Coffee, Pine and Bacon Fat

Guest commentary by Beatrice Russo

It’s 10:30PM and I get a call from IWG. He’s still at the wine dinner and has a 6:30AM flight to New Orleans for a meeting. Can I write a post for his blog?

Seeing as the last time I did one was in October and the one before that was August, I thought I had weaned myself from that activity. But he did let me use his car when he was in Italy and he helped me get a job. So I guess one more time won’t hurt.

I’ve tasted a load of wine lately and my palate is scorched. Too much Chile, New Zealand and Spanish wines. I miss the Italians. Those are the wines my friends like.

Does that come as a surprise to you? IWG said that too, but he had heard twice today from salespeople and accounts the same song. Hey, some of us in this generation like wines that have flavor profiles. Some of us actually like the combination of coffee, pine and bacon fat.

IWG has been telling stories about his recent Italian harvest trip. Yeah, some of the stories he has been writing here, but man he has worn me out with the other ones, the ones not yet written. I guess he has to tell somebody.

I’ve just been so busy with the gig and all the new wines I’ve had to learn. It’s like Italian wine is a memory from childhood, at this point. But when I get together with my friends, they all ask me to bring some wine from IWG’s house. First, it is free and second, they like Italian wine.

Hey Italian wine producers – young people in their 20’s aren’t all whacked out on beer and Jager. We go to wine bars, we read, and we spend money on wine. So stop making it hard for us to afford your wine and tell your politicians to book their round trip to the sun in time for the holidays.

Coffee – went over to a friend’s house. He just got a coffee roaster. I smell that aroma in all kinds of wine from reds from Tuscany to whites from Burgundy. I like it. It’s cleansing.

Pine – sometime ago I was in Yosemite and in the upper part the pine trees on a hot summer day sent out this smell that was pure and beautiful. I sometimes smell that in California wines and also in some French wines from Bordeaux and the Rhone. Also in Barbera d’Alba.

Bacon fat – Aglianico, Nero d’Avola, Zinfandel, Lagrein and Hermitage. Very cool. Who wants a size 2 wine? Give me some meat on those ribs.

Hey I didn’t tell IWG I’d do a great post, just that I’d fill in for him.

He’s busy, I’m busy, you don’t have to scan this one – it’s short.

Art, IWG and Bea - from the movie

$treet $mart$

Guest commentary by Beatrice Russo

What is it about old people? IWG comes up to me other day and says, “Uh, you know you haven’t sent in a blog posting since middle of August?” Uh, gee, I didn’t know it was my job. Hey, Unc, nobody cares about your blog. Got it? And he comes right back, “Uh, so I guess you didn’t have a good time in France?” Oh so, that’s the game you be playin?

So he’s all laid out before the TV waiting for Ken Burns to tell him how The War ended. And he’s been that way every night. Never knew he was such a history buff.

And then during a break he says he’s thinking of moving to Chicago. What? Says there’s some action up there with something going on, money, position; other side of the hill it sounds like to me. He is one tripped out dude, and I can’t believe he lets me post this.

So, France was cool. I had just watched Antonioni’s L’Avventura, so it all influenced me a bunch. Monica Vitti, what an actor. She nailed that certain period in one’s life when there just needs to be a direction and all there seems to be is one endless drama after another. I can relate to it, but not right now. Life is good.

Drew (Ziff) and his new restaurant, going well. He has me cataloguing new wines coming in. Getting ready for the opening. And he has brought on board Brandan, who reminds me of IWG’s son, Rafa. Brandan came from a very cool place, York Street, I even thought of wanting to work there once. But no way am I jumping, now that I have a steady job that I like.

IWG dragged me around one day in France. We left real early and headed down to a place in the south of France, Grasse. He’s all Jumanji about aromas lately. He has this 24 page book he has made with smells and their scientific formula names. He goes around saying things like, warm essence of musk and bergamot, things like that. Kinda creepy, but then when we taste a wine and one of the descriptions matches the nose, I’m like, wow, this is cool. So, I forgive him.


Anyway we drove so long it seemed we were almost going to Italy (I wish). But we get to this town and he goes to some building that has this real scientific look to it. Find out it’s a perfume school and he is there to visit an old friend who teaches there. They make scents for all kinds of things, perfumes, nail polish, soaps, everything it seems, except wine. What? The friend says they even make vegetable based scents to “enhance” the aroma and flavor of wine. No way. Those French folks, they are a crafty lot.

A nice lunch and a pale rosé from the area, the two of them go off into a lab afterwards and I excuse myself to go walking the town. The place does have an unusual scent to it, like a closet I once walked into, a friend’s grandmother who asked me to put a hat box on the top shelf. Just like her closet, all kinds of musty, musky, dusty, flowery, totally overwhelming scene.


It got me to thinking about my mother and dad and my twin and for a moment in the sun, in the south of France, I allowed myself a moment of regret and pity. But I say to myself, I am well, I have work, people like me. I am young; I have my whole life before me. This will pass. And it does.

