Certified vs. Qualified

“You’ll never make it to Master Sommelier,” A friend recently fired across my bow. “And you’ll never make it to 60,” was my instant come back. We have a history of tagging each other that is otherwise benign, but stimulating.

Several days later, I was thinking my favorite thought. It goes like this: “So what?” It is intended to help me delve into a subject that I am hoping will be interesting for a post, an article, even a future book. Usually after about two minutes (max) I find something to straighten out, a shelf that needs dusting, a pile of shirts that need to be mangled. And that usually wiggles me out of answering “the question that must be answered.”

In the last week I have been in conversations with winemakers, sommeliers, merchants, writers, and restaurateurs. This has been the week where I have heard, many times, the subject of wine lists that have been put together by young sommeliers. And the response by many folks I have talked to this week has been almost uniform in that they feel these young wine professionals are assembling lists more to reflect their prowess than to address the needs of their diners.


When a wine list was assembled, let’s say in the classic period of the 1970’s, there was the custom to arrange the wines by region and to cover pretty much all the bases with regards to the kind of restaurant the wine list was for. If it was a French restaurant, then the regions of France would be represented, usually with some deference to Bordeaux and Burgundy. But Alsace, the Loire, the Rhone and Champagne would be there too. If it were a “Continental” styled restaurant in the United States, the format would be similar to the French but would also include a token Italian, some German wines of course, wine from Portugal and Spain, sparingly, and possibly some New World wines included to excite the newer diners. If it were an Italian restaurant, the regional list would be drawn up, and pretty well much across the US, the wine list would be the same. Perhaps a grower or shipper would be different from coast to coast and if it were in a region where the supply was weaker, the wine list would reflect that in a minimized expression.

California showed up on the world stage and along with Nouvelle Cuisine, and then New American Cooking, New World wines came to dominate. If a medium-range style of restaurant grew into a regional chain or even a national chain, the wine list would be small but utilitarian, usually boring. All the while people in the US were starting to drink more wine and get interested in different wines

About that point the rise in the American Sommelier started to eclipse the traditional Tastevin-carrying sommelier. That was about the time tuxedo-wearing waiters receded into the sunset. It was as if these young Turks had newly discovered wine for the first time (and for them it was just that). But certain mistrust for the traditions of the antique predecessors were planted and cultivated.

The Conspiracy of Gruner
When we started seeing 10 selections of Gruner Veltiner on by-the-glass lists, a few people mentioned to me that they thought the wheels had fallen off the wagon. Usually this would come from an industry person who had seen the slow growth of the wine business and was wondering why the young sommeliers were jettisoning all the passengers off the train. “They think they can force diners to drink what they want to drink?” was a comment I would hear often.

“The people will drink what I tell then to drink,” was one sommeliers response, similar to what Orson Wells character said about his readers in the famous movie, Citizen Kane.

If you include only what you like on a list, yes, the people will drink only what is on it. But if there are wines on the list that attend only to an educated palate, or a newly educated palate, or further, a palate that has been trained to evaluate wine based on a particular course of study, where does that leave the common person? Or the person who might have tastes that differ from the elevated tastes of the professionals.

I am in tastings all the time with people who aren’t certified, or don’t have 25+ years of experience, and it is important to be able to communicate in a way that brings them into the fold, allows them their validity in their feelings about wine. Am I always right? Hardly. Is the new wine drinker the expert? No, but they are the future.

Can we build a future with Gruner? Unlikely, but sommeliers will tell you that they have already moved on to Greek wines or Biodynamic wines or wines from the Jura or Valle D’Aoste or Patagonia or Tasmania. Taste is a moving target and the evolution of one’s personal taste is a journal of intellectual and emotional development. Hopefully a sommelier can understand how to communicate that journey to his or her clientele so that if will be an adventure, not a death march

Why Subject the Diner to One's Personal Path?
If you are a person with many interests, and curiosities, than your list can be seen as a window into your wine loving soul. Antonio Gianola has put together a really wonderful wine list at Catalan in Houston. He has taken the occasion to bring wines into his establishment for people who don’t have the time to go through all the wines that he goes through. He thinks about them deeply, is enthusiastic about the process, charges fairly, and when you have him come to your table he always has a great little nugget. And he’s got you at halbtrocken.

