Wail Watching in the City of the Angels

Another week, this time in my native place. As a native Angeleno (and Californiano), the circumstance of my birth was preceded by the dreams and desires of my grandparents. It was the American Dream they were seeking, their El Dorado. I just happened to come along when I did.

Because of those fortuitous strokes I witnessed the procession of Italian-American life on a stage where there were limitless horizons, no boundaries, no walls. America was a place where anyone could dream big.

Things I’ve learned about wine and life on the road in America

Taking a break from my latest series on native & indigenous Italian grapes.

♪ They've all come to look for America ♪

What can be a finer fast-track to peek into the present state of the wine trade than going door-to-door, store-to-store and restaurant-to-restaurant, talking to wine buyers? During the last 100 days, I’ve traveled around America - to New York, San Francisco, St. Louis, San Antonio, Atlanta, Portland, Kansas City, Seattle, Austin, Chicago, Denver, Washington DC, Dallas, and into the urban jungles and suburban communities in states like Connecticut, Northern California (Silicon Valley), New Jersey, Maryland, Virginia, Colorado and Texas. These are a few of the things I’ve learned. Call it a refresher course on the state of the wine trade in America.

The Old Fool's Guide to Erbaluce

Inside my office there is a closet, a ramshackle affair, with whatever I haven’t yet figured out how to deal with. On the middle shelf there is this bulging box of wine labels, which has become my personal Jumanji. Within these slips of paper, there are any number of memorable moments, immortalized by removing them from their earthly chamber. These labels are the closest thing to timelessness in a world in which labels are digitized, scanned and then cycled into the bin of data in “the cloud.” But these labels talk to me, they stalk me in the present, and call to me from the past. One, notably arose to the occasion last week, when I was rummaging for Trebbiano labels in the box. It was a simple label, printed on thin paper and was Spartan in appearance. There was nothing sexy about it. But once my eyes saw it, a floodgate of memories surged forth like the ninth wave. So, I put on my flippers and rode it to a faraway shore.

In praise of Trebbiano Abruzzese - a short personal history

Dino Illuminati, me and Daniele Spinelli,- 30 years ago

Without a doubt, the one indigenous Italian white that I have the most experience with over the years is Trebbiano Abruzzese. Because of that, I have a fondness for this wine. When I mention it in conversation I often get raised eyebrows before the verbal comments. I know what’s coming, and I brace myself. I’ve been repeatedly flogged with that whip over the years. It doesn’t hurt anymore.

A short personal history of Arneis

Arneis is an indigenous grape variety found in Piedmont that is enjoying a wave of popularity in this moment. Many people are discovering the charms of the little rascal. But it wasn’t always so. I know, because I was there, one of the early donkeys carrying the (Italian) water up the hill, in hopes of advancing the popularity of wines like Arneis.