Ain't nothin' purdier than a spread of Texas BBQ

'cept maybe a plat of traditionnel Coq au Vin comme à Juliénas

After just getting up from a table filled with all sorts of French delicacies, from Croustade de Pieds de Veau aux truffles to Pissenlits, lardons et oeuf poché, Quenelles de brochet comme à Nantua to Tripes maison en marmite lute, traditionnel Coq au Vin comme à Juliénas to Poulet à la Crème, au Vin Jaune et aux Morilles, and I still cannot get that Texas barbecue out of my head. Two weeks ago we finished up our Wine Waltz across texas with Stefano Illuminati, and decided to throw a good ‘ol Texas meal in front of him to thank Stefano for a week worked hard. Some old friends, from Sausage Paul to Cheese Diva Paula along with a handful of old friend “in the biz.”




One of the old friends, Steve Conner, brought out some oldie but goodies from his wine closet, a 1995 Vieux Telegraph Chateauneuf du Pape, which was stunningly beautiful (Stefano’s favorite of the night). But to my mind the 1967 Avondo Spanna was a perfect wine for the food. Creamy, still filled with fruit, but a tawny, mature depth that matched well with the smoky quality of the ribs and the brisket. Jeff Miller and Stefano were in Ft. Worth on that day and secured the meats from The Railhead Smokehouse. Now we’re talking West Texas BBQ! Along with that Hank and Phylissa Rossi brought a beautiful potato salad and of course we had a spread of Paula Lambert's cheeses, including the Hoja Santa wrapped goat cheese, which was grown right outside the door where we were celebrating.

The kicker of the night was when I brought out my home made Jalapenos, which are hotter than Dante’s 9 layers of Hell. I tell you, I can barely eat them, and I love the things. Why else would I have put up 12 pounds of them last fall? But Stefano, he ate them like they were pickles, no pain. I earned a whole new level of respect for Stefano with that.

I’ll be blogging over the next several posts about the 2009 Bordeaux harvest, or what I like to call The Bordeaux 9. The center of the wine world has often been Bordeaux and there is a lot of interest in the harvest and in the moves the Bordelaise are going to make with this highly regarded vintage. James Suckling has already written that the "2009 Vieux-Château-Certan was just too good" right now out of the barrel. And there have been hints on Twitter and elsewhere that he is comparing the 2009 Mouton to 1982 and 1986 (100 point territory?). I’ll be tasting these wines too, and will Tweet as well as post here.

Why, one asked me? It isn’t Italian wine? Nor is Napa Cabernet. But it is the world of wine and both regions, Bordeaux, and Napa represent a luxury product in a troubled economic time. To see how they explain, or sell, or maneuver, is instructional for all of us. Besides, wine is a miracle, whether it comes from a Chateau or a Bricco.

Tonight I was sitting across a gentlemen I know. A lawyer. 72 years old. And I swear he was channeling Alice Feiring when he said, “ I am looking for wines that have terroir. I am tired of tasting wines that all taste international. They make me feel like I am starting out all over again, because I don’t know how to identify them.” You gotta feel for the old guy, because if he is saying it, then it isn't some teabag-fringe element that is behind it - wines with character and flavor and honesty about their origin is in the mainstream of concern.

And yes, Alice we were on our way to Le Verre Volé wine bar, but alas we ran into a bottle of Calvados and it got to be too late. Oh well, tomorrow is another day.

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

Cent'anni

By now our wine waltz across Texas has taken us back to Dallas. In less than 100 hours we’ve gone from Dallas to Houston to Austin and back to Dallas. But as the proverb goes about the month of March which comes roaring in “like a lion”, so the wine biz is as well. Long hours- eating, tasting, meeting with clients, friends, little sleep, rush to another town, another appointment. Where did we put our guitars?

People say all the time, “Oh, what a great job you all have.” It is. And the hours are long. But the time spent is rewarding.

The time spent. Where do those hours, days, week, years go?