Later that night after we get back to the chateau there is a bottle or two of unusual liqueurs. IWG goes for the absinthe, but I spy some flowery looking bottle that looks old. It says Grand Marnier Cuvée du Cent-Cinquantenaire, so I take a pull of it into a snifter. By this time everyone at the table is getting plowed with XO Cognac or some other kind of liqueur, but it’s just a short climb up the stairs to bed. No big deal. So I step outside to listen to the owls and the frogs and stick my nose in the snifter. The whole south of France was inside. It was like being on a ledge overlooking the ocean and all of a sudden fear was so intense that my senses were elevated to a higher degree of receptivity. That’s what I must do with this sommelier business.


Nothing above me, nothing below me, so I leap off.
Something I read in one of IWG’s old hippy paperbacks.

Pole Position

Guest commentary by Beatrice Russo

Do You Wanna Dance?

Ziff and Dale invited me to lunch today. It’s Restaurant Week and they are heading off to Austin, for the Texsom conference that they are in charge of. I am staying behind. Like I said, it’s Restaurant Week and someone has to answer the dumb questions that the R.W. amateurs ask. Like last night, I heard this one: “Do you have an Italian Pinot Noir?” Yes, and I also can recommend to you a Vermentino from France, but why? Another one I heard this week (these people must have driven in from Tyler or Longview): “What’s your best Texas wine?” How about the one that doesn’t make me puke (which, by the way, wouldn’t be some overpriced Palomino-Chardonnay from a wine-bully.)

As I said, we are at lunch, kinda celebrating. One of the restaurants took pity on some of the locals and opened up for lunch. Peaky toe crab, awe-inspiring okra (you heard me) with fried green tomatoes and a whole, grilled Branzino. Family style. Me, I’m always hungry. Ziff was watching his weight and Dale was loosening his belt. They brought a bottle or two of Burgundies for fun, A Rully and a Santenay. Look guys, anytime you want to raid the cellar, I’m there for you.

At a table nearby, one of IWG’s gulag-mates was entertaining a chef. He stopped by on his way in, asking where IWG went this time. I said Fort Worth and acted like I didn't know what he was talking about. They had some cool stuff in their bag, sent over a taste of Camartina. IWG loves Querciabella. The wine was tasty, especially with the lamb.

We finished with incredible slices of Pecos melon (not cantaloupe) and some German shots that were bitter and gave me a headache. But hey, it was a 2 hour business lunch.

Nice Melons

I sent the boys on their way. They had to be in Austin, and tropical storm Erin was racing to meet them.

The gulag-mate called me over to come taste some Priorat. It had been opened about 4 hours earlier, so it tasted almost bearable. After Santenay, Sangiovese and bitters, Garnacha and Carignane were maybe too much in the same day. And it’s like 102°F outside.

The chef we sat with had a funny story about Spanish wines. I gathered he ran the wine program and the kitchen at this place where he worked, a gentleman’s club. You know, pole dancing, scantily clad girls, and plenty of smoked salmon on the buffet. And bubbly, lots of bubbly, you get the picture?

Last Call

Anyway, chef likes Spanish wine, been to Spain a couple of times lately. Likes it a lot. So he gets real sore when he goes to the tapas restaurants in town and the Spanish wine selection is lame-o, like a liquor store in some river bottom area. His line, “I have a better selection of Spanish wine in a topless bar than a tapas restaurant,” really nailed Dallas with another bulls-eye. That ain't the wind, folks, that’s the sound of the wine business sucking, this time with Spain. He was right when he said, “Buy good wines and sell them, push your customers, make them drink something besides Silver Oak or Coppola.” I know IWG says that and Ziff and Dale too. So, I’m on board, guys, even if you never see me in a gentleman’s club. I leave the testosterone and pole-positioning to the other species.

To the Moon, Alice

Vito Power

Guest commentary by Beatrice Russo

Well, I finally made the deal with Dale. He’s the sommelier that in Arthur's world is the decanter. Dale is in charge of a new wine oriented restaurant and retail place that’s coming here. He wants to set this town on its side, with low restaurant wine list prices and great sommelier service. A place where our generation can say to the GenExers, “Hey old geezers, wake up and smell the Tulipano Nero.”

He says it will be his show to run. There won't be some corporate suit from up north telling him what he can and can’t do. No Vito or Boss Hogg telling him he can't buy Voerzio or Gravner.

He’s been telling IWG that he wanted to hire me, but I had other things going on. But then the heavens opened up and money poured down from above. So, just like that, I have a full-time gig.


I almost got a dog. Not one of the small ones that gets lost in a purse. He was abandoned, and had been abused pretty bad. But he was so badly beaten that the vet had to put him to sleep. Just my luck. Dogs and humans.

IWG has a “project” this week. He’s been holed up for days in front of a computer with a couple of special programs. One is a way to find wines that are selling well, for the press. The other is to see how his vendors products are selling vs. the amount of dollars they locked up with inventory. There really is no talking to him. I saw peeking over his shoulder, Lambrusco sales up 30% and operating with ¼ of the inventory on hand. A very hot Pinot Grigio up 250% in the last year. So why is he such a grouch? He should really chill, take a couple of days off.

