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| [08/04/2008, 17:28] | la casa dei vedovi |  | 
Con il racconto "La casa dei vedovi" di Miriam Casalini Serni termina la pubblicazione dei racconti segnalati da Villa Petriolo per il concorso letterario "I giorni del vino e delle rose". Complimenti a Miriam e a tutti i partecipanti, i cui racconti, tutti, verranno diffusi su Divinando i prossimi mesi.
Miriam Casalini Serni è nata a Firenze e risiede a Panzano in Chianti. Appassionata cultrice di memorie di vita paesana e di tradizioni toscane, ha pubblicato: ?Dal tetto al pagliaio. Bricciche del vecchio Chianti?, Edizioni Pagnini e Martinelli, 2001/2002, ?La triste storia della Mucca Pazza. Funerale della Fiorentina?, ?Cuore di luce. Storia di un trapianto di cuore?. Ha collaborato, inoltre, con racconti mensili, all?Informatore Coop Firenze e al settimanale Metropoli. Ha vinto il secondo premio Slow Food ?Galeotta fu la cena? con il componimento ?I? mal di? lesino?; ha vinto, nel 2002, il premio del concorso di GoWine e La Nazione ?Il vino e gli over 50?, oltre al premio del concorso ACI 2007 ? Automobil Club Firenze e al premio del concorso di poesia CALCIT , aggiudicandosi la Medaglia del Presidente nel maggio 2008.
racconto
"LA CASA DEI VEDOVI"
di Miriam Casalini Serni
Facevo villeggiatura in un agriturismo in collina. Avevo dovuto portarmi dietro Tigre, il mio gatto, non avevo nessuno a cui lasciarlo, e poi era la mia compagnia.
Per quante precauzioni avessi preso a scanso di fughe, un giorno, il lazzerone, sentita aria di libertà, era evaso.
Nel corso delle feline ricerche seppi che era stato visto aggirarsi nei pressi della ?Casa dei Vedovi?, dove pare ci fosse una micetta da corteggiare.
Vi andai munita di allettanti bocconcini di ?ciccia?.
Era pomeriggio inoltrato.
Nell?attesa che le gentili persone di quella casa me lo recuperassero, passeggiai un po? attorno. Ammirai il panorama, vigne, olivete, guardai il vento piegare le punte dei cipressi, aspersori benedicenti la campagna. Passo dopo passo mi ritrovai in uno
spazio fatato.Orto o giardino?
I pampini di una grande pergola mossi da un lieve venticello, scomponevano la luce del sole che vi filtrava attraverso, pareva giocare a nascondino facendo sperluccicare acini d?oro di uva matura.
Stavo in un quadro di Silvestro Lega.
Altra magia: gli odori. Emanavano dal muro caldo e sbrecciato azzurro di ramato che sosteneva una spalliera di rose spampanate, quasi sfatte, complici in alchimia con malvoni, cespugli di cedrina e violacciocche. Più lontano, ma distinto, afro di conciaia. Un ronzare di api ritardatarie affaccendate a bottinare, in gran crescendo il frinire delle cicale. Tutto questo mi riportava a istantanee di memorie infantili nell?orto di una canonica.
Recuperai il mio gatto riottoso, anzi, inca..volato nero, per ritrovarsi dietro le grate della gabbietta dopo tanta salace avventura.
Ringraziamenti e saluti.
?L?aspetti signora, gli si coglie dalla pergola du? be? grappoli d?uva salamanna, la sentirà bona. Poi la ci rammenta.?
Li rammentai per la cortesia e per la bontà dell?uva.
Mi erano rimaste due curiosità.
La prima la soddisfece il dizionario, ?salamanna?, avevo pensato a un toscanismo. Infatti : ?...pregiata uva da tavola a grossi acini ovoidali polposi e dolci, dal nome di S(er) Alamanno Salviati che ne importò il vitigno in Toscana dalla Catalogna nel secolo XVIII°.?
La seconda, lo strano nome del luogo, ?la Casa dei Vedovi?, me ne spiegò il motivo la padrona dell?appalto in paese.
Vi abitava una famiglia di contadini, padroni del loro podere da generazioni, che l?avevano sempre coltivato direttamente. Facevano un buon vino, spremuto dall?uva di vigne allineate su morbide colline che si intersecavano su incostanti livelli, esposte a mezzogiorno proprio come Dio comanda per dare il vino migliore.
Solo al Catasto e sul carro agricolo rosso sbiadito, era scritto il nome del podere, un nome gaio e poetico, ?Pero Giugnolo?. Antica toponomastica di luoghi senza un perchè, o forse dimenticato nei secoli, in questa Toscana dove la poesia sta di casa.
Ma ormai per tutti quella era la ?Casa dei Vedovi?.
Erano rimasti prematuramente vedovi i due fratelli, le mogli morte alla svelta, una dietro l?altra, poverette.
Un affanno tirar su quell?unico figlio, l?altro era volato in cielo con la sua mamma, senza aver toccato la terra con i piedini.