Almost 100 years ago, my grandfather Alfonso, and my dad Luigi, stood on the corner of St. Paul and Pacific in downtown Dallas. My dad was barely two and my grandfather was all of 22, running his shoe shop.

This afternoon Stefano Illuminati are I are standing 100 feet from the spot where they stood, waiting to go into a new restaurant to have lunch with friends and clients.



A couple of us go back, not quite 100 years, with the Illuminati wines and their history in Texas. Guy Stout, long time friend and colleague, has been uber-passionate about the wines of Abruzzo. Guy and Dino share a love for wine and the table. Both love to eat. And wine? Dino and Guy are legendary for their prowess in the drinking department. But all for the love of the grape.

In making appointments for Vinitaly, which is coming up soon, I am noticing that I’m going to be spending more time this year in the Abruzzo pavilion. Is this Abruzzo’s moment? Has the sun, which has shined on the Tuscan world all these years finally turning its light toward Abruzzo? If Illuminati and the other winemakers from Abruzzo are asked, they will tell you “it’s time.” I would say it’s about time.

But isn’t it all about time?

A generation ago, Stefano and I, lean and dark haired, stood outside the burgeoning winery in one of many trips to Abruzzo.

This collection of essays which have appeared here as part of what I call On the Wine Trail in Italy often take us back to Italy. But in real time I haven’t been to Italy in a year. This past year has been one to mark on the road, surely, but back in the trenches, in the American market, shoring up the business. The last year has been a tough one for business. There is a lot of fear - fear of loss. I’ve had my share of emails from winemakers, importers, managers that have expressed trepidation.

The harvest from fear doesn’t make a good wine. Looking back at the picture of my grandfather, I see his stained clothes. It tells me that it is time to stay busy; to get some dirt under the nails is not a bad thing. The harvest of many years of friendship and camaraderie produces a joy, an esprit de corps, that doesn’t improve from the centrifugation of anxiety.

And while it does look glamorous in a rock star kind of way, all this traveling, eating, drinking wine, fancy clothes, the whole panorama of the wine trail, the reality is (as my friend Sam Levitus likes to say) that for at least the next 100 weeks we have a lot of work to do to bring the markets back up. And that will involve a lot of sweat, a lot of dirt under the nails, to set the next generation, and the next 100 years, on a course where the waltz of life will harvest the Dream that America was, and still is, to this Italian soul.

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

Stefano Illuminati's Big Night @ Sausage Paul's

I had never seen Paul DiCarlo so happy. He was bubbly. Bubbly! And giddy too - a sign that Spring is near. He was cooking for Stefano Illuminati and this was gonna be a Big Night.

As Damian Mandola is accomplished in his penetration of America with his brand of Italianism, Paul cuts a different swath. Fiercely proud, a single store operator. Always on duty. Family Man. Huge gift of a man to Italian wine and food. Paul really does keep the world safe for Italian wine. An Italian-American Ambassador Emeritus.

The place that he and his siblings run, what I call the Greatest Italian wine and food store in America, is one of a handful of places I have found in my life where the doors to things Italian, the work of my life, are wide open.

In a world filled with the daily pressures of competition, quotas and vast expectations, it’s a rare thing to have a place like Paul’s where one can bring their friends and their friend’s treasures from the Italian earth and celebrate them in such a simple and direct manner with the people of one’s community. It really does make it all worthwhile.

Grazie, amici.

Cooking for 40 people, 7 wines, multiple courses. Teamwork. All family on deck.

Precious, simply precious.

There goes the diet!

Day 4, wine dinner #2 - A full week - Stefano is a rock star!

Filling orders faster than we can take them

Final moments, the raffle and a nod to the Abruzzo flag

Just one order of many in a Sold Out Night. Stefano and Joe cart it out to one very happy (and lucky) client

Two more days to go.

