The reds, a 2012 from Mt. Etna and a 2008 from nearby Mt. Ossa in Greece, were my choice after a brief consultation with a friend overseas. Both wines did not make it into my final cut a few months ago, when I consolidated my wine collection down to less than 200 bottles. There just wasn’t room. So, Easter Sunday, they were chosen to show their stuff.
The Etna, a 2012 IGT Terre Siciliane from Passopisciaro, had been in my closet for a few years and it was time. The Greek wine from Rapsani winery from Xinomavro grapes mainly, was a PDO Rapsani (ΠΟΠ Ραψάνη), it was a 2008. So, it was ready to open as well.
Opening a bottle of wine, after years of letting the bottle lie in a quiet, cool and dark place, is an event, at least for the wine. It is the moment that a particular wine can strut its plumage, let the world know what it has become, a coming out ceremony. Sometimes it is momentous and sometimes it is a bust. In this case it was a mixed bag.
The Etna rosso, came out a little stubbornly. There were indications of a noble birth, the mineral elements and the acidity that Nerello Mascalese impart upon the imbiber. But there was also a weariness with the wine, like its better days had passed. I set it aside and sipped on the Greek wine.
Much livelier! The wine was raring to go and it was firing on all cylinders. We have lift off!
So, what happened? Both wines were stored in the same place, a wine cave. In fact, the Greek wine had a short period when it was just in a rack, subjected to variations in the ambient temperature where it was stored.
Maybe it was just the luck of the draw.
Frankly, I had high expectations for the Passopisciaro. I’d been to the winery last in 2016, when I was there with Eric Asimov, as his photographer, while he worked on a series of pieces about Etna wine for the New York Times. I was no stranger to these wines. We’d been given a fantastic primer and walked all over the property, which was impressive. And I’ve had wines since 2016 from the property that were bright spots from the Etna constellation of wine. So, it wasn’t all for nought.
The Greek wine, though, really got my attention. It was one of those moments when one has little or no expectations for a wine, and then the wine completely steers one in another direction, that being one aimed towards joyful exploration. Wow, sorry for the purple prose there. But the wine really did take off and took us with it. It was like being there, wherever “there” was.
So, we set the Etna wine aside, and I put it in the fridge for another taste later. And we proceeded to munch down on the brisket, cooked perfectly by my son, and the Ranchero beans, made ready by me.
Again, though, I wonder what made one wine “shout it to the mountain top” while another one crashed and burned?
We wine lovers wear our wines on our hearts. They are our badges which proclaim our attachment to some thing. As I’ve been slowly extricating myself from the fetishization of wine these past few years, I’ve come to see my attachment to wine was caused by my identification with the wine business, at the time. Now that wine is no longer part of my livelihood, it’s more like an old friend. We get together once in a while and shoot the breeze. And I am a bit more objective as to how wine fits into my life now.
I often wore the wine badge like it was a courageous act, but lately I am seeing wine more like a red badge of carnage. It can be toxic, if mis-used. It can kill people. It killed the father of one of my best friends. Mind you, I’m not enjoying it any less, I am just enjoying it less frequently. I don’t know why. But I know it is working for me.
And that Greek wine worked for me – it worked really well.
