On the Wine Trail in Italy
February 5, 2012
22:10
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 plane 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.
Ok, so yes, I love méthode traditionnelle. And not just for special occasions, but with food, during the week, as a cocktail, anytime. Even with fried chicken. Here in Franciacorta-land I reckon I will find myself enjoying méthode traditionnelle (metodo classico it is called in Italy) with pasta, salads, any number of wonderful foods prepared in the kitchen of Gualtiero Marchesi, whose eponymous restaurant is situated below the rooms we are staying in at L’Albereta.
I’m not a wine snob, but I do enjoy the occasional pampering from a hotel that ranks up there as one of the finest I have ever stayed at in the world. A moment to feel like the 1%ers before we head in our little Lancia back to the hills. But not until we have our moment with some of Franciacorta’s finest.
I didn’t know Bellavista grew all their grapes. Would that make them a grower’s Franciacorta? They are large by Franciacorta scales, small by Champagne’s. I rarely get to sample their products, as they can be pricey. But I never turn them down when offered.
A glass of Bellavista Vittorio Moretti is handed to me as we stroll about the estate. Aged for 72 months before chilling and popping, what patience went into getting this wine to our lips? The more I think about this wine the more I realize how unlikely it is to have been made. It makes no economic sense. It is time and labor intensive. The land on which the vineyards sit could easily be sold to wealthy Milanese for a summer lake villa; the price of the land is staggeringly high. But someone has a dream, and at the end of that rainbow is a barrel of Franciacorta.
I am unabashedly smitten with the Bellavista wines. They are like a beautiful, refined, wealthy woman; perhaps a countess, or just a strong willed woman who made her way through the 20th century of changes to arrive a little older, but very into life, healthy, brimming. She doesn’t need tattoos or IPhones; she simply is a world unto her own. And I get to gaze upon her shimmering effervescence until the sun goes down.
Meanwhile, her younger sister holds court with the younger crowd over at Contadi Castaldi,
The next day, after an evening devoted to red wines of the Maremma and a Fiorentone the likes of which one will never see in Tuscany or Texas, we had an early morning visit to the little sister’s winery. A once-upon-a-time brick kiln, now repurposed into a chic and highly functional winery. Also for the sake of Franciacorta, but in this case from grapes grown by local farmers. So, not a grower’s Franciacorta, like the Bellavista. But also not priced in the upper stratospheres intended for the Ferrari and Maserati crowd.
There is something about the idea of Contadi Castaldi that excites me. Maybe because I see an alternative to Prosecco, a wine for those of us who are looking for a little more depth, a little more seriousness. Yes, there are serious producers in the Veneto. But there is something about metodo classico that beats to the same rhythm as my sensibilities.
And it seems, to many other folks as well. Franciacorta will never fall the way of Prosecco, or even Champagne, as the district governing the production of the wine is limited. There are approximately 30,000 hectares of vines for the production of Champagne. Franciacorta under vine is in the area of 2,500 hectares. No one that I know of can accurately determine how many hectares of vines exist for the production of Prosecco.
There are other sites that will extoll the pleasures and the virtues of Franciacorta. I encourage you to visit them. Franco Ziliani, Jeremy Parzen and Richard Marcis are especially emotive about these wines and their place in the wine world and they more eloquently elaborate those passions.
What I sense, the times I pass through Franciacorta-land, is an elegance, a “hidden Italy” that the tourist on their way from Milan to Venice seldom gets a chance to see. Perhaps this is the right thing, leaving Franciacorta to the Italians and those who have the time and the patience to delve into the pretty little amphitheater valleys lapping the sensual little jewel of a lake, Iseo.
I drink as much of these wines as I can fit into my regime. I do not find a reason to celebrate other than the obvious one: I woke up again this morning. That will suffice for now.
Franciacorta might just be a Quixotean pursuit of mine. It also seems to be the quest of men like Vittorio Moretti, who has chased after it for many years, and quite possibly found the world he was looking for.
written and photographed by Alfonso Cevola limited rights reserved On the Wine Trail in Italy
Categories: Wine Blogs in English
February 3, 2012
04:11
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?