Best wine this week? A 2005 Chateau Thivin Côte de Brouilly. The old Italian Wine Guy brought a French wine home along with leftover Peking duck he had with his buds. IWG was real secretive about this dinner. Only thing I can tell is, he has obsessed over these hidden kitchens that he used to go to in Palermo. He says there are Mayan and Cambodian hidden kitchens here, but they are closed to non-natives. He is obsessed with finding authentic cooking. I guess it’s safe to say he hasn’t found his Italian place here. Yet. Actually, he mentioned a couple, David and Rafaella. Said her gnocchi was as good as anywhere he had in Italy. So he does have his hidden Italian kitchen. But I guess Mayan or Cambodian sound more exotic.

Oh, the wine. It was pretty. Gamay. The color was light but deep. Old World. Hand picked. Earthy. Not Americanized, it had character. Tasty with the duck, a direct hit. I can has Beaujolais?

So I’m glad, I've got a job and a cool place to stay. Oh, I almost forgot about the apartment, this is too much luck. This Senior VP dude, works for Coca-Cola, friend of friend, has a house in the Park Cities, empty nester, just him and his wife. They live on Bordeaux Street and have a garage apartment. 600 square feet and a lap pool in the back yard. He’s always traveling and his wife goes with him a lot. They have an apartment in NY and a house in Colorado. If I watch their place when they are gone I can have this wicked crash pad for $500 a month. I have already started moving in, and they have wireless, so I don’t have to lose my link with my glo-bal-tri-bal-fam-ily. Totally hot. Later.

Bar-Bar-S-Q

Guest commentary by Beatrice Russo

I ran some of the mail I was holding over to the IWG. He told me he was going to Fort Worth and if I had time, or was in the area, to meet him and Giulio over at a dark, little Italian place. My project hit a snag, so I thought I’d catch up with them around lunch time.

Giulio is a great guy and a couple of the gals at the table were all ears (and eyes). Not too bad. When I got there they all looked at me as if I had just popped out of a spaceship.

I rang it up to the dark; it’s probably hard for some of the old geezers to see in the restaurant. Gives chef some options for his plates.

Speaking of popping, they opened a Franciacorta Rosé, which was very dee-lish. A couple of simple whites, an Orvieto and a Vernaccia, followed up by a Morellino and a very cool wine from Petra, called Zingari, from what sounds like a soul–sister winemaker in Tuscany, Francesca Moretti.

The whole time, the chef was preparing food for the table and the other diners. He came out once and made the rounds, and then we didn’t see much more of him. IWG and Giulio drove over to see him and taste through Giulio’s portfolio. (note to Andrea- dude, he put it together, looks like something you might want to do with your portfolio)Even in Fort Worth, the 1st of August, for an Italian, must be a day for a little sleepwalking. Too bad for him, it was a nice 'splay of wines. Snooze, ya lose.

Anyway, the chef, who IWG has known for about as long as I have been alive, sat down at another table and didn’t taste with us. Now there were some good looking people at our table so he missed out on natural beauty and a lot of good wine. We did have an interesting discussion about finding mates. IWG didn’t open the Barbaresco and the Super Tuscans; he told me later that he figured the restaurant owner wasn’t into being hospitable. Yeah. I’d probably use another word, but not on IWG’s site. His momma reads this sometimes.

So, that’s all. Everyone has been posting on this blog this week and I felt I had to put my 2 cents worth in. There’s gotta be a better way to show great wines in the marketplace.

P.S. Saturday IWG is doing a Bar-Bar-S-Q tasting down in the old part of town. Barbera, Barolo, Barbaresco and Bar-B-Q. Sounds kinda katchy. Jimmy’s 12-3, Saturday, in Dallas. He wants me to shave my legs for it. Say what?

The Horseshoe Road Inn

Guest commentary by Beatrice Russo
Looks like the IWG will be back in the swing of things next week. If you need to reach him, his Blackberry is on and when he is in an area where he gets coverage he will answer it or reply to e-mails. -Bea

Ziff & Dale has been a boon for the IWG and for me. I have been helping a friend tie up the loose ends of a new wine project ( translation: funded pay), and it's just been a busy week. I am also trying to get out of town and go to Northern California for a few weeks.

Wine wise, it’s been interesting. I have some tasting comments on a wine I tasted this week, at the end of these notes. Not a bad week. First, the business.

Thank you, Arty, for pinch-hitting this week. I hope you get your wish. Drew called and is still trying to get me to come work for him (imagine that?), and he was lamenting that you didn't called it Drew’s Bomb Shelter. I think you should have called it Smokin’ Dopes, because those two guys are the dopiest wine dudes on paper. But their careers are smokin’. I love 'em both and wish 'em happy days.