Gente faticatora, Cesare e Omero, con la passione per il podere, per la campagna, coltivavano la vigna alla maniera antica, con quel magico equilibrio fra terra e cielo, retaggio di una sapienza ancestrale.
Potare, piegare i tralci al tempo giusto, con un occhio alla luna, uno speranzoso al cielo benigno, i trattamenti per combattere tutti quei nemici che fan danni, poronospora, muffe, parassiti, quando la troppa pioggia, quando la siccità... la grandine!
Il Vino. Bevanda. Alimento. Sangue vivo della terra.
Il tempo che passa, il figlio, Marco, ormai grande, studente di agraria ed enologia era la gioia del padre e dello zio. Zio? Due padri erano, due genitori di un solo figlio, il loro orgoglio.Il ragazzo ne sapeva di cose.
Aveva ereditato amore alla terra, alla vigna
Cominciò presto a dare suggerimenti per migliorare il vino già buono.
A volte il giovane cozzava con antichi pregiudizi, ma anche se dubbiosi, Cesare e Omero si adeguavano volentieri.
Quando il figlio saggiando il vino diceva di bouquet, di mora, di tabacco, di tannini, i due scuotevano la testa: ?Quante storie, il vino è buono, sa di quel che deve sapere?.
E Marco: ? Prima della vendemmia si devono togliere alcuni tralci per fare assorbire ai grappoli il sole più pieno.?
?Codesto l?abbiamo sempre fatto.?
?Lo so, infatti è un?abitudine di secoli. Lo dice anche Marco Bussato, alla fine del 1500 in un suo manoscritto che ho trovato alla Biblioteca Nazionale...?
I vedovi si guardano negli occhi compiaciuti. Loro non sanno di manoscritti, ma conoscono un proverbio: ? Dice la vite: fammi povera, ti farò ricco e felice?
Marco ogni tanto ha idee un po? spinte.
?Si devono eliminare i grappoli stenti e guasti.?
Questo no, non possono accettarlo. E? per loro una sofferenza, uno spreco.
Comunque ora il prodotto è davvero migliore, uniforme, abbondante, richiestissimo. Si può imbottigliare ed etichettare con la dicitura ? Podere Pero Giugnolo?.
Un giorno il giovane portò a casa due dozzine di cespugli di rose con il loro ?pane?, acquistati a un vivaio Pesciatino.
?Dove li vuoi piantare??, chiesero i due genitori
?A capo dei filari della vigna. Ci staranno bene.?
I due fratelli ricordarono allora che il vecchio nonno Simone parlava di questo uso antico. Un ?roso ? nella vigna era una vigile sentinella d?avanguardia per la sanità della vite. Se il ?roso? dava segni di sofferenza, anche le viti si sarebbero poi ammalorate, cosìcchè si doveva provvedere subito alle cure del caso.
Con i nuovi trattamenti preventivi che il figlio attuava non c?era bisogno di quell?espediente a tutela delle viti, ma l?idea piacque senza riserve ai due fratelli.
Il pensiero di un ?roso? nella vigna li conquistò, sapeva di buono. Tradizione e innovazione
Come in una danza il vino arrubinava il calice mosso da mano esperta, sprigionava intriganti fragranze e sapori. Ora avrebbe rivelato anche un delicato sentor di rose.
Ero ormai entrata in confidenza con quella brava gente, onorata e felice per l?amicizia che mi dimostravano. Seppi la loro vita, ammirai i vigneti, la cantina. ?Desinai? nella grande cucina.
Centellinai il loro vino. Svelava in bocca un?emozione, una festa. Scendeva ?...come una cascata di seta episcopale...?, invadeva lo stomaco di amabile tepore.
Ascoltai la storia dei ?rosi?, l?antica e la moderna.
Dedicai loro una poesia.
? Ho sognato una rosa...?
? Il tralcio reciso che geme
salute mi reca,
non pene.
Sento l?acqua d?aprile
che fruscia
tra pampini e foglie,
il sole l?asciuga, le scrolla,
ci mette fastelli di luce.
Io suggo
da terra e da cielo la vita.
Va lenta la giostra del tempo
co? cicli che ?l tempo comporta.
Anelo
al profumo d?un fiore.
O rosa,
ai giardini rapita,
non fu confine
tra reale e sogno.
Un refolo di vento,
muove lieve nell?aria
odor di rosa.
E io lo chiudo in me.? | | TrackBack | | | |
| [07/27/2008, 23:30] | The Festival of Malvasia | |  This is the ideal time of summer; lying out in the pool, on my isola, thinking about the little sounds and sights and smells that make up the perfect day in July.
As I take a little nap, under the sun, above the body of water that occupies my isola, I have a dream. We are back in Southern Italy, walking. Somewhere off the distance there is a masserie; they are waiting for us, with wine and lunch. We are just a few minutes late, but we parked the car when the road would take us no further. There is music and the sound of drums coming from the distant winery. They are celebrating the Festa della Malvasia.
 This is a yearly event, bringing dancers, artists, musicians, actors, clowns and jesters to this one place in the country, to celebrate the casks and the wine and the middle of the summer. Large women are seen carrying these gigantic platters for the fire; today they are feeding the artistic community and we have been invited by the winemaker.