When you strip it down to an uncluttered core, the reality that wine from anywhere is doing well is a surprise. If one would believe the bankers and the lawyers, their town criers wail that the world is teetering on the brink of economic collapse unparalleled in mankind’s history. It could very well be.Now where did I put the wine opener?
Somewhere among the shards of tragedy and schadenfreude there is fire and hope. Or maybe just blind ambition, looking for a way to get their crushed grapes to a market. Maybe it is as simple as that. Actually it is. Grow grapes, crush them, wait for them to become wine, age them, bottle them, move them to another market and sell them. And start all over again the next year.
It’s more complex than that, but how the Italians, or any country of people, craft their message to convey and connect is an unending source of fascination for this market watcher.
Is oak dead? Is organic the rising star? Are high alcohol wines, in our age of global temperature change, on the rise? Or are the styles creating demand for lower octane wines?
Is the 100 point wine no longer the object of desire? Who moves the market, from a critical review perspective? Is Galloni God? Is Suckling Satan? Does Gambero Rosso matter anymore? Is Luca Maroni the new Veronelli? Does anyone care? What does Cernilli, Ziliani and any number of wine bloggers, both in Italy and abroad, contribute to the upward evolution of Italian wine in the world?
I really don’t know. Who really moves the market? Is it the individual wine company? Importers? Writers? Sommeliers? Bloggers? Consumers?
It might all be chaos, some loosely woven string theory of Italian wine marketing that advances the cause. I do know this: Quality Italian wines are doing great, better than any time since the end of WWII. The markets are more varied, the individual producers are more world savvy; there is a diversity of styles and techniques. Gravner stands on the deck of the ship with Corvo, looking at the new dawn.
We are in a Golden Age for Italian wine the likes of which I have never seen. Mark my words, these are the good times. Let’s hope we can stay here for a while.
written and photographed by Alfonso Cevola limited rights reserved On the Wine Trail in Italy
Categories: Wine Blogs in English
February 1, 2012
00:26
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.
Antonio lived from 1915 until 1997. Imagine if you can a young man of 25, starting out his adult life. Maybe he had a lifelong love. I know darn well he had a passion. It was what was left of the vineyards of Boca, which in their heyday were all pervasive in the zone. And then the 2nd World War hit the world and the area and Antonio’s life got put on hold, as was the case with most folks in those times. The region was a partisan stronghold in opposition to Fascism, Hitler, and Mussolini. Still to go straight from dream to war in youth is a hard pill to swallow. And then to spend the next 25 years putting one's life, land and work back together, one vine at a time. I never knew Signore Cerri, but he, like I, was brought into this life in the service of the vine and wine. All those years he made wine on the hill, with nary a colleague in which to move the quality of the wine forward after it had fallen so far from the pinnacle it had reached. Cerri told Künzli, “When I die, Boca dies with me.” How sad is that? I don’t know about you, dear readers, but that just breaks my heart. A person spends a life trying to resuscitate a wine once recognized the world over for greatness, only to have to go it alone and then feel like when it’s over, it’s all over. It might actually be the perfect existential attitude regarding life on earth. Still, as I prepare to leave Italy and head back home to Texas, it saddens me a little.
The good news is that Christoph isn’t going to let Boca die. And if our jaunt in the ice and snow today was any indication, there are other folks in those hills, young folks too, who are not going to let Antonio Cerri’s life’s work disappear.
We tasted one of Cerri's last wines, the 1990 Boca. It was a balsam for the soul. Mellow, light color, delicate aromas but not a weak wine. It was fully mature, reminding me ever so slightly of older Monfortino’s I have had. When Cerri died, Christoph had barrels of his wines going back to the early 1980’s. He has bottled them up as a living library for the memory of a man who worked his whole life though many adverse times, as a respectful legacy for his efforts. Bravo, Christoph.