The Ziff character has a few surprises, so Arty tells me. Seems he’s headed to San Francisco, wants to test the waters in a bigger pond. Maybe we can meet up in The City. I know Arty also has an interview out there, so, who knows what mischief we can get into?

So the cartoon has been launched. My new project is going well (see: title). Summer is not as hot as it could be. The rain has helped. And if we could get this insurgency thing over there resolved, maybe we could go back to some form of social evolution. Note to the old-fart Boomer generation: Get it together, you guys suck.

This week, some wine guy calls me up, tells me to meet him at the restaurant. He's opening up one of the Big Boys, a 1999 Brunello from Soldera. When I got there it was open and decanted. A plate of fettuccine with wild mushrooms was coming in our direction. So we got to tasting the wine before the pasta touched down.

The Brunello, supposedly organically grown, was wicked. It had a gritty texture, not unpleasant. Smelled like flowers and soil. A band was playing in the bowl. It had everything going on in there, sunshine, the full moon, children crying, colors flying. I could never afford to taste a wine from this property, but it was pretty amazing. Like in a dream, I felt like one of the chosen ones. - Thanks to geezer-rocker Neil Young for his lyrics in helping to describe this wine.

With a wine like that, every other note’ll have to wait. I have to get back to the project.

Thanks Arty, thanks Drew. IWG, come back. Pay your check, and come home now.

Later.

Politicians, Interns and Comic Strips

Guest commentary by Beatrice Russo
I have a lot to do these days, but seeing as Italian Wine Guy keeps me in the loop, I will help him out, one more time. But next week is going to be a busy week for me, so I will probably hand it over to my sommelier-cartoonist buddy, Art. Later. - BR

I don’t know what's up with Alfonso, but the last two posts have led with photos of cars heading off to some other place. From what I can tell, the competitive nature of the business, coupled with a demanding schedule and, well let's just say, it's no place to look for wealth and fame.

Which leads me into a minor rant. Hillary Clinton

She should have a talk with someone like Meryl Streep. ASAP.
Hillary is way too shrill and she comes off like an angry soccer mom. I will be voting again next year, and I'd like to offer my vote to an alternative from what I have seen growing in the last 4 or 5 years. The last thing I want is an enraged momma in the White House, who spins better than a brand new Maytag. Hillary, call up Meryl Streep and invite her over for a day or two. Ask her to help you put on a new face. Stop acting like you enjoy picking up babies. And for God's sake, quit pointing to the crowd at people that you don’t even know, acting like they're some long-lost sister. You wanna make me puke, it's so phony. If you can't get real, then learn how to act more realistically. Apparently it worked for Ronald Reagan and it seems to work for the Law & Order man, Fred Thompson.

Yeah, like she'll read this sorry old blog.

Whatever. Back to my world.

I have some work lately, for a writer. I am a researcher for her. She is a food and wine writer, but also a ghost writer. So there is a lot of work and right now there is lots to do. It’s on my own schedule and I just need to get the work out within the deadline. So I have been running, doing my yoga, lost a few pounds, working on my tan and partying a little. I’m not sure I want to go into the wine business, there just doesn’t seem to be a lot of money in it. Lots of work, making money for other people, usually aging boomers.


My friend Arthur Krea and I have been taking pictures of corkscrews and decanters for his new comic strip, Ziff & Dale. It’s about this pair of wine accessories that sees the world through their viewpoint. I don’t get all of the jokes, but Art is pretty wacky. He hears a lot of things from his night job on the floor, talking to folks about wine. He’s hoping to sell the idea to the Wine Spectator or Gourmet. I told him he’s getting way too ahead of himself. Anyway it’s a fun thing to do when we have spare time together. I posted one of his below, in English and Italian. David at Italian Insight helped with the Eye-talian.


Right now we’re over at the IWG’s house leaching off of his air conditioning, feeding the cat, swimming, stealing wine and bandwidth. Hey, we were invited, and the old man is not here.

Oh yeah, the car driving away thing.

From what his sister tells me, if Italian Wine guy doesn’t get inspiration from somewhere, like magically out of the sky or the air, he goes bonkers. Or he goes looking for it, his vision quest thing. The last three times he has been to Italy, it has been on death marches from winery to winery, or the Vinitaly slog. Hey, I told him I’d go next time for him, but he tells me it’s work first and play second. So a lot of work and a little play. Yuck.

He was looking to go out West to California, but it’s hot out there and the place is ready to go up in flames so I don’t think that’s where he is headed. He told me he’d check in on the blackberry e-mail, but not to worry. Believe me, I’m not going to. He’s a big boy. Go get some down time, a little beach and waterside action, work on your tan. In the meantime I have the keys to his house and his wine closet. Me, worry?

I’m just trying to decide between the 1990 Aglianico Brigante from Sasso or the 1979 Barolo Briacca from Vietti.




Art's newest obsession. What do ya think?

