Aglianico Unearthed

Interpreted from recently unearthed sealed documents of possible Jesuit origin found in the Biblioteca Nazionale in Naples.

In the year 1215, while folks over in England were setting up a pilot for future governments, travelers from another planet arrived on Earth. They came not in flying machines but teleported their molecular makeup though time and space and settled in Basilicata. Basilicata was chosen because these beings studied the planet, their new home, and decided it would be out of the way but close to some civilization. The weather was usually good, but sometimes cold. They didn’t object to that. This was to be a seamless transition, for their planet, known as CO, was placing their population all over the galaxies as a supernova would soon destroy their sun.

What’s the ROI on Rosé?

I’m feeling pretty good about it being May and already we are seeing the new crop of rosé wines rolling into the market. But with that joy there is always a little trepidation. You see, rosé is kind of like an in-law. You love to see them when they first arrive, but after awhile you are trying to figure out ways to skooch them out the door.

An Eternity of Mondays

“Your job isn’t who you are,” the little monkey voice inside the head kept chattering. Yeah, yeah, heard it all so many times before in a been-there-done-that kind of way. Wave after wave of images roll onto the shores of my short term recall, trying to evoke a response or any sign of life. Only to return back to the abyss of the deep sea of memory. It’s going to be a long night, but when it’s all said and done it’ll be another Monday.

Want an Award Winning Wine list and don’t want to pay $250 to the Wine Spectator? Lean in…

The past week has been busy as hell. I have found myself in countless restaurants in South Texas, West Texas and North Texas. That would be like saying you were in Champagne, Languedoc and Bordeaux. Or Piemonte, Tuscany and Sicily. And in fact, we have been tasting wine from those regions of Italy. And then some.

I was talking to a restaurateur today and he was grilling me about pasta. He really seemed to value my thoughts about the subject. I was humbled but honored. Likewise, I hope some of the wine directors I have run across this week are as curious about the wine regions I am so fond of. I have had tutoring this week from two of the best in the business, Bobby Stuckey and Damon Ornowski, both master sommeliers and both living in Colorado. They also travel extensively. They shed some light on the endless process of refinement.

Going the Whole Hog

Sometimes life is a cornucopia of events. And sometimes it’s a dry well in the desert. And this week, while it is tending more towards the first, we are going the whole hog.

Master sommelier Bobby Stuckey and chef Lachlan Mackinnon-Patterson have been sauntering across Texas with their Frasca/Scarpetta road show. Dallas on Tuesday, Austin on Wednesday, Houston on Thursday, that kind of deal. And while tomorrow will find me on a totally ‘nother wine trail, today we lingered in Italy; Friuli to be exact. And man, was it good.

From Tuscan to Texan in less than a week

I wasn’t sure how long it would take for Jacopo Bacci to fall into Texas, but as expected it took less than a week. Sure the weather has been great, and places like Dallas, San Antonio, Houston and Buffalo Gap were struttin’ their finest stuff in front of the young man. And so it goes, Jacopo has been snake-bitten by life out West; and that’s a very good thing for Tuscany and for Texas.

Buffalo Gap Wine & Food Summit 2012 - First Slideshow

Busy time out here in West Texas - just a few photos - more to come... Keep smiling - keep drinking wine - keep dancing - keep hoping.

Ipad or Iphone viewers can view the photos here: http://goo.gl/Yqhho

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

Tuscany Slow Dances with West Texas at the Buffalo Gap Wine & Food Summit

After Vinitaly and after Bordeaux en Primeur, then it is time for Texas. One of the events I so look forward to is the Buffalo Gap Wine & Food Summit out in West Texas. Held for the past seven years at Perini Ranch, this year the theme is Italy and the wines and grapes of Tuscany. So we have rustled up some of our favorite Tuscan producers and we are gonna be scurrying out past Abilene deep into John Wayne country

The weather has been predicted for a beautiful spring weekend, which means days in the mid 70’s and nights in the near to low 40’s. Lots of sunshine and dust, the red clay dust of West Texas, which gets all up in your eyes and skin and everything and it is a wonderful thing. Chefs from all over Texas along with winemakers from Texas and a few friends from California who have Texas roots will meet up with the Tuscan contingency. It’s gonna be a ball. Like it always is.

