The Life of a Great Italian, in 12 bottles

In Memory of Mario Messina 1916-2014

We have finally arrived. I started with eleven others, wrapped ever so carefully in soft, white tissue. Laid ever so gently in the wooden box and covered on top.

The voyage from our place of birth to my new world took a long time. First we traveled on a cart, drawn by horses. Then we were set inside a dark, cool store room, to wait for the warm months to subside. Then, finally we were put on a great ship to cross the ocean.

The great lull of the water, back and forth, like being held as a child by one’s mother, rocking, back, forth, gently. It was a peaceful voyage; the first Great War was over. Peace reigned over the sea and the land.

Why Young Wine is as Good as Puppy Love

Born to be Delectable

There are so many wines available in today’s world that just weren’t around 10 or 20 years ago. In our flatter world, access to good, dependable wine is greater than it has ever been. And Italy has contributed some excellent examples: wines that are tasty, friendly and good values. And wines you can have often. Most of these wines come to the stores and the restaurants relatively young. And they are built to go, not for show, or to stow. These are casual wines, flings, if you will. This is as good as puppy love. But, while you wait for your true love to mature, in the cellar or the wine vault, what is one to do? Live life as an ascetic? Abstain? Wait? Absolutely not.

Looking for La Morra in All the Wrong Places

A Cautionary Tale from the Langa

Mariondino was beginning to feel the winter thaw in his loins. He longed to jump into one of his Cars and steer his little Pira past his Pora to visit his dear Bernadot.

“It’s been ages since I saw her sweet little Muncagota,” he pronounced. “What I wouldn’t give for a Ronchi in her Montefico.” It had been too long since his Ornato had been in anyone’s Vallegrande. “I’m too young to hang on, I need some Cannubi!” The Ovello seemed in a lot of pain.

So down the Via Nuova he steered, rolling many past lovers, now still slumbering. “Gallina, she was one of my first. How calm she was with me, I much younger than her, so patient she was as she caressed my Balluri.”

Live and Let Die

Letter from a half-full bottle to an apostle of wine

I see you, sitting there on the deck of your house overlooking the peaceful valley, watching the sunset. I know you’re tired. But the sun will set soon and you can rest then. We still have half a bottle left before I lose my stream, so let me share my thoughts with you about your long and glorious career.

The Question of Balance

"For I have known them all already, known them all" - Eliot

How often is it one can be with acquaintances, colleagues and friends and have them raise mirrors to your mind, not once, but several times over the course of three days? The wine gods were shining upon us this week in Northern California. Complete immersion. Wine, food, conversation, change, questions. Something’s afoot in wine country. We’re all part of a peaceful revolution. The only thing that is being killed is bottles of wine. But oh, what bottles.

Most of the meetings were over a table. Most of the time it was among three people. Three of those meetings pretty well much re-calibrated me and my thoughts about wine. Call it a California cleanse. Call it coming home. Call it the end and the beginning.

Lambrusco di Sorbara and Cotechino ~ An Existential Dilemma

I struggle with pork. If there is a plate of prosciutto nearby, I’m in trouble. “Waste nothing,” the angel whispers in my ear. And then I clean the plate, when nobody is looking. I never find out if the angel was a good one or a bad one until it’s too late.

"Learning the Joyful Truths" - How wine elders can help today's young wine lovers

"I'd suggest that many young wine drinkers do not have access to the great benchmark wines, the paradigms of profundity that are alas beyond their reach financially. They never learned the joyful truths of hierarchy, or to be stirred to their depths by the greatest of wines. They presume on a level playing field in which most things are equally valid. Sometimes this bothers me too. But I think we need to love them, not scold them." – Terry Theise

Life, I’ve learned, is four parts resilience and six parts patience. If the red wine is made well and is allowed to rest in the cellar, the rewards will be greater. And as with wine, why not with the youth who are embracing the life of wine?

Southern Italy is Sinking

We took the back road up to the hilltop village. Peeking behind the sets. The road was in poor shape, potholes and missing pieces of the highway. Something I have grown to expect in Southern Italy. Trash was everywhere. It was as if the people living in their houses went out into their back yard and threw everything into the gully. Water running off would transfer the toxins eventually into the water sources, the sea and ultimately the oceans. This was my first impression of Cirό.