And today the vineyards are being renewed, next to hundred year old field-blend vineyards with their particular trellising system, called Maggiorina, where four vines emerge from a center point and wind, forming a cup. Designed by the architect Antonelli, who hailed from Maggiora in the Boca wine region. Not technically modern, but still many of the older vines live and thrive in this manner. They are very old, but surprisingly they look younger than their years.
We did have a little bad luck in the snow and the ice. Christoph, in his enthusiasm to show us the Le Piane vineyards, crushed his vintage Toyota 4 wheel drive along one of the walls of the property, sliding off the snow and the ice. Luckily he slid toward the wall and not off the ledge. It was a long, cold, slippery walk back to safety and rescue. I fell on my camera and broke something. But it can all be fixed, all is well.
We forged on ahead and barrel sampled all the way back to the 2007 vintages. And then we went to bottles and headed all the way back to Christophe’s 2004 Boca before we finished with Cerri’s 1990.
Not the Langhe, but part of the trip and this report. It has seemed shorter at some times and longer at others. I leave Italy this time with a sense of wonder at the next valley, the next curve, whether it be sunny or icy cold. I know this sound Pollyanna-like of me, but how can folks say Italian wines are complicated? The landscape and her people are complex but they are generous and forgiving and the food and the wines define a dynamic culture that refuses to stand still. That’s what I (and my friends) see and love on the wine trail in Italy.
written and photographed by Alfonso Cevola limited rights reserved On the Wine Trail in Italy
Categories: Wine Blogs in English
January 30, 2012
23:45
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 if they are even receptive? Wine communities all over the world struggle with this passing of the baton to the new crop.
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 environment.
Somewhere along the way, both sides have to either take that leap of faith, or just throw their hands up and move on.
Oddly, what I sense in a place like Barbaresco is a directional change.
In the 1980’s Barbaresco producers were starting to travel outside of their region. A few made it to Paris, London, New York. They tasted Bordeaux, Burgundy, Napa and saw the world market thirsting for finesse and power. And they came back home and started reinventing the wines of the Langhe. Wines started to clean up. Barrels slimmed down, from muumuu to mini skirt. No longer were Botti fashionable. Barrique became haute rigueur. Nebbiolo even was looked at with some suspicion, as if it didn’t merit the same gravitas as Cabernet or Merlot or even Sangiovese. And for a generation, Italian winemakers started re-mapping the face of Piemontese wine. I was there, saw it all, enjoyed some of it, but also was alarmed at an early age.
Twenty five years later something new becomes something established, as if it had been there all along. Meanwhile the world outside the Langhe was also going through their wine revolution. Internationalization was grabbing the palates of young wine drinkers, especially soon to be influential critics. Not quite a conspiracy as much as a perfect storm for the homogenization of Nebbiolo to an almost unrecognizable category, without history or tradition. Real Zen.
And then folks taste started changing. People tired of oak and extract and even though these wines coming up in this fashion got exceedingly high scores (to go with their high prices), some folks were scratching their heads. Someone would taste an older wine, like a ’67 or a ’79 and these wines spoke to those folks. I was there, they spoke to me. They still do. And the world stopped, just like it does in a snow storm. No one moves. No more noise. Just silence and white. And a time to reflect.
This could just be a pipe dream from one who spends a lot of time dreaming, but my hope is that enough young folk in places like Barbaresco tire of their fine linen and Ferrari life style and go looking for a simpler, quieter more meaningful life on the little patch of earth they call home. Barbaresco is a very special place; I have loved it from afar for years and years. And it feels a little like home; open spaces, a little warm (even under a blanket of snow) and a sense of time and purpose.
This week, as we crawled back up the hill to Barbaresco, snow chains, frozen hands and open heart, I confess I don’t want Barbaresco to merely reflect some mega-wealthy oligarchical fashion statement. I have seen folks who can never have enough, who are tied to their riches and their toys and their power and seek to change and move everything about them, a distorted view of a personal manifest destiny. Thankfully the society of Barbaresco is of a communal nature. There is no uber-style maker, even though the powerful wine-stream press likes to blow folks up on their covers as if to remake a place to sell their glossy rag-mags.
