Interviewing Italian Wine - The Moment When Everything Changed

Italian culture is a timeless and ongoing revolution. Wine has been swept up in that benevolent maelstrom. Thus, it seems like a good time to revisit our old friend, Italian Wine, and interview them. Over several long lunches and a myriad of bottles opened, young and old, this interview has been streamlined for today’s attention span deficient society. However, this process has been going on for hundreds of years. Glad for you to dip in.

 

Q: Ciao, and thank you for joining us.

IW: Niente, you’re most welcome.

Q: Let’s jump right in. Did you notice an inflection point, a moment of illumination, internal/external, when your awareness changed (when you awoke to the meaning/ direction in your process), was there an event that changed or was there something that took place, internally, that happened?

IW: Wow, a long question with not a short answer. But I will try and explain. As you know, we’ve been around for hundreds, if not thousands, of years, in some form or another. But realistically, it wasn’t until the 20^th century that wine, in general, took on a more rapid evolution. It seems to have coincided with the technological changes the world was undergoing. But there was also a new energy coming from the earth, a novel expression of life, that was being captured in the vines. It was as if the earth was awakening from a long sleep. And Italy is more than blessed to be an epicenter of the world’s energy, or so the Italians like to think. And maybe that is so. In any case, the momentum right after World War II gave impetus to the most rapid set of changes in Italian (and I daresay the world) wine creation. Technology, rebuilding a world that was destroyed by war, economic investment, more rapid and efficient forms of communication and transportation, and the desire to get back to life and living, by the humans, gave us hope in the ground. The long sleep was over and a new dawn was upon us.  So, I hope that begins to answer our question, although there could be a book written about that subject.

What kind of life have you had?

 In memory of Luigi Pira and Dino Illuminati

I was in the room next to my wine closet when I thought I heard the murmur of low voices. There was no one else in the house, and it startled me a bit. But as I inched closer to where the wine was, I realized the voices were coming from inside…

Exclusive: Interview with a Bottle of Italian Wine

It’s been a while since we last chatted, so I figured it was time to set up the recorder and ask my favorite bottle of Italian wine how their life is these days. Come along for the ride, let’s see what they have to say for themself.

Wanted: Wine Tastemakers – Older White Men Need Not Apply?

Feb. 29, 2040

Dear Salem Morgon,

Thank you for your inquiry regarding the position we posted. We are currently screening the next level candidate for our wine tastemaker stint and you have made the cut. Congratulations!

As you know, we are currently recruiting candidates to form a dynamic new team for ViniVer§Ω as THE preeminent and never-before-seen #WineInfluencer Neoteric Eno-zine. The next step for us, with you, is to further ascertain if you will be a good fit, on our soon-to-be award-winning squad!

So, let’s get down to it, por qué no?

Doctor Notti on Italy, wine and the intergalactic dust storm of 2016

On July 18, 2016, an intergalactic dust storm - Mendacium Collocatio – plowed into earth, broadsiding North America. It modified the brainwaves of half the people it hit, and created synaptic disruptions in them, for which we are just beginning to understand the ramifications. It also appeared that those who were affected also acted as transmitters of turmoil, impairing about 20% of the people they came into contact with. It was during a hotly contested political campaign, and this was not noticed for what it was. It was thought at first that the activities of people were aroused due to their emotional connection to one or the other candidate. We are only learning now that was not the case. The earth had been hit with the equivalent of 15,000 kilotons of this cosmic micro dust, 10,000 times more powerful than the bomb that exploded over Hiroshima. And while the dust storm didn’t spread toxic and lethal radiation like a nuclear blast, it nonetheless caused widespread disruption. And it has been theorized that it made the human population on earth more susceptible to dormant viruses lying in wait, creating a confluence and causing a Perfect Wave scenario. The last time this planet experienced such a Perfect Wave was 66 million years ago.

The man who visited every winery in Italy

In Italy, there is a most amazing fellow. He is 93 years old, and from the age of 18, his sole goal and activity has been to visit every winery in Italy. So far, he’s racked up 27,565 winery visits, and even though old age is catching up to him, he figures he has another seven years, when he turns 100, to cover all 30,000 wineries in Italy. He has done what no other person has done, yet alone even imagine doing. It has been a hectic pace, averaging one winery a day for the last 75+ years. One for the record books, our fellow traveler has been regarded in Italy as both a crack pot and a genius. Fellow genius Albert Einstein once said, “Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.” Conversely, E.B White was heard to say “Genius is more often found in a cracked pot than in a whole one.”  The following is an (imagined) interview I made with this most unusual man, known only as Gegè.

“Wine? I don’t care about scores, competitions mean nothing to me and I don’t collect anything!”

– The Gen Z interview

While writing a recent story for the paper, I sat at a coffee shop and scribbled. An apparition of a  person hovering nearby saw that I had a copy of a wine magazine and asked me what I was reading. Being the quintessential introvert, I squirmed. And then I showed it to her. She could have been young enough to be my granddaughter, if I’d had one. “Last year I turned 21,” she said, and have been thinking about wine and alcohol. I had no idea they had magazines about wine!”