Gen-X ~ Marks Its Spot

So much for my pastoral wonderings. I tried to rally today but was buffeted back by a still weakened system. Beatrice says she has something to post and I agreed on the grounds that it wasn't a wild rant. After all, that is within my purview. Somebody, please hire her. - IWG


Guest commentary by Beatrice Russo

An e-mail interchange with my friend Patrizia in Florence, Italy (yes I changed her name and asked her if it was OK) . I'm doing this as a favor to the sick old man, he looks pretty craggy. I really need to be looking for different work, I can't spend another summer in a steak house - BR

Dear Bea,

E-mailing to you because I cannot communicate here with anyone approximately this. But because you come from my generation, that what they call Gen-Y or the Millennials, I think that you will understand. And because your crazy uncle is in the Italian commerce of the wine and is here in Italy also that he works for our crazy men, perhaps can resolve this problem.

You know I live to Firenze and I work in the district of Chianti Classico. You know the wine cellar. And it is good because the laborers think there in the important things that they are like me. Things like organic and sostenibile and not using more fuel. Therefore, when I say to my boss, that he comes from that first generation, called X, approximately wishing to work from my home two days a week, he asks to me because? I say because we are connected with the Internet and to obtain within and outside from Firenze is therefore difficult and wish to use my time and energy more efficiently. He says, as I know you so little, how would I know you would not be in a café in some place or surfing the Internet?

That generation of X has been developed in not trusting of anyone? I say that, Y follows the X but I do not wish to follow this generation. Oh yes, they make a big display, what we call a bella figura, about their title and their position and their wealth when they have it. Even if they would only inherit them. And they are all Dottore, a country has filled up of pigro Dottore’s! Which thing are they called, Yes-men? Minchia, therefore I am so angry, my Sicilian grandmother is bubbling in the inner part of me.

Therefore the result is, because this Dottore does not trust me to working away from the center two days, I cannot. Now he cannot dismiss me, but he can pay to me wages so small that I must amuse myself to make one life. And the rents of the apartment to Firenze are like Saint Francisco in which my sister lives. Therefore it is much expensive living here on a 1200 Euro month.

You think I could communicate with an American company to be their representative here? Perhaps the managing of relationships with Italian wine companies? Am I totally lost? I watch the heads of this so-noted generation X and feel frightened and angry and helpless. And, they, behaving like a crosspiece between Berlusconi and the mother Teresa, touching nothing therefore cannot be culpable of anything. But taking credit for anything that people below them do well, and they do that all the time!

Is this like that in America? Is this generation already worse than the famous flower-child boomers? I think so; at least the flower-child-boomers came to Firenze during the floods in 1966, and cleaned up the city for months, asking for nothing.

Today, if you asked my manager to make something similar, he would transmit an email to the office of the agricultural department in order to go to Firenze. And then in order to put himself in a good light he would present an official press release, talking about how great his leadership is for Toscany and Italy. I am not kidding!

I’m sorry Bea, but we are friends and I want to ask you how in your country it works with these X-men.
(Sorry for my English:)

Your friend,
Patrizia


Dear Patrizia,

I cannot say from experience because I barely have enough work to afford to live on my own. I do not have health insurance. Because I was orphaned, I have some benefits. But until I finish college, and I'm not sure I will, I cannot get work in the wine industry of the uncle, as you call him. He is a “flower-child-boomer” (I love that, where did you come up with that?), and quite harmless, and we talk about the generation between us, from time to time. He doesn’t get them, I don’t get them, I really see no reason for their existence, so many of them are just grown-up slackers; I just don’t want to work under them.

X-Men ~ from tie-dye to tie guys

They say they don’t want controversy, they say they want everyone to speak in normal tones, conform to a standard. But 5 o’clock comes and they are gone sailing. Try to reach them before 9 o’clock in the morning or during the weekends, and forget it. I am so ready for their sun to set. And it will, sooner than they think.

On another subject, so what kind of wine have you been tasting lately? I recently bagged a few half-chewed bottles of wine over at uncle’s house, from a very delicious California winery called Four Vines. The old Italian wine guy was going off on these wines, really got his head spinning, like he was 20 again and driving up the California coastline in his funky old Fiat (no offense).

I tasted two I thought were pretty awesome, one was called Anarchy (of course), some old vine Zinfandel, Syrah and Mourvedre blend that I had with some Satay. I was in heaven. The other wine was also red, called the Heretic, a Petite Sirah that reminded me of that Maremma wine we were talking about from your friend Francesca’s winery.

Look, get a visa and we’ll invade uncle’s house and his wine cellar. His son is around and has a group of interesting friends. Uncle says the X-generation reminds him of a 5 year-old Beaujolais wine, old before it’s time. I think he’s frustrated with them too. Maybe we can talk him into liberating a small company and we all can run it. Into the ground, ha-ha! You should come here if it gets too depressing in Italy, there's room for another smart, beautiful Italian woman.

Ciao,
Bea

(p.s. don’t worry ‘bout your english, my italian’s not so good either :)


Dear Bea,

Oh, you crazy American girl. Thanks, I have needed to communicate it with someone without telling to so many other people around. I know it would be safe turning to you. Maybe I will come, maybe I should! Find us two ripe boys and I will be there even sooner.