My friend, Carlo the clown, is already there. We have a psychic communication, he is wondering where we are. But he?s fine, he?s playing with the monkey. My musician friend from California has called me; he is bringing a philosopher friend from Paestum, so he is behind us.
 The invitation was only sent a few days before. To get all the players together was a major feat, but this is a dream, all things are possible. The invitation went like this:
Please, all who come, bring a little piece of your past to share, and take home a piece of your future. We have cooks from Naples, so no one should go home hungry. The wine is neither the old, dirty wine nor the new, lifeless wine. We are cracking open the barrels of real Italy; please bring a demijohn to take some home with you. Bring your mother, bring your sister, bring your sons and daughters and lovers. Or bring the priest, for we will all need him eventually. Come as you are, not as you wish to be. The party will last three days. We will not sleep, you?ll see. Do not RSVP. Just arrive when you can. Don?t be late.
 I thought it a little strange when I got closer and started hearing all kind of animal sounds. A tent by the side of the building was pitched, a circus had stopped by. The smell of fresh seafood and garlic, mixed with the exotic aroma of capers, saffron and rosemary, filled the air.
Once inside the building we were greeted by an older woman with grayish to white hair, long and gathered in the back. She had a handful of young children surrounding her and her eyes where bright green. She handed us goblets. One of the young children took us to a room where there were pitchers. We were poured some cool, white wine.
Across the hall was a large open room, with tables and music and tiellas of rice and mussels, steaming and aromatic. Jugglers were practicing with tomatoes and squash, packs of trained dogs followed their every move. There seemed to be an order to all of this, although it didn?t seem to make any sense, nor like this could ever happen in real life. And then we sipped the wine.
 This was the wine we had been searching for. It wasn?t some baked, tired, brown mass of lifeless juice with an alcohol base. And it wasn?t a mass of vanilla and butter, seamless and uniform, as if it could have come from anywhere in the New World Order of Winemaking. It was perfect. Crisp and juicy, an acidic marmelata to relieve the rice and the mussels of their responsibility to be the sole nurturing force. It was golden, it was sunshine, the tan on the arms of a young woman working in the fields, the little hairs on the small of the back of the newborn baby, the strength of the pizzaiolo, gathered after all those years in front of a hot oven, working his life away for his art.
 The food, the circus performers, the exotic animals, they all retreated to the edges of the dream. All that was left was a pitcher in the late afternoon sun by the edge of the water and the sublime silence of a hot summer day; the synchronization of a life searching for that perfect moment, found by accident, over a festival for an ancient grape.
Punchinello Drawings by Giovanni Domenico Tiepolo | | TrackBack | | | |
| [07/23/2008, 08:22] | A Sea of Affluence | |  Over the past year a little thread has been drifting past me. I hear a story about a couple going to Italy to spend time on a large yacht, another story about a fellow who travels to Italy with a concierge-in-waiting. A trend, or something that has always been there? It seems there is a whole 'nother Italy for a group of people who travel. I call it Italy-in-a-bubble.
 For Americans who don?t travel much outside of their comfort zone, which in the last eight years there seems to have been a surge, there is the experience of getting on a very comfortable plane and going to the Italian peninsula. Once the craft touches ground, it seems everything is done to make sure this elite group of travelers never touches their feet on true Italian soil. Usually some kind of driver is waiting there to pick these affluent souls up out of the squalor in which the natives squat, and then there are whisked to some 5 or 6 or 7 star resort, the ones with the 800 count sheets and the white-goose-only down pillows. Or better yet, whisked straight to a port, like Naples or Ostia, where an offshore vessel awaits, private chef, staff and ambience included.
In the last month I have had a handful of people tell me they were ?going to Italy? and described something similar to what I just laid out. Then they asked me where they should go once they got to Italy.
 My first answer? How about going off the reservation? Dump the boat, get on land, get your Cole Haan?s dirty, and step outside of your protective cover. Inotherwords, go to Italy.
First of all, you are not a high ranking government official who needs security. What you need is some oxygen. Dress down; you can ?do a Google? to help you find out how to do that. And get out of the hands of your handlers.
I understand it is difficult to go into a strange land where the language is different and the food comes from a garden instead of a freezer. Or that you might have to try the fresh Swordfish when you?d really rather have Chicken Parmesan.
 Chi mangia solo crepa solo.
So you travel halfway across the world in your private jet or in business class with the headphones and the champagne and the lay-down seat. And you get to the airport where someone is waiting for you. And you are whisked away to a private resort on some secluded hilltop town that has been remade for the travel-elite, so you can rest from your journey. Then what? Is there a plan B, someway to escape the Stalag?
 A million years ago I was in Naples for the first time. I was traveling alone, with a backpack and a couple of cameras. I decided to walk west from the Marina, see what I could see. It was August. About 10 miles later I end up in a little place called Pozzuoli. In those days there were lots of cork products, shoes made of cork, you name it. I didn?t have a lot of money, but I wasn?t too broke to buy a groovy pair of cork-soled sandals. I was surely not traveling the elite route, but it was the real Italy.
