Sunday, July 09, 2006

Sardegna, Sicilia & Pantelleria ~ ' 5WG ' tasting

Wine dinner July 7, 2006 at home of Janet and
Phil Cobb in Highland Park (Dallas), Texas.
A few of us guys (5WG) get together on a regular basis and taste wines. Not really structured but some theme is agreed upon and then we meet and eat and drink. Guys include Phil Cobb, Hank Rossi, Neal Sleeper, Dave Whitney and me, Italian Wine Guy.
The Wines
Vintage -Winery – ‘Wine Name’ – Appellation - grape
White
1)2004 –Arcodoro (Cantina Sociale del Giogantinu) ‘Lughente’- Vermentino di Gallura D.O.C.G. - Vermentino
2)2004 -Cantina Il Nuraghe Mogoro- ‘Anastasia’ – Sardegna Semidano di Mogoro D.O.C . – Semidano grape
Red
3)1997 -Santadi -‘Terre Brune’ – Carignano del Sulcis D.O.C. – Carignane grape
4)2004 –Flli. Pala- ‘Essentija’- Bovale Isola dei Nuraghi I.G.T. – Bovale grape
5)2003 - Cantina Il Nuraghe Mogoro- ‘Vignaruja’- Cannonau di Sardegna D.O.C. – Grenache grape
6)2003 -Firriato -‘Chiaramonte’ - Sicilia I.G.T. – Nero d’ Avola grape
7)2002 –Terredora- Irpinia I.G.T. – Aglianico grape
8)2003 -Rapitala -‘Nadir’ - Sicilia I.G.T. – Syrah grape
9)2003 -Planeta -Sicilia I.G.T. – Syrah grape
Dolce
10)1994 Minardi- Passito di Pantelleria D.O.C. – Zibbibo (Moscato) grape


The Meal
-Mozzarella Pomodoro-buffalo mozzarella, flown in from Italy, with fresh tomatoes and basil

-Gnocchetti Sardi al Cinghiale- Sardinian teardrop pasta with wild boar

-Risotto al Nero con Gamberi alla Griglia- squid ink risotto with grilled prawns

-Couscous- semolina grain with fresh mediterranean vegetables

-Pescespada alla Griglia -Grilled Swordfish

-Dolce – light, fresh ricotta and pastry fantasy thing..went really well with the dessert wine.


Francesco Farris, executive chef of Arcodoro in Dallas prepared the meal.

The wines are listed above as is the food. I will comment on the wines and the foods in my fashion.

Notable to say this. One wine from the mainland slipped in, the Aglianico from Terredora. We let him stay. And two, the well know wines from Sardegna, Argiolas, Capichera, Contini and Soletta were not present. No reason, not enough time or room. So this wasn’t meant to be an all inclusive deal anyway. Sicily, too, a few well known ones are in the lineup but in no way could we even begin to cover it all. That being said, here’s what we sampled.

The first two whites were opened , the ‘Lughente’ Vermentino and the ‘Anastasia’ Semidano. Vermentino is a fairly well known grape from the region and Semidano is a “heritage” variety recently resuscitated and now back in play. The Vermentino, a private label of the Farris boys, was a refreshing, clean and very straightforward wine, very nice. The Cantina Sociale of Giogantinu has made great strides in rushing towards the new millennia and the wines are showing well.


The Semidano was an interesting wine and one that I had to research after the dinner. Spritzy like an Arneis but quite a refreshing wine. A bit effervescent on the palate but bone dry.

Sardinian white wines are, like much white from Italy, improving at light speed. Thank Bacchus!

The reds, first with an older carignane, the ‘Terre Brune’. At first the wine, because of its age, showed a little adobe color. But carignane has layers and we eventually found a few under the brick pile. Spicy and a little salty, the fruit was mature and enjoyable. Brought directly from Italy a week before, straight from Bugari’s Enoteca. Nice .

The ‘Essentija’, made of Bovale grape, thought to have been brought from Spain, was bright and lively. Some of the gents didn’t latch onto the wine at first, but its light refreshing quaffability made it a good match for the Gnochetti with wild boar sauce.


