It's a Wonderful Life - with Buttercup, Coconut & Luigi

Baby Luigi

When I "retired" in April, I didn’t really quit working. But in the last month or so I’ve retroceded a bit more than when I first got into this stage of my life.

At first, I thought my friends and colleagues in the business would stay a part of my life. But folks in the fast lane don’t have time for those of us in the eddy. Out of sight = out of mind.

La fille Américaine in France, making wine (naturally) in Italy - Pt II

Uncle Emilio’s wife, Serafina, sent Anne Marie a note. “Uncle Emilio isn’t doing so well. After his last fall in the vineyard, he just hasn’t been the same. I guess, after 63 harvests, he’s been very fortunate. But the grapes won’t wait for him to feel better. Is there any chance we could have you here for harvest?”

As it turned out, this was good timing for Anne Marie. The winery she worked in as a cellar rat in was changing. The owner was leaving the winery to his kids. They lived in the larger cities and were more interested in the value of the land. She felt the call of Italy.

Les vins naturels – 2 new releases – one from France and one from Italy

Two new wines that have recently graced the dinner table. Both made with biodynamic practices and are Vin Demeter.

La fille Américaine in France, making wine (naturally) in Italy - Pt I

Anne Marie was from a new generation of global citizens. Born in America in the late 1980’s, from parents who immigrated from Europe, her mother was from France, father from Italy, and they met among the vast plains of West Texas. Both looking for space, for freedom from convention, for a patch of blue sky they could claim. Along the way they found each other, fell in love, settled down and gave birth to Anne Marie and her twin brothers.

Neither were farmers, the father was an engineer, the mother was a doctor. Both their families had roots in the farm and in grape growing. But that was a long time ago in an entirely different world. This was America and The Dream was still alive.

The State of Natural Wine in Flyover Country

New series: "Au Naturel "       

While researching an upcoming article for the Dallas Morning News, I’ve had the opportunity to experience, first-hand, the state of natural wine here in flyover country. In a surprising turnabout from the often-contentious atmosphere found over the internet, what I’ve experienced has been a refreshingly open-minded and clear-eyed take on wine made in the various manners of what we have come to regard as natural. Without going into some of the information I will cover in the article (and really not the intention of this post), I want to explore how we got here, those of us in the middle of the country, who are often cast aside from the more seemingly progressive and undeniably trendy west and east coasts. And just for good measure, this is not an us vs. them piece. It is simply a snapshot of what I see and have observed over the past few months while working on the newspaper piece.

Who do we think we are?

After almost thirteen years writing this blog, observing the wine trade, from within and without, and folding those impressions into the culture-at-large, I have to say I have begun to wonder, who are we? What follows are composite, fictionalized characters, who have components of people I’ve encountered of late, as I explore mastery and the paths to it.

Are the French more interested in Italian wine than Italians?

My French cousins seem to be on a roll. They stand up to political bullies, they smoke when and where they want and they appear to be more curious about Italian wine than their Italian cousins. At least, that’s how it appears over here on the wine trail in Italy.

For years I have tracked who comes here and from where. And though this is an English language blog, and while most of the readers live in America, it comes as a bit of a happy surprise that my second largest readership comes from France. In fact, over the life of this blog, going on thirteen years now, French readers exceed Italians by double. Maybe the French just have more time to mull things over, even if it is in this crazy English language. Or maybe some of my English friends, living in France are also driving this? For whatever reason, this is intriguing. Who loves wine more – the French or the Italians?

Restoring the "Master Class" for the Wine Trade

It is very fashionable these days to call something a master class. Do a search and you will find any number of master classes, with famous folks like Martin Scorsese, Dan Brown and Oprah Winfrey presenting a path to mastery. But what really is entailed in a master class about wine? Who is qualified to lead such a class, and how should those classes be structured? These are some of the questions I have been pondering of late, in my search for the paths to mastery.

Aging vs. Evolution (In Old Wine and Young Humans)

In a recent article for Antonio Galloni’s Vinous, Ian D’Agata made a case for age worthiness in regards to a white Italian wine, Verdicchio. Being a lover of Verdicchio I devoured the article (link here, subscription required). While digesting the piece over the last week, I’ve put my mind to the concept of wine as it ages. Along with that, there is, in my mind at least, an inevitable comparison of those factors of ageing in wine with those human beings face as well. The grape and the hominid have closely trod the same path for eons. And while that journey is far from over, for both of us, hopefully, we do share some of the same challenges and opportunities in our stages of life.