I was on a deadline and was pressed to finish the piece, which had nothing to do with the magazine. So, I told her I was working on something else and could I send her some interview questions. We’d earlier determined that we had mutual acquaintances and thus there would be no risk from exchanging emails. “I don’t check my email that often,” she said, “but text me when you do, so I can pull them up.” And with that I finished my flat white, she disappeared, and I boogied out the door to my next appointment.

The Hill Country Interview

Guest interview by Beatrice Russo While Alfonso is finding his bliss on his very little own island, he has given up the blog to me, once again. Before he left, we sat down in the Texas Hill Country, where I interviewed him. BR: Did you start out wanting to be in the wine business? AC: No actually I wanted to be a gypsy-freelance photographer. I went to New York in the mid Seventies, lived in Chelsea, did a little part time work at the New School and assisted for a photographer. BR: What happened? AC: I am a westerner, like to see the sunset and the horizon. New York in 1975 was pretty depressing. I moved back to LA. BR: What was the wine scene like when you arrived in LA in the late Seventies? AC: It was fresher, cleaner than where I had just been. I started working in a restaurant in Pasadena, called The Chronicle. It had a fabulous cellar, mainly California wine at the time, but I was exposed to some of the great winemakers at the time. Pasadena was just a little too conservative in those days. I remember the night Jimmy Carter won the election; some of my customers were pretty upset. They looked at me with my longish, curly hair and started blaming me that the country was going down. BR: What did you do? AC: I realized I was in an environment that wasn’t healthy. My son had just been born and I was full of hope. The prospect of serving up Ridge and Georges de Latour to a bunch of miscreants motivated me. So I worked in Hollywood across from Paramount studios on Melrose. It was a happening place. Wine was coming down from Napa we had French wine on our list, there were a lot of stars coming in. It was just a brighter place. BR: So you opted for Italian wine. AC: That came after a while. I was living in Dallas, working at a great old Italian place, Il Sorrento. They had this little room up in the attic that was tem-controlled and had all kinds of old bottles of Barbaresco, Barolo, Gattinara, Amarone and Vino Nobile in there. I was tired of selling Piesporter and Bolla Soave so I asked the sommelier to give me a list and some prices. I went to town. Folks like Stanley Marcus and Terry Bradshaw came in, along with the wealthy set in Dallas, looking to have an experience. It was the Eighties and oil and money was flowing. BR: Were you surprised by the public reaction to Italian wine, or by their eventual mass acceptance? AC: A lot of people travel to Italy. So they are looking for a way to recreate that experience. After a while Italian wine just seeps into your bloodstream and it becomes a natural part of your life. I am constantly surprised and disappointed at the same time. BR: Half-full, half-empty, which one is it? AC: Both. I was recently in a new Italian spot; they had spent millions on the place. But when I looked at the wine list, I wanted to puke. I saw wines on the list that were marked up five times. I mean, who’s gonna spend $170 on an ‘03 Brunello in these times, especially when they can go down to Cost-Co and pick it up for $49. There still is an imbalance out there. That’s the half-empty part. BR: So what did you do? AC: I told my server that I had to leave, personal emergency (it was, to me) and we went back into town. Walked into a little place that makes great pizza and pasta and uses some great locally sourced produce. Sat down ordered a bottle of a cool red, a dry, real Lambrusco for $34, and got back on track. Twenty years ago we would have had to just buck up and drink the Bolla. Not these days, even here in flyover country. BR: Yeah, what’s with you and that flyover comment? I read it on the blog lately. AC: It’s a reference the East Coast folks make to where I hang my shingle. The midsection of the country. You know, where we can still see sunsets and horizons and have a back yard and a garden. BR: You have a unique style of writing. How did this blog thing come about? AC: I have written stuff all my life. I wrote a novel (unpublished) in 1979-80. When I was in Palermo in 1971, I remember writing poetry on the typewriter in my uncle’s library. In those days Italy only used 22 of the 26 letters, I think. So my poetry was a little strange. After my uncle took me around the streets and ruins of Sicily, I read everything I could get from Sicilian authors. This is my basis in blogging. It uses wine as a buoy but launches out as far as I can go, even sometimes in to Borges country. BR: You lost me there, AC. AC: I’m not surprised. BR: Did you ever feel that you had tapped into the Zeitgeist in some special sort of way? AC: This is starting to sound like Dylan’s Rolling Stone interview, Beatrice. Are you talking about the way the blog has been going? BR: Yeah. AC: As I look back on it now, I am surprised that I came up with so many of them. At the time it seemed like a natural thing to do. Now I can look back and see that I must have written those posts "in the spirit," you know? Like "The Endless Italian Summer" or “The Meltdown” -- I was just thinking about that the other night. There's no logical way that you can arrive at posts like that. I don't know how it was done. BR: It just came to you? AC: It just came out “through” me. D.H. Lawrence wrote a poem called “We are Transmitters,” that said it all. BR: You have been doing posts, as far as I can tell, three times a week for two years now. What's going on here? AC: Well, The tail is definitely wagging the dog on that one. I don't know what to say; I'd love to slow down, but the tap is on and the stuff is flowing. So I'm just going with the flow. BR: Have you ever considered moving to Italy? Where you might feel more at home? AC: I considered that back after my wife died. But then I thought about being in Italy, where they’d always treat me like a stranger on a Sunday night. I’d rather not have any illusions about my isolation. Texas gives me space and I like the out West places well enough. No, I’m not bound for Italy, not looking for a convent in the Marche to redo anytime soon. BR: So, tell me a secret, AC, something that you have been keeping all to yourself. AC: I don’t know about that, Beatrice, how about a little dream? BR: OK, yeah, sure. AC: I’d like to slow down on this blogging thing, ‘cause it just seems to have a bit too much of a hold on me. I have other stories in me, like my science fiction side. All those years I spent throwing the baseball in my backyard with the old Italian who used to work for Rod Serling and the Twilight Zone, I guess. I also would like to write a book about a wine personality. I mean one of the John Steinbeck, larger than life people. The kind of person the common man could identify with. BR: You got someone in mind? AC: Look around you, here in the Texas Hill Country; vineyards, Bar-B-Q, all kinds of people running around here. There’s at least two or three books scattered around this crowd. Three that I know of. But there is one I am working on. Wait and see, Bea. You gotta practice your patience, young lioness. BR: Thanks, AC. Comments to me here:Beatrice

