Like no other place on Earth ~ The Etna Report 2024.5

It happened, after tasting over one hundred wines in a three-hour period, that the vinous impact of Etna became overwhelming. But not before the realization that what Etna means to someone like me goes way past wine. There has been a sociological adaptation made, with regards to agricultural practices, which is driven beyond mere climate and seasonal changes. There is the reality of La Muntagna – and La Muntagna drives everything, and everything derives from it.

If we didn’t have climate change, or as some called it early on, in the beginning, global warming, we’d still have Etna. Can the local practices put into place, because of the pressures of Etna, act as an instructional manual for other grape growing places in the world dealing with the immediacy of climate change? I wondered that as I walked along a lava strewn path early one morning. The weather was changing from the warm breeze of summer to the looming fog and coolness of autumn, in the background was the eternal soundtrack playing the low groans of the earth’s core and Etna acting as a megaphone for those rumblings.

Interview with a Centenarian ~ The Etna Report 2024.4

One of the advantages of having Sicilian blood and being raised in California in the latter half of the 20^th century is the uncanny capacity to listen to life forms other than humans. I first found out about this ability at university, when  a palm tree told me the story of its life one evening as I was sitting up against it. It was a fascinating experience and one that was apparently not singular. So, when I was on Mt. Etna recently, I happened upon a very old grape vine, well over 100 years old, up in one of the vineyards I visited. It was at the end of the day, and the vineyard was a short walk from where we were staying, so I asked my minder to allow me to stay awhile and make my own way back. I’d heard about this old vine from a winemaker friend who intimated that I might be interested in hearing its story one-on-one. Said winemaker knew about my propensity to channel other life forms on earth as we once talked about it and he understood completely what I was talking about. As I’ve mentioned before in these reports, Californians and Sicilians are kindred souls. And seeing as I’m a hybrid, I reckon my openness to these kind of interchanges is facilitated by that. So, here goes. I was standing there when she made contact, we’ll call her Dora, or as she more than once said, Nonna Dora (ND).

“Giuseppe Versus the Volcano” ~ The Etna Report 2024.3

For those who work in Nature, there are certain immutables. Fire and water are forces to be respected, not ignored. We can try and tame them with dams and forges and make them work for us. But there comes a time when furies are unleashed that simply overwhelm mere humans. Hurricanes, tornadoes, floods and volcanoes come to mind.

While on Etna recently, I talked to a farmer, Giuseppe. He’s been tending his land for several decades now. He’s not a young man, but he certainly has many years left under the volcano. I asked him about co-habitating with La Muntagna.

“I fell into a burning ring of fire.” ~ The Etna Report 2024.2

When I was a young boy, I lived in the shadow of a great mountain. For hours, I would sit outside and stare up at it, mesmerized by the play of light and shadows as the day progressed. Known for centuries as i a-kitch, I still dream about that mountain.

While on Mt. Etna recently, I would get up early, before sunrise, and sit on my little patio, watching the sun making its way to the mountain. Birds were awakening, the world was rousing. Etna was there, waiting.

The Etna Report – 2024.1

It has been eight years since I last reported from Etna. In 2016 I was here as a blogger, but primarily as a photographer, covering for Eric Asimov and the New York Times. Eric’s articles were wonderful, as always, and I was privileged to be there to document it visually.

But now, in 2024, I was here as a guest of the Consorzio Tutela Dei Vini Etna DOC at their event, Etna Days. They arranged my airfare and meals and hotels while I was in their care. They didn’t ask me to cover the event in any particular way, or really at all. There was no tit-for-tat, although being a lover of Italian wine and Sicily, that, for me was a given. So, let’s dig in.

Gone Fission...

Stepping away from the big screens for a pause. See you in two weeks.

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

wine blog +  Italian wine blog + Italy W

The Life and Death of Barbaresco

While shopping in my little Italian grocery store, the one with an oversized selection of Italian wine (only), I happened upon one of the Italian specialists who knows much more about the current market than I do. And I asked them a question. “What’s up with Barbaresco? It’s down there on the lower shelf, and just a few of them. And meanwhile Barolo wines are bulging, overcrowded, eye level, filling the racks. What’s up with that?”

They answered simply, “Barbaresco? Oh, it just died.”

Huh? Did I hear that right? One of my favorite wines in the world, one of the greatest examples of Nebbiolo the world has ever known, has left us?

“I can’t believe I ate (and drank) the whole thing” – Italy’s Odd Couplings

 🎵 I got the poison, I got the remedy 🎵

As Americans, we can dream up some pretty goofy stuff. Foodwise, we’ve got a lock on weird. Just go to any state fair in America and you’ll see.

Not to be outdone, the Italian-American amalgam, a quasi-conspiratorial plot against authentic and traditional food and wine, has catapulted onto the scene, conjuring up wine and food combinations. This either signals the beginning of the end of days, or at the very least, presages a seismic shift from rational common sense thinking to the current craze for a pseudo-realism based on one’s one whims and fancies. Expressed herewith are a troika of such abominations that have recently been spotted in the wild, and which could foreshadow Italian wine and food culture wriggling into Mainstream American culture. Or it might simply mean the end is near. Let’s jump in.

