Years ago, I read a book, Gods, Men and Wine. Somewhere in it there was a passage about how humans and grapes traveled together through time and history. Making home where they landed and hopefully thrived. Italy was surely a good move, for both grapes and humankind.
I’ve wondered if 45 years has been enough for me in Texas. And I’ve gone to other places to research uprooting and transplanting myself. It’s getting late for these old vines, to be sure, but what if? I grew up in California and spent my early years and most of my youth there. I loved it. But that was then, and the California of my youth no longer exists. To quote Yogi. “Nobody ever goes there anymore — it's too crowded.” It’s also too expensive now.
Can I ever have called New York City home? Well, I tried living there, but I didn’t take root. Put myself back into the Southwest, where I have spent most of my life. Much better for that. But we all have to try things, don’t we? It doesn’t mean we will thrive or be our best selves (or best wines). But try we must.
I have narrowed it down to the Southwest, which is not that small of a target. But it is something. Still, I’m already there, so, where else in the SW is going to be a better fit, if at all?
I had this rose bush, for 20 years on the east side of my yard. And for 20 years it sat there and did nothing. Nary a flower in 20 years, and scrawny growth. Sad. And then, during the pandemic, I moved it over to the west side of the yard. Bingo! It grew and grew and produced flower after flower. Maybe 50 feet difference? But all the difference in the world. You never know, how near or far it will need to be until you take the steps.
Grapes and where they call home. Can a Sangiovese grape call Bordeaux home? Can Viognier call Sicily home? Well, if they moved there and spent some time there, I reckon eventually any grape can call anywhere home, as long is it survives there. 50 feet or 4 million. Not an exact science, this search for home.
The song God Bless America has the line, “God bless America, my home sweet home.” When I heard that recently it was as if a light went off inside. Not to get all mushy and pseudo-patriotic, but was that what my Italian grandparents were looking for when they came here, for America as home? It sure felt like it.
Maybe instead of looking somewhere on a pinpoint on a map, this place, home, is bigger and more amorphous than one specific place? Is it something inside now?
A friend was talking to me as I was ruminating over this subject, especially the moving part. I mentioned I needed to find a safe harbor if all hell broke loose in 2024. His comment was “If all hell breaks loose in 2024, there will be no place to run, no place to hide.” He is right, for better or worse. We’re all in this together, whether we want to be or not. That is what America is right now. It may not feel like we’re very together. But when you pull back the focus a couple of thousand miles and look at it from the space station, that’s pretty much the essence of it.
Your roots are in, you are where you are. Grow the
best grapes you can and make the best wine from them. And fear not.
- Oh, and would you like an Italian wine recommendation? Sure, why not?
I picked up this bottle at my local Italian wine and food store for $14.99. Casale del Giglio Bellone from Lazio. A 2021 vintage, I was making chicken cutlets Milanese and needed a dry, crisp white.
Ian D’Agata has three pages about the grape, Bellone, in his landmark tome, Native Wine Grapes of Italy. I recommend you search out his notes, as they are detailed and profuse. Tasting the wine, I had the sensation of time travel, and was transported to a loggia in Frascati where I most likely enjoyed a wine with this grape in it 30 or more years ago with my bride.
In the present moment, the wine was perfect. It was crisp and dry and with not off flavors, no oxidation, which I have come to expect almost instinctively from Italian white wines, a remnant of past inculcation. These days, winemaking and science have advanced, so the wines are cleaner and less furry. It was a fabulous match with the cutlets, and the side dish of steamed spinach agio olio didn’t fight the wine. I actually found myself reaching for the wine after a bite of the spinach to detect any contrapuntal conflict. Nada, niente. A minor victory for food and wine matching.
All this to say, get yourself a bottle of this wine, seek it out. It was a surprising find.