The Folly of Immortality

The personal Palio this week was unusually punishing, as if to remind us that one doesn’t just get older. There are forces out there that even though they seem to be random, aim to hurt and to mangle. Those in my world have been shaken, but not taken out. Not this time. But then, it’s only a matter of time.

I was talking to a young winemaker in Italy last month when the conversation headed philosophical. “We Italians are trying to do something with our wines that nobody else has tried. We are reimagining our history; recasting our future.” He was so young, and so serious. And so ardent. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that when he went to bed that night and woke up the next morning it would be 30 years later. He wouldn’t have understood, or even cared. The purpose of being young is to be in a constant state of youth. After all, what does a young person have their whole life except their youth? Let them enjoy it; time will chip away at it sooner than they think.

Back in Siena, as I walked around the Piazza del Campo and made the circuit a time or two, clicking off the minutes before I had to meet some friends, I thought of the blood, sweat and tears that infused this place in July and August . Some folly, but what a great drama nonetheless. Due palio così.

My Italian Children

It is said crappy soil makes the best wine. Likewise, the people that spring from that earth as well are something special. Siblings Valeria and Riccardo Losi I have known since they were babies, Riccardo playing soccer with my son in the craggy lot and Valeria being held by her mom as she had recently arrived on earth. And while they have their very own dad, who is a friend and very cool, I kind of think of these two as my kids too.

In Close Proximity...

      All hat, no cattle? Think again

Pastoral 19th century scene @ Latour

When traveling back to America there is a customs form asking all manner of questions. I am usually perplexed when they ask if I have been on a farm. Does a vineyard qualify? When they ask if I have been "in close proximity" of livestock (with the query as to whether or not I have touched livestock) again I have to pause.

What really matters?

Cinquecento @ Lafite

After being on the road for over two weeks, I am finally home in my own bed. It feels really good. Spain, Italy, France, two wine events, Vinitaly and Bordeaux En Primeur. Hundreds, dare I say thousand(s), of wines tasted. The last day alone we sat and tasted nearly 100 of the 2011 Bordeaux wines. Madness. Absolute madness. Driving up and down the roads of the Medoc, through all the communes, Pauillac, Margaux, all of them. Days spent on the Right Bank, Graves, Pessac-Leognan. Visits to every one of the First Growths and most of the Second Growths. Pomerol, including Petrus, Le Pin, La Fleur, Vieux Chateau Certan, Clinet. St Emilion superstars. And lots of Champagne tasted as well. And that’s just France.

And Italy, the reason this blog came about? Italy seems like so long ago now, but those four days at Vinitaly were packed with tastings, meetings, visits, dinners, hopes and dreams. And in between Vinitaly and En Primeurs I actually got to get on the wine trail in Italy. I even had a day or so to wander. It was in Tuscany, which at this time of the year was fresh and cool, although a bit dry.

Living in interesting times in Italy

Lingering under the Tuscan moon last week, my travel companion and I had just finished an unforgettable meal in Siena. The 10 minute walk back to the hotel enlivened us and so we sat outside and wrapped up the evening.

What came out of this recent trip, which was punctuated by our conversation, is that Italy is in a dangerous but very opportune moment. Not any more dangerous than in 1968 or 1975 by any means, but the world in general has accelerated the risks we all are exposed to by just living in these times.

The New Symbol of Excellence

The biggest news that came out of Vinitaly 2012 last week was the announcement of an agreement the Italian government reached with the EU in Brussels to accept the proposal for a level of wine similar to the DOCG within the European DOP protocol. Giuseppe Martellino, President of the Com.Media Nazionale Vini had this to say, “Italy produces wine at the highest levels and it is only right that we continue to reward and recognize those wines of greatness in the organization of our wine laws, not only in Italy but in the European community. Today Italy and her wine industry have seen that recognition by our neighbors and colleagues. This is a great day for Italian wines!”

Savoring a 60 year old virgin

Last day at Vinitaly and I was making one last run through the Sicilian pavilion, trying to soak up any last minute molecules from all the Sicilians who populated the space for the last three days. A winemaker friend, Stefano Salvini, sees me and says, “We just opened the 1952. Let’s stop by the booth and see if I can give you a sip.”