Yes he’s young and his tastes are evolving. But he has a good foundation, so where he is taking the diner and where he is going will be to good places. A discovery, not a drag.

The Dark Side of Wine Stewardship
Re: the case of another sommelier. Let’s invent one here so I can form it from the muck of my little compost pit in purgatory. I will call him Charles Kane. Charles (don’t call me Chuck and don’t call me Charlie) is pursuing his WSET, MS, MW and CWE. He is on track to become the world’s foremost authority on wine before he is 25. He has already worked ten years in a restaurant, six years in a winery (two as head winemaker) and started his own import company and spun it off to a Silicon Valley company and he is writing two books on wine along with having a book contract for his memoirs. That’s what his resume says.
He is currently working for a restaurant group from NY, as a wine list manager in one of their Southern satellite restaurant concepts. There is a core list he must adhere to (if the items are available) and then he has free reign to about 80% of the list. He has decided that this New American style of restaurant should showcase wines from small growers and suppliers, so he can have the exclusive bragging rites to all the great wines he has “discovered.” The restaurant also has a pretty lively bar scene.

Yes, Gruner is on the list, as are a few biodynamic wines from the Loire and Friuli. He also has a selection of highly extracted Malbecs (15+% alc) by the glass (starting at $12 for a one ounce taste). He has elected to not have any of the popular Champagnes or Proseccos. He has instead opted for hard to get (and hard to keep in stock) grower Champagnes. His wine costs are a staggeringly low 26%. And his bar manager is running a 16% cost at the bar. Mojitos are outselling wine by the glass, 2-to-1. And specialty drinks, usually fruity and liqueur based (from those same import houses that the sommelier won’t buy the Champagnes from) and they too outsell wine almost 2-to-1.

The good news? The place is making a lot of money selling alcohol. The bad news? They aren’t doing it by selling an overly-esoteric and overpriced selection of wines which showcase the superiority of the sommelier.

MP3, not LP
A Sonoma Chardonnay by the glass? “Why care about that?” he replies, “when they can drink a barrel-fermented Viognier from Paso?” How about a nice Pouilly-Fiuisse or Chablis, lets say something in the vein of Chateau Fuisse’s Les Brûlés or Jean Dauvissat’s Vaillons or Sechets? “Tired old appellations” he barks, “our customers are looking for new wines, exciting wines. They’re looking for MP3, not LP.”

MP3, not LP. That pretty well much says it for this kind of character who is flooding the wine lists lately with his condensed version of the Compleat Wine List. Kane’s is a Spark Notes rendering of The Current Fashion in Wine Lists. And just like MP3 is a compressed, low fidelity substitute for a full range recording, wine lists, without breadth and depth, are emerging.

OK, OK, not all of the New Sommeliers are making lists like this. But too many lists seem to be a testosterone-driven search for recognition so they can land the “big job”. Is it no wonder people are drinking Tequila and Vodka at levels once seen in the 1980’s? They are just looking for something in this information-tsunami world that they can recognize, and find comfort in that recognition.

It isn’t about the chops of the sommelier, about his or her ascendancy over all of the rest of us. It still is about the Customer and Their Happiness.

A photographer I once trained with drummed this mantra into me, “Just because you’re certified, doesn’t mean you’re qualified.”

Something for all the aspirants out there to think about. At least those who have managed to turbo-scan all the way to the end of this post.





[Next post: So what makes you (or anyone) qualified?]

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

For Scotty

Cruising on through to the end of the week here in Wineland. It’s been a busy week, with Monday and Tuesday taken up with judging at a Wine Competition and Thursday and today traveling through Texas. So this post will be a weekly round-up as we surf on into the sunset and take a few days off.

Story told around lunch about a server in a restaurant who came up to the owner and said she had a client who had come in to get a wine for Scotty. The owner, a longtime friend, related this story. He struggled to understand what the server was asking for. “His friend was in Rome and told him to get a bottle of that white wine they had all enjoyed when over there on vacation," the server said.

