By Beatrice Russo I hadn’t heard from Italian wine guy for over a week and was starting to worry. What with the earthquake in Abruzzo and all, I started thinking the worst. I called TB down in Austin to see if she had talked to him. The old man was OK. His Blackberry was down and he wasn’t getting any email. So I called hid friend and he handed his phone to the Invisible Man and I talked to him for a while. The following is an excerpt from our somewhat lengthy phone conversation.
Q. So what’s going on with you in Italy? You have everyone worried about you.
A. Hey, I’m OK. I have had technical difficulties. My phone and email have been down for several days.
Q. Bummer. What do you mean, technical difficulties?
A. I busted a tooth on the first night I got to Italy. Along with my phone and email, my camera has also been on the fritz. Everything is breaking.
Q. So where are you now?
A. I’m in Valdobbiadene, listening to birds and other creatures. No horns, trains or cars, just the sounds of nature. Bees buzzing, donkeys braying, good stuff.
Q. And Vinitaly?
A. I really am thinking this last Vinitaly might be my last for a while. People here just aren’t getting the crisis. Everyone is asking about better sales and they are looking to America to make them up. I don’t see it, seeing as we just ran our first quarter numbers. The French are in the tank. The Italians are holding on, but the cases are down. The good news is, the cost per case is up. Folks seem to be trading up a little. But buying less cases.
But this is like 1985 all over again.
Q. Uh, that was like before I was born, dude. Can you explain?
A. Yes. Italians were starting to embrace barriques and international grape varieties in places like Piedmont and Tuscany. Prices were climbing, even though the dollar was strong against the lira. Barolo and Super Tuscans were starting their long descent into Parkerland. Spoofed wines. High prices. Weird names. Crazy Miami Vice looking labels.
Q. And that relates to now in what way, Obi-Wan?
A. Look, Vinitaly is an unnatural environment to begin with. Pavilion after pavilion filled with the hopes and dreams of so many Italian producers. But many of these folks really don’t have a bead on the markets they are wanting to get into. They talk about China and India being the new England and Russia, but in reality China and India have serious infrastructure problems. They need rice and petrol before wine. But many Italians have bought into the mantra of those two countries being their salvation. And America? They look to America to swallow up untold quantities of wine without regard to price, flavor, wood, concrete, label making sense or fantasy label. And all along no one wants to listen to the Silverback.
Q. You lost me, Ace.
A. Look, America isn't the center of the universe, but we do have a growth potential for wine. But this is a particular market. These over alcoholic, over wooded, over priced wines with hard to understand labels just won’t cut it anymore than a barrel fermented Soave or Pinot Grigio will.
Q. What was your favorite wine at the show?
A. I loved the 2004 Brunellos from Il Poggione and Renieri. The 2005 Chianti Classico Riserva from Querciavalle was a standout wine. Light Sangiovese color (like the Il Poggione) and delicate flavors. Fruit before wood. I had a Sylvaner from Abbazia di Novacella that lit up my Christmas Tree lights.
I learned that Abbazia di Novacella earns money for the Augustinian order through the sale of their wines. Bringing wines to America to help baptize Abraham, interesting thing in these times.
Q. Biggest surprise?
A. I met with the Santa Margherita folks. Seems that Luca Zaia had just been there. They love Zaia in Prosecco land. Up here in Valdobbiadene, they worship the guy. Kind of gives me the creeps. Seeing as he is a food zenophobe. Trying to banish kebabs and pineapples. Very strange agenda.
Q. Did you see anything that really caused you pause?
A. The earthquake in Abruzzo. This is a tragic event on the scale of a Katrina. Many lives have been lost. Now many businesses will also be lost. It could take close to a generation for the Abruzzo wine business to recover. I feel terrible for these poor souls, and now they are starting to do hundreds of funerals.
Q. When will see you back home and on the streets, old man?
A. Before the week ends. I can hardly wait to be back on the front lines. That’s the only place that seems to make sense.
Q. We’ll be waiting for you, Ace.