The ‘Vinayruju’ (sounds like an Indian deity) – was full throttle Cannonau (grenache) and at first opening was throwing off some carmel-like aromas. This dispelled, and like so many of these wines that are rooted in a rustic terroir, evolved and changed through the night. A deep wine, almost what I would think to be approaching the “vino da meditazione" category. Also brought directly from the enoteca by Hank.


We then stepped on the barge and went over to Sicilia, starting with a Nero d’Avola from Firriato. This is an interesting winery with a very strong-willed, charismatic woman at the helm. I’m finding this more in the wines of Sicily, strong women. Well, it makes sense, my grandmother sure was, and I’m glad for it. She had opinions and convictions and character. And things like that make for good components in a wine, especially when one is looking for the reflection of the land, some depth and above all character, in wine and in people.
Her Nero d’Avola, Chiaramonte, was rich and not too New World, alcohol was in check and wine was in balance. That was our only Nero d’Avola. Alongside Frappato, which is the grape of the important Cerasuolo di Vittoria, Nero d’Avola is a historic grape and one of interest to those who look to the region for their indigenous expression. Nero d’Avola is Sicily.

We popped on over to the Campanian countryside like a cold front settling in the valley where the Terredora winery sits. Look at a weather map of Italy in summer and you will often see it cooler in Avellino than in Trento. Locals refer to it as the Switzerland of the South. Nice…We had a basic red, their Aglianico Irpinia IGT. In the group and it showed fairly well, though it was a bit overwhelmed by the riper and extracted reds of the islands. It was a little older (2002), which wasn’t a problem vintage for the south like it was in Tuscany and Piedmont. It grew on the group through the night. Terredora is owned by the land-owning side of the Mastroberardino family, and they make, arguably, the greatest wines from their region. While the owners are pretty laid back folks and don’t beat their drums like their competitors, you can find their wines on the greatest of the great wine lists all over the world. So they may speak softly but they carry a big stick.

Back to the big island, and straight in to the arms of two Syrahs, from Rapitala and Planeta. Rapitala, owned by Hugues Bernard, Count of Gatinais, France, and his wife Gigi Guarrasi, a descendant of a prominent Palermo family, really attaches itself to the Arab roots planted in Sicily. Rapitala, from the Arabic, Rabidh-Allah, meaning river of Allah, and Nadir, from the Arabic Nazir, meaning deep, rare, precious. The wine has a restrained holding back side to it, revealing itself layer by layer, like a slow dance. Very European.


The Planeta family is high energy from the get go! These folks are seeing through a set of eyes, the eyes of visionary Diego Planeta, who must have felt very alone when he first saw where he was going and where he was taking his family. And now Planeta the winery, with the young sons and daughters at the helm, sits on a plateau looking forward and hearing the chant of the legacy given by the blood and sweat of many who went before them. Very exciting to see, one who has been watching Sicily from afar for almost 40 years now. The wine was rich and full-bodied; all the gents really seemed to like this wine.

But how can one not like a Cucinotta ?

For a finale we took a small plane to Pantelleria and sampled the Zibbibo passito from a small family, Minardi. These are not Parker-chasing people; probably don’t even know who that is. Straightforward and honest people, Andrea Minardi and his family are great friends. Pantelleria is a favorite stop of mine, and I’d live their part of the year if I could. I love the island and the people, and opening a bottle of wine like this instantly transports me there. The wine is the embodiment of terroir; this wine smells like the island, tastes like the island, looks like the island, feels like the island. Really a bizarre and wonderful experience to have this happen.

This has gotten too wordy and so I must stop now. I will suggest links, wineries and websites and photo links.

One last note. The Enoteca Bugari, in San Benedetto del Tronto in Porto d' Ascoli, if you ever get a chance to go there, is a wonderful place in time that is really a shrine to some of the forgotten wines of Italy. Started by a man who has been acknowledged as a seminal figure in the understanding and communicating of wine Italian, Signore Bugari. A friend and mentor of mine took me to see him 20+ years ago, for this was his mentor. This man was friend to Veronelli and Tachis, and more so to the lonely vine grower, toiling in the wine fields on land far from the sight of society and industry. Here was an ambassador who brought back word and wine from these outposts to tell the Italians and the world about the riches in the fields. By all means it is not a great address, and if you go you might think me crazy for wasting your time, but I can tell you this is an oasis in time and space, and that is important to people like me.

