Want to Visit a Winery in Tuscany? Plan Ahead

I have just finished getting what I hope is the last of this kind of e-mails that I don’t want to get anymore. They went like this:

Dear Italian Wine Guy,
Thanks for setting us up at Castello di Greatness. Unfortunately we got delayed (read: saw the Prada outlet and just had to stop for an hour or two), and never made it. But I’m sure it would have been a great visit. I never realized that Piedmont was so far away from Tuscany. Anyway, thanks. We’ll look the wine up back in the states, and order it the next time we see it on a wine list.
Regards,
Joe (the Ugly American) Consumer

A few hours later I got an e-mail from the winery:

Dear Italian Wine Guy,
Where are the people you asked us to give a tour and tasting for? We drove in from Milano, especially for this appointment, as we don’t live at the winery. We brought our mother with us to cook lunch. She made noodles for the afternoon meal. Are they not coming?
Please don’t ask us to entertain people for you if they don’t show up. Especially during the harvest.
Regards,
Giuseppe (the Angry Italian) Winemaker

In my work, people often ask me to set them up to visit a winery. Sometimes, all they want is a tasting, and that’s fine. But some folks think we are travel agencies that have a plethora of what would be free food and wine and rooms at winery castles and estates. At their disposal. At a moment’s notice.

One fellow begged, at the last minute, for a place to stay in Tuscany. He was finishing a picture book on the region and needed to immerse himself in the wine country. He had left his cell phone at home, taken his blackberry for e-mail (note to last-minute guy: Blackberry’s have a phone function, and you can also buy neat, inexpensive cell phones that work in Europe), but didn’t check his e-mail often. When he did, he was slow to respond, if at all. He showed up late (3 days), stayed at the place (gratis), never asked to see the underground cellars (impressive), and then, as an act of (last minute, what else?) “kindness,” gave the estate owner a dog-eared copy of a book he’d done on the wines of Tasmania. Or the Okanagan. I don’t know if he ever took pictures there, for I never got a follow-up call from him. Or a thank-you. Nor did the winery owner.

Another group, right around the end of the high season, asked me to get them into a winery. Only, they didn’t show up for the first place (layover in Paris was delayed), and when they got to the second place, they didn’t stay the whole time. They abandoned the rooms that were “set aside” for them. Rooms that could have been used for other folks. I got a call on that one, too.

So what do you do if you are really a bonafide wine tourist, but want to get an insight into the workings of the Italian wine process? There are many wineries in Italy that have tour times. Castello di Gabbiano in Greve is a good example. They also have a good restaurant on site and wonderful accommodations in their newly restructured, 12th century castle.

Borgo Scopeto in Castelnuovo Berardenga also has an upper-end Relais, suites, tastefully done, and a wonderful restaurant on-site and a pool. This is a newer estate, dating from the 13th century. They can also arrange a visit down the hill to the winery.

Nearby, Borgo Monastero has a renovated 8th century monstery complete with underground wine cellars and a daily wine-tasting. The rates are very reasonable, and the rooms have their own kitchens in case you want to try your own hand at La Cucina Toscana. Their winery is also nearby.

Many towns in Tuscany, have places where the collective wine output is gathered. A fascinating example is in Greve, Le Cantine di Greve in Chianti. This place is wonderful in that you can put down 10 or 20 euros and they give you a card, charged, and you can go from wine to wine and taste some or many of the examples. They have wines from all over Tuscany, and olive oils, too. Their museum of wine is interesting to the novice or connoisseur alike.

The Enoteca Italiana in Siena is a great place to look at wines from all over Italy. It is not just a regional wine showplace, it is the National Wine Chapel.

Villa Nottola in Montepulciano is a complete wine experience. Wine tasting, restaurant, lodging, large groups, small groups.

Castello Banfi in Montalcino has it down to an art form. The founders, John and Pam Mariani really get it. They understand hospitality and American interest in all-things-wine. A fabulous tour (3 weeks in advance please- plan ahead) , a glass museum that is not to be missed and a great dining place, the Taverna. The Italians I saw there on my last stop were loving the wine shop and the restaurants. Not just for American tourists. The Italians were digging on it big time. For a virtual peek, go here.

