Taking a ride on the EU’s dime – a field guide to wine “press junkets” in the 2020’s

Although we’ve been told we’re in a post-Covid world now, we still might be suffering from the hangover that almost three years of isolation gave the collective world. However, you wouldn’t know it from looking at your socials – there, the party has just got started. Regional wine groups and consortiums are throwing around EU money like candy at a 4^th of July parade And the kids are scrambling for all the free sweet treats they can stuff in their gullets.

I’m not a stranger to wine junkets, having partaken in several over the years. I remember a long-gone colleague who always seemed to be jetting off to one wine destination after another. Their American Airlines frequent flier miles were an object of amazement. The thing is, they couldn’t ever make a deadline, as they were never on the ground. So who did that benefit?

That’s the crux of this piece – who benefits from it? I’m going to try and work through the varying point of view. I’m hopeful, but wary.

Learning to Trust Italian White Wines

While in my local Italian store the other day, a sales rep was doing a tasting of Italian wines. He had a bevy of whites and one red. It was over 100℉ outside. People were gravitating to the red wine. Maybe it had something to do with the meat counter beyond, so nearby the tasting station?

During the demo, a young, exuberant alpha-male comes up to the table. “Let me try one of your white wines,” he barked. He took a swig, “Not bad. I’ve stayed away from Italian white wines because I don’t trust them. They’re too nothing, don’t have a lot of body. They’re ‘meh’ wines.”

That was a trip down memory lane. He should’ve been here in 1974. But there was a kernel of truth to what he said about not trusting Italian white wines, even in 2024.

The Guy Buys the Parrot

 

There’s this old joke going around. I heard Colin Quinn tell it recently. It goes like this:

This guy goes into a pet shop looking to buy a parrot. The person at the counter says, “You don't want to buy this parrot. He's got a filthy mouth.” But the guy goes “I can handle it.” The parrot comes home with him. The parrot says, “Hey, Mister, Mister.” He goes, “What?” The parrot goes “Go f*ck yourself.” The guy goes, “Don't talk to me like that.” He smacks the cage. He beats up the parrot and he goes,“Don't ever...I'm not the guy to play with like that.” Next day, he comes home. The parrot goes, “Hey, Mister, Mister.” He goes, “What?” The parrot says, “Go f*ck yourself.”  The guy goes nuts. “You piece of…” He smashes the cage. He almost strangles the parrot. He goes, “Next time you tell me to go f*ck myself, I'm going to kill you. I promise you; I'm going to kill you.” Next day, he shows up after work. The parrot goes, “Hey, Mister, Mister.” The guy goes, “What?” The parrot says, “You know what!”

Many of us are like that when we buy wine retail or order it in a restaurant these days. It’s not that we don’t know what we’re getting into, but we go ahead anyway and then when it doesn’t go the way we wanted it to, we find we have landed in chaos. All because we bought the damn parrot.

Affogato and Averna with a Sicilian Surrealist

Our time at the dinner table was over. Giorgio motioned to me and his wife that he was moving to the drawing room. His wife said she would prepare the affogato. Meanwhile Giorgio foraged in his liquor cabinet for a bottle of amaro. “Seeing as we are all Siculi, shall we have some Averna with our dessert?” he suggested. As long as it wasn’t Cynar, I was fine with it. I’d been plied with the artichoke amaro in Palermo with every family visit. Averna was a relief.

“Isa was visiting a friend near Piazza Navona and brought back some gelato from Tre Scalini.” Isa had a sweet tooth, I gathered. Giorgio too. Fine with me. I was 20, skinny and ready for whatever came my way. I could handle amaro and gelato.