And who said Italian wines were complicated?


Heading south from the Colli Albani, I had an email from a blogger. He had just returned from Campania and I had some questions for him about the wine show he went to, called VitignoItalia.

Q- Is it worth going to?

A- I think Vitignoitalia is worth going to. It's a fairly focused event. The original intent of the congresso was to showcase wines from local vines from all over Italy. While there were some producers from regions like Tuscany, Piemonte and other central-northern areas, the majority were from the Mezzogiorno. The key tasting events were geared to grapes like Greco di Tufo and Aglianico, the local heroes of Campania and huge favorites of mine. It's a 3-day event, but for various reasons, it's probably better to go for two days.

Q- How does it compare to Merano and other regional events?

A- Like Merano, it is very poorly organized. On my blog I complained that Merano combined the best of Teutonic charm and Italian efficiency. Vitignoitalia is more genial, which reflects the local culture, but its tardiness in opening and general disorganization was frustrating for the exhibitors and the wine public alike. The space, at the Mostra d'Oltremare, isn't the most conducive to an easy flow of people and goods, but it beats the Kurhaus at Merano by a country kilometer.

The Mostra d'Oltremare is a fair distance from the main hotels downtown or on the Lungomare, which means you stand a very good chance of getting ripped off by taxi drivers. An annoying but eternal fact of life in Naples.

On the positive side, the fiera was pretty focused -- I learned a lot from tasting, for example, a whole row of exhibitors' Grecos -- there were many sections highlighting one grape or one small DOC or DOCG. And because many of the producers are truly small-scale and from peasant families, the "authentic," non-industrial character of the wines shines through. And not just wines -- many typical products were on display and for tasting, including cheeses, olive oils, pastas and so forth.

Q- Would you go back?

A- A qualified yes. I would go for two days, not all three. And I'd focus my energy on trying new producers' wines, not hanging out with people I knew already.

Q- Wine wise- what kind of energy do you take away from it?

A- Campania and the south in general are in ferment. Things are changing fast. The wines are infinitely better than they used to be, since there is today a greater and greater emphasis on quality, not volume. Farmers who used to sell their grapes to big, bulk wineries now make their own wine, and it's often astonishingly good. And of course prices are far more realistic and internationally competitive than in places like Tuscany, Piemonte and Veneto. The price quality ratio in the Mezzogiorno is generally great -- better than South America, I think, when you put more emphasis on quality than on the lowest possible price.

Q- Any other comments?

A- What can I say? I gravitate more and more to the Mezzogiorno's wines. I wrote, at least two years ago, "Salvezza viene dal Sud" (Salvation comes from the South). Believe me, now that I've actually been there a number of times, I believe that more, and with more justification, than before.

The Mezzogiorno's wines are catching up with the food -- which is far and away the best in Italy.

For those of us who couldn't make it, but wanted the lowdown, thanks!

And lastly, a few days ago I had a fairly dismal report on the state of Italian wine sales in the US. Happily, as I have made the Texas round-about, I am seeing a healthier and more robust economy in these parts. Maybe part of it is Texas bluster. Then I look in the restaurants and see full rooms and jammed parking lots. So what do I know?

That’s my weekly round-up from these parts. Back on Sunday.

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

Mean Streets

The last two months, for Italian wines in the US, have been less than stellar. In fact, 2008, in the world I am looking at, looks like we have, once again, hit the wall.

Spending is down, in dollars, but more so in cases. That means that we are spending less but buying even fewer cases. The Dollar = Euro makes it seem like more dollars are being spent. But less cases are going out. Period.

It’s also that way with spirits and other wines. And we are going into summer. Long. Hot. Summer.

So while we wax poetically about Greco and Garganega, this isn’t looking to be a blockbuster summer for Italian wines. People are emptying their gas tanks and their liquor cabinets.

That’s not necessarily a bad thing. After all, Americans (and our government) have been living high on credit without saving for a rainy day. It is now officially moist. So time to reduce inventories and start to rebuild.