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

Success in America, One Bottle at a Time

Stefano Illuminati "emphasizing" to Jeff Miller

The Wine Waltz across Texas with an Italian goes like this. Start in Dallas. Rent a mini-van. Drive (4 ½ hours) to Houston. Lunch appointments, meeting, dinner event. Next day, work the Houston market with salespeople, usually another lunch appointment with clients, sommeliers, buyers. Then a late afternoon sales meeting. Drive to Austin. Get to Austin late. Long days. Tired. Hungry. That’s where we found ourselves on this particular portion of the wine trail, rolling into Downtown Austin, near the Capitol, in search of some mighty fine pizza.

As we were driving from Houston to Austin we were rolling past one great BBQ place after another. I felt guilty because I know the Illuminati family love roasted meats. Anyone who has visited the Illuminati winery and been invited to eat at the Luperia, their on sight dining room, has had the pleasure of tasting great meats, (not to mention pasta, appetizers, you name it) with the wines of Illuminati. Great hospitality and the perfect way to show the wines of Abruzzo and their place on the gastronomic Italian proscenium

I’m not sure Stefano was thinking about his family’s place in the scheme of things that night. We were tired, we were hungry. He was jet lagged. We had close to a three hour drive and it had been less than 48 hours since he had landed in Texas with barely a moment to relax. “Alfonso, I need to buy my boys some gifts. Do you think we will have time?” Not yet Stefano, we have an appointment with a pizza oven.

Quattro Gatti on Congress in Austin was where we were to meet one of our salespeople. Well not just any salesperson, one who I met through the blogosphere, became friends, introduced to her husband, became their best man at their wedding. In other words, family. Added bonus, fluent in Italian, albeit with a Southern twang (Stefano commented on how she did not look like someone from Campania for sounding so much like one). Any way, the stars aligned, the oven was kicking out pizza, we were set.

A gorgeous pizza arrived, and then another one, the Montanara. A Bottle of Fiano from Mastroberardino appeared, and the Naples-Austin vortex started twitching. We are a few days out in front of SXSW, the annual gathering of musical talent combined with geekdome's most eloquent attenders. A little Burning Man, a little Haight-Ashbury, throw a love-in or two, and a high-speed conduit between the rest of the world and the current center of it, Austin, and, well, you just have to come to Austin to experience it.

Stefano ordered a pasta dish with clams. I was a little worried, because I know where he lives, San Benedetto del Tronto, and clams from there (and the pasta) are a true expression of la cucina Italiana. Yeah, yeah, we give it tons of lip service in the US, but in Stefano’s town, they walk the walk. But hey, the dish showed up and Stefano seemed pleased. I was too busy munching the pizza and anticipating the Branzino Al Forno.

And the Branzino? Well, take a look. It was perfect. Fish, salt, lemon, oil, parsley, five ingredients. Simplicity. Perfection. And with the Fiano? Austin is transmitting the signals from the Mother Ship with perfection.

After dinner (and the restaurant service) we finished up with a tasting of the wines with the owner, heading out around 10:30 to the hotel. The next day, Get up early get to a 9:00 AM sales meeting and tasting and then work the market, concluding with a stop at Fonda San Miguel, and finishing up out in Driftwood with a wine dinner for 80 people with Damian Mandola. Damian and Stefano have known each other for 25+ years. Damian was in Texas before heading out to his other home in Piedmont the next day. “Why don’t y’all come to the house for drinks, I'd love for the kids and my wife to see Stefano. “

Damian lives large. Big house. Lots of them. Big Family. Lots of them. Big restaurants. Lots of them. Big heart. Only one. Now spending half his time in Italy, his understanding of Italian food, especially how to present to America, has made him famous and wealthy. But we kind of remember him like we always have, a good guy with a big heart.

The dinner for 80 (at Trattoria Lisina) for 80 was spot on- great food, great wine, lots of friendly folk out in wine country. You have to experience it to believe it. The other day I got a call from my son wanting me to come out and visit him, near Marble Falls. “You won’t believe it, Pop, it looks like California or Italy out here in the vineyards.” I’m a believer, up until the point comes when it’s 100°F and humidity at 85% and snakes start slithering around between the vines.

