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| (photo, courtesy of the Illuminati winery) |
But why wait for someone to die to celebrate their life? Why
not beat the drum while their heart is still beating some of that fine red
Italian blood?
Which brings us to a figure whose life in Abruzzo has most definitely left its mark for the better. That person is celebrating his 90th birthday, Dino Illuminati.
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.”
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.
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?
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.
A generation ago, Stefano and I, lean and dark haired, stood outside the burgeoning winery in one of many trips to Abruzzo.
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.
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.
Grazie, amici.
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.
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.
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.
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 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
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.
“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.
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?”
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.
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.
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.
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:
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 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.