Suppliers are screaming for more space in the big warehouses, but people are not expanding, they are not making big changes in the up-tick department. They are trading down. One retailer told me today, when I asked him about Brunello, that he wasn’t seeing expensive Italian wine as a value in today’s world. I mentioned to him that we had a 2002 Brunello that he could sell for about $35.00 and he got excited. And ordered a case. A six-bottle case. We are going to prop up the Holy Roman Empire, 6 bottles at a time. And we cannot expect New York to hold up all of the sky. There aren't enough cranes.

The Italian Wine Daughter wrote me, today, twice:
1) "I think sales will be down, overall, but people are still buying. There may be a revolt once fuel prices start to affect deliveries (possible higher minimums, etc), but this is going to happen in the biz in general, as in every other sector of our lives. Chains are strong, independent restaurants are going both ways. Hopefully we can look at this positively: even with this ecomony, people are still drinking wine, maybe not jumping on the Bordeaux pre-sales, but there is a steady trend that wine consumption is on the rise and will continue. Slow growth is growth, nonetheless! "

And then her Neopolitan roots sprang forth:
2) "manc'un cazz' "

Now we're tawkin'.

An Italian restaurateur called up recently. His family was coming from Italy and he wanted some wine for the house. “Send over 5-6 cases of Chardonnay, Sonoma perhaps, and 4-5 cases of red, Maybe a Pinot Noir or a Cabernet, not too expensive, maybe from Napa or some other good California value.”

So, Italians visiting the US to spend their Euros, want to drink local (or at least, California), not Soave or Pallagrello. No help from the tourists.

The sommelier from the Ritz told me about a Strawberry wine from New York, Baldwin Vineyards. We were judging wines and had just tasted a red dessert wine that had a definite chocolate character. Without a doubt. Strange, but in a weirdly wonderful way. “I know I’ll burn in hell for liking this wine,” I thought aloud. And why would that be? Even things I taste surprise me, with the reactions I sometimes have.

It was 98°F today. The streets are melting. Break out the Geox, we’re gonna need them the next 4 months or so.







Lucy, we got some ‘splaining to do.


(And some selling, too)

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

The Domino's Effect

There I was staring at the screen when an ad for Tuscani Pastas tried to jam itself past my psycho-blockers.

“Hey, there isn’t really a word like Tuscani, is there? Is that like one of those Asian carmakers who misspell Sorrento as Sorento, Siena as Sienna, and now Tuscany as Tuscani?” I thought aloud in an empty room. It really got me after all these years, not only the misspelling. Where in Tuscany does one ever see pasta like that?

I really should have spent more time throwing the baseball as a kid with my Italian neighbor in Palm Springs. You know, the “wine lover” who claimed he was a writer for The Twilight Zone? At least I knew we were telling tall tales when he threw the ball back and forth, waiting for my dad to get back from one of his Big Deal business trips to L.A.

This has been going on for generations and will continue to do so. Marketers will find an easy way to get to their goal, trying to make a quick buck, only to lose it the next weekend on the horses.

$32 and whadda ya get? A cold duo of veggies and a lifeless crab

Last week I had a truly embarrassing meal in New Orleans, at K-Paul’s. When I entered the place, with clients and colleagues, I had this “What happened?” feeling. The kitchen was gone and the simple tables and home cooking feeling of the place was missing. No more $10.95 plates of blackened red fish, no more bottles of Jax, no more struggling chef sitting outside the restaurant asking people to come in for a taste of his cooking.

I’m not sure that’s where Italian wines are going, although some of them seem to have modernized their surroundings a bit, making them unrecognizable. But back to the food.

How can we expect, let alone mandate though a government agency, how Italians should make their wine, when we make such a disaster of their food in America? How many Italian spots are virtual Katrinas in the kitchen? I have seen my share, and not to make light of the ongoing tragedy in one of the great cities in the US, but America's Italian kitchens are in shambles.

We have these entertaining reality shows about cooking, but can’t find a decently cooked piece of fish in America. Yes that’s an exaggeration, but more often than not, I have to find it in someone’s home, not a restaurant. Not complaining, the wine list is better and so’s the service. But, holy moley, in Italy you can still find great food, in home and hotel alike.