So there are ways to get an inside look. It just takes a little advance planning. The Italians look upon this as hospitality, and anyone who knows the Italians know hospitality is a sacred thing.

When someone doesn’t show up for a visit, that person breaks the sacred link. Wine-touring is about friends and family, warmth and the hearth. It’s a way to get a glimpse of modern people in the age-old cycle of the harvest and the bounty of the earth. It’s a way to experience a way of living we seldom see. A time when time was slower and people were more thoughtful. That is something our wine-tourists can use a little of; to show consideration for the process and the feelings of the people, whose lives they are about to descend upon.After all, you are in their home.



A little light reading on the subject?
Too Much Tuscan Sun by Dario Castagno with Robert Rodi

Tags: Italy, wine, Travel, chianti, sangiovese, Tuscany, italian wine, Red Wine, italian-wine, italian wine guy, wine guy, On the Wine Trail in Italy

...a Universe of Joy

"Death lies on her like an untimely frost
Upon the sweetest flower of all the field."

I was a little swayed on this post. It’s a special couple of days in Italy. All Saints Day, followed by All Souls Day. Last night I had a dream about my dear, dear wife, who passed away almost 6 years ago. I don’t know why she came to me in this dream, but I am grateful for the contact.

She wasn’t a involved in the wine world, but she loved wine. Whenever we would go to Italy and stay in the vineyards, the Italians would love her. She was a bright star in my world.

Once, at Castello di Monsanto in Tuscany, we spent a few days there in the guest house. The Bianchi family was warm and ever so gracious in their hospitality. It was a wonderful slice of watermelon-time.

In October, I ventured back to the estate, once again to have a meal and to visit the winery. Laura Bianchi and her father, Fabrizio, hosted my visit. The winery has grown as has the Bianchi family. But that is something one can read about in many places.

In four places on this recent trip I felt a presence. Actually, in five. I’ll talk about the fifth first. I was on my way from Montalcino to Montechiello and planned a stop in Pienza. Having only seen the hill-top village by fast moving bus and from a distance, somewhere in the distant past, this little town took on mythic proportions.

Iris and David’s blog, We’re Just Sayin’ threw a few logs on the fire. And Zeffirelli did too, so very long ago. I guess you had to be there.

My dear-one-who-now-has-passed-away, likes to remind me, from time to time, that matter changes form, but cannot be created or destroyed. I love her scientific side now. Anyway, she zinged me in Pienza, a couple of times. Out of the blue, she appeared, made eye contact, and around a cosmic corner she retreated, as if to say, “I’m kind of busy now, but just checking in with you. You OK? Good, gotta go now, love you, bye.”

Parting is such sweet sorrow.

Some of you might be thinking that I am downright disrespectful of the departed. Too bad. Deal with it. Were you there? Did you die? As far as I am concerned, she can appear all she wants to. It’s OK with me. I know the pain she had, the pain we shared. I’m working my way through the tunnel and she’s stardust riding on a moonbeam. Pienza, who would have thought? And I kept wondering why this place, another hill-top town, kept calling me. Thanks, Great Spirit!

Where were we? The other four places I felt a presence? It’ll have to wait for the next time. It’s another kind of presence anyway. But a presence, on the wine trail in Italy, that is worth telling about. Next time.

For now, a glass of Vin Santo, a bowed head. An enduring sadness surrounded by a universe of joy.

Pictures ~ From the Wine Trail in Tuscany

Pictures ~ from the wine trail in Tuscany

Or, if you prefer, the Slide Show.

That Fine Italian Hand

1972- The author, at his grandmothers table. It was

the dawning of the age of a curiousness about things Italian.

Made by hand, hand-rolled pasta, hand-sewn shoes, hand-tilled soil, hand-crafted. For as long as I can remember there has been a sense of importance over the making of something with one’s hands. Italy can lay claim to being at the epicenter of that development over many years.

Just look at my grandmothers table. Everything on it was made by her. She didn’t have a Viking 6 burner stove with double oven and salamander broiler. She didn’t have a stainless steel SubZero double fridge with separate built in cooling and crisping drawers. She made her food by hand. She grew some of her food in the back yard between the fig trees and the roses.

