Anisetta in Palermo

and other remembrances on this day... 
 

I remember that sinuous ceramic floor, on top of the building on Via Roma. Of all things, why that floor? Perhaps the floor was the safe, the repository for all the memories stored up on the roof overlooking Palermo. All the long dinners, late lunches, cups of coffee in the early morning looking out over the water, watching the ships pull into the harbor. Looking at Monte Pellegrino in the afternoon, in the aperitivo moment. For whatever reason, that odd squiggly tile floor pulls me into the shots. Most of these people are family in some way, most of them are now gone. But here it is, Memorial Day, and one of their kin is remembering them, channeling them, looking back into the past peering into the magic mirror of images my grandfather brought back.

Seersucker memories, Vonnegut “so it goes” tattoos and Ripasso with Dr. Zaius

"All this happened, more or less." 

Why are people attracted to certain things? I’ll never know. One of my most humiliating memories is when I was 18 and my girlfriend at the time jettisoned me for an older man. I used to work for him, and he was the epitome of ugly, like a wrinkled Woody Allen bereft of charm. But something about him was attractive to her. For a month or so it devastated me and my perception of the world. For a little longer I thought I was somehow unworthy. It wasn’t until years later that I realized it wasn’t really me. But perceptions of myself were colored in ways that I am sure shaped future decisions and paved the way for any number of successes and failures.

As you age does your taste in wine change?

That was the question I posed on a Facebook page two months ago. I have been thinking about it for some time now, and doing active research.

In my life, I have to say, my tastes have ranged all across the board, like waves of appreciation. For a while I would taste all the Bordeaux reds I could get my hands on. And I developed a taste for them. But my diet, which ranges from low to no red meat, really doesn’t complement them. I also was into Rhone reds as well, and again, aside from the occasional spicy chicken on the grill or holiday repast, I found them hard to take on a regular basis. Not that I didn’t like them, it was more that I just didn’t have a lifestyle where these wines fit on a regular basis.

Facticity in Flux

I’m here but I’m not really here. Sipping on all kinds of Italian wine, I have been tripping back and forth between Sicily, Umbria, Marche, Tuscany, Santa Barbara, Mittelmosel and Provence. Who wants to source local when there are so many wonderful experiences in wine? And that has been my week, under cover of long days and nights of working in the field. All good, all healing, but very tired.

Look, we’ve already determined schlepping this or that wine isn’t going to save anyone or make that big of a difference. Or does it? After looking at the mess politicians and bankers, stockbrokers and lawyers have made of this so-called civilized world, maybe slinging wine isn’t such a bad thing.

So what has passed by my palate this week that has really made a difference?

A History of Italian Wine in America from 1977-2012

 

I was waiting in a long, slow line on the freeway for the traffic to pass by an accident on the side of the road. As often happens, everyone was slowing down to gaze at the wreck, which only made the collective crawl slower. But there we were, what can you do?  Behind me, though, there was a car with a driver behind the wheel who was going to get through, if they had to make a new lane. Honking and tailgating, screeching on his brakes while talking on the phone and smoking. All this with only two arms and one very overstimulated and under-exercised brain.  There was nothing we could do but wait for the fools in front of us to peer and move on. There were no cops moving the traffic along; no law, no order. Just the blunt force of humanity creeping ever so slowly towards their destinies.

Along the way I had been slowly digesting a barrage of disparaging remarks I had recently read about the state of the wine business in America. Mostly it went like this, “Everything sucks! I can't get the wine I want. The current system is a dinosaur and needs to be tore down. I want what I want, is that such a big deal?” One can find it regularly on (wine) blogs, and usually from folks who are armchair quarterbacks or who have no idea of the scale of the wine business in this world.

Wetness Protection Program

The picture above is of a window from a Sicilian winemaker's winery to his home. The little hole in the bottom is room enough for a lupara, should anyone be so rash as to violate said Sicilian’s bottaia, or barrel room. Winemaking in Sicily was fraught with all manner of risks, from nature and from the dark heart of man. And still these people of Sicily persevered. Theirs was not an easy life or a glamorous one, but they showed strength and stamina, like their wines. And that is why I love the Sicilians and their wines so very much.

I am currently under the spell of a woman, Tresa. And her wine, the Cerasuolo di Vittoria, a wine that is rare and hard to get. And even harder to find folks who might want to know about it, for they are looking for things they cannot have. In the meantime, there is this wonderful wine, a blend of Nero D’Avola and Frappato, vinified separately and then blended, which is my current crush.

Aglianico Unearthed

Interpreted from recently unearthed sealed documents of possible Jesuit origin found in the Biblioteca Nazionale in Naples.