Ciao ciao









Links
Cantina Sociale del Giogantinu
Cantina Il Nuraghe Mogoro
Santadi
Flli. Pala
Firriato
Terredora
Rapitala
Planeta
Minardi

Arcodoro the restaurant
about the chef, Francesco Farris

Photos of Pantelleria
Photos of Sicilia and wineries





Monday, July 03, 2006

Saturday, July 01, 2006

Fantasy Island

This post is meant to serve as an explanation for whenever I use the Fantasy Island label. This simple key is this: Whenever I write a post with the Fantasy Island label, you can safely assume it is written from a fictional perspective. Just in case there are people who get mixed up about some of the posts here. After all, what is a blog, if not a writing laboratory for ideas and projects?

Thank you.

INTER(ior)VIEWS

For the record, just so nobody gets any wild ideas, I am thinking of doing some interview type posts that are totally made up; fantasies, springboards and otherwise fictional renderings from the interior of my mind.

Ok, we got that straight?

So, in case anyone confuses these posts with fact or reality, no, Mrs. Calabash, these are fiction.

Wednesday, June 28, 2006

White Heat

It is scalding. The car is hot; we search for a shade spot to park while we crawl into the next account to proffer our selection. Today, being a wine merchant is just downright miserable. The last thing I am thinking about opening is a bottle of Barolo or Burgundy or Syrah….just not possible…worlds will collide.

I’m in the desert and there is a mirage. Three sirens call. “This will quench your thirst.” And there I am back in the arms of the Italian, the Spaniard and the Portuguese. I’m rescued for a time.

The Italian we call Costalupo and this young Abruzzese, the newborn white blend of Trebbiano, Passerina and Riesling makes me long for the langosto of the Adriatic’s San Benedetto del Tronto. Here we must be content to sip and dream. But don’t dream the summer without this one at your side…


The Spaniard is a bit exotic, Spain being the place these days for experimentation in architecture, in food, why not in wine? I’ll never remember the name of this wine, Oroya, but the flavor will save me through the second month of the inferno here. Also a ménage of three grapes , Airen , Macabeo and Muscat of Alexandria, ready for the characters from Lawrence Durrell’s “Quartet” to raise a glass and drink through the night. Designed for sushi (or carpaccio di pescespada) and anything Ferran Adria, Grant Achatz or Katsuya Fukushima can... in their wildest imaginings.


A Portuguese man went blind at sea and for six years while on board the vessel circled the globe. Upon arriving home in Porto, within a month his sight returned. But his lament was for the world he discovered in those years, a world without war, a world with life and endless vistas. For the remainder of his life he wrote down all that he experienced in those six years..It took him twenty years to finish.
The wine? Oh yes, a simple dry vinho verde, called Famega. Absolutely quenching, even when one is trying to regain their lost years those lives lived.

Costalupo (appx $11.00), Oroya (appx $12.00) and Famega (appx $7.00).

Monday, June 26, 2006

Il mio giardino

A few pictures from the home garden.

The winter garden in transition.


Arugula and Italian Parsley re cycling.
In the back, Cardoons expecting their arrival. Peppers and Cucuzza incubating.

Nepitella for Il Gato.
Hoja Santa for Mozzarella Company and Artisanal.


The end of the Chard.
Hoja Santa mingling with Epazote awaiting their reincarnation with formaggio locale.

Basilico in the seldom seen shade taking un' ombra with Oregano and Aglio.
The flowering of the Cardoon.