Vinitaly 2012 Notebook: Mother-in-law's tongue, cervi merda and other whimsical notions

Lingue di suocera

It’s been a long three days at Vinitaly 2012. A few pictures to highlight some of the things we have seen. One day to go and then it’s on to the vineyards for a few days in the field, or as Ron Washam likes to say, on and on and on and on and on and on and on the wine trail in Italy.

"Col Fondo, not Sur Lie"

That was the kind admonishment from the galleries as my young friend Paolo Bressan was showing the wine from his winemaker friend Christian Zanatta’s Cà dei Zago farm. The young winemaker was a few minutes in coming, but when he arrived, with the sun on his face (“We just finished pruning”).

A short entry as day two of Vinitaly is crashing upon my pillow. All this to say many great wines tasted and too many to mention here. But looking back over the first day, an emotional one for many reasons, the simple mission of the young winemaker sticks in my mind. Let him tell the story.

D.O.C. is D.O.A.

From what I can gather the D.O.C. and D.O.C.G. is no more. A document was signed by the Director General ad interim, Stefano Vaccari back in November but I imagine it will take time to become "official" and more time to become "recognized." Sure the Italians have just printed up pretty new neck bands for the bottles with the letters D.O.C. and D.O.C.G, but they were also still printing Lire notes between 1999 and 2002. D.O.C., D.O.C.G. and I.G.T. are being replaced with D.O.P. and I.G.P., but will remain for a while. The Italians will surely continue to observe them as a “national subunit” of the European system that has replaced it. Young sommeliers get ready to memorize more lists.

Not much to say except to ruminate on the number 73, which appears to be the end of the road for the run up the Italians did to get their D.O.C.G.’s lined up. Little good it seems to have done as they appear to have been folded into the D.O.P. listing. Sure they will have the pretty neck bands. And somewhere I have a 5 lire coin in my drawer worth nothing but a memory.

The party had to end sooner or later. So let’s not waste too much time crying. Just peruse the lists, remember them, pass your test, and move along.

I am heading to Vinitaly tomorrow and there is a rumor buzzing that there will be an important announcement about all of this, with a surprise. As soon as I get wind of it, I assure you I will “report” back here on this site. It will probably be sometime after the fair and when I am on my way to another wine event in Bordeaux En Primeur 2012. Life is one giant slog from wine glass to wine glass. Forgive me for they know not what they do.

In the meantime I will also post, as Wi-Fi (and time) permits on any pertinent information from Vinitaly 2012

Pondering things Italian in West Texas

“They invited us to Buffalo Gap in April when the Italians will be here, but we didn’t know which wines to bring,” said Jim Evans, winemaker for Lone Oak Winery in Burleson, Texas. “Well, I don’t think that will be a problem, Jim, seeing as you make Viognier, Syrah and Merlot. And our Tuscan wineries that will be here make wines from all those grapes,” I volleyed.

We had made the hour or so trek from Dallas to Burleson as my better half was interviewing the winemaker and owner for a luxury magazine. I was going along for the ride and was interested in tasting their wine. Lone Oak winery was getting a lot of attention from as far away as San Francisco. 

The Death of Donnici

Who knew? It was just a little impoverished corner of Southern Italy. It wasn't Tuscany or Piedmont. Suckling or Cernilli wouldn’t have noticed. Rivella never cared in the first place. But when I looked at the documents last night it was a pivotal moment in Italian wine history. Italy and the patrimony of her grapes were being assimilated with international varieties. It was as if the current US Congress had arranged it, cloak and dagger, under the cover of a moonless might. It was an insidious but overt maneuver. And nobody even noticed. A brilliant score for the soulless bureaucrats in Rome and Brussels. And it was the death of Donnici.

Who cares? It was an insignificant DOC, established in 1975, in the heady days when all sorts of wines were being awarded the DOC status. The party lasted until the end of November 2011, 36 years of excesses, and falling off the wagon. What a ride it was. But ultimately someone in Rome decided to throw Donnici from the train.

Donnici, always the lesser sibling to Cirò, which is also under attack by the Rivellistas and the Cernillistis, bent on taking Italy into a world in which they will assimilate and disappear. It’s bat-shit crazy, watching men my age tinker with 2000+ years of Italian wine history as if it they were choosing music for their iPod’s. Someone will pay, somewhere down the road. After Rivella and Cernilli and I am dead, most likely.