Along the way I met scads of children who were amazed at this tall, Italian-looking, jean-wearing alien. I spoke even less Italian than now. But you know what? That day was one of the great memories of travel for me, ever.
 Sure I was out of my element. And I was walking alone in a poor part of Italy, that only 25 years earlier had seen war and destruction and famine. Starvation. Poverty. Got the picture? The children, many of whom are now the folks running the place, what were they going to do to me, rob my soul? Let?s say someone took a roll of film or even a camera, or a pair of jeans, so what? But it didn?t happen. Old women sitting on the outside of their homes greeted me as if I were a grandson. Some invited me in for a bowl of pasta, a glass of wine. That wonderfully real Campanian stuff. Kids wanted me to take pictures of them and kick the soccer ball around with them. Merchants wanted me to take things home for a pittance (this was the era when the dollar was worth 600 lire, and you could buy a meal for about 1100 lire).
 I didn?t have a place to go back to. The super yacht wasn?t waiting off the coast for me to finish my day with the natives. There wasn?t a concierge in a Mercedes waiting up the street, car running, air conditioner conditioning. And guess what, I survived. Not only that, but with memories more golden than the sunset from that isolated cruiser that was never there waiting for me. And for those souls on those super-yachts who think they got a taste of the real Italy, or real anything, I am sorry for them. Because they got the freezer. For those who take that step outside of their Italy-in-a-bubble, they get the garden.
 So who is basking in affluence, in the end? Is it the wealthy trophy wife who got off for an hour to go shopping at the boutiques in Capri? Or the young student with a backpack and a dream? I know which road I took, and will continue to take, as long as the real Italy will be there for me. And the deeper you go, the more gold you will find. And that is something that can never be taken from you, never pick-pocketed, never, ever goes away. Because it is the stuff of memories. And memories are the elite treasures of travel.
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| [07/18/2008, 08:01] | The Tune-Up | | 
I have been driving around lately like gas wasn?t $4 a gallon. Just looked at the miles I've covered this week and I probably could have fed a family of four. In any event, Wednesday I headed out early from Dallas to Austin with a trunk full of wine, my trusty Koolatron chugging right along, ready to celebrate its 27th birthday in a few months.
Round Rock, Texas ? once a low-water crossing on the Chisholm Trail, now an ex-urb with row after row of strip mall and tollway overpasses.
The day would start somewhat ominously; I got lost. That kind of thing happens when the empty field that was there a few months ago is now a sprawling complex of low rise apartments, retail shops, with nary a gas station in sight. Where there once was a Bar-B-Que pit, it now houses a sushi bistro. Texas has taken to crudo in century 21.
 What else? A "gentlemen?s" club or two, after all, they are on the route sheet. Disciplina, as they said in Ancient Rome. Imagine this: making a cold call in 100°F weather, going into dark and dank clubs, the smell of stale beer and cigarettes pounds you as you escape the heat of the day. Inside the dark, the wet, chilly air conditioning, the heavy bass beat and an empty pole waiting for the dancers to change their shift.
A sign that says ?WiFi here?, as if someone would come here to surf the net. Over in the corner a lonely guy is getting a heartless lap dance.
And somewhere around a series of corners, we lurch to find the bar manager.
My colleague walks straight and deliberate, like she is on a high wire. I'm impressed with her lack of fear in this den of improbability. But then again, she lived in Naples for four years.
We find a congenial guy, a businessman trying to figure out how to keep his margins healthy so he can stay open for this mixed blue and grey collar establishment. Every minute or so a ?waitress? comes up to the bar with an order, Jack Black and Coke, Stoly on the rocks, that kind of thing. High octane in a tumbler.
 Everyone is looking for an opportunity. The Piemontese make a low alcohol sweet slightly frizzante red that sells well in these places. The client can buy it for $12 and sell it for $80. The girls can drink it all night and never lose their balance, on the job. We talk about pitching it on another visit, after all the formal introductions have been made.
Flash-forward several hours later, after our main event. A couple of us are sitting outside under the warmish Austin night, quenching our thirst with an Alsatian Riesling. One in our party, a Master somm, related a story of how they charged, in one of their clubs in the meat packing district of NY, $700 for a bottle of Cristal. It seems that was too low, the wine was selling too fast; they had to go around the regular channels of procurement. So they raised the price, $1200, $1700, $2500. It got to the point that they couldn?t ask too much for a bottle of the stuff. Makes the $80 buck bubbly look like chump change.