On a recent trip to Tuscany and the area around Montalcino, people were using their hands. The American Italian Chef, Damian Mandola, raising his left hand in a conductors approach to orchestrating a meal at his hillside villa. The industrial giant, Lionello Marchesi, in a moment of confidence with his winemaker and then in a show of gratitude for all he has been given. Banfi’s leader, John Mariani, explaining with his hands an approach, one that changed the face of sleepy little Montalcino and propelled it from one of the poorest hill-top towns in the 1970’s, to now, one of the wealthiest ones. Starting with the hand.

Most sacred to many Italians is the land. From the land the work by the hand brings some amazing things. An estate near Leonardo da Vinci’s home is shown here, a study in order and composition. There are vines in the scene.
The hand tools that work the grape harvest. My friends, The Losi family, thought it odd that I’d stop and make a picture of their brooms and shovels, stained with the blood of Jove.
The hand made noodles. Both my grandmothers made them, as my mom does and sisters too. My aunt Amelia had a little apartment with electric burners. She could out cook Batali in that kitchen.
Paula Lambert-i, in her kitchen in Montalcino, feeding 12 people from a single pan. Herbs and vegetables from the back yard (again), no one went to bed hungry. Or thirsty.
And while sometimes living in Italy seems like jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire, ask most Italians. They may leave home in the physical sense, but they will be living on Mars and hanging out the hand-made casalinga for the afternoon meal. It’s meals like those last week and 34 years ago, that make for great memories.



Tags: Italy, wine, Travel, chianti, sangiovese, Tuscany, italian wine, Red Wine, italian-wine, italian wine guy, Made in Italy

High Galestro ~ The Pyrite of Panzano

"No foolin', there's gold in them thar' hills"

I had been on this road a few times. A couple of times in the dark. Lost. Oh, and going the wrong way. So I was getting pretty good on the ol' SR222, once known as the ancient trail of the sheep.

An early departure in the morning, as we had a 10 a.m. appointment at Castello dei Rampolla. Right. Somewhere between Siena and Greve we got a call on the cellular. The agronomist was coming, could we delay our arrival? No problem.

While the light was still fresh and bright we parked in Panzano and made an orbit around the little hilltop village. In 4 days this town would transform into a bazaar of butchers, for the annual "We are macelleria men and we love to eat meat" fest.

Checcucci was already preparing the pigs, and closer towards the town gates Dario Cecchini was cranking up the Puccini and dusting off Dante in his venerable chapel to Chiannina.

But ours was a different mission, to go where no man has gone before, at least with the aid of a map.

Cecchini led us out his door and offered his take on the road to Rampolla. Follow the cobblestone road, past Checcucci, where we get our prosciutto, and turn left at the church, right at the stop. There, you will find a meadow, where the bees make the finest honey that we use for our morning toast. Go to the next church and take the road left. Then you will find some signs and follow them to the ancient castle. OK, that seemed easy enough.

Once there, we spotted the owners in the fields with their consultants. Signs everywhere saying, "Tachis was here." I could see why he was excited. The vineyard hummed with the life of the earth it was sewn into. This is a golden shell of energy; I was waiting to find a crop circle around the corner.
They practice "Biodynamic" here; hence, the rack of bull’s horns waiting for the mixture of concentrated manure from the 7th bull of the 7th bull. Full moon was 2 weeks away. A lot of folks who have wished the wish - "I wish I could be a fly on the wall"- are getting their afterlife-karmic requests granted here.

They have a young winemaker, Marcus, with deep, penetrating slate-blue eyes, tall, upright, a welcome addition to the Tuscan table. Marcus was born in Germany, raised among the steep, dark, schist-laden vineyards of his homeland. There is a heaven for some. The payoff is work in the sun. Not a lot of money, which is another story for that young generation.

The wines of Rampolla still resonate within me. The finish is lingering in a way I rarely feel in wine. It isn't just a bottle of wine. I don’t know if it is even wine in the strict sense of it. Yes, they use grapes and barrels and bottles and corks. But I am still tasting those wines!