Some producer friends in Montalcino huddle, awaiting the American backlash. I ask, in a country that thinks overcooked Fusili in a creamy casserole or overstuffed pizza delivered in a cardboard box (that occasionally tastes better then the actual pizza) is the real deal, what are you worried about?

Oh yes, the g-o-v-e-r-n-m-e-n-t. That is something to fret about, the way things are going in the last days of the current configuration.

Let’s say we get through this contrived calamity in Tuscany. Everybody marches in lock-step with their Brunello, all-Sangiovese, all-the-time. Perfect world of wine, finally. Soldera can die a happy man, going to his grave knowing he saved the world from blemished Brunello. Might even get a statue in the square.

But when the real deal makes its way to the American shores, will that, or any wine recognize Tuscani Pasta and shout with glee, after making the long boat trip that our Italian ancestors endured? Will the Faithful and True Brunello look upon a cheese stuffed crust pizza and say “Eureka, what have I found?”

Taking a cue from K-Paul’s cold stuffed potato and frigid broccoli shuddering around a lifeless soft shell crab, Born-Again Brunello might wonder when the next one way flight to Italy will be taking off, grab his glass, and head for the nearest exit.

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

Do Mechanics Dream of Riesling?

I took the test. Twice. I thought the results the first time were a shade off. The second time I took it, that was more like it. I knew there was a reason why I like Riesling, and so it seems many people do. And they also like Pinot Grigio and White Zinfandel. And Lambrusco. Whoa, hold on a minute, let’s not get carried away.

The assessment was at the Budometer, which is a web site dreamt up by mad-scientist Tim Hanni. It’s a quick test where one can determine where they stand as a taster. The basic four groups are Tolerant, Sensitive, Hyper-Sensitive and Sweet tasters. I’m somewhere between a Sensitive and a Tolerant taster. Give it a try, you might be surprised. It will definitely challenge your ideas of what you “think” you like vs. what your taste buds are calibrated for.

Doesn't have a Blackberry or a Bluetooth

His point, one of many, was that wee folks in the wine industry, marketers, masters, sommeliers and critics, set up tents that we’d like to think everybody needs to fit under, in order for them to “get” what we pro’s know, like the back of our ass. Because of that point of view, we are leaving a lot of people in the parking lot, not letting them through the ropes, because they don’t enjoy what we enjoy, because they have unsophisticated tastes, because they like sweet wine. When, in many cases, it seems to be physiological preferences, not intellectual choices, that rule the tongue and taste.

One of his observations was that he thinks Robert Parker might be a Tolerant taster, where one with his preferences likes wines that are big, oaky, powerful and rich. Hanni said, “Parker found the formula for the Tolerant tasters,” indicating that Bob set up a scenario whereby those folks who have his tastes can find their advocate for their tastes. Being a partial Tolerant, I can understand the pleasure and the allure, although I do enjoy my Riesling and my Aglianico.

Riesling with Sashimi, Aglianico with Yakitori

It also clarified why Parker and Jancis Robinson had such different ideas about wines like Pavie. Robinson, Hanni claims, is a Hyper-Sensitive taster.

It also explains why someone like Alice Feiring’s book and Op-Ed pieces are eliciting screams and hostile responses. Different strokes, it seems to me. Take the test, go to the site; the doors of perception will crack open.

Open the pod bay doors, Edvard

Hanni is heading up a psycho-sensory studies department at Copia in Napa, delving into this and other areas of research. Yeah, he’s a bit of a nutty professor, like Bucky Fuller and John Lilly. I dig it.

Fascinating stuff. Check it out.

While on the subject, it overlays with thoughts I have been having about wine styles lately. While I do appreciate natural wines, very much, I have had a couple of “very California” wines that I have truly enjoyed. One was a Merlot Cab Blend from Pellegrini, called Milestone. It was gulpable and delicious. That works for me. Not always, but this time, yes.

Three days later, in the patio of Bayona in New Orleans, I tried to order a bottle of Savennières and was shot down by my buddy, Guy Stout. Now Guy is a Good ‘ol boy and a Master Somm to boot, but at that time of the night he was objecting to the high acid of Loire Valley Chenin, while I was Jonesing for acid and mineral, with a little fruit topping. We compromised on a Julienas. Talk about a 180° .

