While this week has been all about Barbera in Piedmont, on the wine trail in Not that there haven’t been the occasional introspective moments. We happen to live in a wealthy part of the world, so the aftershocks of the economic quake that hit months ago aren’t felt as intensely. But one of my Italian friends admonished, “stay attentive” – we are not finished in this cycle quite yet. Folks in Abruzzo understand such things, having been rippled by the earth below their feet countless times, the last time almost a year ago when Aquila was almost leveled.
Surprise of the trip? An experimental wine from Illuminati, the Nico. I first had this wine in the 1980’s when Illuminati was making their charge up the hill to be seen as one of the leaders for quality wine from Abruzzo. Made from passito Montepulciano, this wine has been a laboratory for ideas from the Illuminati winery. It has also been the wine that the older winemaker Spinelli symbolically passed the baton to the younger winemaker, Capellacci. Now the wine, for me, has taken on a life of its own, the conversation is now between me and Nico, no longer between the generations of winemakers that are part of the history of illuminati.
Old friend and colleague Guy Stout was in the room this week when we tasted the 2003 Nico. At the first whiff of the wine, prickly and a bit wild, I walked over to Guy. “You detect a little volatile acidity?” I asked him. “ I do – a lot.” He said and smiled. The lack of “polish” made us both happy. Here was a wine with a life life that someone hadn’t styled into a pretty little high-test velvet bomb. Note to Barbera producers- take a walk on the wild side, free the Barbera- it’s working for some of the upcoming producers in Abruzzo. And we like the results here in Texas and America.Stefano said it well, and this isn’t the first time I have heard it. He said, “Our grandfathers used to sell their grapes to Tuscany, to Veneto, to France. We don’t have time for that now. We need our grapes.”
We need our grapes. And while not every grape from Abruzzo is destined to be put in a bottle that says “Made in Abruzzo,” the young generation has a reason to be fiercely proud of their progress.
Yesterday as the minivan was carrying us from hotel to meeting, Stefano made a call to his friend and colleague Leonardo Pizzolo, who is also barnstorming Texas towns with his Montepulciano from Valle Reale. The two talked, will miss each other in Texas, one in Austin while the other is in Houston, I overheard the conversation they were having in Italian. Leonardo was seeing the wine lists with scores of Chianti wines on them, but maybe only one wine from Abruzzo. “How is it they can put so many Chianti’s on their lists and half of them are so awful. They don’t speak of where they come from.” Maybe Leonardo, because the wine in the bottle doesn’t come from Tuscany? Or maybe because too many people in Tuscany have lost their way?Two days ago, sitting around a table in Houston with a group of young sommeliers we had that same discussion. “I just don’t think of Chianti as an interesting wine anymore,” one of them remarked. After a heated discussion that got into the styles and the areas, I think they are more confused about the style of Chianti because there are so many expressions of what Chianti is. And while we won’t solve the problems for Tuscany or Piedmont at a table in Houston (we’ll save that honor for the halls of Vinitaly in a few weeks) the discussion rages on.
The young sommeliers want to know more about the Italian wines, especially being exposed to young producers who are their peers, who have come up in similar times. And honestly, the experience of growing up in the last 20 years, where communications have flattened the world, where we get around more, have allowed for a closer sharing of the life experience, more so than ever before. Just look around you, people are plugged into their electronic tribes like never before.And that, dear readers - especially anyone looking out, looking in on the ground at one the battlefields to save Italian wine from becoming “international” - that is what we have been meeting about here on the wine trail.
The bus leaves out of here in 45 minutes and I have to get packed and ready - we have a gig in Dallas @ 10:30 AM!
Last month at the Illuminati estate in Abruzzo, I had lunch with my people. No, they weren’t Sicilian or Calabrese cousins. They weren’t my co-workers or clients meeting me in Italy. It was much more visceral than that, almost tribal in the connection. I was invited to have lunch with a wine sales team, guys who sell to wine shops and restaurants in Rome.
Over the years I've had many meals at Illuminati. In the early days we had meals on the second floor of the old house, sometimes outside. If it was cold we’d invade the dining room. As the winery grew and the Illuminati family redesigned the old stable on the main floor, we settled into the space they called the Luperia, a space with a kitchen and an open hearth. And a larger dining room. Many great memories exist in this room, but I had never sat down to eat with my own regiment. And during those years, friend and cellar master, Agostino, has opened many a bottle for us to enjoy. We’ve grown into the job together.
I was really excited about this meal. I was prepared to pick the brains of rookie and veteran alike. Who would know better the travails of selling wine than a salesman from Rome? What kind of kickbacks did the Roman restaurateur demand? How did one go about getting control of the wine list or selling a wine from Abruzzo to a Sardegnan? I was hoping for all mysteries to be revealed.
Dino Illuminati, the patriarch of the estate, motioned for me to sit next to him. Lunch is serious business for Dino and he didn’t want anyone to get too near him with idle chat. He wants to eat and drink first. I know the drill. When Dino and I sit down we both go after food and wine pretty well much in the same way. Except Dino has a capacity that I will never be able to match.
One of the older veterans sat across from me. He reminded me of one of the salesmen back home. This gent had a peaceful air about him, he was the elder statesman; he grew up in Amatrice in northern Lazio.
I asked him how his route was. Was it competitive? Cutthroat? Was it hard to collect money? Did you get resistance with all the new wines coming out? What about the prejudices of owners from one region against the wines of another region (i.e. Piedmont vs. Tuscan). I was surprised to be reminded that they don’t go around tasting wine, sampling as we call it. Now they just carry their list, with maybe some Gambero Rosso review (very big in Rome) and the price list. Pretty cut and dry. Rome was a city that was prepared for all comers, and has been this way for hundreds if not thousands of years. Anything goes.
I was looking for their “hook”. How did they catch the big fish? Figuring Rome would be like NY or LA or Houston, there was always the particular technique that worked for the peculiarity of the particular city.
He was a thoughtful guy. And we were starting to drink pretty well by then. The big slurpy purple stuff they make in Abruzzo that they call “Montepulciano in purezza.” All the while the young salesmen would come over to him and bear hug him or jostle him around. You could tell these guys liked working with each other; there was camaraderie among them.
“Alfonso, what really works best is the rapport we build with our customers. Trust, time and relationship.” Ah, the “R” word. So the secret was, there is no secret; daily treading, pressing the flesh, and being reliable. Showing up. Building trust. Just like almost everywhere else.
Look at these people. They’re having fun. They’re enjoying their lives. They’re enjoying each other.
I told some stupid story, trying to be funny, about a sales experience here in The States, but I don’t think the experience translated so well to their frame of reference. No matter, platters of grilled lamb, sausage and pork were pulling up to the table and we soon were diverted to the main course.
After lunch we went outside for espresso and cigars and fresh air, what a combo, eh? The sales crew had to get back to Rome. It was only three hours we’d had to sit down and break bread, but in that time I felt like a huge gift had been dropped in my lap; An afternoon with my selling tribe; with the young ones, the veterans, the crazy ones, the calm ones. Its not a closed brotherhood but it is a deep connection, to capture what is growing right out there in the land and transform it to wine and take it to Rome and NY and Austin and try and share with all those folks in those places these amazing miracles in bottles. Not just wine, but the lives, of Spinelli and Spinozzi and Illuminati and you and me and anyone that wants in on this.
This is the joy of selling. This is why I am on the wine trail in Italy and anywhere else the road takes me.
Sept 7, 2006 the Full Corn Moon~