What was Daniel Thomases thinking the last time he tasted, and wrote about, these wines? Shame on him. I think he liked the wines, but other than a score, where's the passion? In this arena, a score of 89 or 98 is irrelevant. Did the owners strike him in the wrong way on that day, using tu instead of lei? They never showed up on my visit either. Big deal.

What did show up that day, as has been the case for millions of years, were the bees and the lizards, the flowers and the dirt, the high-galestro scrigno, this treasure chest of pyrite whereupon the vines sit and flourish, making merry in the sun. Wine for us mere mortals to sip, perchance to dream, the dream of Dionysius. And linger over Sangiovese fit for the gods.

I walked a mile for a Sammarco.


Tags: Italy, wine, Travel, chianti, sangiovese, Tuscany, italian wine, Red Wine, italian-wine, italian wine guy, wine guy, On the Wine Trail in Italy,biodynamic

La Strada Del Vino

Up and down the rolling hills, back and forth, and up over another set of hills, racing to the next winery appointment. But I’m in my bed sleeping, dreaming. Like a summer night after a day of body surfing, when you’re lying in your bed and still feeling the surf pound your body, so was this night. I had been back already a few days, from the Tuscan trip, and still I am trying to find one more place, make one more appointment, amidst those vine-laden hills.

The road, SR 222, la strada del vino, will be my midnight ride for the time being. In the dream, I'm going over the hill from Siena, to Castellina or Greve, or Panzano, in search of the meaning of Sangiovese, Chianti and the wines of the region. Why? When there are so many important issues pressing on all of us from so many directions? I don’t know. Maybe it’s the level I am able to rise to, to address some confusion and wander forth through the jungle in search of beauty, of meaning, of a simpler existence.

Ah, but if only "simpler" meant what it used to mean. If only we could find one or two of the “great ones” from the vineyards set in albero style, climbing, climbing, finding their level under the warm sun in the hills between Siena and Firenze. One here, and another there, Sangiovese, Malvasia, governo, wicker. Greatness. Not yet.

Here we have conical tanks of stainless steel and refurbished concrete vats vying for the awards. There we have spurred cordon (sounding so much better in Italian, cordone speronato, like a wild fish or a medieval weapon) going up against high-density planting of the vines. Now we see lower-temperature, longer-time fermentation compared to flash-warming, to jump-start and decrease green tannins. And that’s just the top of the must-cap. Technology and the paradox of choice, the menu of the modern winemaker, are changing how we must look at the final wine in the bottle.

Weeks before, I had been in a wine store walking the aisles, amazed at all the choices from Tuscany and Chianti. Now I am still perplexed, because all of those wines on the racks have a story. A story that 85 or 93 points on a shelf-talker cannot begin to explain, even if those points mean something to anyone, other than the person who was awarding them.

An American, like myself, looks at the scene and says: “Let’s discover it, let’s map it, let’s subdivide it, and let’s build from there.” The Tuscan land responds: “Sit down, by the terrace, watch the sun set, listen to the bird sing, see the honey bee, drink my wine. Would you like something to eat?”

So, "tackling Tuscany" isn’t going to happen. What I expect to be doing in the next few weeks and on into the next year (and beyond) is simply taking it one bottle at a time, one estate, one winemaker, one person. The beauty is, there is so much excellence in the land, that this will be a pleasure. A recent article notes that Italian wine and food in America are experiencing “ a golden age”. Yes, the light is shining bright and warm, and the time is special for Italians in the world, again.

Mr. Columbus, we’ve turned the ship around and are heading back into the new-Old World. Back to the hills and the golden rush of light and luster.


Tags: Italy, wine, Travel, chianti, sangiovese, Tuscany, italian wine, Red Wine, italian-wine, italian wine guy, wine guy,

8 days, 14 wineries, Solo Toscana.

A quick, long week to make an orbit around Tuscany to taste the new wine and talk to some of my winemakers. We traveled as far north as Vinci and Capezzana and as far south as the Maremma, with some time spent with winemakers in Montalcino and in the Chianti Classico zone. We saw estates in Greve, Panzano, Castellina, Castelnuovo Berardenga and Barberino Val d’Elsa.

The next few weeks I’ll be reporting, in my own way, on this recent trip. This was a packed week, and pretty much work-filled. So I’m going to need time to digest all the information.