I have tasted a wine that is turning around lately in the wine bars here in Firenze. One wine bar is called I Fratellini. It is one appreciated very because they carry this wine from the country that I only see in the laboratory. They call it Grand Noir and the pulp of the grape is dark ; it is violet and very colorful. It reminds me of a wine as Barbera or a Gigondas (my aunt comes from Avignon) and it is a lot interesting. I have an image but the label is much disgustosa and messy. That is my one divertimento.

Well I must get back to work; here comes "Il Duce" looking over my shoulder.

Ciao Bella,

Patrizia

Faster, Pussycat

Guest commentary by Beatrice Russo

Well, he’s at it again, gone all Willy Wonka on us. After I texted him on a question about Albarino he seemed to go into another dimension. I talked to his son, he said he’d been over to his apartment a few days earlier and had tried out his new inversion table, took two turns at being upside down. I came over to the house to bring him a bottle of his special Italian orange liqueur, thinking we could talk about my upcoming first level sommelier test, but all I could find was a bunch of papers, what seemed like an interview with a fried potato, I tell you, he's pushing it.

Last week I was helping him with a new project. Numbers stuff, easy, basic algebra that my dad taught me (he was a math teacher). Italian Wine Guy has a new project, top secret stuff, and he has been asking me to gather national figures from the Italian Trade Commission and other places that gather sales and import figures.

I know he was going out of town, but I thought it was next week. Austin? He said something about Chicago; I know there’s a Wine Spectator Grand Tasting event there next week. But that’s not his deal. He once showed me an old WS from the 80’s, he collected them and old Rolling Stone magazines when they were both printed on newspaper. Weird.


He said he dreamt about his first real car, a Porsche Speedster. I’ve seen a picture, nice looking wheels. And this new wine label with the three girls and a donkey has him trying to figure out if it will work or not. I like the Falanghina idea, not too cool on the Montepulciano, though. Maybe he should rethink that, but hey, what do I know, I’m just an intern.

I did get an email about what a tough month April was, even though he seemed to be having a pretty good time, going all over Italy while I watched his house and his stray cat and watered the vegetable garden. While he ate at Perbellini and Belvedere and Bottega del Vino and Ciccarelli. Yeah, I feel for his sorry old donkey-butt.



I did see an open letter from his doctor, something about cholesterol and thyroid. My grand-dad had something wrong like that, used to pass out once in a while. I hope he’s OK.

I just got a text from him, he’s with a Spanish wine producer from Galicia, they’re eating blue crab and drinking Albarino. Wait, I was just asking him about that darn wine and now he’s, what? He’s in the zone.

So the text ended with “Faster, pussycat.” Dude is out there. I’ve got to get to yoga. He'll be back, just sounds busy with his glorious life.
















Comments to me here:Beatrice

The Old Man is Lost in the Crowd

Guest commentary by Beatrice Russo


"Vinitaly is too busy, Internet connections are available but who has time with so many wines to taste and people to meet, I will write when I return, all is well."

So says the wise old man in Italy. Well somebody has to do it, I guess. If he hasn't taken a short hop to Palermo or Instanbul with his new friends, I think he will sometime send more information about the wine fair. I am too busy myself to write in his place, my new project and all.

So do some spring cleaning, work in the garden, read a book, Alfonso will come back with stories, I am sure of this.

later....Bea

Pizza, Red Wine and a Warning

Continuing commentary by guest reviewer Beatrice Russo

There’s 2 pictures on my email and a note from Italian Wine Guy. “Feeling better now. Pizza and red wine. Need chocolate. Later.” :-X

Italian Wine Guy is Still Gone
The dude is out there. I’m not sure where he’s going. Well, it’s Saturday afternoon, I don’t have much to do. His beat up old cat came back for some food and sunshine. I’m driving his car and opened up a bottle of expensive red wine. Some bottle from Unbria. I called a friend to come and drink it with me, but he was studying for a master sommelier exam next week. Yeah right, that’s gonna get him what he wants.

I’m thinking of learning how to cook some more things. My idea is to lean away from the Food Netwreck, maybe learn how to really cook stuff from scratch. In more than 30 minutes. If the goal is not to be the Julia Child of the double-wide set, then I could just get on a plane and go to Palermo or Bologna. But I’m broke, so that’s out for now.

I met a cook-stud at Burning Man, he had a café in Placerville, told me I could stay in his extra room and work on the line. I’m gonna pass for now.

The chef at this fancy new Italian-disco restaurant, I met him and he said I could work there. But he got fired on opening day. So that’s out.

My Life Sucks?
It kinda does. It better get mo-bettah, soon. Ahright, on to the plunder.

