Well, the journey of a thousand miles begins with the first schlep. So, let’s get a plan together, remembering the introvert part. Oh and, it’s not like any of us, in the USA, at least, can book a flight easily to Bella Italia right now.
One of the things about being in this phase of my life, this endless summer camp, amid occupation permanently adjourned, is that I can plot this out, albeit with the sand rushing a little faster down the hourglass. Nonetheless, there are opportunities to reconnect with Italy and with Italian wine, while we wait to come through whatever cloud of cosmic dust our planet, our solar system and our galaxy seems to be traversing, causing well-nigh ubiquitous bewilderment and contagion. We are marooned on this little blue-green marble as we soar through space. And while we endure this in time, there is the Italy inside of us to tap into to.
I felt this the first time I stepped onto the soil of Italy. It was as if I’d been plugged into a telluric recharge annex. Boom, a magnetic induction baptism. And it felt so good.
One can reassemble Italy without having to step on a plane. That will make it easier, and simpler for now. What we have accessible from Italy now are pictures, videos, books, music, food and wine. It’s really all in how you assemble the components.
What do you love about Italy, and her wine? Do you love sitting in a wine bar or trattoria in Rome and sipping on Frascati? What about the foods you love? Is it all about the gnocchi? Or is it a seafood from the Maremma? Do you love anything musical about Italy? Does Vivaldi make our heart flutter? Or is it Baby K? Whatevah, get your play list ready if that thing gives you juice.
Pictures, movies, videos, whether being projected out or shown within. We introverts have a pretty good inner home theatre. But if you need to throw something up on the LG - 65", so be it. There’s a great little series by Elena Ferrante, My Brilliant Friend. It transports me to the outskirts of Naples, just as I did the first time on my own in 1971. A website like Italian Cinema Today is a goldmine of resource for all things Italian.
Maybe you’re a hybrid introvert, or someone who had to be in sales to survive, and tamped your introvert down from time to time, when in the outside world, to get through the work week. I feel ya. Had to do that too. The extroverts had it so much easier before Covid-19. Now it’s the introverts world. This is doable.
Let’s assume not everyone has spent years collecting Italian wine, and you have to go out into the world and seek some. It’s never been easier, although there are some folks out there who will complain it needs to be less ridiculously hard like it has been, thanks to the 3-tier system. I say this: Do you want to get your Italian wine drink on? Then you will find a way, the politics and power grid notwithstanding. You can change the world when you get vaccinated. Or not. Feel free to burn everything down right now. That seems to be one of the prevalent political prerogatives of late.
One thing I learned about sales, which I was reluctantly led into, was that the end goal was to find a way to make the sale. I added “and make sure everybody is happy.” Part of my caregiving mantra. It worked out OK for me. But we’re talking about YOU getting a cache of Italian wines that you can utilize to access that life, that world, that feeling, the one you so long for, of your Paradise lost. This can help.
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| My neighborhood store (not my car) |
If you don’t have a great little Italian wine store nearby, or a wine shop that is par excellence, then you have online options. There are a lot of deals right now. Look into this. But these are the mechanicals. I’m talking about tapping into something deeper, more ephemeral.
This has been a thread of this blog ever since I started it 15 years ago. Accessing the real Italy, the one the tourists never see, really don’t want to. Because it’s a little more work than taking a flight to Rome, reading some Travel Advisor recommendations and running around to catch all the must-see sights. You didn’t come here for that.
This takes a little bit of naval gazing, I’ll admit. Or, consider this a meditation on how to find your inner Italy. Yes, music can help. Images can recall feelings. Movies are a great diversion. But something more visceral, like food, or in this case, wine, can really put you on the track to discovery.
Example. This week I opened up a bottle of Pigato from Liguria. It was bright and juicy, great acidity, healthy, fresh, lively. And then I tele-transported back to a trip I made to the region in 2007. I was in in Cisano Sul Neva in Savona, sitting with this winemaker I met, Fausto he was called. Fausto had a gray torrent of uncut hair, covering ears that have still black hairs around the openings. An Italian surf bum, but not a lazy guy. Behind the furrowed brow, two eyes peered out, full of life and not a little mischief. Fausto makes Pigato, an unlikely wine, but one that works very well in his life. As we jumped into his little 2-cycle utility truck (really a glorified scooter), he grabbed a bottle of white and we headed off to his sister's sports bar. At a table, a plate appeared, tiny piquant sausages in a fiery broth that only a Pigato can quell. Fausto teased one of the cook's daughters, and one could see his life was carefree and happy. Almost every day Fausto goes there, to eat his lunch and drink the wine that makes his life lighter and brighter. And I was back there with him. No masks, no jetlag.
This happens often. Like last week when I met my friend outside and we shared two bottles of wine, a lovely white burgundy, mine a 12-year-old Barbaresco. I knew, when I popped the cork on that Barbaresco, that I wasn’t in Dallas anymore. I smelled the earth of the Langhe. I tasted the wine as I‘d tasted it in a little trattoria in Barbaresco, Trattoria Antica Torre. The food before us, in present time and space, was a little different, but my soul was right there, under the tower, eating lunch with friends. I was traveling again, this time, back in time. But not just rear-view mirror traveling, I was also going forward, with the wine. It was a magical moment. It was a miracle, considering where we’re at right now with this dilemma we find ourselves in.
No, I wasn’t eating in a Michelin starred bistro, in a swank metropolis, on the other side of the world, surrounded by an amazing wine list and a beautiful young dining crowd. But I’m an introvert, I didn’t need all that. All I needed was a catalyst, boom, to get me into the headspace. And I got it. And you can too, with a little imagination and will.
This is just an outline, not a blueprint. Italy isn’t a one-size-fits-all experience. And what it is you’re missing about Italy might be different from what I’m looking for. And if you’re an introvert, or an introvert-in-training now, until things change, it’s all there, accessible, but it’s going to take some work on your part. And a good imagination. Go forth, proceed, do it, and enjoy your own little slice of Italy, with, of course, Italian wine.
2 comments:
My academic background won't let me alone--sometimes it even helps. I know that we taste with our mind as well as with our nose and taste buds. That initial sniff of a newly opened "favorite" Italian wine can capture a host of memories that infuse the wine with substance and context. No one can convince me that I'm not in that longed-for spot; as long as I chose to cling to my Italian-state-of-mind, all of my senses will happily transport me home.
James Biddle
You might have heard this. It is the same vein as those grains of sand in the hourglass. Marcello Mastroianni had a friend from Naples who said that life is like standing on a balcony for a while. Then the shutters close all too soon.
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