No, that?s all good. What caused me to twinge here and there while watching the series was a couple of other things.

First and foremost, the let?s take the little matter of wine. Oh, the Signore likes wine. It?s just not a main character in his play. Wine is an accompaniment to the larger picture ? food. Oh, and culture and his family history and his ability to make something so natural, in Italy, seem like something so unattainable.

Big Night/YouTube

No, it?s that when he goes into a region, many of which I have deep experiences in (sans Sardegna) I know part of what he will find. And in some cases, he has found some of the same people and places (and foods) that I have come across in my 50+ years of traveling and living in Italy. So, I look for how he will perceive it and communicate it to his impatiently waiting audience in the greater world.

Not that it would necessarily be a bad thing. As long as the follow-though to the end user is as close to the personal experience in Italy, yes? And we all know that, in America at least, that process has improved markedly in the past 40 years.

But still, there?s always someone who will take the idea and try and replicate it, often with disastrous and sardonic results. I mean Pane Carasau from Sardegna can be produced in other places of the world, but that blood sausage that was spread on it, how will that iteration be managed? Or mismanaged?

You see, I am not even talking about wine now. It is still way in the background. You didn?t see any of it in Calabria, or Puglia, and the Sardegnan episode, you did, but who knew? You saw a lot of cleavage though.

I haven?t seen Piedmont yet, maybe that episode will go deeper into it. And Venice, although if they go any deeper than un ombra I?d be surprised. Happily surprised.

Thankfully some of my special (and secret places) were not discovered by Signore Tucci?s advance team. Like the once-upon-a-time truck stop in Ciro. Or the sports bar in in Cisano Sul Neva in Savona (Liguria). And my beloved Puerto Baloo in San Benedetto del Tronto, Marche remains uncast in this series. So far.

One great surprise ? the ?new? 21^st region of Italy ? London. Now that intrigues me. I?ve not been deep in London since it has undergone its transformation as a global culinary centre. So, that is going on my bucket list. Thank you, Stanley. All is forgiven.

No, I was on my own, in a way. I wasn?t alone, but this wasn?t going to be a social event, the kind that junkets have become, especially now that covid resurrections are being lifted.

A word about travel. The world experienced a great disruption in the last three years. It really isn?t quite over. Nonetheless, I?ve witnessed that folks are antsy about getting back to their lives, prior to Covid. No matter how much any of us want it, there is no turning back the clock. And, as well, one really cannot ?make up the time? that one thinks was ?lost.? Now, some folks are traveling with a vengeance, trying to get every last thing in before their ice cream truly melts.

I don?t feel that way. To feel that way, for me, would be a delusion. I am here, right now, just as I have always been. The last three years was an irreplaceable experience, no matter how hard any of us would like imagine otherwise. But there were lessons to be learned.

But to return to the default world of 2019, 2015, or 2000, would be, for me, folly. Not judging others. Just stating my point of view.

That said, travel now is different. So, in many ways, my last trip to Italy was inimitable.

The voyage was effortless, even easy. In this new world we find ourselves in, I was able to travel without much effort. Where I was going there would be no large group, no hype. Just Italy. The Italy I had grown to love, and miss.

The days were sunny and bright, with just a slight crispness to the air. The roads were not crowded, for where I was in Italy wasn?t where the tourists or the influencers flocked to. Would I write about it? I am right now. But the caveat was always not to brag about a place or a particular wine or wines. Or even to let on where exactly I was. It was part of the unspoken code that I was compelled to observe in order to make this last trip to Italy.

So why would I do it? Why did I do it? Why not? Other than this brief recounting, there would be no prideful displays, no gloating over being there and not somewhere else.

The wines? They were red, white, ros?, sparkling, sweet and dry.

The food? It was fresh, locally prepared, healthy and plentiful.

Everything was in balance. Everything was perfect. It was Italy, after all.

But no pictures, no Instagramming or Facebooking. No videos, no tweeting. And no selfies. Just Italy, the Italy that was bestowed upon me for this journey.

It was wonderful. It was personal. It was powerful. And it was authentic.

It was simply, my last trip to Italy.