Links

Sunday, June 25, 2006

The 31st of June

In the Veneto, legend has it that a monk got into a little trouble with the devil. The monk, Fra Stefano, wanted to make the greatest wine that had ever been made. Inspired by the miracle at Cana when Jesus turned water into wine, this monk filled his barrels up with holy water and called upon an unothodox power to help transform this into wine. A certain fellow, but a diabolical one at that, came upon the scene and offered to help this monk in exchange for his soul. This being harvest time and the monk wishing to enjoy the fruits of his labors, he bartered with the devil to let him have his soul until the end of spring. Now this monk wasn’t too good with time and numbers and when pressed by the devil for a definite date, the monk said, “the 31st of June”. At which time he and the devil made their deal. It seems the devil was none to good at time and numbers as well. But a deal is a deal even when one makes it with the devil. Oh, what a good wine it was!

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
A young man arrived in the Veneto, in a small town where the Prosecco wine is made. The town, Rolle, is very near the epicenter of the Prosecco heartland, Valdobbiadene. He had read about this area for some time now, the prospect of anticipation was now a reality.

As he settled in his room for the night, in an inn that had once been an abbey, he felt a serene familiarity with his surroundings. It was as if he had been reminded of something that hadn’t yet happened.

Valdobbiadene and the surrounding area is a fantasy land for wine and food lovers. One hour or so from Venice, but light years from the tourists and the hype and the come on. No menu turistica, no pizza, no gondolas. There is something wonderful about the sound of the church bell ringing at 6:45 in the morning calling the people to mass and the workers to their labors. As it has been for centuries. Roosters crow, doves coo and cuckoos announce the dawn add to the symphony of the hills. There is a peace in these valleys that resonates in ones soul long after one is back home.

The wine is simple. It’s white and often bubbly. Fresh and lightly fruity. Now it is fashionable in places like San Francisco and New York, but fashion from this place seems odd. The spirit of here whispers, “Timeless”. Some of the winemakers the young man will visit are Mionetto, Montesel and Bisol, all from the land of the Valdobbiadene.

The problem with fashion is that it overlooks the timeless for the new. Our societies in Italy and America are rapidly paving over the traditions once held in high regard. And with it go the people and the stories. People like Giuseppe, who owns a small plot of land clinging to a hill in Valdobbiadene. An octogenarian who rises at four in the morning to go out and work in his vineyard. The children have moved away to Milan to become accountants and pharmacists. They will never get home by the 31st of June. His way is dying and he tells me he fears this way of life will go when he goes. No legacy buyout from a corporation wishing to further his work into the future.

Sergio Mionetto sold his company some time ago but remains with the company as their spokesman and spiritual compass. The company now embraces modernity and innovation, hoping to reach a larger audience of Prosecco-isti. Sergio, meanwhile, has become a living symbol of those hills, etched on his face like the gulleys of his beloved Cartizze, a small drop of a land that is thought to be a place where the terroir of the Prosecco has its greatest potential. Only 106 hectares. Here the land is some of the most valuable in Italy, valued at $1,000,000 euro per hectare. On this land are more souls who work the land, become the land, who breathe out of that soil nectar that seldom is found in the land. Sell their land? Not likely.

A visit to a farm in the hamlet where the Prosecco of Cartizze is grown. Here in this land one doesn’t find over stuffed mansions of 10,000 square feet with 5 bedrooms and 6 bathrooms, for only two people. Here is a small house with a wood burning oven, home made bread, cheese and wine. And two very content and happy people who live there. Looking at the purity of their smiles, the clarity in their eyes, the simplicity of their lives, these are people rich beyond the value of their land, wealthy beyond trust funds.


During the early spring the winemakers put on an exhibition of their wines in the
little towns. In one of these Sergio gathers with some of his friends and colleagues, journey men and apprentices. A modern day guild of sorts, this one to celebrate the miracle of grapes into wine. Without the devil and the holy water. Who wouldn’t want to be part of that happy gathering? What a life!

Renzo Montesel started as an agronomist for the region. On the outer edge of the Valdobbiadene zone, in Colfosco, He and his wife have a small farm. Their vineyard, the Vigna Paradiso, sits on tufa rock, porous soil that has excellent drainage and exposure. The wine has an infinitely fine mousse. These are younger people and with them comes the hope that some of the living legacy of the elders will live on in the labors of Renzo and his wife Vania. Their wine is ‘hand-made’ and rivals the best the region has to offer in Prosecco.