Well, I have reached the 820 word point, so it’s time to wrap this one up. I’m sure I’ve lost the scanners and the folks who don’t read past the jump, and I can’t say I blame ‘em. I’ve been pretty wordy. And I’ve gotten a little mommy blogging lately. With Dr. P on the Barbera road, someone had to carry the torch. But he should be back by now, so I’ll get out of here real quick and pass the baton.

Stefano is a trouper. We hung with Damian till 10:30, another late night, and said our goodbyes. We have to get up and leave the hotel at 7:00 AM to drive to Dallas for a 10:30AM appointment. We’re waltzing two days on the road so far, with three more to go, before we skedaddle him back to Italy. More to come.

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

Cerasuolo is the Name & Gumbo is the Game

On the road with Stefano Illuminati and “other” celebrities

After our Big Night in Houston, the next day we had a lunch appointment with the sommeliers of Da Marco, Poscol and Tony’s at Tony’s. A power table at a power restaurant run by one of the most powerful restaurateurs in Texas. Tony Vallone has been “in the biz” for as long as I can remember and his eponymous restaurant is a shrine to wine, food, art – and power. My Austinopoli colleague has written so much more eloquently about it. I was even looking for his cousin Marty when I walked in for lunch.

I ran into Tony in the bar and we exchanged greetings. Our orbits all these years have been in different galaxies but we’d occasionally cross over into each other’s world. Just a couple of busy Italian-American fellows making their way in the world. I had to gasp when I actually had time to sit down and gaze upon some of the art in the dining room. Was I at the Mesnil Collection, or the Houston Museum of Modern Art? It was quite impressive. I was an art student in college, so the works of giants like Robert Rauschenberg and Mark Rothko are familiar. The unusual sculpture of The Three Graces by Jesus Moroles is one of those iconic pieces that harkened back to the day when wealthy patrons like the Medici’s would commission an “important” piece.

The night before I had gone a little overboard, so I was looking for simple clean, light food that would complement the Illuminati wines we were showing to the accounts. And though folk like our dear Tom Wark lament that the three tier mechanism is broken beyond repair, there are those of us who are in the trenches trying to keep the world safe for wine, Italian and otherwise. Some of us choose to be stewards of our trade, even when the ship occasionally hits an iceberg. For the record, I am not against wineries that cannot get their wine going through the regular channels to try to find ways for their wines to reach the public. At the very least, those folks will get an education in the blunt realities of getting your wine to the final consumer. It is already not easy through the established channels, so if someone finds a way to the New World, good on them. Spend two weeks on the road knocking on doors and it is very clear. Very few people "in the industry" have time to read blogs, wine or otherwise. They just want their wine delivered at the right time and with the right discount. Isn't that right, Yelenosky?

I saw gumbo on the menu and thought it might be the perfect starter for the lunch to go with the Illuminati Montepulciano d’Abruzzo Cerasuolo “Campirosa” Rosato. A sixteen hour skin contact impressed the wine with a color that isn’t a blush and isn’t a red. The color is animated – very bright, almost a hot crimson – gorgeous. It is the wine we drink in the summer by the Lungomare in San Benedetto del Tronto while a server brings out a perfect plate of Mezze Maniche (rigate of course) with a spicy Arrabiata sauce. Cool wine that is almost red, but still refreshing. A great match

But today it was Gumbo. Thick rich roux, with gobs of seafood. No skimping, no shortcuts. And the wine with the gumbo was a terrific match.

We moved on to reds going from lighter to richer. I was still looking to maintain my new waistline, so I ordered up a simple plate of carpaccio. Again the simplicity of the dish sailed through the three wines, from the basic Montepulciano, the Riparosso, to the riserva Zanna, to the more international Lumen.


As we were talking and I was shooting the food and the folks at the table I spied a table in my lens. One of the ladies dining looked familiar, but it wasn’t until I got home and did my Antonioni “Blow- Up” exercise on Photoshop of the images that I spied someone that looked like the daughter ( and grand daughter) of past presidents of the USA. The Illuminati connection? When the younger one was governor of Texas he conferred the status of Honorary Texan on Dino Illuminati.