 Back to the main event. After driving in circles around the torn up streets of downtown Austin (everything is under construction, reminds me of Rome) I finally find a valet park ( which I hate) close to the spot where we be having the tune-up, Taste Select. I?ve got a baker's dozen selections of Italian wine for the event. We have Italians coming and a Master sommelier, a wine buyer for one of the hottest Japanese places in town, another top restaurant owner who lived in Italy, an MW candidate, an assistant winemaker, and several colleagues from the wine biz. Wines opened:
? Contadi Castaldi Franciacorta Brut
? 2007 Araldica ?La Luciana? Gavi
? 2006 Re Manfredi Basilicata Bianco (Muller-Thurgau/ Traminer aromatico)
? 2000 Gravner Breg
 ? 2004 Capezzana Carmignano
? 2001 Podere Poggio Scalette Il Carbonaione (corked)
? 2000 Castello di Rampolla Sammarco
? 2003 Argiano Brunello di Montalcino ( the forbidden label)
? 1997 Angelo Sassetti Pertimali Brunello di Montalcino
 ? 2004 Re Manfredi Aglianico del Vulture
? 2004 Nino Negri ?5 Stelle? Sfursat
? 1999 Produttori del Barbaresco Barbaresco
? 2001 Bruno Giacosa Barolo
? 2006 Fama Fiororange (Maculan Dindarello)
 With the exception of the corked Il Carbonaione, all the wines showed well. Plates of charcuterie and small producer cheeses were served, this was a simple event, food wise, but the foods served were way above the high water mark. I know folks in NY, LA, SF, Italy are saying, yeah, but. Whatever, last night at Taste Select in Austin, we had the Family Table rockin'. And we learned lots of words in Napolitan' dialect.
 Next month Texsom runs in Austin. Any folk who live nearby should get on the bus, when we feature Italy for two seminars along with Argentina, Washignton, Loire Valley, New Zealand, Medoc & Graves, Porto, Madeira & Sherry and an important seminar on Erstes Gewaches. If you are a sommelier and live in Texas, Louisiana, Oklahoma or wherever, consider coming to this. This is a growing event. Where else in the US can you go for a couple of days and hang out with a lot of great wine geeks?
 Speakers & Panel Members-The List So Far:
? Guy Stout MS
? Fred Dame MS
? Greg Harrington MS
? Shayn Bjornholm MS
? Ken Fredrickson MS
? Keith Goldston MS
? Charles Curtis MW
? Brian Cronin MS
? Bartholomew Broadbent
? Wayne Belding MS
? Laura DePasquale MS
? Brett Zimmerman MS
? Larry O'Brien MS
? Alfonso Cevola CSW
? Joe Spellman MS
? Tim Gaiser MS
? Fernando de Luna
? Josh Raynolds
? Rebecca Murphy
? Diane Teitelbaum
? Paul Roberts MS
? Sally Mohr MS
? Joe Phillips MS
? Darius Allyn MS
I know the guys that have put this together, Drew Hendricks and James Tidwell, would love to see you at the 2008 Texas Sommelier Association Conference, August 17-18, at the Four Seasons Hotel in Austin Texas.
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| [07/14/2008, 06:36] | Under the Tuscan Stun | |  We?re deep into July now, the skin bakes well at 99° F. I might as well tell my sister not to print this one out for our mother, as she will just think I have lost my mind. And yes, I will digress.
Over the last week many wines were opened and tasted, in the course of duty and pleasure. Right now, I am tired of alcohol, but I am sure that will pass. Occupational hazard.
The coming week will be as equally challenging, with travel, tastings, a master class in Italian wine (in Austin), prepping the young pups for Texsom in August.
This whole wine thing, right now, has become such an obsession; it creeps into your life, your work, your closets, the fridge, under the table, another closet, a shelf with 20 years worth of Italian wine magazines. It really wraps itself around the saddle of your life and takes you on quite the ride.
 Before you get to thinking this post is leaning towards the visually risqué, let me explain. The images shown have been created by the artistic duo known as Dormice. Dormice are Heinrich Nicolaus, born in Munich and Sawan Yawnghwe, born in Burma. Dormice live and work in Tuscany. I find their work compelling and I am fascinated with the way they pool their creative inspiration. They have a wonderful way with the use of color and form, and that is the simple reason why their work frames this post.
As the world turns, this time towards oblivion and that way towards exhilaration, I find this to be the stuff of summer and July. This month goes too fast for me; I could use two months of July. It sears my inspiration and keeps within me an overload of energy that fuels me deep into the late autumn- early winter time.
 Tuscany, Tuscany, Tuscany. What on earth are they doing to you now? Earlier in the week I was sharing a bottle of a simple Chianti Classico from Melini, Il Granaio 2003, with three sommeliers. One, a Master-somm, who was in a great mood, replied something to the effect that this wine in it?s simplicity, how did she say it, something like it was so nice to just enjoy Sangiovese and Chianti like it is meant to be. I had to agree, not because I was trying to sell it to her and everyone else we had tasted that day. But it really was an epiphany to me, because here was this quiet little Chianti that had sat in the warehouse for many months, and it had blossomed into this pretty little wine. It wasn?t a stunner, but the experience was. Because, once again, you never know when the little wine god will creep up into a bottle and reveal itself, if you are quiet and fortunate and have others around you to help row the boat in the right direction. And those kinds of things are everywhere in this wine business.
 Some time ago a salesman from a huge wine company called me up and asked me to please help him spread the word on their 2001 SuperTuscan. The wine was Alleanza, from Gabbiano. Usually that wine is not on the high priority list. There?s too little of it in any event. But when I took that wine home and tasted it during an evening, just by myself, again the midnight bloom arose from the bottle and beguiled me with its dance of seduction.
