Which Wine with Fish? How's About Red, White & Rosé?

Over the course of a few days, on special assignment in Italy, our travels landed us by the sea. And as anyone who follows this blog knows, I loves me some seafood. Whether it is live Dungeness crabs from Canada or an array of fish and shellfish from the Mediterranean, I’m always ready for a platter of seafood. Lately there has been talk on some of my pals blogs about the right wine with seafood. And after I read through them, I was presented with the opportunity to make further evaluations on the subject.

An Italian Girl Finally Stole My Heart

I’m going to divert from my normally prescient state to a case of absolute infatuation. I have finally fallen for an Italian girl.

First, this is an old soul. A very old soul. Ensconced in the body of a seven year old. I am totally under her spell.

Rustic Tuscany, Organic Lambruschi and a True Original

Italy is full of characters. People with unusual life stories. And in rustic Tuscany, not the one the tourists go to in droves, I ran across one.

Today as we drove the SS1 "Via Aurelia" highway from below Grosseto to Bolgheri, the traffic was thinner than I had thought; this being one of the days Italians pile in their car in droves and go on vacation for the month of August. Around La California though, the traffic slowed, halted, and for 15 minutes or so, we crawled. Very exciting stuff to be in a traffic jam with all of the Italians going on holiday.

Our journey took us away from the water and inland to a mountainous area, seeming very much like Liguria. One in our group ran into a friend at a porchetta stand and he invited us to his place to taste some Lambruschi and salumi.

Dante’s Boot Camp

The sound of the waves crashing upon the shore has been replaced with the sound of my heart beating in my chest. As if in a dream, I am transported across the world from my wild place in the New World - ocean, eagles, tall pines - to a rugged edge of Tuscany - alabaster, olives and sheep.

I cannot say how I got here, because in reality I was sleeping most of the time. And that is my common story: the human, who walks around in his pajamas, sliding across the polished concrete floors, going to get a glass of water, walking from room to room, taking a spider outside and seeing a small group of foxes as they go from their outdoor places.

Here, there are no grapes, except for a few wild stragglers. Italy, the giant peninsular vineyard, here is bereft of those energies. They are transmitted through other things. How interesting to be in a place that has defined my work, my life even, and to not have any of that which is familiar. It is liberating, actually, not to have the message broadcast and to only have the energy, the essence. The raw matériel.