What do you think- is this Jenna Bush Hager lunching with her lady friends?


Great food, great art, some pretty good wines, stimulating conversation and a possible celeb-sighting – all in a day’s work on the wine trail, this time in Texas, making the world safer by showing the wines from Stefano Illuminati.

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

Taking Vincent's Call

“When are you coming to Houston?” Vincent Mandola was asking on the other end of the phone. We talk about once a month. Usually he calls me. Which causes me anxiety, because I feel like I’m not being as good of a friend to him as he is to me. After all, he has six restaurants, two daughters, a whole slew of grand-kids, a wife, a 95 year old mother and 300 employees. Bless me Padrone for I have sinned, it has been 45 days since my last call.

“We will be there Monday with Stefano Illuminati” I tell him. “Good. Bring him to the restaurant for dinner with the family. 6:00. Don't be late.”

Vincent isn’t someone you want to let down. Sure, he has a big hammer, but he really is one of the nice guys. Someone I have known for 20 or so years. Forget about business, just a guy I like to hang out with. He feels about Italian food like I do about Italian wine – Vincent sets the bar high.

Recently they just went to an all Italian wine list at Nino's, which in today’s world is a bit of a risk. I imagine it is calculated. But still there is always the occasional diner who wants Kendall-Jackson Chardonnay with their Fettuccine Alfredo. Like our dear departed friend Eugenio Spinozzi was fond of saying, “If someone came into your restaurant and asked for a Big Mac would you have it on the menu?”

Vincent’s mom, you can still find her in the big kitchen making something. She still has all her noodles, and like my mom (who will turn 96 soon) these are women who don’t like to sit around and wait for something to happen. Sweet lady. Old School. Solid. Beautiful.



We brought some old school Montepulciano with us for dinner, the 1990 Illuminati Zanna. Almost 20 years old, a riserva in a good, warm year. 1990 was memorable in Piedmont as well as Abruzzo. In Abruzzo the warm summer, long growing season, lots of hang time and ripening. In those days folks didn’t use a lot of new oak – tastes were more to the flavor of fruit, not wood. The Zanna 1990 paired up well with the incredible food Vincent served that night. Wonderful rapini, some beautiful white beans, an incredible roasted Cauliflower and complements with some very tender and lean tenderloin. One of the best meals I have had this year – without a doubt. Thanks Vincenzo!



The daughters, Dana and Vinceanne, have grown up in and around the restaurant business, like Stefano has with the winery. Children of strong fathers and mothers (grandmothers too) sometimes it is hard to get out from under the shadow of the Big trees. Dino Illuminati and Vincent Mandola are Big Trees. Like I said, setting the bar high.

Waiter Sal, I call him Salvatore Cavatappi, because we always bring him a wine opener for his collection. Sal is from the rough-and-tumble Naples area. I love to listen to him talk in his distinct Neapolitan dialect – always with a funny story, a jab, a smile, a wrist watch to sell. The young males of Naples have to learn to survive early. Sal is a survivor.

We drank a lot of wine that night, but we couldn’t part company until we opened up a bottle of the Nico Passito 2003, a wine that I am getting very dependent on. This is a wine that has such high acidity and great edgy fruit, perfect balance, a pleasure to drink. Not for everyday (retails for $75) but man, what a delicious drink.

Thanks Vincent and Mary and Dana and Vinceanne (and Sal) for a great night in Houston with friends and family. Keeping it real. Real good.

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

Olive Porn on a Sunday Morn

Waking up this morning to a day with a lost hour, I couldn’t get over the most incredible olives we just had. Friend and colleague Stefano Illuminati was in Texas for a week (more about that soon) for his biannual Waltz Across Texas tour. Before he left Italy he asked me if he should bring anything. “Brochures? Samples? Tech sheets?” he asked. Almost immediately, I responded, “Bring some of those wonderful Olive Ascolane we have when we are in your town.” Stefano lives in Porto d’Ascoli, on the Marche-Abruzzo border, and the area is known for great seafood and these amazing olives. Recently, when I was reading through Frances Mayes’ just released book, Everyday in Tuscany, Seasons of an Italian life, she mentioned the famous olives from Ascoli. “Served all over the country, they’re often prepackaged and therefore diminished – nothing fried should have to travel farther than stove to table” was all the challenge I needed.