 Over the years, another Chianti Classico, from Querciavalle and the Losi family, has been the reason for pause and reflection. This one comes with many visits and memories, something the over-inputted salesperson doesn?t have time for. Today as I was stretched upon the float in the pool, for one brief moment I was under anther sun, this time on the road near their winery going to the spot where their oak tree was struck down many moons ago. From that stunning moment, the raison d'être of the winery was forged.
 Last week, another day, Gabrizia Cellai was in town to speak of her wines from Caparzo, La Doga and Borgo Scopeto. There was a moment when we were tasting Caparzo?s simple red, their Sangiovese. No Syrah, Merlot or Colorino, just straight Sangiovese. Again, here I was, at the altar, with something so simple and straightforward, just a blissfully uncomplicated come-across.
 How is it a bee sting can be more significant than running into a wall? It might be because the bee pinpoints their focus on exactly one point. Running into a wall can be hard to spot, years down the road. Tonight I ran into a wall. At a friend house someone suggested I try the Silverado Reserve Merlot 1997. So I did. Just as I have tried many other wines lately from my home state. Somewhere I had a Russian River Chardonnay, and again I quizzed myself inside, wondering what it was I had missed. Oh please, California, look to the simple pleasures of wine and life. Less is more, really. Just as Italian food is characterized not by how much you can load into the dish, but rather how well you can work with three of four ingredients, isn?t time we looked to wines like that and celebrated them for their pure simplicity and the pleasure that it brings to us?
I walked away from the table after that ?97 Merlot. It was not something I would ask for with my last meal.
 The other day of couple of older guys (older than me) came into a fine wine store where we were tasting the Chianti and they were asking for ?big and bold Syrahs.? I really thought, at first, that they were liquor board guys; they had the ?look.? I was disappointed when I heard them requesting the big Syrah like it was some kind of vinous Viagra.
 So we have these characters looking to blow $60 on a big red lap dance and on the other end of the scale we have these jokers who come up and say something like this: ?Anyone can find a great wine for a $100. It takes a real snoop to suss out the great ones for under $10. Yeah, that would have been a pretty fair way to go about it, back when the price of oil was around $14 a barrel. But now that snoop has fallen behind the reality of the times. Just like the restaurant that cuts back on the quality of the ingredients in their food, so there are measures that can be taken like that with wine. But why would someone continue on with such self deception? Younger generations don?t do that, in fact they see wines at $15-20 as a baseline. And yes, I have gotten off track.
What I am saying is that here we were with this little Chianti from Melini that has five years of age on it, sells for about $20, has some maturity to it, is balance, is simple, is correct. What else do you want? That?s the end of the rainbow. The lightning bolt. The Golden Fleece .
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| [07/09/2008, 08:24] | Empty Suits | |  It seems like that scene in a movie with everyone sitting around the bar, in the desert, waiting for the all clear sign, after the H-bomb has gone off. The streets are empty, the atmosphere is heavy; have we entered the age of the American Malaise?
Steakhouses and fancy designer restaurants fill up early with Maseratis and Land Rovers parked outside, all in a neat little row. There is wealth hovering around us, but it has migrated to the north of the middle class faster than a jackrabbit in West Texas on the first day of hunting season.
 How low can you go? Today I found some fresh Italian wine to sell to a client for $3.50 a bottle. Not distressed, actually from Trentino. A little fruity, but not like the bottle of Sonoma Chardonnay I opened up a few nights ago. That was one undrinkable white wine. Fruit, soaked in oily-oak. Like some of the food I had recently in a new place. Only then it was too much salt. Hey, chefs, if you are making a dish with capers, before you spice-a-spoofulate it with salt, taste the freakin? food! And they wonder why Italian places are closing here and elsewhere (i.e. NY, SF, LA, Vegas, Chicago, Birmingham, San Antonio, Baton Rouge, Denver, ad nauseum). Yeah it?s a bummer, but it?s even harder to understand why someone would make an investment in a restaurant and then not go to the trouble to prepare the food in a balanced way. And they wonder why we stay home to eat.
 Let?s go over the reasons- Let me count the ways:
1) Fresh food prepared simply and not over spiced.
2) Wine that is of my choosing, not from some salesperson?s tick list.
3) While we?re at it, wine that I can access at a reasonable price, not 3, 4, 5 times marked up.
4) Water glasses that aren?t constantly getting refilled.
5) I can park my own car, so if I want to screw up my transmission I can do it at my leisure.
6) I can choose my music, my noise levels, and the people I want around me, not constantly having to be hostage to my neighbors drama and rudeness.
I can only imagine restaurateurs who are truly engaged nodding their heads, but the ones who need to read up aren?t checking in to blogs. Hey, they can barely get their orders out in time.