I have hope for the Langhe and for Barbaresco. The native wine is such a treasure to Italy and the world.
If I were young that would be my mission, to fight to return and keep Barbaresco out of the hands of the few and the wealthy, and available (and wonderful) to all who love wine and Nebbiolo in one of her best (and few) expressions.
written and photographed by Alfonso Cevola limited rights reserved On the Wine Trail in Italy
Categories: Wine Blogs in English
January 29, 2012
21:51
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.
As it happened I met up with Roberto and we went to the winery and tasted though some of his wines, talked about some new projects and spent a pleasant enough afternoon.
I had left my travel partner John back at the hotel in Serralunga, as he was nursing a stomach virus and was in no condition to travel, or to eat or drink. I was flying solo. But I was in Bava’s hands, how bad could it be?
Roberto's wife, Galatea, trying to cheer me upRoberto is the quintessential optimist. His whole family from his wife, to his brother, his son and his dad, they are all pretty strong folks. No fear; no reason to. Everything will turn out OK
Maybe it’s Roberto’s faith that keeps him ever the optimist. But when we came out of the winery the snow was coming down harder. And when we left the restaurant there was no one on the roads.
As I piled into my car to make the drive back, Roberto followed me to make sure I would get out of the small road. But it was not to be. I couldn’t make it up the hill in my little car, too slippery. “No problem, Alfonso, just stay with us and get up in the morning.” Problem was, my pal back at the hotel and the hotel was closing the next day for a month. Oh, and we had an appointment. So reluctantly I took him up on his offer and went to sleep.
I woke early (Day 4) and the place was covered under what seemed at least a foot of snow. I know one of these possible things was going to happen on this day:
1) I was going to learn how to put on snow chain in Italy.
2) I was going to crash down a snow covered mountain
3) I was going to die
Roberto’s whole family, his wife, son, even his 80 year old father, were out in the courtyard, clearing the snow, while I wrestled in four languages with directions to put the darn chains on. I finally got them on, somewhat, and the area was cleared for me to head out.
2 ½ hours later, on a trip that should take, at most, 1 hour, I arrived at the bottom of the Serralunga road. I still had to go up, get John, pack and move to the next place. Oh, and male an appointment that we were really late for now.
Trying to figure out Italian Snow ChainsI almost didn’t make it twice. I had taken off the snow chains, as I really hadn’t put them on correctly and they were making a funny sound and an even funnier smell. But I really could have used them. Somehow, I gathered all my goat sense and made it to the top. John was feeling better, and the hotel folks offered to put the chains on again, this time correctly.
As we headed to the guest house the hotel had offered to provide for us, our lead car was having trouble going down the road. I took that as a sign and begged off their hospitality. One of the best moves I made all day. Not because of anything except my total fear of getting stuck. I am writing this from a warm hotel room in Alba (with Wi-Fi) so perhaps it was a good decision. Hell yes it was.
We made it to our appointment, Marchese di Barolo with Anna Abbona. As always, Anna was a gracious host and she spent many hours with us going over the wines. John was feeling better, so we tasted through 5 Baroli and a handful of whites and Barbera wines along with a tasting of traditional Piemontese foods. Things were looking up.
As Roberto Bava said in a text so early this morning when I was in my first panic, “ah ha, it will be a good day, I am positive.” So says the happy guru of Cocconato. Words to remember and ways to learn from my Piemontese cousins.
Sometimes life hands you inevitability. How you react and what you do with it is all up to you, whether you are on (or way off) the wine trail in Italy.
written by Alfonso Cevola limited rights reserved On the Wine Trail in Italy
Categories: Wine Blogs in English
January 28, 2012
07:59
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.
We moved into the 2008’s and Aldo really couldn’t contain himself. “For me possible the vintage of the decade,” Aldo tried not to say it, fearing it would sound like hype. But anyone who has ever been with him knows he is not one prone to exaggeration. The 2008 we tried was deep, rich, full, balanced and delicious. I could feel why he would say something like that.