The Bisol family is equally understated in their outward appearances, but here is where the Prosecco finds an anchor. One of the largest landowners in the Cartizze (they hold 3 hectares) and gregarious in their reach. Their vines cover 50 hectares (where the average vineyard holding is 1 hectare); their family offers wine growing classes, wine tasting seminars and traditional cooking courses from their hospitality center, the Foresteria Duca di Dolle. Here one can lose oneself, or perhaps really find ones true reason for being. The opportunity is here in many ways.

And tonight this young man on his way back from several days out in the field with these beacons of inspiration. On his way back to the room he picks up a book, about an older man of the village. His life, his story, this man who after a period of traveling while young, came back to this little village and lived his life. How oddly familiar this story was to the young man, but only in the way one can sense something that might be about to happen, what they call déjà vu.

The next morning the young man, sitting out among the vineyards taking in the morning, was filled with light and an understanding of the cycle of the old mans life and his, entwined like the vines and the poles holding them up. As the church bells tolled, it was as if the life of the grapes made to sparkle infused within him to the point of immersion into the territory. He was becoming part of the terroir as a flower would bloom, a bird would sing.


It was then the young man knew that book about the old man's life was about the life he was about to start living, in an amazing place, in the hills above Venice.


June 31st had arrived.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
RESTAURANTS IN ROLLE
In this small, fascinating borgo there are two very renown restaurants: Da Andreetta and Locanda al Monastero, where it is possible to taste some fine local dishes, according to the culinary tradition of the Prosecco hills.
Seasonal products are an extremely important ingredient in the preparation of the menus: Mushrooms, Treviso Red Chicory, Spontaneous Wild Herbs, Asparagus, cheese from the Pre Alps, are just a few of the options available to the chefs. Wonderful al fresco dining in summer and excellent fireside dining in winter.


Ristorante da Andreetta – Terrazza di Rolle
Address: Via Enotria 7 Rolle (Treviso)
[this web site has additional information on Rolle ]

Locanda al monastero
Menu changes daily according to the seasonal offerings. My vote for last meal on earth. Address: Via Enotria 21 Rolle (Treviso)

RESTAURANT IN MAINE
Ristorante 'Da Gigetto'
An absolute pilgrimage to a shrine for food and wine. One of the best experiences I have ever had.
via A. De Gasperi, 4.31050 Maine
Trevisio
Italy


STAY IN ROLLE
A relaxing and pleasant stay at the “Foresteria Duca di Dolle” will be an unforgettable experience, where enjoying fine wine and cooking classes, visits to artistic sites and excellent local restaurants, mountain biking, walking, where getting what every body is looking for: the perfect balance between mind and body, can transpire.

LOCAL & REGIONAL FOOD FESTIVALS (SAGRAS) TREVISO PROVINCE
This land invites you to celebrate the joy of life. The gourmets will find their paradise in this area: in any season, local products are used to create fine typical dishes, and are presented in excellent restaurants and unique gastronomic festivals held all over the Treviso Province. Festivals are just some of the many interesting events to take part in while visiting Rolle.

Cocofungo (mad for mushrooms) - October
Cocoradicchio (mad for radicchio) - Febrary
The Radicchio di Treviso Festival - December
The Combai Chestnuts Festival - October
The Prosecco Spring Festival March - June
Amopesce (fish festival in April)
Riso e Verdiso… - middle of May
The Mostra Nazional degli Spumante Exhibition - September (held at the beautiful Villa dei Cedre in Valdobbiadene. An Italian Exhibition of over a thousand extraordinary, unique and sparkling wines).
Vino in Villa - last week-end of May (organized from Consorzio Prosecco of Conegliano-Valdobbiadene)

producers

Mionetto
Via Colderove, 2
Valdobbiadene 31049
Tel: 0423.9707

Montesel
Via S. Daniele 42
Colfosco Di Susegana, 31030
Tel: 0438.781.341
no web site

Bisol
S. Stefano di Valdobbiadene 31040
Tel: 0423.900.138

Thursday, June 15, 2006

Calabria: The Legacy of Local

”What was it like?” I remember my aunt asking me later, about walking into the village where her mother was born. Old Calabria, a little village clinging to a hillside like a vine that wrapped itself around a sycamore tree and hung on through time and the elements.