And here?s another issue, which it seems many restaurant operators are blissfully ignorant about. Diesel is $5 a gallon. So when a delivery truck heads out, with tomatoes or Teroldego, the clock is ticking on the driver to get the goods delivered efficiently. So how come so many restaurant operators are living back in the days when oil was $38 a barrel? And why are they stunned when their business fails? I?m just sayin?.
 Back to the empty suits. I was watching one of my favorite movies, Sexy Beast, and was thinking about organization, whether it revolves around breaking into a bank or onto a wine list. It seems like cracking a wine list is more challenging these days. There is a service called Wineosaur, that can track and compare wine lists by regions, neighborhoods, zip codes, types of restaurants, class of restaurants ($$), really interesting analytical stuff. So I print out an analysis for a new place getting ready to open, try to show them what their competition is doing. This is good stuff, free professional consultation, the real deal. But hey what do we know; the organization I work for has only been around since 1909, eh?
 OK, the bottom line? Restaurants that use wine pricing to shore up their profits are sticking it to their loyal clients; you know the ones who are looking at $60-75 to fill up their autos? Just like the fill-up used to be $30-35, so the wine that cost $15 also used to sell for $30-35. Now that wine costs $18 and those restaurants are now asking $60-75 for the same wine. No labor, not like the piccata dish with the capers and the salt. Yeah, the wholesalers are the bad guys, delivering wines to the forgetful restaurateurs on a Friday so they can mark the just-in-time inventory up 3,4,5 times and then when you walk in the empty place on a later that night they look at you, the paying customer, as if you were a bit off for not making a reservation. That?s after they enter your name is a database, send it off the homeland security, just in case you brought a wine opener on to the premises. Might be a security threat. Or worse, we might be giving a staff training.
That?s another thing. This week, this very week, in a restaurant, a server described a Montepulciano d?Abruzzo to a friend as tasting ?like a Cabernet.? And then in the same night, at the same table, to a group of food professionals, Gavi was compared to a ?Sauvignon Blanc.? Oh really? Managgia, porco dio, we really do have so many miles to go before we sleep.
Say good night, Gracie.
From the front lines of the battle for the love of wine.
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| [01/01/1970, 02:00] | Si va in vacanza all'estero? Informiamoci sugli eventi enogastronomici | | | Poi non venitemi a dire che non mi preoccupo che abbiate tutte le informazioni necessarie per non rimanere a bocca asciutta, ovvero senza vino e cibo! Avete in progetto di andare in Cina, in California, in India e non sapete se e quando fanno eventi enogastronomici che vale la pena andare a vedere? Detto fatto, con una certa fatica vi ho preparato uno schema con tutti i loghi e gli indirizzi delle principali manifestazioni internazionali e italiane. Non sono tutti, questo è certo, sia perché non tutti hanno il sito, sia perché non tutti sono già pronti con data e luogo. Ma direi che come assortimento non è male no? A proposito, le stesse cose le potete trovare nella sezione "Mostre e fiere" di laVINIum, ovviamente con i relativi aggiornamenti.Buona visione! Expovina PrimaveraZürich, 15-18 lug. 2008 Finger Lakes Wine FestivalWatkins Glen, 18-20 lug. 2008 26ème Fête du Vin et de l'Artisanat d'ArtSaint Rémy de Provence, 25-27 lug. 2008 10° Salon des Vins d'AnianeAniane, 26-27 lug. 2008 Vintage OhioKirtland, 1-2 ago. 2008 Foire aux Vins d'AlsaceColmar, 08-17 ago. 2008 Rambling RoséSan Antonio, 16 ago. 2008 Supermarket ExpoCairo, 28-31 ago. 2008 Sonoma Wine Country WeekendSonoma Valley, 29-31 ago. 2008 International Exhibition and Conferencefor the Food & Beverage IndustryShanghai, 3-5 set. 2008 International Food Industry ExhibitionAlmaty, 4-7 set. 2008 Wine, Food & Music FestivalChicago, 5-6 set. 2008 The 24th Annual WinesongFort Bragg, 5-6 set. 2008 Marché des Vins de SaumurSaumur, 6-7 set. 2008 VineaSierre, 6-7 set. 2008 Speciality & Fine Food FairsLondon, 7-9 set. 2008 Rassegna del Vino