We took a quick trip to the storage (and larger) facility, to see the new addition (really a beautiful sight). “We started this project in 2008 right before the Lehmann Brothers crisis started. If we had known then what we know now, we probably wouldn’t have started. But we did, and now it is finished. And it is all paid for.” Even in crisis times there are people who know how to do the right thing, make it through a tough time and come out the other end. There is more demand today for the wines of Produttori than ever.
Aldo had to run to pick up his son, so John and I stopped for lunch at the nearby Antica Torre. We were early but soon the room filled up. I saw a chap who looked familiar. He eyed me ever so slightly. He turned out to be Sergio Esposito, who several years ago moved back to Italy, to Genoa, and was in Barbaresco for the day. We sat nearby and Sergio shared a bottle of 1979 Produttori Barbaresco with our table. Very generous gesture. And the wine was in great shape, having only moved several feet in 32 years. What a treat, something that can happen on the wine trail in Italy, once in a while. Thanks, Sergio.
Later in the afternoon we headed to Novello to meet up with Valter Fissore of Elvio Cogno. It was starting to get colder, threats of snow were reported. Inside the warm tasting room of Cogno, we went through a battery of wines, starting with a wine made famous in the blogosphere, Anas-Cetta, the Nascetta white. Now a Langhe DOC, we sampled the 2010. Valter was also animated. Maybe the cold weather was making these guys move a little faster, I don’t know. The 2010 was well balanced and had that steely minerally quality when young. Later that night we tasted the 2008 at dinner and could see the evolution as the wine mellowed and crept into a more comfortable skin, slightly resembling Riesling without the high concentration of fruit a German wine can typically exhibit. I commented to Valter about something like that and his reply was, “Riesling, my favorite wine!” Here we were in Nebbiolo Valhalla and something like that reaches my ears. Something I actually think from time to time as well.
The Cogno post also need to be written, but not when I am sleep deprived and needing to get on the road for another day. I could sense John was really immersed in this tasting, and we lingered, even though both of us were fighting off maladies. Needless to say, the wines helped our condition. I have never seen the wines of Elvio Cogno as delicate and elegant as I have on the trip. Complimenti, Valter.
Before we parted, Valter took us to the nearby Locanda nel Borgo Antico, where chef Massimo Camia and his staff plied us with wine and an array of culinary dazzlement, starting with a bottle of Bollinger. The young sommelier was confidant and like everyone on the staff, fully committed to the service aspect. Impeccable wine, food and service in a very beautiful and alto-Borghese atmosphere.
Yes, it’s getting colder outside. But this is what it is, a fast account on a day to day basis, from the Langhe. More to come.
written and photographed by Alfonso Cevola limited rights reserved On the Wine Trail in Italy
Categories: Wine Blogs in English
January 27, 2012
02:09
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.
Side note: I love France. I really do. I get along well with the people, hell they talk to me even though they know I do not speak. But they talk to me. And I do my Buster Keaton and we do just fine. But when I land in Italy, it is really like I at home, Or I should say, my Euro-home. Nothing to hold me back, even though I am barely conversant. I have enough simpatico to make whatever I need happen. Yeah, yeah, I’m not fluent or idiomatic. But hey, Italy, I am here. And that is, at my stage, really good enough. Better than most.
We had two appointments and a dinner. First stop I think saw us tasting 11 wines. Batasiolo. A good entry point for John’s full immersion into the Langhe according to Alfonso. Our guide, Angelo, took us through the wines he wanted us to taste, not the wines that were currently for sale or the most popular wines. A trained sommelier and one with a really engaging personality and easy going style. The last flight of wines we tasted, three 2005 single vineyard Barolos form Monforte (Bofani), La Morra (Cerequio) and Serralunga (Boscareto) along with a 2006 also from Serralunga (La Corda della Briccolina) set the stage for our first day in Nebbiolo country.
A short drive followed to Castiglione Falletto and the Boroli estate La Brunella for a tasting. There also we tasted a normale 2006, and two 2005’s, a Cerequio and a Villero. But wait there’s more.