It was my intent to spend some time in Tuscany only, to try and begin to make sense of what is going on there, on the ground. Chianti and Sangiovese wines are still confusing to a lot of people, and it is my hope to begin to try to demystify the wines and the styles. I was able to spend time with some seminal figures in the Tuscan Wine landscape. My job afforded me the entrée to some folks who actually do move and shake the business.

2006 will be an exciting vintage and hopefully the beginning of a movement that will engage and embrace more wine lovers.

I’ll be back when I catch up to the time zone. Ciao for now….
Tags: Italy, wine, Travel, chianti, sangiovese, Tuscany, italian wine, Red Wine, italian-wine, italian wine guy, wine guy,

Back in a Flash!

Talk amongst yourselves for a few days, I'll be back...

Monday on the Wine Trail ~ in Pictures

Yes, it's been a Monday to remember. Or not.

It started out with a semi-dry sparkling rose' blend of Nebbiolo and Semillion from Uruguay...I am not kidding. Then on to an Arriloba and then a Malbec, all done up in Gaucho-Style. Organico.Biologico.Ecologico. A Biodynamic, bolo-throwing, steer-wrassling, Gaucho wine! Dang, I needed that. (I really must have slipped back into a Southern Star Twilight Zone.)

























As if that weren't enough, we were bestowed the latest in German High Kulture Wine Marketing, just in time for the holidays. What have we here? A white Gluhwein that someone is marketing to little girls. An amaretto and rum flavored Punsch whose target audience used to work for the Kaiser? And a new-age mother-and-child-reunion sparkling Liebfraumilch...umm-umm good...





















Yes, It's beginning to feel a lot like Christmas























Note: I might take a week off from the blog-o-sphere, soon. Gotta go get some batteries in far-away land. I'll be back.

Thoughts from the Heart-Land

Several folks have mentioned that I seem to be getting into a “rant” when I drop words here. That must change.

I truly love the wine world and seem to spend many of my waking hours engaged in some activity, be it work or after work, that relates to wine and food and Italy. So while the successes recently have been rationed, in no way am I compelled to disengage. I only yearn to have the message heard and believed by more people. Alas, perhaps the messenger is to blame.

Around 40 years ago, Italian food and wine awareness started making inroads on the American scene. It was through wines like Lambrusco , Soave, Frascati, Valpolicella and Chianti that Americans were starting to see, in the stores and on wine lists. Much of it had to do with the locales of Rome, Florence and Venice, tourist destinations on the Italian Trail. When in Rome, many people would enjoy a glass of Frascati, in Florence, a bottle of Chianti and in Venice a beaker of Soave or Valpolicella.

What are the tourists of today finding? Let’s say in Siena? Perhaps a glass of Brunello or Vino Nobile do Montepulciano. On the Amalfi coast, perhaps a white wine from Campania, like a Greco or a Falanghina. Tourists in Sicily might enjoy a bottle of Nero d’Avola or a Grillo. In Trento they could order a ½ liter of Lagrein or a flute of dry Spumante made from Pinot Noir or Chardonnay. On Lake Como a tableside sip of Cortese or a refreshing Dolcetto might be enjoyed. Tourists are delving into Italy, following trails into the smaller towns and regions. And there, waiting for them are the foods and the wines. Today, gnocchi is more commonly found on menus in Chicago or Denver. Salumi are made and found in Seattle and San Francisco.
Coffee is roasted in Dallas and Brooklyn to specifications once only found in Naples or Trieste. So, we are making progress in the last 40 years or so.

Why? In a word, Italy is Delicious. The air, the earth, the water, the wine. The aromas, the rain, the roasting in the oven, the searing on the grill. The fermenting in the barrels, the longing within the guidebooks. Italy is the ultimate trend and the ultimate tradition. Italy is subtle and delicate, also outspoken and intense.
I pledge allegiance to al dente and ristretto. I seek to form an alliance with Gorgonzola and Trenette.
Do I have a strategy? Does a donkey carrying oil up to the castle have a plan? Yes, to get there. And that is my plan, to get there.

Everyday, one day at a time. One sunrise at a time, one hill at a time. Without relent.