Zombies and VR, supermarket bargains and wine shop $100 gems – what I’m writing, off the wine trail in Italy

While this site is primarily my web log of thoughts, emotions and observations from the wine trail (mainly in Italy), since I have “retired” I’ve written a few pieces for the Dallas Morning News. If you missed them, here they are. I’m doing more of these and enjoy the creative process. Currently working on a piece about natural wine. And no, it isn’t controversial. But it will be informative and will offer helpful guides along the way. Look for it, in the future, in the Dallas Morning News. Thanks for reading.



Wine treasure hunt: How we found some of the best $100 deals in Dallas
https://www.dallasnews.com/life/wine-spirits/2018/10/25/wine-treasure-hunt-found-best-100-deals-dallas

The Fate of Italian Wine in a Strange, New America

All across Italy there is an army of souls standing over fermenting tanks, hoses running everywhere, with the ubiquitous sweet-sour scent of fermentation, laboring long hours in the annual miracle of grapes into wine. And thousands of miles away, their largest market, America, is shattering day by day, self-destructing in a miasma of fear and rancor. To the farmer and the winemaker, it is like being a chef on a luxury liner that is heading towards an iceberg, preparing dinner for a room full of people who might never see dessert. And still they hover over the barrels in ancient chambers, in the dark, hoping to husband this fermenting mess of must into something miraculous and wonderful. And for whom? For these new American barbarians? While this is nothing new to the Italian culture which has often been between Scylla and Charybdis, this does nevertheless present a present-day dilemma, which has concrete, material implications. But it also advances a metaphysical plight. How does one expect to nurture and grow their business among their largest audience when that audience is undergoing a societal seppuku?

Tocai Friulano - For every funeral there is a second line (and a silver lining)

From the Native & Indigenous Italian Grapes Series

It was April of 2007, in Verona. Colleague and dear friend, Andrea Fassone, called out. “Come outside, there is a procession at Vinitaly. They are giving a funeral for Tocai!”

Sure enough, there was a line of horns, bellowing out a dirge for a wine which was losing its name, a victim of EU regulations. Tocai from Friuli was no longer to be called Tocai, in deference to Hungarian Tokaji. From that day forward in Italy it would now be known as Friulano. Period. The end.

The Rise of The Italian Wine Specialist in America

An O-N-D Pep Talk

For the past four months I've felt like the mother of all road warriors, in service of Italian wine. I really thought I was finished. I really did. But the wine gods back home in Italy have their ideas. And I had my marching orders. So it was, one more time, around and around America, with sword and shield.

In the wine trade, October, November and December (O-N-D- for short) has been considered the busy time of the year. I've put in 37 O-N-D’s. I’m done with that, my O-N-D having been supplanted by a J-J-A-S (June, July, August and September) with a short October coda thrown in for good measure. Along the way, I experienced something that is very encouraging for the Italian wine trade – and that is the rise of the Italian wine specialist in America.

The Unbearable Lightness of Being… Fiano di Avellino

From the Native & Indigenous Italian Grapes Series

Vesuvius in Eruption by Joseph Mallord William Turner

In flyover country USA in the 1980’s, finding decent white wine from Italy was a gamble. As I’ve written countless times on this blog, the Italians were digging out from a devasting world war, and technology was creeping forward. There were more important things than making white wine palatable for Americans. I remember a Florentine trattoria owner once told me, “Americans, what do they know?” Along with that there was this affection for the older style of white wine – more robust, with all manner of flavors and sensations – from spritzy to roughly textured, from oxidized to “marsalato.” The older folks (typically, men) loved them and saw no reason to change to cleaner and leaner. Those wines would fit in well today in wine bars below 14th Street and in places like Williamsburg.

But a trip to Fort Worth, Texas changed all that for me.

Wail Watching in the City of the Angels

Another week, this time in my native place. As a native Angeleno (and Californiano), the circumstance of my birth was preceded by the dreams and desires of my grandparents. It was the American Dream they were seeking, their El Dorado. I just happened to come along when I did.

Because of those fortuitous strokes I witnessed the procession of Italian-American life on a stage where there were limitless horizons, no boundaries, no walls. America was a place where anyone could dream big.