine Spectator- the only authoritative American-owned wine rag – it’s like The Bible to the A.W.M community.

And stick to the Superior Super Tuscans with Cabernet or Syrah – no 100% Sangiovese, like those sell-outs in Montalcino, peddling their French (!) oak-aged “Sangiovese Grosso in purezza.” Gross! They’re just Super Tuscan wannabee crybabies. Let the sommeliers fight over them. Stick to your guns!

Another crucial reminder – ONLY buy vintages that come from what we call “American Vintages.” Those would be wines from hot, sunny seasons. And forget anyone telling you it’s because of some ginned-up hippie mantra about global warming – we all know THAT is because of “the ocean waters and this environment that we live in." And we know that because our once-and-always Great Texas governor Rick Perry told us so. So, get on the horse and go git you some of those 98 pointers out under the Tuscan Cowboy Sun. And the more expensive the better – End of Lesson One!

Lesson Two - nothing sweet – sweet is for babies and iced tea. Dry, dry, dry – that’s the stuff! Something like an Amarone, yeah that’s it. Nothing better on the 4th of July in America than hot dogs, hamburgers, BBQ brisket and a Big Gulp full of Amarone from a “5 STAR GENERAL” vintage like 1983 – the year our dear old “Best President of all time” - Ronald Reagan - sent our troops to Lebanon. Yeah, I’ll Drink To That! It’s the kind of wine Oliver North would go into the blazing oven of battle for. Amarone – something big – like, well, you know who I’m talking about – I don’t need to name names now, do I? This is, after all, America! Amarone in America – has a nice Golden Ring to it! (or if you prefer, Золото́е кольцо́)

Lesson Three – forget about all that volcanic wine nonsense – Etna, hell, just a bunch of pot-besotted hippies and commies at the end of their rope – making light, sissified wines. Like the true Italian immigrant Tony Soprano said, “Fuhgettaboutit.” And while you’re at it – fuhgettabout any rosé wines, light or dark – and sell off your wife’s Volvo SUV and get some religion, will you – get that new Escalade – after all, you’ve got to have something to drive when you buy all that fancy wine at your Big Box store – you know, the one where you get your ammo up all real cheap?

So, to recap – no volcano wine from anywhere – not from Sissy Sicily, not from those other failing mountains, Vesuvius, or Vulture (although that last one does have a good ring to it) or that stupid sissy Soave – get it out of your head! You don’t buy wine from Washington’s Mount St. Helens – it’s all burnt up – don’t do it from Italy either.

America's Venice is greater than Italy's Venice

PSA (Public Service Announcement, that is) - All Italian wine is American. Huh, more fake news? No, really it’s true – Because we Americans saved the vineyards in Italy (and all over the world!) when their root stock was too weak to fend off some little nothing like a root louse called phylloxera. And we – A.M.E.R.I.C.A. - sent over our powerful and manly root stock. And now everything that grows in Italy, except for those hippie commie volcano wines – come through our American Roots. Forget about Est! Est!! Est!! – It’s USA! USA!! USA!!! All the Way!!!!

Lesson Four – Everest Wines – We should call them McKinley wines, until some jackass changed the name to Denali – so let’s just go with what we know – Everest, it is! So what are they?

They’re big – Really Big! – and hard to get and hefty and expensive – Yeah, no Barbaresco on this list, amigo – we’re going straight for the jugular – Barolo.

Funny name, Barolo. I like Brlo better, it’s more economical, and sharper, edgier - makes me feel all clean and ready for the Big Boy Chest thumping contest that July 4th is to us real Americans. Hey, Barolo is a stretch. After all, it’s a thin skinned grape (Sad! Not like us Meat Eating Americans!) and it’s grown up there awfully close to France, and even closer to those Swiss neutral-gender folks. You want a man’s man of a wine – I get it – But Barolo is Big! And Fancy! And hard to get! And Expensive! And that means “Very Prestigious!”

Which means you will impress your Italian refugee family So! Very!! Much!!! when they sit out on your boat deck and witness their first “rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air” 4th of July Fireworks Extravaganza – paid for by your very own All American H.O.A. - Go for it – it’s time to Splurge – not Scrooge – remember we’re making America great again!

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

wine blog +  Italian wine blog + Italy W