Three can keep a secret, if two of them are poached

That difference in taste and preference, in any giving day, and subject to change, is beginning to explain why there are so many different kinds of Valpolicella Ripasso and Amarone’s floating around out there.

Hey, when a winemaker comes at you with his bottle thinking he has all the answers, here’s what to do. Take your red cape, get out of the way, swirl a bit to make your move look good, and get ready for the next winemaker, or critic, to pass your way with his sharpened horns of opinion. Don’t get hooked. You’re not necessarily wrong about what you like. So you might only have been getting into Italian wine, or wine in general, for a month or a year. Doesn’t matter. You are where you are. Live with it. Embrace it. Enjoy it.

Dream a little dram for me.

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

Shock & Ah

"Have you forgotten your scripture, the thirteenth scroll? 'And Proteus brought the upright beast into the garden and chained him to a tree and the children did make sport of him.' " -Dr. Zaius

A few weeks ago, several of us were sitting around a table in Manhattan with a winemaker from Montalcino. Somewhere between his unreleased 2004 and the historic 1971, the observer in me saw a face on the label. I took a picture of it, out of focus. It reminded me of something from when my son was a little boy. And then it hit me, there it was, staring at me.

This particular producer espouses traditional methods for making Brunello. He is waiting, as are many of us, for the whole Montalcino mess to run its course.

First it was shock and now it is “Ah, hey fellahs, ready when you are.”

So we wait, open a bottle of NegroAmaro, and wait for the carousel to play out its song.

Heard in the trade: “These days, the wines from Puglia are appearing to be more authentic than their northern counterparts.”

Would that be before they discovered French oak, micro-ox, reverse-oz and designer yeasts? Say, like, in 1977?

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

Get Your Green On

The dogs were biting at my ankles as I dodged into the greengrocer store here in town. Inside the genius-mad spiceman was cuddling in a corner with his heirlooms. I had seen him down the street in the Italian shop, where he told me he had scored some wild asparagus from the Basque part of France. I was hopelessly locked in a mad dash to get my green on.

Later that evening we had been invited to our friends’ flat. Not just any flat, it is in an older but still desirable part of town. It’s a minimal space, clean and uncluttered. The friends had just returned from a six week road trip to places in the world I would never see.

Simple food and a few wines from the cabinet, I was just coming off cold-turkey withdrawals from Riesling, but I was in the game and looking past the Mosel, for the moment.

You never know when a wine will surprise you. For instance, we were going to have a Verdicchio from Matelica, usually a wine I go crazy for. Before that wine, though, our host opened a bottle of Beringer Alluvium, a white from Semillon and Sauvignon, and a splash of Chardonnay and Viognier. No chance of tasting terroir there, right?

I had been to Beringer in February for a tasting and a dinner but I didn’t remember the wine except as a brief snapshot during the reception.

Terroir and California don’t go together? So the debate goes. Being a native of California, perhaps I sense the underlying thread that a place like California weaves into every thing Californian. I get it, don’t always like that some winemakers cover it up with their barrels and their egos and their lofty ambitions. Then again, a winery like Stony Hill manages to dodge the barrels and the reverse osmosis parade that is going up and down Hwy 29. So it is possible.

Anyway, this Alluvium didn’t seem so out of kilter. In fact it wasn’t until our host handed me a glass of the Verdicchio (a Gambero Rosso 3 glass’er, so he told me) that I nearly jumped out of my skin. The California wine reflected its California-ness more truthfully than the Verdicchio portrayed its Marche-ness. Pure and simple, no debate, I was longing for more of the Beringer and hoping the Verdicchio would just go away.

Still, I was in that Riesling trance of late, so that might have something to do with it. Nah, I’m not buying into that.

The Verdicchio had great acidity, but a little too highly pitched. What was the winemaker thinking? Let’s raise the heels up another inch, hike up the skirt, lower the bodice, there, she’ll be a real stunner. What does Sergio@IWM call ‘em, bona?