In Palermo, my great-grandfather gives his daughter away in marriage. My aunt Vitina stayed on in Sicily with her Giuseppe, they had a good life. They were fortunate; my great-grandfather had a good business, trading in wholesale leather. They had a car, they were upwardly mobile, in the stream of progress.
His son, my grandfather didn’t have to leave Sicily at 15, but he took a chance and set out for America. Less than 20 years later he was a prosperous business man, also in leather goods and real estate, in Southern California. He had a car and his son, my dad, was being groomed to follow in his path.
35 years later, in my brand new 1969 Fiat 124, I took that same road up through Big Sur and Carmel, past San Francisco and into the wine country. Last week I revisited some old friends along the wine trail.





Bewitched
Bothered
Bewildered
The Ancients prayed for it. Gods and goddesses were created for it. Temples were raised and burned because of it. Dynasties arose and fell with it. And through the ages, mankind learned to live with it. Or without it.
Dixie Huey is a bright young person who has a wine consulting company and a
If an importer actually asked me for my advice, about what to do right now, what would that advice be?
4) Quit using the talking point, “We are making a traditional wine with an eye towards innovation.” That’s just a load of horse manure. Stop it.
Am I opposed to mainstream journalism? Of course not. Some of my best friends are underpaid journalists just looking for a way to make a living. And they have a certain standard, a code of ethics that I find admirable and worthy of emulating. So when I saw the front of last week’s Weekend Journal (Wall Street Journal) with a section front promo at the top shouting “Never order the Santa Margherita Pinot Grigio,” I turned Refosco red.
Putting the section-front promo line at the top with the line “Never order the Santa Margherita Pinot Grigio” might have been the work of the section editor. If it was meant to get someone’s attention to turn to page W3, it did so in a style that I find shoddy and sensational. We are reading the Wall Street Journal, not tuning in to the car chases at Fox News. I don’t know whose decision it was, and would like to think the authors of
As to the authors, I can understand their frustration with seeing the wine offered on wine lists at a larger than normal mark up. But why stop at Santa Margherita? Are the authors
But my complaint isn’t with John and Dorothy trying to get folks to spend down in a restaurant. My larger gripe is that these folks work for a financial journal. And Santa Margherita is an economic success story for Italy and America. Why single it out so cavalierly when the consequences for such advice will fall on the Italian farmers and American wine salesmen?
I have been in the
One fellow, Brian Fitzpatrick, a burly fellow with a healthy girth and a Grizzly Adams beard, talked about the calling he had, from very early on, to grow his grapes organically. Brian wasn’t playing at being green because it was the trendy thing to do. Brian is not a trendy guy. But talking to him an afternoon ago, I wanted to plan a vacation to come back and stay awhile at his little B&B in Fairplay.
I stayed with
Leon Sobon of 


Like the airline industry or the film business, the wine-and-spirits business is contracting rapidly. Big is getting bigger. And bigger. And this being a bottle business, there is a critical mass to the scale of things now.
I don’t know what to tell him. Hell, I don’t know what to tell myself. Everywhere we look we're getting kicked in the nuts. We have too much. Of everything. Time for a diet. Time to pause. Or is it? It looks more like this is the time for hand-to-hand combat.
The small companies, are they in any better shape? They can move faster, but can they sustain anything, grow it? Only to lose it to a larger concern because they cannot grow it any more? Yes, great, unpolluted wines from the Loire and Liguria come from them, but then what?
From the deck of this ship, it doesn’t matter. The forces in play are moving, growing and aiming to swallow everything in their way. I stare into their eyes every day. And I am afraid, very afraid.
A California winemaker who still thinks their cabernet is worth $200? A producer of Amarone who is spending so much on French oak that he must charge over $100 for his wine? The rivers run red with the blood of bad decisions. A reserve bottle of Malbec from Argentina that someone is asking $75 for? A Syrah from South Africa that the importer says must sell for over $50? The Escalade generation isn’t bling enough for this.
When I get this way, I turn to Rossini. I must get back into warrior mode. I must find a way to help make our world smaller, something that we can wrap our minds and hearts around. We don’t have that much time. There are forces of destiny heading in our direction at light speed, intent on eventually swallowing all of this up. 