I saw this wine standing up in Alfonso’s wine closet and it had the word BEA on it, which is my nickname. It was called Rosso de Véo, vino da Tavola. On the label it also had “DIFFICLE, ma sorprendente - piovosa,ma buona”

From what I can tell it’s a 2002 red wine from Umbria with the grapes of Sagrantino, Sangiovese and Montepulciano. Lots of writing in Italian on the label, looks like a lab sample. I hope the old guy, oh what the hell, he might not even come back. I could start opening up the old Monfortino or Sassicaia wines, maybe that would bring him, nah. Yeah, but he’s over that, told me last week, “I’m not a Gaja-rexic, I’m not into wine-porn. I don’t have any appetite for these overexposed and overpriced wines. I can’t enjoy them anymore. I just want a good, well-made bottle of wine, I don’t care who made it.”

Sounds a little cynical to me. (Like a guy with gout who's swearing off fois gras.)

I had some pizza dough and the pantry had a bottle of some Sicilian sauce, looked exotic. He probably doesn’t care about that either. Scrounged up a pizza stone, almost started up the fire pit outside. Found some arugula growing wild outside and a corner of some forgotten prosciutto. Dinner. With wine.

Two Hours Later
I hope he takes his sweet time coming back. The cat is feeling better. Someone in this house is finally opening up wine, the weather is perfect. Wish my goofy friend wasn’t so hung up on getting his master sommelier pin. (Vegas called; they need more bouncers and less sommeliers.)

This Rosso from Bea is good! Pretty strong wine, almost 15%. Like I’d know at this point. Smells kinda like my aunt’s porch, when it rained. The flowers and the wood floor, that’s it.

Tastes pretty good. Has an old style, not all gummy and syrupy. Nice with my pizza. I used the arugula and prosciutto, and found some Parm-Regg. The secret Sicilian sauce rocked. I wonder what Pachino means.

You've Been Warned
Hey, Alfonso, if you are out there reading this: I’m thinking of opening up a bottle of wine from way before I was born. If I don’t hear from you today, I guess it will be ok. I told my wine-sommelier junkie about one of the wines I found in your closet and he said I should stand it up and let it settle. Something about a 1968 Barolo from Conterno being ready to drink, way ready.



You’ve been warned, Italian Wine Dude!

Spring Break

Special commentary by guest reviewer Beatrice Russo

Italian Wine Guy has asked me to fill in for him, he says his spring has sprung and needs time to go to one of his favorite wine islands. (poor baby...) He will return soon. - B.R.

Alfonso left me a note, “I’ve got to get away for a few days. Take over.”

I thought the one post he asked me to do last year would be the only one. Now he disappears leaving me holding the blog. It’s not like I have that much to do; I’m in between school and a job and have a little time during this spring break.

I never met my parents, though I was told they were from Italy. One foster parent told me Sicily, another told me Emilia-Romagna. What I am is an orphan, in my 20’s and just entering the world. I’ve been on my own for some time, living between California and Texas. I sometimes wonder if I am the product of someone’s spare time, a leisure moment that when it produced fruit, they left to fall on the ground.

I met Alfonso at a sommelier conference last year; he was giving a talk about Nebbiolo at 8:00 in the morning on a Sunday. I was drinking a latte trying to wake up. Something about the way he made Nebbiolo sound so wonderful at a time of day when the last thing I would want was wine. He introduced me to a couple of his characters and I’ve taken my place at the table. He’s like the father I never knew.

I have wanted to apply for a job as an assistant sommelier, heard about one at this fancy new Italian restaurant near downtown Dallas. They asked me to come in to take a photograph, someone who ran a bar at the top of a trendy hotel had to pass over my “physical qualifications”. I am tall and leggy, dark, hazel eyes, long hair, and my shrink tells me that I would be considered good looking. Whatever.

I don’t think I will take the job at the Italian spot, seemed too much like a disco to me, very loud. They ought to put in a take-out window so the jocks going to the hockey game can load up on meatballs.

I think I might go down to Austin, Alfonso has a friend who has a winery in the hill country and he is building an Italian restaurant. But that’s 6 or 9 months away.

It's really tough being young these days, seems like the economy is tight and a few folks hold all the cards. I’m in good health, and in spite of not having much family, I am pretty optimistic. I don’t have any relationship/attachments, so I’m free to move about the country or the world. I don’t own a cell phone or an Ipod. I use public computers. I don’t belong to Myspace and I don’t have a tattoo. Yet. I love food and cooking and wine, but I can only afford wine that is not expensive, so unless I get invited to a tasting, or get to taste a bottle left over, I usually cannot get to taste much that is beyond my budget. There is a place in old east Dallas that has wine tastings every Saturday and I try to get there. I have a friend who works at a wine bar and he gives me a taste of something special once in a while.

Alfonso has told me, when he is gone and I go over to check his mail and look out for the pitiful black cat that hangs around, to open wines from his cold-closet. He says he’s tasted everything in there and wouldn’t miss the occasional bottle. There is a red wine from the Marche in there, called Ver Sacrum, that looks interesting. If Italian Wine Guy doesn't come back, I'll write about wines I like. But let's see.
That’s my story. I ride a Vespa, don’t have health insurance. An aunt taught me how to make gnocchi and a foster parent once taught me how to make fig preserves and pickled watermelon rind. I’m not an angry person; Alfonso has told me that is a good thing. But I do have a fiery side, I am itching to get involved in something, but don’t feel like it has clicked yet. And another thing, I have an identical twin, she lives in Bologna, and I have never met her. Her name is Laura.