Well, it didn’t work this time. Anyway we were on to reds

We were joined by a couple who had just arrived from San Francisco. Fresh air, lively conversation, some new ideas, waiting for the red wines to breathe.

Earlier in the day I had gotten a text from one of my Italian Wine Daughters about Rampolla’s Sammarco. This is what I love about the young’uns, they have a question about the 2003 Tuscan harvest, they send you a text. I think we got it worked out. Sammarco, by way of answering the IWD, is indeed 95% Cabernet and 5 % Sangiovese, not the other way around as I told her. Sorry.

But here’s a winery that has embraced their green-ness, Rampolla, that is. And they are making a Cabernet in Sangiovese country. Whose fault is that? A younger Tachis, no doubt, but it works for me. There are all kinds of surprises in the vineyards, aside from the way we think it should be.

The SF couple has a vineyard in Alexander Valley, Laughing Raven. Sauvignon and Barbera was what I heard they make, perhaps something else. We must try these wines too. I think there will be more surprises.

Many folks are searching for their simple truths, and life on earth just isn’t giving the answers we would expect.

The host pours a red wine and folks ask what it is. Wine, drink it. OK.

Back to Italy and the Marche, to a wine that if I could nail in a blind tasting it would make me very happy. Le Caniette Nero di Vite, a Rosso 50% Montepulciano and 50% Sangiovese, lots of wild-ass acidity bordering on volatile, taking you right to the edge of the brink, strapping on the rubber bands and pushing you over to a bungee-jump-of-a-lifetime swallow-of-wine. And back up to do it again. And again. That bottle didn’t last too long.

The Marchegiani have the great secret of Italy growing wild right out of the pots in front of their windows.

Piceni invisibili they are. Happy, lucky, well fed.

Next up, a 2000 Barolo from Pira. They actually didn’t let the vintage take a hold of the wine in the sense that the wine was unencumbered with gobs of fruit. It was gob-less, and we could have used a second bottle. Man, that was nice, even if was too suddenly over. Some of ‘em are James Dean and some of ‘em are George Burns.

There was so much coming at me, for this post, but it would be too long. This search for the appropriate shade of green in one’s life, who are we to think that we are directing any of this? Come on, take one down and pass it around, 95 other bottles waiting to come down. Keep the line moving, bub. We can tackle our inner terroir some other time.

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

Sweet Surrender

Finally, all is quiet. It's past midnight and I’ve poured the last glass of 2005 J.J. Prum Graacher Himmelreich Spatlese. Way off the Italian wine trail, and loving every sip.


It’s been a long week. I’m ready to pack it up and take the long weekend. Been getting ready for a seminar I’m co-opting with the resident Master Sommelier, Sir Guy. A few days in New Orleans, for training and education at the Society of Wine Educators annual get together. Our seminar, as Sir Guy named it, Don’t pass over Ripasso, will be lots of fun. After all, we will be in the Crescent City. A little red wine, some jazz, many, many seminars, but all I can think about right now is this glass of Riesling.

Graacher Himmelreich, Heaven will reign. A white goddess this Riesling is and all these years, though I love Italian wine with all of my being, there has to be room for Riesling. When I first started out in this business, I was so damn lucky to be exposed to wines from the Mittelmosel, they are my Burgundy. There, I’ve said it.

I’ve had more site traffic in the past two days than all of April, and traffic has been growing steadily, like the price of a barrel of oil. I was Uber-Googled this week.

Speaking of oil, this Graacher sure makes something conceptually repugnant, the smell of fusel oil, pretty wonderful. And how can something so sweet be so wonderfully wine? We are all taught to shun sweet wine, but I am over it many moons ago. I could drink this wine every night. A big thanks and shout out to Marco for the gift of Graacher.

So doors seem to be opening, traffic is up, good wine is flowing, a long weekend is upon us and another trip in the wings, this time to New Orleans.

New Orleans, the American canary in the coal mine. At least since Katrina. Our poor little town, such a sadness that even Riesling cannot remove.

So, we will wait and sip and rest. Sweet surrender.

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

Images from Plan 59