In the year 1215, while folks over in England were setting up a pilot for future governments, travelers from another planet arrived on Earth. They came not in flying machines but teleported their molecular makeup though time and space and settled in Basilicata. Basilicata was chosen because these beings studied the planet, their new home, and decided it would be out of the way but close to some civilization. The weather was usually good, but sometimes cold. They didn’t object to that. This was to be a seamless transition, for their planet, known as CO, was placing their population all over the galaxies as a supernova would soon destroy their sun.

What’s the ROI on Rosé?

I’m feeling pretty good about it being May and already we are seeing the new crop of rosé wines rolling into the market. But with that joy there is always a little trepidation. You see, rosé is kind of like an in-law. You love to see them when they first arrive, but after awhile you are trying to figure out ways to skooch them out the door.

An Eternity of Mondays

“Your job isn’t who you are,” the little monkey voice inside the head kept chattering. Yeah, yeah, heard it all so many times before in a been-there-done-that kind of way. Wave after wave of images roll onto the shores of my short term recall, trying to evoke a response or any sign of life. Only to return back to the abyss of the deep sea of memory. It’s going to be a long night, but when it’s all said and done it’ll be another Monday.

Want an Award Winning Wine list and don’t want to pay $250 to the Wine Spectator? Lean in…

The past week has been busy as hell. I have found myself in countless restaurants in South Texas, West Texas and North Texas. That would be like saying you were in Champagne, Languedoc and Bordeaux. Or Piemonte, Tuscany and Sicily. And in fact, we have been tasting wine from those regions of Italy. And then some.

I was talking to a restaurateur today and he was grilling me about pasta. He really seemed to value my thoughts about the subject. I was humbled but honored. Likewise, I hope some of the wine directors I have run across this week are as curious about the wine regions I am so fond of. I have had tutoring this week from two of the best in the business, Bobby Stuckey and Damon Ornowski, both master sommeliers and both living in Colorado. They also travel extensively. They shed some light on the endless process of refinement.

Going the Whole Hog

Sometimes life is a cornucopia of events. And sometimes it’s a dry well in the desert. And this week, while it is tending more towards the first, we are going the whole hog.

Master sommelier Bobby Stuckey and chef Lachlan Mackinnon-Patterson have been sauntering across Texas with their Frasca/Scarpetta road show. Dallas on Tuesday, Austin on Wednesday, Houston on Thursday, that kind of deal. And while tomorrow will find me on a totally ‘nother wine trail, today we lingered in Italy; Friuli to be exact. And man, was it good.

From Tuscan to Texan in less than a week

I wasn’t sure how long it would take for Jacopo Bacci to fall into Texas, but as expected it took less than a week. Sure the weather has been great, and places like Dallas, San Antonio, Houston and Buffalo Gap were struttin’ their finest stuff in front of the young man. And so it goes, Jacopo has been snake-bitten by life out West; and that’s a very good thing for Tuscany and for Texas.

Buffalo Gap Wine & Food Summit 2012 - First Slideshow

Busy time out here in West Texas - just a few photos - more to come... Keep smiling - keep drinking wine - keep dancing - keep hoping.

Ipad or Iphone viewers can view the photos here: http://goo.gl/Yqhho

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

Tuscany Slow Dances with West Texas at the Buffalo Gap Wine & Food Summit

After Vinitaly and after Bordeaux en Primeur, then it is time for Texas. One of the events I so look forward to is the Buffalo Gap Wine & Food Summit out in West Texas. Held for the past seven years at Perini Ranch, this year the theme is Italy and the wines and grapes of Tuscany. So we have rustled up some of our favorite Tuscan producers and we are gonna be scurrying out past Abilene deep into John Wayne country

The weather has been predicted for a beautiful spring weekend, which means days in the mid 70’s and nights in the near to low 40’s. Lots of sunshine and dust, the red clay dust of West Texas, which gets all up in your eyes and skin and everything and it is a wonderful thing. Chefs from all over Texas along with winemakers from Texas and a few friends from California who have Texas roots will meet up with the Tuscan contingency. It’s gonna be a ball. Like it always is.

The Folly of Immortality

The personal Palio this week was unusually punishing, as if to remind us that one doesn’t just get older. There are forces out there that even though they seem to be random, aim to hurt and to mangle. Those in my world have been shaken, but not taken out. Not this time. But then, it’s only a matter of time.

I was talking to a young winemaker in Italy last month when the conversation headed philosophical. “We Italians are trying to do something with our wines that nobody else has tried. We are reimagining our history; recasting our future.” He was so young, and so serious. And so ardent. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that when he went to bed that night and woke up the next morning it would be 30 years later. He wouldn’t have understood, or even cared. The purpose of being young is to be in a constant state of youth. After all, what does a young person have their whole life except their youth? Let them enjoy it; time will chip away at it sooner than they think.

Back in Siena, as I walked around the Piazza del Campo and made the circuit a time or two, clicking off the minutes before I had to meet some friends, I thought of the blood, sweat and tears that infused this place in July and August . Some folly, but what a great drama nonetheless. Due palio così.