Three aspects are occupying my attention of late:

What an eye opener that has been. For one, when you change professions or transition from the working world to the world after, one undergoes a transformation that, like parenthood, there are paltry clues provided. I?ve talked a lot about transactional relationships on this blog, and never has it been more acutely shown to me that I have fewer of those types of relationships than when in the working world. Not complaining, just observing. It?s not like when one is on social media and trying to amass a load of ?friends.? No, this is the analog version, slower, deeper and with less bullshit than the virtual ones. This is where you find out who is really in your corner, not just lobbing a ? for shits ?n giggles.

Recently reading a book by Nina Totenberg, called ?Dinners with Ruth: A Memoir on the Power of Friendships.? Early on in the book she writes:

?Ruth didn?t teach me everything about friendship. I?ve had other wonderful teachers, expected and unexpected. All of them have taught me that friendship is precious, that it involves showing up, that it involves supporting and helping, that it is not always about the grand gesture, but rather about the small one. It is about extending the invitation, making space at the table, picking up the phone, and also remembering. Friendship is what cushions life?s worst blows and what rejoices in life?s hoped-for blessings. It can sometimes be as simple as a hug when the hug matters most.?

I?ve been lucky to have a couple of those friends, especially during the double whammy of Covid and retirement. I?ve also noticed that folks who I thought were my friends, well let?s just say their definition of friendship isn?t probably the same as mine or Nina?s. Unanswered emails and texts notwithstanding, many folks just haven?t shown up. What am I going to do, hound them? Maybe they?re busy. Maybe they can?t be bothered. Maybe their life is so full of other priorities. I?ve resolved to let ?em be, except in cases where my not ?showing up? could be interpreted that I no longer give a shit. I do, but I also know my ice cream is melting. I?m not chasing the impala across the savannah. It?s a fine line.

I never realized just how destructive the wine world was, and continues to be. Recently I was reading about an up-and-coming wine writer and on their ?about? page they noted among their many interests in wine writing and wine tasting that they drank copious amounts of Champagne and Burgundy daily. I did a double take. Really? Not to be virtue signaling here, but it struck me oddly. Copious?

Alcohol is, after all, a toxic substance, and too much of a good thing isn?t always a good thing. I would hope an editor might take that person aside and suggest another word like ?adequate? or ?agreeable,? so as not to suggest that binging on wine daily is an activity we should aspire to.

Still, many of us yearn to feel better. And alcohol, like drugs, and sex, and power, and access, can impart exultance.

While wine has alcohol, it isn?t the reason for loving wine. But try and convince an alcoholic, especially an intelligent and well educated one, to buy into that proposition. To some, it?s simply irresistible.

I have a list in my head of all the people in my trade who died young. It?s a rather long list. Most of them were sudden, like a car accident or a suicide. But those who had an illness, the ones I talked to in their last days, not a one of them would?ve traded a day for a drink. The only copious amounts of anything they wanted were more days, more heartbeats, more life. Not more Barolo.

These days it?s easy to see our ?friends? somewhere exotic, with a bevy of wine bottles, presenting us with the latest version of their best life. Right now, they?ve finished with their romantic glamping vacations in Phuket and Porto Cervo, and now we?re seeing other folks who are bloodletting their Italian/French/Portuguese/you name it wine country trips. Great food, always with the best friends, in glamorous and serene settings. It?s like everyone has turned into Ali MacGraw and Steve McQueen, and are tanning poolside at The Riviera in Palm Springs in 1969 - having the best sex, drinking the best wine and eating the best food - living their best life.

But even MacGraw and McQueen had to come down to earth from time to time.

Not so on Earth in 2022, where all we see is the bright side of the moon.

Look, we?ve all just been through an epoch that set the world on its side. And it isn?t done yet. Like I recently said, there is some major shit going down every day on earth.

So, I?m not buying into the ?my best life? bullshit. Is it a deflection from the real world, an avoidance? Or, are folks just getting back to their life, as it should be? I?m just not picking up the tab for that version of reality.

So, saying all that, what in hell crawled up my ass, you might ask?

Simply, that I am re-evaluating life, starting with friendships, alcohol and living one?s best life. I want to keep and grow my deep friendships. I want to love wine, but I don?t want it to be my sun and my moon. And I want to explore what life has to offer, but with a mind to the reality that there are those of us, some of them friends, some of them in the wine trade, who don?t have the freedom and the privilege that many of us have in the Free World. I want to be more mindful of their plight and responsive to it so that they too can find a way, someday, to return to their best life, their friendships and their families. And, yes, over a table with fresh and healthy food, and where delicious wine flows again.