Reflections on Italy ~ Regarding La Grande Bellezza

Forgive me, dear readers. I have been in deep-brain storming meetings off and on for several weeks and my head is bursting with new and with change. It’s all leading somewhere good, but for now I must diverge. And that is deep into this little blog, where I can write and think about things that aren’t very important, but which matter to me.

In January, while in New York, I went to the big screen and viewed Paolo Sorrentino’s La Grande Bellezza. Hailed as one of the best movies to come out of Italy in years, I mixed expectation with trepidation. I wanted the film to be good, even great. I’m not sure I wanted it to be greater than Fellini, Antonioni or Pasolini.

Five minutes into the film, the party scene disturbed me. I sat way in front; it was just the movie and me. It was too much. But what was bothering me, I wondered? Was it repulsion? Or was it recognition?

The Year of the Horse – Starting Off With a Bang

Anyone who reads this blog, they know how I feel about bragging. That said, I do live in Texas, and bragging rights are part of our patrimony. So grin and bear it. 2014 has started off with a bang, what with tastings across the country. Some of them I’ve been lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time. January, wow, if this is any indication of what 2014 is going to be like, bring it on. Now, let the boasting begin.

Oh, The People You’ll Meet! (At a Winemaker Dinner)

By my purely unscientific reckoning I’ve participated in over 400 “winemaker” dinners over time. For the most part these have been pleasurable social events. If I was lucky we actually saw information and inspiration imparted and folks went home knowing more about wine. They even might have gone home with some of the wine. In the best of times some of them have even been heraldic moments, in that folks not only have a good time and learned something, bonds were created, some of those bonds lasting for years. Along the way I have come to recognize certain archetypal players that one encounters at many of these dinners. Here are a few of the stand-out characters.

Sexy Italian Wines That I Love

Cars, women, beaches. Italy is downright sexy. Whether you are 26 or 62, the sensuality of living the Italian life is invigorating. And the wines of Italy are part of that lifestyle.

Barolo? Waiting 25 years for something big isn’t sexy. Brunello? Some things that are hard aren’t that sexy. Amarone? Weight can sometimes be a turn-off, especially when it is on top of you. No, I’m thinking a whole different way.

The Night Caruso Came to Dinner

L-R my Mom, sisters Josephine and Amelia and brother Felice. Mom and Josephine are living.

Texas in the beginning of the 20th century was an outpost. Ft. Worth was the Wild West. My dad’s dad arrived there in 1910 at the age of 15. His first job was as a film projectionist on 7th street. He later moved to Dallas and set up shop, following in the tradition of his father, whose life revolved around leather.

My mom’s family also gravitated to Dallas in those days. Her father came and went, but the family was rooted there. Her uncle, Alessandro, by the best account I could gather, was a “promoter.” He and my maternal grandfather were not as risk averse as I am. They lived the high life, even when they might not have been able to. America was a land with no limits and these two brothers took it right to the edge. One night they found Uncle Alessandro in the Trinity River with a new pair of shoes, ones made of concrete.

Italy at a Grande and Languorous Impasse

One of the conundrums for Italian wine is that with all of the varieties of grapes and styles of wines, there are essentially four wines that make up the majority of wines exported into America. Coincidentally those wines mesh with four basic types of wine: red, white, sweet and sparkling. Chianti, Pinot Grigio, Prosecco and Moscato. That is the stark reality. And Italian wines have much more diverse exposure than many other countries wishing to see their wines coming to America.

This past week in New York, Italy and her wine was front-row and center during many meetings and discussions, dinners and tastings. From the more obvious wines, like the top four, to more esoteric wines, like Caprettone and Catalanesca from Campania, Nebbiolo and Chiavennasca from Piedmont and Lombardy and Muller-Thurgau and Traminer from Basilicata. We talk about these grapes, drink these wines, push, push, push the limit of what can fit on the big boat sailing to America, but most of the seats are still filled by the top four categories.

The End of the World – Live at the Apollo

The Tree of Hope

In New York this week, meetings, end of year wrap-ups, annual trip. While the days are filled with meetings and tastings, the evenings aren’t meant to be so serious. An diversion was planned to Harlem. First stop, the Apollo Theatre.

The Apollo means different things to different people. For me it recollects a moment in history that was probably one of the most intense periods in my life and, most likely in the life of the world.

As I stepped through the doors of the Apollo, the names of important musical souls, their names engraved on plaques and set into the walk, I saw the name of James Brown.