Pigato edegli altri Vini Doc LiguriAlbenga, 9-14 set. 2008 Salone Professionale dei Prodotti AlimentariKortrijk, 10-11 set. 2008 20° Salone Internazionale del NaturaleBologna, 11-14 set. 2008 Wine, Food & Music FestivalNaperville, 12-13 set. 2008 Festival of the VineGeneva, 12-14 set. 2008 International Food Ingredients ShowPolagra, 15-17 set. 2008 6th Foodstuffs, Drinks, Packagingand Equipment ExhibitionAtyrau, 17-19 set. 2008 16th International Exhibtion of Food & DrinkBangkok, 17-20 set. 2008 Wine & Spirits AustraliaMelbourne, 22-25 set. 2008 Fine Food AustraliaMelbourne, 22-25 set. 2008 Cape Wine 2008Cape Town, 23-25 set. 2008 X Festival Nazionale dei Primi PiattiFoligno, 25-28 set. 2008 Salon de l'AlimentationBrussels, 4-19 ott. 2008 The Restaurant ShowLondon, 6-8 ott. 2008 Wine for AsiaSingapore, 16-18 ott. 2008 Rocky Mountain Wine & Food FestivalCalgary, 16-18 ott. 2008 Food & Wine FestivalAtlantic City, 17-19 ott. 2008 Mostra dei Merlot d'ItaliaAldeno, 17-19 ott. 2008 Foire du VinRoeselare, 17-19 ott. 2008 5° Forum dei vini autoctoniBolzano, 20-21 ott. 2008 Rocky Mountain Wine & Food FestivalEdmonton, 23-25 ott. 2008 Wine, Food & Good LivingHelsinki, 23-26 ott. 2008 The Wine ShowLondon, 23-26 ott. 2008 Pinot On The River FestivalForestville, 24-26 ott. 2008 The Wine Exhibition of The Iberian WorldMiami, 25-27 ott. 2008 International Wine FairMiami, 25-27 ott. 2008 Salon du VinBâle, 25 ott.-2 nov. 2008 Fiera Campionaria RegionaleArtigianato, Gastronomia, EnologiaBiella, 25 ott.-2 nov. 2008 World Food UkraineKiev, 28-31 ott. 2008 International Wine FestivalDenver, 29 ott.-1 nov. 2008 National Barbecue FestivalDouglas, 31 ott.-1 nov. 2008 Salon GourmetSinne, 31 ott.-1 nov. 2008 Salon du Vin et du FromageFloreffe, 31 ott. - 2 nov. 2008 BBC Good Food ShowGlasgow, 31 ott. - 2 nov. 2008 Giornate del Riesling Alto AdigeNaturno, 4-9 nov. 2008 6th International ConferenceAgriculture and Food IndustryAlmaty, 5 nov. 2008 Wine & Gourmet AsiaMacau, 5-7 nov. 2008 New World Wine & Food FestivalSan Antonio, 5-9 nov. 2008 Salone Professionale Tecnica edEquipaggiamenti per Viticoltura ed EnologiaLisbona, 6-8 nov. 2008 23rd Annual Wine Food & ShowOttawa, 7-9 nov. 2008 Good Food & Wine ShowBrisbane, 7-9 nov. 2008 International Wine FairMonaco, 7-9 nov. 2008 Salon Normand du Vin &de Produits de TerroirRouen, 7-11 nov. 2008 International ExhibitionFoodstuffs, Drinks, Packagingand Equipment for Food Industry Dushanbe, 11-13 nov. 2008 48° European Trade Fairfor the Beverage IndustryDushanbe, 11-13 nov. 2008 International Exhibition and Conferencefor the Food & Beverage IndustryMumbai, 13-15 nov. 2008 BBC Good Food ShowLondon, 14-16 nov. 2008 The Northwest Food and Wine FestivalLos Angeles, 15 nov. 2008 Gourmet Food & Wine ExpoToronto, 20-23 nov. 2008 International Exhibition forPackaging & Processing of RawMaterials for the Food Industry Moscow, 25-28 nov. 2008 World Food MarketLondon, 26-27 nov. 2008 BBC Good Food ShowBirmingham, 26-30 nov. 2008 Ein PrositTarvisio-Malborghetto, 29 nov.-3 dic. 2008 VinitechBordeaux, 2-4 dic. 2008 India's Food, Drink &Hospitality Professional MeetNew Delhi, 2-4 dic. 2008 Food & HospitalityShanghai, 4-6 dic. 2008 Food & LiveMonaco, 4-7 dic. 2008 Mostra Mercato dell'Artigianatoe dell'EnogastronomiaRoma, 11-14 dic. 2008 Salone Internazionale Svizzero del GustoLugano, 12-14 dic. 2008 India InternationalFood & Wine ShowNew Delhi, 15-17 gen. 2009 Salone Internazionale Gelateria,Pasticceria e Panificazione ArtigianaliRimini, 17-21 gen. 2009 Salon des Vins de LoireAngers, 2-4 feb. 2009 Marlborough Wine FestivalMarlborough, 13-15 feb. 2009 XVIII International Wines& Spirits ContestChisinau, 14-15 feb. 2009 Wines & Spirits ExhibitionChisinau, 18-21 feb. 2009 Boca Bacchanal Celebrating Wine & FoodBoca Raton, 27 feb.-1 mar. 2009 Montecarlo Wine FestivalMontecarlo, 28 feb.-2 mar. 2009 International Exhibitionfor Food & IngredientsS. Pietroburgo, 1-3 apr. 2009 Scottsdale Culinary FestivalScottsdale, 14-19 apr. 2009 19th Annual FloridaWinefest & AuctionSarasota, 23-26 apr. 2009 Food & Hotel VietnamHo Chi Minh City, 1-3 ott, 2009 Salon d'affaires internationalpour les acteurs des filièresVin et Fruit et LégumesMontpellier, 1-3 dic. 2009 Salone dell'AgricolturaTulln, 2-6 dic. 2009 | | TrackBack | | | |
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