Probably not the best headline for a blog in terms of SEO. Maybe better to use ?Italy 2022, and her impending economic, environmental, political, agricultural and social turmoil, following on the heels of the post-pandemic (or is it?) era.?  Yes, we have much to consider, starting with the wine grape harvest.

Regardless of the quality or quantity of the harvest, which on its own is worthy of deeper consideration, but taking into account a larger vista in which wine, as an agricultural bi-product, is made with the labor of humans and the energy of technology. Say what?

Fasten your seat belts, folks.

Word is that everything related to energy will see spikes in prices, thanks to Putin (and Saudi Arabia). Already, anecdotal information is coming out of Italy from folks saying the cost of energy is as much as tripling. That?s electricity to keep the winery machinery running, to keep the white (and other) wines fermenting cool, to keep the pumps pumping, the lights on, anything and everything that depends of electrical generation in order to keep things operating. That?s one aspect.

White, rose and sparkling wine will be the first we will notice. But those red wines that have to age for 3-4-5 or more years, what about them? Well, the price of borrowing money is going up and to hold onto Brunello or Barolo for years, in this era, will cause those wines, as, and when, they are released, to skyrocket. I?m already hearing from folks in the trade who are telling me that they are being prepared for major increases.

Along with that, stories have come across my desk relating to the price of shipping, which some sources have told me that those costs have stories as much as tripled in cost. So, if the formula (only an example) would be to add $1 per bottle for shipping, now expect $3. A $12 wine won?t become $15, because those costs are added in and then formulated to include those costs in the profit scheme. Think closer to $17-20. And that will be IF everyone in the tiers take a softer approach towards profitability and margins. Yeah, I kinda got wonky on you. Sorry.

Let?s go back to Italy.

Folks there are really worried because they have Russia breathing down their necks, the Ukrainian crisis still very much unresolved and unsettling, and the winds of war are blowing across the planet. Putin is threatening nuclear action. North Korea is popping off test rockets, Turkey is, well, Turkey, and China is also rattling sabers, especially in regards to Taiwan and ?US interference? in their backyard. Israel and Iran and Syria, another powder keg. We can?t even think about Afghanistan or Africa, because the Western world thinks they are of utmost importance, as if we were not the interconnected (and interdependent) world that we have become.

Oh, and Covid is rearing its ugly head with a variant wave (BQ.1 and BQ1.1.) in Italy, France and Germany, among other places, as we head into the colder (and holiday) months.

Meanwhile China and the US are Italy?s growing wine market. Or were, prior to 2020. And while that growth is starting up, with the world economies talking recession (and in the UK, economic depression), that makes it hard for a farmer or a small vineyard/winery to plan their future. Because the future is that uncertain.

I know this all sounds so very dire. That?s because it is.

So, yeah, 2022 is a great vintage. A big vintage. A wonderful vintage. A notable vintage. So what?

Or maybe the question is, ?So what now?? Back to that old Quo Vadis thingie. Except instead of asking Italy, maybe we should rephrase the question to: ?Earth 2022 ? where in Hell are we going??

New York, April 2020 (AP Photo/Wong Maye-E)

"Un Miracolo!"

Get ready, for here it comes! The long-awaited (and inevitable) treatise tsunami over the 2022 Italian grape harvest. Just like the ubiquitous dissertations on the perfect Thanksgiving wine or the vaulted Springtime piece on the gaggle of new ros? wines. Why do we love these so? Too many scribes today are looking for the easy-layout, the slam dunk, the no-brainer, when it comes to content. The 21^st century has broken everything, and the internet leads the way, always and in every way. So, let?s get ready for a plethora of boilerplate and an avalanche of clich?, with regards to the 2022 harvest. It will be epic!

Honestly, who even remembers the 1994 harvest? Or the 2011? And what makes the 2022 more special? Oh, right, it?s because we?re here and now and 2022 is the thing, dangling right in front of us, begging the experts (and they are all experts) to pass their judgment and burnish their (s)word upon the producer?s shoulders.