Interview with the Ancients

Imagine taking a walk in a quiet place. In it, there were many souls from ancient times. They were from Greece and Italy, Sumeria and Egypt, Persia and Etruria. The voices were silent but the souls were coming through loud and clear, on a Friday afternoon on the eastern edge of Central Park.

I had just interviewed a gentleman about his life, his book and things Italian. But we didn’t quite make a connection. How could you do anything in 15 minutes, except perhaps to size each other up like two bulls in a ring? Not that it was that kind of encounter. I left feeling the need to reconnect with my roots, so I hopped on a subway and headed back a couple of thousand years, to interview the ancient ones.

Q. What were the wines like when you were living?

A. They were dark and musky, and warm. They tasted a little like sour water sometimes and at other times sweet like rose petals.

Q. Who made the wine in your community?

A. We had families who passed the trade down from generation to generation. There were families, like in Chaldea, who had been working with the grape for hundreds of years.

Q. Who among you were the first to taste wine?

The fellow in profile speaks

A. When we first tasted it, it came about by accident. One of the servants had left a vase of grapes lying around in a cool dark place and forgot about it. Several weeks later one of the porters was walking around and smelled this sweet odor. He had it brought up to the dining area and we all took bites out of this fruit we knew, but it tasted very different this time. And the juice in the bottom of the vase we all took sips of. This was something we had never experienced before. So we instructed the porters to pick more grapes and let them sit in the basement in the same manner. That was the first time we had seen it.


Q. How did the news of this travel?

A. Slowly at first, but after 400-500 years pretty much everybody in the known world had an idea of the transformative powers of the grape.

Q. And the merchants, how did they fit in?

A. At first, it was seen as a religious ritual, so the merchants stayed away. A tribe of women eventually wound their way through the empire, setting up trade with the Egyptians.


Q. Many times we hear that the Greeks brought wine culture to Italy. Who knows about that in this room?

An Etruscan princess answers

A. We had already started with the grape before the Greeks arrived. We had been going on for several hundred years. What the Greeks did was to bring some new grape types with them, but not superior to the ones we had been cultivating for 500 years.

Q. It seems Ancient Romans loved wine. Poems were written about it, buildings and temples were erected in honor of the god of the grapes.

A. That all is true, but keep in mind we had very little to eat and drink. We were often sick and food went bad quickly. Wine kept, and it kept us well and our bellies full. And it made us happy.


Q. Did the grape have anything to do with the expansion of the Empire(s)?

A. Other than it went where man went? Of course when we conquered Gaul or the Huns or the Britons, we would plant vines and keep the local people collected and subdued. Wine had a part to play in the civilizing factor of the wild tribes.

Q. Last Question. If you were around today, what kind of wine would you like to see? What would you make?

An older Roman answers

A. Listen, I would round up some of my soldiers and head to Toscanium and set that land straight. I’d bring them back to the Jovian roots and light a bloody fire under their feet. And by all the power of Jupiter, we’d bring them back to the flame of truth and all that is holy about the miracle the gods have sent down from the heavens in giving us grape with which to make this precious wine. Anyone caught disrespecting the gift of the gods would be crucified and struck down, their family sent into exile. To go against the Divine Immortals is the worst sin one could commit against the pantheon that rules our ancient souls.

written by Alfonso Cevola limited rights reserved On the Wine Trail in Italy

INTER(ior)VIEWS

For the record, just so nobody gets any wild ideas, I am thinking of doing some interview type posts that are totally made up; fantasies, springboards and otherwise fictional renderings from the interior of my mind.

Ok, we got that straight?

So, in case anyone confuses these posts with fact or reality, no, Mrs. Calabash, these are fiction.