The Milky Way and the Man Who Fell from Earth

Lately, when thinking about Italian wine and its place in the world, I’ve been pulling back the focus, way back, and envisioning it from a much-removed perspective. Is it really all that important in cosmic terms? Is anything, for that matter? This, coming from an earthling who happened to stumble upon this greater thing, this galaxy - I just fell from Earth.

“What is wine?” asks an asteroid, as it careens past me at 40,000 miles per hour. As if said asteroid even had time to consider a deeper dive, such as “What is Italian wine?”

“No matter,” I reply, although I would imagine the asteroid did not hear me, as it was long out of shouting range. And so, I found myself alone, in a cold sector of the Milky Way, pondering how I got there and where in Heaven’s name I was going.

“Climb Your Mountain!”

While scores of Italians and other Europeans flock to the beaches of Italy, Spain and Greece, suntanning their bums off, America is in the full throes of another push. Where are we going? What does it matter? There’s a mountain over there, and we must climb it!

I’m simplifying matters a bit, but if you are living in America right now, there is an energy, a fire that has been lit, and we’re not talking about an arsonist in the Sierra Nevada, or Burning Man, which is imminent. No, this is a larger upheaval. And while it might be a communally driven one, I’ve also been thinking about our individual climbs.

This was precipitated by the death of a long-time friend who battled DLB for the past five years. My friend was a world traveler, an art lover, a wine and food enthusiast and a love-magnet for beautiful, accomplished and fiercely independent women. Oh, and he loved to climb mountains.

“They’ve stolen our dreadlocks!” ~ Have American chefs culturally appropriated la cucina Italiana?

As an Italian food chronicler, by virtue of working through the past few decades and witnessing many iterations of Italian-divined restaurants, living where I live in 2024 can be a bit discombobulating.

While I understand the spirit of Italian cooking draws upon improvisation, there is also a good argument for the great classic dishes that are rarely seen in these parts in their pure form. Ingredients matter. The season matters. The place where one lives matters. But sometimes lines are crossed, and from where I observe, we’ve crossed over into the land of contravention. They’ve stolen our dreadlocks. Italian food has been culturally appropriated. And it’s an unsightly mess.

Big (and little) Alc’s Fall From Favor

The large alcohol companies are sounding their alarms. People aren’t drinking as much as they used to. Their business is down. Their projections are also down for FY25, just to let their shareholders know not to expect double digit returns any time soon.

Meanwhile the younger generations aren’t drinking as much as the older ones did when they were young. Adding to that, it is estimated that about 5,000-6,000 baby boomers die a day. It is estimated also that there are now 11 million less Baby Boomers than there were in 2020, and about 21 million less than in 2016.  So, yeah, the liquor and wine businesses are in the crapper.

But it’s not like the mega corporations didn’t have something to do with it. Let’s take a look.

What Is Your Cause?

It seems like everywhere you turn these days, someone is prosecuting their case for something that they deem purpose driven. We’re shouted out, poked, cajoled, interrupted, stopped mid-speech or worse, mid-thought, by any number of distractions in the name of cause. So many people are strip mining our attention for their brand, their cause or their spiel. So, what’s your raison d'etre under the sun?

A Journey Through the Early White Wines of Abruzzo ~ Or, Self-Investing in Your Path to Mastery

Recently I had a long conversation with a young wine professional. Currently they’re sommeliering in a very exclusive hotel which has a restaurant with a quasi – Italian flavor. This person believes in taking deep dives into wine countries at their own expense, in order to further their knowledge and education and love for wine, which is part of their livelihood. Imagine that – spending your own money to learn more about wine?  

Look, I’ve known wine buyers and sommeliers who really didn’t have much interest in Italian wines over the years. I remember telling one that they should try going – they might have their minds changed. One, I knew, dipped their toes into Italy with a free junket to Prosecco-land. It was a start. But there were always more interesting places for them to go to – France, South Africa, Argentina – more exotic, and of course, no charge. It was as if Italy were this indecipherable, non-linear, complicated jumble of regions and wines and opinions – duh. That was often enough to put off the most left-brained of wine-experts-in-training. But for people like the young somm above and myself, it is a ticket to an endless parade of characters – rich stories – unpredictable wines at times – but always somewhere a great meal and a beautiful cache of scenery.

Able Was I Ere I Saw Elba Rosso

Not long ago, an erstwhile colleague recounted a story they had while making an Italian wine presentation. The account was a tony Italian-styled eatery that had recently changed wine buyers, so a meet-up was de rigeur. The  person who oversaw the wine lists was Gen-Z’ish in age and predilection.

My confrere was discussing Tuscan wines, with the new buyer. The subject of international varieties came up. You know, things like Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, and grapes like that, which also grow in Italy. This was an all-Italian wine list, and whether we like it or not, diners come in looking, at times, for wines they know and recognize. Like Cabernet Sauvignon. The young overseer interrupted him and said, “Italy doesn’t make good Cabernet or Merlot. The place for that is Napa Valley.” Ok, so no Masseto? No Sassicaia? (said restaurant is in a high net-worth neighborhood) My friend then asked them about Super Tuscans. “Not my thing.” Dismissed again. So, as the meeting came to an end, and my friend was getting up to leave, the wine buyer asked him, “But do you have any orange wines?”