Stefano arrived with his suitcase filled with skinny Italian suits, hefty Italian reds and a delicately wrapped package that appeared to be a gift. In Italy, and especially in the Marche, the shopkeepers have this wonderful custom of hand-wrapping a purchase to make it appear to be the gift under the tree that everyone longs for. And so it was with this package of olives from Ascoli, which escaped the eyes of the customs people (meat filled olive bombs – free the olives!).

I thought Stefano would go to those stores they have in his town where everything is frozen and Cryovac-ed. They developed a technology in his area to handle the enormous demand for their fish and have transferred it to other products. Not exactly fresh, but when it is snowing in Piedmont and you pull a package of artichokes or fava beans out of the freezer, you can at least imagine that someday spring, and then summer, will come back. But no, Stefano went to the shop most famous in Porto d’Ascoli for these eximious specimens, Ỏlivepiù. There is no web site, only an address and a telephone number, Via dei Laureati, 2/A, Porto D’Ascoli. (0735.751811). I was worried, after reading Frances’ warning. But not fearful. (*Note as of 2018 there is now a website:
http://www.olivepiu.it/)
We had a few friends over at the end of our whirlwind tour of Texas, to kick back and relax for one night. No wine dinners, no late-night presentations. We kicked Stefano’s butt with work. His local rep is probably going to have to take a week or two off to recuperate from the grueling late-hour drives, going from one city to another like rock stars heading to the next gig. But we all made it.

As the guests arrived, Stefano handed them flutes of his wonderful Illuminati Brut, a Metodo Classico with amazing depth and richness. People fall all over themselves when they describe tiny grower Champagnes, as if there are no other places on earth to find good bubbles. But insiders know Italy is a repository of similar finds. Italians loved bubbles, and Dino Illuminati invested heavily in the 1980’s on this project. I think he has never made much money with his Brut; we all seem to give away more then we sell. But what is the price of joy?

As soon as most of the guest arrived, I brought out the large Dutch oven (every home should have one, non e vero, Signora P?) and filled it with about 1½ inches of oil – not olive, too heavy (and too incestuous). High heat, hot oil, waiting. Waiting. And then dropping the little creatures in, not quite filling the bottom of the pot. Leave room to move them around. And then maintain a vigil, watching, turning and waiting for the perfect color. The olives are filled with ground meats and spices and then covered with fine breadcrumbs. No danger of undercooking the meat, as it is already fully cooked. But the Italian cook must have them look beautiful. Lights, camera, action – and then comes that moment when one must wait for the olives, newly christened in oil and ready for their close-up, to cool off. Excruciatingly long. Endless. What the heck, I pop one in my mouth and am welcomed with an olive grenade. Still too hot. Burn. Burns so good. More. More. Give me some more, baby.

While we waited for them to cool on a platter with paper towels to absorb excess oil, Stefano suggested we open up the Costalupo. Illuminati has made this wine for as long as I can remember, and it has been an evolution of white wine in Abruzzo. Trebbiano with Riesling and Passerina, no oak, no centrifuge, no acidification. Pure simple, fruit, crisp yet creamy (thank you Signore Gianola). And then there are more people and more bottles of wine and olives – an olive orgy. And all of this before we bring out the Texas barbecue and start opening the bottles of red wine going back to 1967. But that is another post.

The next day, saying our good-byes with Stefano as he was leaving to go back to his family (he did find time to get an iPhone and some Polo shirts for the boys), he gave this advice, “Alfonso, those olives, if there are any remaining, bring them out and give them a minute or so. They are great the next day.”

Yes Stefano, they are. Were. Thank you, so very much, my friend, for your visit, your work, your passion, your family, and for some amazing olives, a little piece of real Italy here on the wine trail.

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