Of the
epiphanies I had at Vinitaly this year, one of them was over Prosecco. Watching the Prosecco phenomenon over the last 25 years has been one for the books.
As I have written before, somewhere in this blog, one of my first encounters with Prosecco was to find a pallet of the stuff in the corner of a warehouse, wondering what the heck it was. What it was at the time, was more frizzante (although the product was so old, it had been “stilled”) than what we now know Prosecco to be. But enough of the rear-view mirror stuff, let’s dive in.
What Prosecco isn’t
Prosecco isn’t Champagne. Or Cava. Or Cremant. Or some new world traditional method sparkler. In fact, I believe calling Prosecco a sparkling wine does it a disservice. For immediately, folks want to start categorizing it as an ingredient for Mimosa’s. Yes, yes, I know some of you will be going, “But, but, the Bellini at Harry’s in Venice!” Yeah, there’s that. And if you’d tried the frizzante version which I did,
that day in the warehouse (or if you were some creative type at Harry’s), you’d probably also be trying to find a way to make the stuff palatable. Prosecco wasn’t as pretty as it is today.
That folks would migrate from Champagne to Prosecco has been a thing of wonder for me. The two couldn’t be more different. I think the reason this happened, ten or so years ago, was because of the world-wide economic meltdown, which had folks scurrying to substitute a luxury item for a more affordable alternative. And the Italians (and their worldwide marketing army) are always there to play another song on the hurdy-gurdy. As I’ve written, Italians have something inside their DNA that (generally) compels them to want to please, to want
to be of service, to be included, to get inside the room where the warm fire is burning. And the events of ten years ago, set it up for a perfect substitution. But I’m not buying that. There’s probably another reason, in tandem, that caused Prosecco to blossom and blow up in places like England. But I’ll get to that later, when I’m talking about what Prosecco is.
Prosecco isn’t Cava. No way. If it were, why would the Spanish Cava companies be coming out with their own (Italian) version of Prosecco? Possibly because right now (and for some time) Cava has been in the crapper. Which could be a bit of a cautionary tale for the Italians. What happened to Cava to cause it to plummet in popularity, for surely 25 years ago, it had a greater place in the world, was more well known that Prosecco and things were moving along pretty smoothly for the Cava producers.
As an industry watcher, my view on this is that Cava started cutting corners, making the wine more profitable for the producers but the final product started losing some of its initial charm. Remember, 30 or so years ago, people used Cava for Mimosas and as a substitute for Champagne. And the wine goer in those days wasn’t as savvy as they are now. We also didn’t have an army of sommeliers on the floor, educating and influencing diners, like we do now. Cava got dumbed down. And the really good producers (and there some really good ones) got caught in the riptide. Prosecco producers, right now, are luxuriating above them in waves of foam (foamies, my surf buds used to call them). But the tides change. And Prosecco producers are well aware of the dangers that their extreme popularity present them. There is always someone looking to make a quick buck (or Euro) on the latest craze, and Proseccoland has been penetrated by any number of marketer(s), looking to cash in before the tsunami crashes upon the shore.
Prosecco is not from Australia. Come on folks, talk about a pitiful exercise in wannabe-ism. Again, I remember seeing an Australian “Prosecco”, maybe 10-15 years ago, and thinking “What the hell are they thinking?” It’s just pitiful and the doctors and scientists just can’t explain it into a rational answer. Prosecco, like Burgundy, like Chablis, like Chianti, like Champagne, has a “place.” And it ain’t “down under.” Jesus, forgive me, for even having to bring it up. It’s a global embarrassment. Find a name, folks, make it your own. But Prosecco it ain’t.
What Prosecco is
Look, this could go long. If you want more, there is plenty of that on
previous posts I have written over the years. But I’m going to expand upon the epiphany I had last week during Vinitaly.
I was in a smart booth, it was as if I were in the vineyard, with a well-made video above me, and the owners scrambling around the room, doing what they do best: making people feel welcome and acknowledged. Acknowledged? Yes, in that, at Vinitaly, this is the place where
hospitalitas, that most
Italianita of things, is extended in a warm and open manner. Lovely to experience. And
Italians do it so well.
As we went through the wines, it was as if I had never had Prosecco in my life. Maybe that was one thought process, but I really had the mind set of “OK, let’s look at this thing from the eyes of someone who never has had Prosecco.” And what transpired, transformed me.
Prosecco is the soft cloth that polishes the solver, not the sandpaper that sands down the rough plank.
Prosecco is lanugo- the delicate, featherlike hair that you find on a new born.
Prosecco doesn't drip luxury like Champagne, but one can luxuriate in the glow of the downy dew of Prosecco. Think linen shirt and trousers vs. a white tie tuxedo. It is access, without the aggravation of influence.
Prosecco has a place, and it is in the Veneto. I know there’s a place in Friuli that is called Prosecco, and I know the politics of Italy gives that place the benefit that the Veneto (and really those defined areas, like Valdobbiadene, Conegliano, Asolo, etc.) has by right of its locus. And place is very important, in the case of Prosecco, because it isn’t a product that one can (or should) find anywhere else in the world. The mere accident of its popularity has obscured this very important factor. One can best realize this by being there. Go to Valdobbiadene, stand in the vineyards of Cartizze and be still for ten minutes. And breath. And it will reveal all its secrets to you. It’s the closest thing to magic you will experience. In the world.
Because of that, Prosecco is in a privileged position in the cosmos. But popularity and our consumer driven world doesn’t have time for this stuff. But you must know this. Prosecco’s place has power. The power that Yaqui shamans talk of in their worlds. The power of the place is what has made this phenomenon possible. Yes, the product is on fire. And yes, you can get any number of types of Prosecco, from the fruity and soft and “Sunday brunchable” to the senza zolfo, col fondo, brut zero, metodo ancestrale, “gone to Burning Man” types. Good for you. but don’t be distracted by all this yammering. There is Spirit that permeates this wine, beyond the trends and the quirks and the buzzwords and the marketing clichés. You must go there and experience this for yourself.
All this passed through my being, sitting there in that booth, tasting this family's (
Ruggeri) wines. It was transformative. It was revealing. It was liberating. It was what I have come to see Italy as a source of my love for wine (and life). And yes, it was an epiphany.
That’s what Prosecco is to me.
written and photographed (save for the shot of Dali) by Alfonso Cevola limited rights reserved On the Wine Trail in Italy
n.b. Starting May 1st, I will be offering consultation, in speculative and practical terms, to the Ruggeri wine family in Valdobbiadene.This will be a hands-on continuation of a journey I started on many years ago, when I first went to Valdobbiadene.
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