The emotional roller-coaster life of a wine

I’ve been sitting in his wine closet for close to 20 years now. In the dark. Freezing. Once in a while he comes in, turns the light on and picks another one. The other, always the other. What must I do to get out of here?

I have spent the best years of my life in this small, dark room, with the others. Sometimes for weeks, he doesn’t come in; we don’t know if he has abandoned us totally. And then all of a sudden, he opens the door, turns on the light and squeezes in a few more of the others. This is sheer torment. When will I get out of here?

Modern day Cirò: Sleeping with the enemy?

Mama don't let your (Gaglioppo) babies grow up to be Cabernets

Photo by Vincenzo Forciniti

In my early morning ramblings along the lonely corridors of the internets, I have been buzzing around the debate about what a wine should be when it comes from a certain place. Along with that the notion that a wine from a certain area, like the Old World, should emulate wines in the New World. And the equally seductive position that wines in the New World aspire to being more like wines in the Old World. All of this can get very confusing, even after years of reading, sipping and thinking. Carving it down to the essence has become my preference, mainly because it simplifies things and makes time for other activities, like enjoying wine.

I sense there is a battle going on in Calabria over the nature of wine. Some of the young producers have traveled a little, maybe just to Tuscany. But my sense is they want something more for their region, their wines. The thrill of America still beckons in the background. This may be something as simple as blending 5% Cabernet into their Gaglioppo, but that little 5% can cause many late night arguments.

Presentimento

I recently had an epiphany. It started at the San Francisco airport, in the new #2 terminal. We were heading back to Dallas after a memorable week of writing, work and inspiration in Napa Valley. We had arrived a little early and hadn’t had time to do anything on our drive from Napa to SFO but stop at Acme Bread in Berkeley so we could bring home some sourdough loaves to our loved ones.

Little did we know when we got to SFO that the new terminal had an Acme Bread counter. We hadn’t needed to stop in Berkeley at all. It was one more indication that the airport folks had read my mind. In fact there were all kinds of signs. A burger place that used meat from cows raised and slaughtered humanly. An organic place. A wine bar with real wines, not some b.s.wine bar “concept” with crappy industrial and trophy wines. A sushi place with honest sake.

Landing back in DFW, there would be none of that. Just a bunch of tired, worn-out chain restaurant concepts. Low on the totem pole of food and wine consciousness. Yuck.

Wine cannot cure all ills

“So they took their departure, leaving me still staring, and we resigned ourselves to wait for their return.” -Robert Louis Stevenson (The Silverado Squatters)

It has been a week since we were coddled back in the arms of our home state. A week back in Texas and the realities that awaited us when we returned. Some weeks are good ones, some weeks are better forgotten.

Taking Leap Day into a Whole New Dimension

From the "A lady runs into Jimmy's for an espresso" dept.

Photo - Jeff White

Joey the Weasel, aka Joe Strange Eye, called me. “Have you heard about Jimmy’s? Someone ran into it!” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. The neighborhood has been a little jumpy lately and as we approached helicopters were circling and an NBC mobile news van had their antenna launched about 5 stories high. Slow news day?

Embracing the Muse in Napa Valley

One of the marks of a successful and fruitful trip is the reluctance to get on the plane and head back home. There is still work to do. And because of the work this past week, in Napa Valley, under the most amazing weather, we really didn’t want to come home. But the work goes with us, whether we do it in the present or we dream of the memories awaiting us in the future.

To be around writers and editors who are heads and shoulders above you is a great thing. Michael Jordan once said something about playing ball with better players to bring one’s game up. And while it can be a humbling experience, it is filled with unlimited opportunities for growth on a personal and a professional level.

A Magical Night in Napa Valley

Master Sommelier Gilles de Chambure  and Peter Mondavi Sr.

A chance meeting at lunch with Kelli White, who will be featured prominently in the future of the wine business, prompted an invitation to dinner last night at Press in St. Helena. While here, for the Symposium for Wine Writers at Meadowood, we had a free night and had wanted to go to the restaurant anyway. Kelli told us they were showcasing the new wine cellar, which exclusively features Napa wines, and opening up a few bottles of old wine. The wine gods were calling.

