Half a billion heartbeats, is all

Would you like to swing on a star?
Carry moonbeams home in a jar?

Hard to imagine, but it is. 15 years since Lizanne took her leave.

The heart is a strong little bugger. And time is even tougher.

But this is our lot. And we got lots and lots and lots of it.

How many heartbeats are there in 15 years? Half a billion heartbeats, is all.

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

wine blog +  Italian wine blog + Italy W

The Best - Not the Greatest - Wine for the Moment

I’ve spent the first part of this year tasting numerous types of Italian wine. More than I can remember in a long time. And while that is part of the life, I’ve been thinking about wine, why we like it, what draws us to it and what to do with it going forward.

What catalyzed these thoughts was a recent dinner I had with a friend, who is both a Master of Wine and a Master Sommelier. We’re both the same age (a month separates our birth days) and I was listening to him tell me a little more about his progression in wine over a lifetime. We both shared similar experiences growing up in the wine world, tasting incredible wines which for the most part are now impossible to find.

Has Valpolicella Ripasso had its day in the sun?

Verona in January can be severe. Or it can be a welcome change from the early spring, when Vinitaly wine fair-goers clog every artery, fill every seat in every restaurant and take every bed in even the most humble lodge. And so on a sunny but crisp day last week as we drove up the hill from Verona into the Valpolicella winegrowing zone, I looked forward to a tranquil day in nature.

Our little troop, hosted by the Valpolicella Consortium for their annual Anteprima Amarone, was one of several vans combing the territory, tasting, meeting with the winemakers. On the ground, one of the best ways to learn about wine.

Noodles in Negrar Pour Un Homme Brûlant

We live in multi-planar worlds. There is wine. And there is food. Just as there is work. And there is avocation. And while it seems we live in our little protected bubbles, is it really as we imagine? Or are we simply a small fraction of a larger arrangement?

This week, driving in a van with seven other souls, we are driving up the road from Negrar, towards Torbe. I’m talking with a dear friend and start to sense we are arriving to a place not strange to me. I’ve been here before, recognize the tower and the street and the sign, which simply says, TRATTORIA. Oh joy.