Right now I am sitting in a room at midnight and it’s 85 degrees F. It’s the middle of June and we have at least 3 months of this inferno to go. We’re in a drought, the wind is blowing from the west, range fires crop up and clear cotton fields, threaten livestock. We’re living in a harsh environment and that’s before you take into account the social aspect that we’ve found ourselves in. What was it like?

I can only imagine what they were thinking 100 years ago, when where they were, in Calabria, looked as inviting as that West Texas dust storm raging on the plains. Devastating earthquake, utter breakdown in civilization, a civilization that had been established in the 6th Century B.C. Desperation, hope,a clean slate, away, just far,far away.

The train took us from Brindisi to Cosenza and we followed Merlin back in time, the pine tree forest through the mountains over the hill. Back to grandmothers house. It was the harvest season, September, in a year that would be remembered, by some, as a better than average harvest. 1977.


Cosenza was as it might have been 30 years before. Ten years later a taste of the outside would plant itself in that sleepy little southern town. For now, all we had was a name, Bucita. Somewhere in the hills we would find our cousins and uncles and aunts. And the legacy of their love of the land, and the grape.

Walking into the village, an overwhelming balm infused the air. Ripe figs, roasting inside their leaves in stone ovens. Honey, bay leaf, chestnut-like complex aromas. Unforgettable.

An older man on a donkey approaches us. Yes
he thinks he knows who we are looking for. This man, Giuseppe takes me to his house where his wife Teodalinda is standing on a stone floor. My grandfather put that floor in. In his wine cellar Giuseppe would later initiate me into a world where wine held secrets and mysteries inside bottles and barrels. He was a winemaker and the harvest was in full swing.

On the same train, another cousin, Luigi, traveled home. We followed Giuseppe and our interpreter, Antonio (Tony), to a small ancient home. On the table, with a demijohn of red wine and
some fresh cookies, and the figs, were pictures of my parents on their wedding day. Connection.

We were just in time, the family needed hands in the fields, a storm front was threatening the harvest. Grape harvest reports supplanted the soccer games on the local TV,
people were more interested in the price of Greco or Gaglioppo than Rossi or Zaccarelli. Time was contracting.
The elements here dominate the environment, the sun, the rain, lightning, thunder. Earth, alive and moving. Here comes the sun. Luigi, finding some of his vines have been washed away, clears out a creek bed for water flow. After
two nights of Olympian pyrotechnics, the people of the land were given back the hill. Like goats we swarmed the vineyards, competing with the bees for the nectar. His wine vats await the harvest.

Another cousin, Giovanni, has been in his olive groves, they seem to have survived. Tonight his wife Elvira, will be making home made pasta, casalinga, and eggplant, melanzane I segreti della nonna.

Sitting in Giovanni’s home with Luigi and Tony, Elvira and Francesco the weaver, drinking Giovanni’s excellent wine. Below us in the basement is Giuseppe’s wine room, the hum of thousands of
crushed grapes fermenting. Teodalinda’s wine flushed face as she posed for a photograph with her husband and a glass of their wine, the ever ringing bells reminding one of the presence of time even in a place like Bucita. They are all gone now.

What remains is the offspring of those days, a
life devoted to the legacy of the winemakers met in those early autumn days in southern Italy, in Old Calabria. Since then I have studied wine in books and passed exams certifying me in some realm of wine specialization. But never were those books, even those vaulted chateaus in France, ever as influential and meaningful as spending long evenings in a room lit by a bare bulb with the elders, drinking their wine and talking into the early hours of the morning.

What was it like? In Bucita we found our people close to their land, eating the food they grew, drinking the wine they made, fresh air, clean, pure,
sweet water. Their legacy of local. Individuals, charitable people, people whose lives hadn’t been too easy, but souls still able to give and keep on giving. My mother’s people, for so long a mystery to us, to find them was an amazing gift. To be with them and in their daily life was an experience I will never forget.

My destiny was being weaved in that place.


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