Look, over the years I get invited to all kinds of wine events. Bordeaux, New York, Chicago, California, Italy, many times over. What happened last night was simply unreal. It doesn’t happen. But it did. And this remedial expat and slave to the wine gods was rewarded for many years of effort. That would be if I were the center of the universe. But I’m not. We just happened to get real lucky.

The Master of Grignolino

“You need to go visit one of my student’s dad the next time you go to Napa. He makes a hell of a red wine. Heitz is his name. Joe Heitz.” So my college art teacher, Phil Welch recommended. It would take me 6 years before I took him up on it. I don’t know why I waited so long. Life, again, got in the way of a good time. But I made it up Hwy 29 eventually, the first of many treks up and down that not so lonesome old highway.

It was the summer of 1976 and we had taken the Falcon wagon and the kid(s) up to Northern California to escape the heat of Los Angeles. We were broke, slept in the back of the wagon in parking lots and trailer courts. California in those days was a simpler, safer place. Or so we believed in the mist of our infallible youth.

Quattromila Diciotto ~ Giorni e Notti

Non dimenticherò mai

Photo by Domantis

Great Meal Moment: "Feed me! Feed me!"

Folks who know me know I’m not a BIG MEAT kind of guy. I’ve been steadily progressing back to my hippie days in the ‘70’s, when the life was simpler, more natural and meatless. But in Italy, that’s a different story.

After a harrowing couple of days in the Langhe, what with the snow and ice and the hassle of getting down the hill we made it to Franciacorta-land. Wonderful respite from the cold. I missed a couple of meals too. So when our host, Alberto, recommended we go to their Tuscan styled restaurant near the hotel, my colleague and I were game. And what better way to unwind from a whirlwind trip through the frozen tundra of the Langhe than to share the classic steak of Tuscany?

Great Meal Moment: "I'll have what she's having."

One of the best things I have ever had was this simple dish of pasta, filled with a light cheese, and topped with a little butter and dusted ever so delicately with cheese. I think it was the “Il Plin” con la ricotta di pecora da Murazzano e burro d’alpeggio. I wasn’t paying too much attention when they brought the dish, which was served to me on my recent trip to the Langhe at Locanda nel Borgo Antico in Barolo. Only to say I had a “When Harry met Sally” moment when I first tasted the ravioli. Absolutely perfect in every simple way a pasta should be.

Recognition

There are many people who have dreams and once in a while their dreams converge with yours. It isn’t really anything more than water in the river, but isn’t it a good thing when one is recognized for their efforts? Brian Larky is one of those with a dream. And when I met him in the very early 1990’s, I honestly thought what he was talking about was just another scheme. Call me cynical, or distracted, or arrogant, but I never thought he would have the stick-to-it-iveness to do what he did.

What he did was to bring together a stable of iconic wineries in Italy, aligned them with his dream, and proceeded to assemble a company dedicated to growing the Italian fine wine business in America. Old friends, Selvapiana, Badia a Coltibuono, Marchesi de Gresy and Vietti among them. Wineries I sold in the 1980’s and thought I’d never get to be part of their world. But Brian had a dream, a crazy, California kid dream. And maybe Italy lured him into her web too? Whatever the mechanism, now Brian can look at all of those who thought he was a crazy kid with a wacky dream (me amongst them) and he can have the last laugh.

Langhe Report: The Back Story

I love my bed. And my pillows. I was born in July; I essentially revel in being home. But the life I chose has taken me on the road for quite some time now. I must admit after the events of September 11, 2001, it has been more difficult. But hey, after what my grandparents endured crossing the Atlantic, crammed into a ship with hundreds of other hopeful “Americans to be,” it really is small change.

Since being back I have been in the streets, selling and doing wine dinners. Folks who have read recent posts come up to me asking what this “dream job” must be like. Romantic, exciting, involved. Yes, it is that. And more. If I may, for the sake of balance, elaborate? Maybe a timeline would be most illustrative.