Some of them will charge for it. Some of them will lay it down in front of you for free. It doesn?t matter, they will use similar words and strive for self-importance. For they will identify with the harvest as a reflection of their self-worth. And what will we, the lowly wine drinkers, make of it? What is our takeaway?

Well, I reckon the writers will want us to laud them for their powers of observation and prognostication. For many of them will tell you that when they toured the vineyards in April that they saw, they felt, they knew that this would be the harvest to end all harvests.

Again?

Brilliant!

But yet, we are supposed to worship the writer of the harvest report because they elucidate all that is necessary for understanding.

Like I said, get ready, I can hear them typing away furiously right now, all over the world. You need them to tell you what you need to know about anything and everything that the harvest has wrought.

I might even open up that last bottle of Lambrusco Sorbara and start up the wood smoker and smoke me some wild, line-caught salmon, indubitably.

I?ll give it to you in one short paragraph, this 2022 harvest:

?After a short, wet spring and a long hot summer, with a little help from the scirocco and the maritime breezes, the harvest of 2022 in Italy will go down as one of the surprisingly greatest in history. ?Definitely the harvest of the decade if not the century!? one independent winemaker in the Langhe exclaimed. In Tuscany, as well, the elderly Montalcino scions noted that they hadn?t seen a harvest like this ?since 1967.? And in the Veneto, Amarone producers were licking their lips over a protracted growth season with ?potentially gobs and gobs of great Amarone to come, nothing like we have seen since 1947.? Not to be outdone the Etna producers amplified the feeling from the peninsula and went one step further. ?We have not seen a wine harvest like this since 1828 ? this is definitely the harvest of the millennial.? So be it. the greatest harvest Italy has ever seen, mark their words.

And if you liked 2022, as they said in Philadelphia and Brooklyn, just wait till next year. It?ll be even greater. Just ask the experts! 

And then, we moved to the desert when I was a kid, and we lived across from an Italian family. The husband was a screen writer, although his wife once told me he was a gofer for a famous television producer. He always seemed to be hanging around the house when he wasn?t out running errands, or as he liked to say, polishing up a script. Actually, what he was really good at was polishing off a bottle, night after night. He was harmless enough when he was sauced up, as long as he wasn?t behind the wheel. But I saw, first-hand, how an alcoholic functioned in his world. And it wasn?t pretty.

It is no small thing, when an Italian takes to drink. In my travels in Italy, over 50 years, I?ve witnessed little, if any, examples of an Italian for whom alcohol have gotten the better of them. Americans, well, that?s another story. Countless times I?ve dragged besotted colleagues to their room and dumped them in their bed, dead drunk. How, I asked myself, did they get that way? I was with them the whole evening. I'd had my share of wine, but it didn?t waste me.

Alcohol abuse has destroyed families and friendships, yet the Italians, historically have dodged that bullet. Why, I ask. And is that really the case now? In this age of Covid, when so many people have been sequestered and sheltered, with access to anything just a delivery away, with any number of temptations, are the Italians still stalwart in their temperance?

Our neighbor was a casualty. And several of the Italians who came over in the 1970?s, on the cruise ships, who eventually married here and stayed and opened up restaurants, some of them didn?t escape the temptation of the easy flowing wine tap. They worked long hours, had little social (or family) life outside the restaurant, and at the end of a fast lunch or a long dinner rush, they just wanted to kick back and mellow out. I get it. But I?ve lost a couple of them along the way.

Just like my erstwhile colleague, who couldn?t wait to get their drink on, so too, my Italian friends, far from home, succumbed to enslavement by intoxicants ? beer, wine, whisky. Sad.

Recently at lunch, with one of my non-transactional friends (i.e., a genuine chum) we got to talking about what would happen if someday a doctor said either of us could no longer drink any alcohol due to a physical condition.

?It would depend on the severity of the malady, but I would be inclined to temper the doctor?s advice with regards to the situation I was finding myself in,? my friend said. ?If I was a goner, I probably wouldn?t stop drinking wine, as my condition would be terminal. But if my life would be better for it, and my condition would improve, if I stopped, I?d do it in a New York second.?

I thought about my response. Simply, if someone told me I had to stop drinking wine, I?d say, ?OK, but that ginger kombucha, you?re not taking that away from me.? I had an alternate and a plan, a contingency.