Looking Forward to 2007

Special commentary by guest reviewer Beatrice Russo

Italian Wine Guy has asked me to write a column while he takes time off to go to one of his favorite wine islands. (If you've been reading this blog, you might know where that is.) He will return next year. - B.R.

On his way out the door, Italian Wine Guy, said, “Talk about the new releases, maybe, the 2002’s that we will be dealing with. Point out the glut of wine, the Euro, the lack of coherence among the Italian producers, their slowness in responding to the changes in the economy, their unwillingness to adjust to reality.” Yes, yes. As I waved goodbye to him and to 2006, I didn’t need him to tell me what to talk about. It just so happens that’s what I was going to talk about anyway, but from my perspective.

I too, wish my Italian colleagues would come here and work, like I have, for a time. Maybe not in New York. Perhaps in Seattle or Cincinnati, Tucson or Hammondsport. A place where the economy is affected by the political.

Right now, a hotel room in Rome that costs €150 a night will cost the tourist close to $200. Compare that to 5 years ago when that same room was closer to €120 a night, which was then $100. That is a real difference.

It’s very hard to find Italian shoes in the stores anymore, and those shoes, when I can find them, cost me hundreds of dollars. I’m not wealthy like Berlusconi and Madonna. Most Italians aren’t either.

When the 2002 Brunello and Barolo wines are released in 2007, how much are they going to cost? Five years ago I went into a wine bar and could get a good glass of 1997 Brunello for $17. Now, what will you send us from Italy?

We were head-storming the other day as the Italian Wine Guy printed out a plane ticket. 2002 will not be seen as a great vintage. “Quality-wise, because of this year’s crazy weather, vintage 2002 has given mixed results,” said Giuseppe Martelli, MD of Associazione Enologi Enotecnici Italiani (AIS). “A pattern of ‘crazy’ weather, characterized by icy temperatures, intense heat, hail, drought in Sicily and downpours in the north, conditioned the vine’s growing cycle. Moreover, botrytis and mold spread throughout vineyards, and when most producers were praying for a September ‘miracle’ - warm sunny days and cool nights for the ripening of the grapes - the weather remained cloudy and drizzly. It’s certainly not a vintage in which we’ll see peaks of excellence.”

Michele Shah’s excellent notes on the 2002 vintage indicates a tough harvest with some losses in the vineyards.
Will we see 3-liter Brunello-in-a-box selling for $49.99? If we do, I’d suspect some wine from Sicily or Puglia was blended into it. I would love our country to give America a gift like this, if it were real. But I don’t want to become old wishing for things like this.


Piedmont was hit too, so a 1.5- liter of 2002 Barolo selling for $29.99 probably won’t show up in Chicago or Dallas. But what friends those Italian cousins of mine could make if they would send something like that.

I know I’m too idealistic and inexperienced to understand the fine points of this business. That’s the realm of those golfing vice-presidents in the upper offices at the top of the buildings. They have the keys to the executive washrooms; they have their hands on the steering wheels of the wine business in America. They don’t understand the young ones down here in the restaurants and in the aisles of the wine shops. My friends, my poor, young friends. I am losing them to the pharmaceutical companies and wholesale food suppliers. One friend of mine, she took a job with a trash removal company that specializes in schools. She makes over $50,000 a year with company car, a company laptop, all school holidays off and a bonus system that allows her to make an additional 20% of her income if she makes her goal. And she did. And she is never coming back to selling wine.

How do I tell my friends and colleagues in Italy, still living at home and maybe making €1,400 a month, to feel sorry for someone like that? How do I tell Paola in Firenze that someday she will be able to have a home and a family but only if the company she works for does not raise their wine prices for at least two years in order to compete here? And her multi-millionaire winery boss, who lives on a private plane, going from the Bahamas to Cinqueterre to Sardegna to Greve to New York, how will we ever touch his heart? Why should he care?
The problem is the Italians, when they aren't jetting around in the private Gulfstream planes of their mind, are moving too slow. Like their beloved symbol of the Slow Food. Good for food, but can we be a little more like our dolphin brothers? A little more swift and intuitive, a little more compassionate, a little less selfish?
Don’t believe all the press releases from Coldiretti. The Italian wines may be doing well in some areas of America, but Australia and France have passed the Italians in some of the cities and they know it. They aren't pulling out of the passing lane anytime soon.

And I’m not going to be decanting old 2002 Brunello or Barolo in 20 years. It’s time to wake up into the new world we live in, Italy.










Beatrice Russo is my "intern". Inotherwords, she is a creation of my imagination. She runs around on a Vespa, only inside my head.