Assembling a Rainbow, Brick by Brick

Imagine driving out of a pounding snow storm, ice everywhere, drifts of snow, soaked shoes and gloves, miserably cold. And then to arrive at a place where the sun is shining, the snow still cavorting in the upper ranges. A moment of respite, not from Nebbiolo but from Winter. Sure enough we’d be back in the thick of it the next day, but for now we are looking over the amphitheater-like plain leading down to Lake Iseo. It truly is a beautiful view on many levels. For the moment I am focused on the warmth the sun is spreading about us.

We are in the land of Franciacorta for a short time; playing hooky from Piemonte, just to clear the palate, warm up a little and learn more about some of the greatest sparkling wines of Italy and the world.

How easy it is. If one were in Burgundy and needing a Champagne fix, it would be about the same distance, somewhere around 150 miles. Another parallel I had never thought about.

Italian wine in an age of self-consciousness

Traveling through Piemonte and Lombardia this past week, soul-searching is on the rise. While there is always a certain amount of healthy ego involved in the making of a product like fine wine, what I sensed on this latest trip is that the Italians are vigorously peering inside as to the nature of Italian wine. Winemakers and marketers alike seem to be probing for the next step in the evolution of Italian wine in the 21st century.

William Gibson remarked that in these times Future Shock in no longer an oddity. It is a common state of being among people who travel, read and reach out to the world beyond their village. So in this age of change we have either adjusted to it or we have numbed and climbed into a virtual isolation tank, letting in only that which doesn’t confound.

The Italians enviously and deliciously do outreach so well. Maybe it has to do with the propensity for many Italians to channel their extroversion into something dramatic and interesting to the rest of the planet. I saw it in my dad’s mom, who just loved being the storyteller. Common activities take on uber-heraldic meaning. Is it hype? Or artistic interpretation?

Boca ~ From Noah to Moses

There are those places on the wine trail in Italy that really pay homage to a glorious past. But sometimes they don’t have to shout. All it takes is a whisper, a caress, a memory. So it was we made our way back into the snow and ice to the hilltop town of Boca in Piemonte. Not in the Langhe anymore, but a place that more people have forgotten about than remember.

Christoph Künzli is a modern day Moses for this area. Technically a foreigner, from nearby Switzerland, over 20 years ago he came here and fell under the spell of Antonio Cerri.

Langhe Report: Barbaresco at a Crossroads

The young in this world don’t remember the past; the old can’t imagine the future. As it goes throughout the world and history, this pattern keeps repeating. And in a place like Barbaresco, once again we are at a crossroads. Can the advances of the past be passed along to the new generation? Are they ready? Are there enough to pass it to that are receptive? Wine communities all over the world struggle with this passing of the baton to the new crop. I find myself in the Langhe again, in the Barbaresco of past and future.

Old people look around and shake their heads, wondering who will work as hard as they feel they had to. And equally, the very young look at the old ways and dismiss the folly of the older but not always wiser ones who still assert their control over the future.

Somewhere along the way, both sides have to either take that leap of faith or just throw up their hands and move on.

Oddly, what I sense in a place like Barbaresco is a change in direction, a tug-of-war between lifestyle and wine.

Langhe Report: First Snow of 2012 (and It's a Big One)

From the "Cuckoo for Cocconato Files

Just the beginning...

Have you ever gotten into a car and headed to a place, feeling there was something waiting for you that you might not be waiting for yourself? Yesterday (Day 3) in Alba after I finished my appointment with the Pio Cesare folks, I looked towards Asti and wondered if I should be driving up there. I sent a text to my colleague, Robert Bava, but didn’t hear back. I took that for an “all clear.”

As I neared Cocconato I started to see a light dusting of snow, and as I climbed the snow started to fall a little harder. If I had not been born a fool, I would have turned around right then and there. But I didn’t.

Langhe Report: From Ovello to Novello to Bolly in only 14 hours

Day 2 started out early in Barbaresco to visit with Aldo Vacco at Produttori. Aldo was running late, but Luca met us with hot espresso. Luca’s grandfather was one of the very first to help set up the cooperative and at only 26 his life’s course it set. Like a monk, Luca diligently explained to us all the new improvements and the comings and goings (one grower recently passed and the property was sold to another grower, etc.) along with the new construction at both of the facilities. The places are beautiful and I will have to post on that progress in another post.