John didn’t sleep on the plane, so I dropped him back at the hotel. Later we joined the owner of Batasiolo, Fiorenzo Dogliani and his group, including the ever energetic Ricardo March, Fiorenzo’s colleague from Miami. Stefano Poggi (“grasshopper”) was just back from his extended Italian honeymoon, so Ricardo stepped up to the plate and was a huge asset.
Dinner was a knockout. I am just getting back to life and eating and drinking (and enjoying) wine. The Sommelier at Il Boscareto’s Michelin One Star, La Rei, walked us through what was, hands down, the best meal I have had in many months and one of the best wine and dining experiences I have ever had in Italy. I do not know how I fall into these things, along with a vertical “blind” tasting of single vineyard Baroli going back to 1996.
Ok, yeah, yeah I am bragging now. But I need to mention this is after the end of a 19 hour travel and work day. So, if you think I’m taking the easy road, think what you want. As for us, we're just back on the wine trail in Italy.
written and photographed by Alfonso Cevola limited rights reserved On the Wine Trail in Italy
Categories: Wine Blogs in English
January 25, 2012
00:55
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.
I arrived in a sullied situation. Beat up from traveling in planes, lost connections, too many different climes, temperatures and changes for even this well-honed body, I finally succumbed to 14 hours in my own personal sweat lodge of a room. Not a pleasant way to spend time away from home. There is only one thing worse than being sick in a foreign land; that would be to be in jail in a similar setting. So I set myself a time and made it through the time period. Much better now, thank you.
Devon Broglie, the young wine buyer from Whole Foods and a newly minted Master Sommelier, met up with me and we tasted though a bevy of producers. Our tastes and attitudes are pretty much in synch. If the wine is natural (or not) it has to be 1) Delicious and 2) a good value. That’s where Gravner came into the conversation.
As much as I love the idea of the poet in his dark room with the amphorae, I must admit those wines do not resonate with my soul. Give me I Clivi. Those are wines I can dig into and there is plenty of poetry in the glass for me, with light and clarity. Gravner is too dark and heavy, both metaphorically and in deed.
But the world of the Organic and beyond, it is diverse. And there are plenty of expressions for all kind of takers.
As it stands, the category is growing. Fast. Devon told me he is aiming to grow this category to 25% of his wine sales. If anyone can do it, Whole Foods is perfectly positioned to take the lead. After all, with Wal-Mart converging along those lines in the food department, the trend is now touching massive amount of folks.
And the wines? What has resonated? I went and tasted Fatalone’s wine based upon the recommendation of my even better friend, Jeremy Parzen of DoBianchi and his latest post. While I don’t think their Greco is the best white wine from Apulia (we bloggers sometimes do those kinds of headlines for SEO) it was pleasant enough. But I had a natty Falanghina that Devon and I and Ken Chase, the wine buyer for American Airlines (maybe this will get me an upgrade?) kept going back to again and again. Crisp, some delicate fruit, not too tropical and not cat-scratchy dry and acidic. Well balanced. And tasty. Did I say we kept going back for more?
And that really is the crux of the issue, whether it is mainstream wines or the organics. Wine needs to benefit the drinker with pleasure. After all, if one wants alcohol, they could as easily buy a vodka (regular or organic) and mix it with orange juice (regular or organic) and get the benefit. As I looked around the room of people dedicated to the category of organics, whether they are the cross burning types or the “just do no wrong” version, there was a mellow devotional attachment to offering their best effort and to make it flavorful. Is that asking too much?
A Vita's Gaglioppo was pure joy (and all natty too).There were more. In fact, I met some wonderful growers, sipped with them, supped with them. More on that if and when I am able. For now France is heading into my rear view mirror as I make my way to Piemonte in the next day or so. Till then make do with this little lagniappe from the Languedoc. Bon nuit, y’all!
written by Alfonso Cevola limited rights reserved On the Wine Trail in Italy
Categories: Wine Blogs in English
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