It was then that I decided to visit my friend Roberto Bava. We don’t do business together, but he has been to my home and I have visited him in Asti. We are friends. I needed to visit a friend, simple as that.
I sidled up to his booth at Vinitaly, where he welcomed me. We talked about ideas, about the world, about whatever moves us. I needed that. After three days of pummeling my palate with wine I just wanted to take a break.
Roberto doesn't lack for energy or ideas. He is like an Italian version of Marshall McLuhan, or Seth Godin. Heaven forbid if Bava and Vaynerchuck ever join forces, although the two are universes complete on their own.
The Bianc ‘D Bianc is a vintage Chardonnay in the Metodo Classico. My scorched tongue was starting to come back from the trail of broken tears, the result of two days of intense tasting of red, mainly Tuscan. I felt this lithe spirit begin to coax me back to the realm of the living. Juliet of the Sparklers.
The Toto Corde, a vintage blend of 30% Chardonnay and 70% Pinot Noir, was a step further in the rehabilitation of my palate which was ascending from the Dantean hell of wine tasting one often experiences in the trade halls at Vinitaly. Not Prosecco, no, no. Not Franciacorta, either. And not Champagne, this Alta Langa appellation for sparkling wine is regenerative and restorative at the same time. The veils were being lifted.
Along the way, Bava and I are chatting about anything and everything. We just pick up the last conversation we had and head forward.
He doesn’t need me. Or the company I stand with. This is freedom for both of us. We don’t want anything from each other, just camaraderie and sharing of ideas. Making the world safer for Italian wine. Two friends, talking about wine, life and the future.
The third wine, The Rosa, a Pinot Noir in purezza, brings in depth and a baritone aspect to the tasting. Bava is a musician, sings in the choir at his church in Asti. He cannot live without music. And his wines are trios and quartets and whole orchestras of his life’s work. We’re working on a quartet in this moment.
The last wine, the Oro. 1999 vintage. 80% Pinot Noir, 20% Chardonnay, with a twist. The Chardonnay is appassito, a riper harvest left to dry and concentrate the flavors and the sugar. Not sweet, but an older style of sumptuousness, often found in wines made in the days before micro-ox, spinning cones and heavy toast barrique.
Gorgeous wine, and dear to the wallet. But we plunk down the dollars for a Selosse- this is a similar experience. Oh, it isn’t Champagne? Yes, it isn’t. And it Bava makes no apologies for its provenance. Does Umberto Eco express regret for where he comes from?
Not finished with me, Padre Bava had purged me of the torments of the Tuscan barrique torture. Now he would issue my absolution. But first I had to do my penance.
Bava is passionate about cacao and chocolate. He has a network of monks living and working in South America to reclaim patches of land that have been laid bare by Conquistadores, both ancient and modern. And in those lands, these monks have planted cacao. He took me through three levels of Paradise through his OIOIO line of cacao, the 45% Criollo Java Cream, the 65% Sabirano ( from Madagascar) Macis and the 70% Otonga (Ecuador). What next?Before sending me on my way, refreshed and ready to take on the Piedmont Hall, Roberto pours me a little sip of Barolo Chinato.
How does one go back to making the rounds on a Sunday like this? I have been washed and purged and my palate has been re-anointed.

Thank you, my friend, thank you.
written by Alfonso Cevola limited rights reserved On the Wine Trail in Italy
So many crazy things happened during Vinitaly this year that there is no place to turn to but sophomoric humor. I can’t change the way the Italians think about the current “crisi” but I can change the way they look. So to lighten things up a bit on these pages (something folks have been telling me I “need” to do lately) I thought I’d call on my Hollywood make-up artist friends (actually they are friends with Bea) and see what we could do to update the look of some famous Italian wine personalities that are instrumental for turning the ship around. After all, modern wines call for modern looks; that is the essence of bella figura, no?
Dino Illuminati and long time client Adelmo Banchetti, from Dallas, Texas, are always clowning around. These guys know how to have a good time. And while both of these gents have made huge strides in their wines and their food over the years, their “look” has gotten old. So if Adelmo and Dino aren’t going to Twitter and Text, they can be at least entertaining to the young folks who are. For the makeover, we have given Adelmo his fondest wish, to be the clown with the funny nose, the flaming red hair and a hickey. Kind of a mixed message, but Adelmo likes edgy. For Dino, we have gone a little mad professor with the hair and the beard, but with the cool edge that only Jackie-O Ray-Bans can transmit. So we have fun and edge and cool and now they’re ready to embrace further modernity and the future. Avanti ragazzi!
We’re going Western with the next two gents. Think Westworld. Riccardo Cotarella had done traded in his Porsche Cayenne for a Vintage American pickup. Along with that he is ordering a slew of American oak barrels to make the complete transition for one of his special wines from the Maremma. The man is a cowboy and a driver at heart and now the vision is complete. Bravo, Riccardo.
Piero Antinori is going a little more raffinato on us. Maybe it’s the time he has been spending with his Franciacorta project and the proximity to George Clooney’s lakeside manse. In any event, Piero is kicking back, enjoying his status as the Marshall of the Maremma. Nothing gets by Piero, nothing. He sees everything and knows where all the bodies are buried. He is a Superior Tuscan.
Romano dal Forno has been talking to his son. Time to spruce up the place. Done. Now, what to do about all those years that have passed, how to upgrade the look? How about a little bad boy rocker, a cross between liev Schreiber and Sammy Hagar. Red hair is all the rage in Italy for men these days, and Romano isn’t immune to the lure of the fiery red. Yes, he has capitulated to the pressure of fashion, but with that Jim Croce ‘stache, he makes for a dashing vision of the modern winemaker in the modern times.
And finally, this wouldn’t be complete without a chime in from dear old Luca Zaia, the dashing Minister of Agriculture. Some think we don’t like Luca on this blog, by au contraire, we love Luca. And he loves us. Keeping with the musical theme, our fashionistas have chosen to give Luca a modified Beatle look, in homage to Ringo, the underappreciated one. Instead of drumsticks we have given Luca farm implements in which he can drum home his message. Doesn’t he look fab? How do we get his autograph? He is saving Italy from pineapple and kebab and giving Prosecco its rightful place alongside Champagne as one of the greatest bubblies the world has even known. And he does it all by acting naturally. Auguri, Doctor Zaia.
I have had more than my share of passionate discussion about Italian labels. I was an art major at the university, design was my background, coupled with an intimate feel for American marketing. Over the years, I have seen labels that had as much appeal as a mullet haircut. But as we have recently seen, in Italy the mullet is enjoying a renaissance. Wonderful step forward for all of humanity. Why is it a label is so important? I imagine Caravaggio or Simone Martini looking forward several centuries from their time to see their work and how it had survived the fashions of time and wonder why the label designers don’t understand this. But it is after all a product, to be opened and consumed and then to be sent to the trash bin. It isn’t art, no matter how much we want to imbue it with nobility and grandeur. It is sustenance; it is a measure by which we get through the day. Art? Art is not essential for survival of the species. Nourishment is. And perhaps it is because our farmer knows that we will ultimately need the fruits from his harvest, that a misplaced label, or too much wood won’t really matter all that much in the greater scheme of things.
A generation later, the younger wine producers hear an older man rant, about their wine, about their labels, about their expensive barrels, and this time the frown on their forehead is more pronounced. What it tells, without words, but without doubt, is that they know better. They are young and this is a different world, and one must be positive about all of these changes. Or else. So I pack my luggage and head back to my post, the one from which I will never be called back, and ponder on all these “changes”.




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?