Aldo showed up and led John Roenigk and I through a tasting of the 2007 crus. I noticed Aldo seemed pretty excited. As we worked our way through the wines from Muncagotta to Montestefano to Asili, across the hilly vineyards of Barbaresco, Aldo got more and more animated. Now Aldo is a pretty sedate fellow. But with wines like this and with Produttori essentially being a hue control experiment for the quality of Barbaresco, I could sense Aldo, after all these years, is more than a director of a winery. To me he represents one who is actually charting the course for a village of winemakers. And not just any village, but a spot on earth where one of the great wines is made. And yes, there are people in the village who also chart their own destiny, folks like Gaja and de Gresy.

Langhe Report: Nebbiolo "Full Immersion" Day 1

I had no longer said goodbye to my Austin amigo, Devon, sending him on his way to the Real Madrid –Barcelona game in Barcelona, than I set upon to make my way to Marseille, so I could catch a very early plane to Milan to gather up another Austinite friend, John Roenigk. Before that though I had to endure a night in a smoky room and some Colombard-Chardonnay to go with my (most-likely) Atlantic farm raised Salmon. But after 36 hours of being the walking dead, and working through it, it was not too bad. Other than I had to leave behind the pure and wonderful wines and friends I made in Montpellier. But that is the life and… Italy calls.

So a 4:30 AM alarm to catch a shuttle and a plane to get to a noon appointment in Serralunga. No more Grenache or Carignan. No more Viognier or Grenache Blanc. On to Nebbiolo and company.

All went well as I found my traveling companion earlier than expected. A sturdy little Lancia and before long we were in the Langhe.

Millésime Bio: Three days, too many wines and only one master sommelier

From "the times they are a changing" département

Somewhere in the last few days, here at Millésime Bio 2012, the subject of Gravner came up. Millésime Bio is a three day expo of organic and bio-dynamic wineries from France, Italy, Spain and all the rest who showed up. Pretty impressive showing for the natural yeast, sans sufre, bio-groupies. Nirvana for the hairy armpit lovers.

Oddly enough, friend Alice was nowhere to be seen. I reckon she was off in more fertile pastures, ensconced in egesta, harvesting the fruits of her desire. Still, there was plenty of folk at the show to make three days in Montpellier a time well spent. Outside it was La Californie.

Zero to 80 in two hours

I’ve been under the weather. And I’ve been over it too. The past few days I have been in many airplanes. Houston, Chicago, Dallas, Paris, Montpellier. The O-N-D season seems light in comparison. But this is the life. Well, not exactly “the life” but a life. Freely chosen.

I knew I wasn’t feeling good when I went to Chicago. An early work week in Houston, and a layover at my house. When we got to Chicago is was bitterly cold. What does one expect in January? We shuttled between hotels, meetings and restaurants. On the return back to Dallas (for another brief layover) the temperature was zero and the storm was approaching rapidly from the west.

Barely made it off the runway. Landing in Dallas was another world. 80 degrees, cloudless, smoggy like LA, but no storm, no chill. But my head was throbbing, my throat was raw.

Baby, baby, don'cha go away mad

We’ve all had it happen to us. You walk into an Italian restaurant, somewhere in America, and the place is bustling. Waiters are carrying trays of steaks, pasta, chops. Bartenders are mixing up classic drinks. Women have their bright red lipstick on. And resounding from the ceiling, good old blue eyes is crooning. You think, “now we're in for a good time, Sinatra is in the house.”

Music doesn't seem that crucial to the success of restaurants in Italy. It’s a place to eat, to talk to friends, hear one another, even. But it’s not a scene you see that often in Italy, using music to recast nostalgia as cutting edge.

Booking passage on the 2012

Babies are born. Winemakers die. Ships take people to different places. Clothes sit in a dryer until they get folded. All part of life’s laundry list.

This is the time of the year when winemakers in the Veneto start thinking about their second wine. The grapes dry, to press for Amarone, are just about ready. The Valpolicella has been sitting in the tanks for a few months now. Some of that wine will be transformed when the pressed grapes for the Amarone lend what little life is left to re-infuse the Valpolicella with its energy. We call it Ripasso.

Vin Santo: Full Moon in the Microcosm of Tuscany

I recently drove from Dallas to San Antonio for a meeting. It was decided at the last minute; the plane ride would have cost more than one to California. So my frugal being got up early one morning, before sunrise and with sheets of rain falling from the dark heaven. It’s what we do in the wine biz. Go see potential customers, taste wine with them, and try and get them to like the stories we tell, enough so that they will buy the wines or better, let us improve their wine lists.

The meeting went well enough, but we didn’t make a sale. We weren’t there to take an order, but to plant seeds. Ok, we did that well enough. My colleague told me, “He never spent that much time with me, " referencing the wine buyer I had driven 300 miles to see.

What John Fahey Taught Me About Wine, Women and Song

A reminiscence

College life was one of my most cherished periods. I was away from home and the parents for the first time. My college was in the San Francisco area and the era was the late 1960’s - early 1970’s. Radio stations in the Bay area were progressive and the music scene was unlike anything I had ever experienced. Sure, during high school I had gone to concerts and love-ins; seen Jimi Hendrix and Iron Butterfly, Country Joe and The Electric Prunes. I’d had the rock ‘n roll indoctrination just like all youth in that generation. But when I got to Northern California, the music scene took me in a direction I had never expected. Folk music was still popular, tied in with the anti-war movement, and the general changing of the guards associated with the times. One night I’d even sat around with a group of folks and we all had dinner with Joan Baez. My little town upbringing, somewhat isolated in the desert of Southern California, didn’t prepare me for the larger world I was stepping into. But that was alright with me; I was all ears and eyes and heart as I stepped into an uncertain adulthood.

John Fahey was an acoustic guitarist who made simply some of the most melodic and beautiful music I had ever heard. Listening to his music was like falling in love over and over again. And it seemed some of the young, long haired ladies in my generation also fell for his music.

Out with the Old, in with Newton's Italian Wine DOCG +

from the "Pour Me a Little More Wine" desk

Giuseppe Martelli = DOCG                   Wayne Newton = DOCG +

It no longer appears to be a secret that there are 73 Italian wine DOCG’s. Everyone's discovered it. Walter Speller is writing about it for Jancis Robinson’s Purple pages. Giuseppe Martelli is proclaiming it within the pages of Gambero Rosso. Even bristly architechts in Southern Italy are laying claim to advancing the information. We’ve come a long way baby, from Wiki pages describing a scant 23 DOCG’s to various Italian government agencies reporting different numbers. Now the whole world knows. But what Walter Speller or Giuseppe Martelli or the occasional draftsman down South doesn’t know is that a whole new category of Italian wine DOCG has been born. Not in Italy but in the good old U.S. of A. That’s right, what Italy cannot do, America will. And who better to do it than Americans of distant Italian ancestry. So here it goes. You heard it here, first.

The statement:

In order to keep up with the demands of the marketplace and to insure the continued appreciation of Italian wine, we the people of distant Italian ancestry, have so proclaimed the creation of Italian Wine DOCG +. The criteria for the first group of Italian wines selected, the initial 10, are that they be:

1) From a traditional producing region.

2) That they utilize indigenous grape varieties that have been historically established in Italy.

3) That the use of popular blending grapes, such as Merlot, Cabernet or Syrah not be exploited to enhance the wine flavor and garner high scoring points from the dominant and influential international wine press.

4) That the use of oak be only for subtle purpose and not as a flavor substitute.

5) That the wines respect tradition but do not shun technology.

6) That the wines exhibit Italian character and delicious qualities.

Simply these wines offer a solid bulwark for the patrimony of Italian agriculture and viticulture to the world at large and represent all that is pure and good and fine about Italian wine.

This is not to limit these claims to these 10 wines solely. But initially that these wines are national treasures and should be so designated.

Can Italy be Roused in 2012?

Posted from a sunny perch in America ~ Somewhere between a "cloud of unknowing" and "unknown knowns"

2011, that was the year that was. The numbers aren’t all in yet, but for the world I chart, which is the mid-section of America, Italian imports are up 8% for the year. Maybe we should have started an Italian wine import index fund; it surely would have performed better than most investments in 2011. But that is looking backwards, and today is a day to look the future straight in the eyes and move forward.

That said, I will channel my inner Don Draper and attempt to offer any Italian who would care to know, how to succeed in business in America in 2012.