Wanting it would still impart suffering from an affliction that could be worse than the diagnosis the doctor made, which put into motion the whole thing about quitting alcohol.

And then, something inside me said, ?Keep it simple.?

I was going down a rabbit hole.

I was missing something that I hadn?t given up. I like wine, sometimes I even love wine. But I can live without wine.

Is that cultural? Or is it behavioral?

However we parse it out, what is it about the Italian culture that has allowed it to create and enjoy these amazing gifts from the earth, yet, not become obsessed and hooked on them?

And what is it about so many Americans, young and old, highly intelligent ones too, that wine, this intriguing intoxicant, gets the better of them? 

Now, according to the website, Grocery Dive, Eataly is in ?more than 40 locations in 15 countries including eight flagship stores in North America and 16 franchise stores across Europe, the Middle East and Asia.? Quite a jump from their initial shop in Northern Italy.

$200 million seems like a small amount for 40 locations. I wonder how much debt the original company might have piled up. Was that debt erased? Who, if anyone, walked away with millions? What changes will come about? Expect  more expansion, and expect the Bastianich family will sell their shares, as part of the deal (as per The Financial Times).

In 2007, I?d heard about Eataly from friends in Italy, where it was getting some good buzz. It was autumn, and I was planning a wine buying trip to northern Italy. A colleague, who was from Torino, where the very first Eataly opened, suggested we stop in his hometown to visit, see a Juventus game and see Eataly, before heading into wine country. And that was how my fascination with Eataly began.

Since then, I?ve visited numerous Eataly?s around America, New York, Chicago and Los Angeles, to eat, to shop, and occasionally, even sell some Italian wine. I have gotten to know Eataly well. And when I heard the owners were planning on putting an Eataly in Dallas in 2020, in my home town, I was astounded. Why Dallas, when Houston, down the road, was touted as being so much more cosmopolitan and diverse? Why not Seattle, where the Italian wine and food scene thrives? Or New Orleans, which has a mosaic of food cultures (plus the tourism factor) that Eataly would surely dovetail into quite nicely. But Dallas? I was over the moon.

And then Covid hit.

With time to reflect during Covid, I began to envision this long-time connection between Dallas culture and their love for all things Italian.

When I moved to Dallas in 1978, I went to work down the street from the now-Eataly at a then-iconic Italian restaurant, Il Sorrento.

Il Sorrento was the lovechild of Mario and Irene Messina. Mario was creative force, and Irene made sure all the bills got paid, and the money grew. Mario was inspired to create a dining experience in Dallas that was missing. As Craig Claiborne wrote in the New York times about Dallas dining: ?Years ago I would have summed up the restaurant scene here in a phrase: ?Not worth a detour.? There were dozens of barbecue restaurants and places where you could eat Tex-Mex cooking, but these were prevalent throughout Texas.?

Yeah, Tex-Mex and barbecue. Still rocking Dallas. But Mario Messina was a visionary, and he had a dream.

It?s long gone, except in the minds and hearts of the dinosaurs who remember how impossible it was to get a decent espresso or a ball of fresh mozzarella. Now, all of that is behind us. And here comes Eataly, gilding the lily of our Italian obsession.

In a way, it was a vindication of all the efforts people in Dallas have given, from Mario Messina at Il Sorrento (whose gravesite overlooks Eataly) to the Paul and Mike Di Carlo (of Jimmy?s, Dallas) and all the purveyors, vendors and lively hearts that got the attention of the folks in Torino for a big little town in the west called Dallas.

7:00 AM - Mike DiCarlo of Jimmy's in Dallas

From my initial flirtation in 2007 in Torino to now, 2022, in Dallas, 15 years later we have one in the place I call home, Dallas, Texas. And while my loyalty is to my local retailer (Jimmy?s, first and foremost), I thought it was an exciting thing to see, especially the restaurant side. When I came to Dallas in 1978 from California, I was a stranger in a strange land. This place was starting to look like home, 42 years hence. Better late than never.

Now word comes that a global private equity firm has the reins. Oh, they sent out a press release assuring folks that these changes won?t subvert the mission of Eataly. I?ve worked for family companies and corporations that were ?taken over.? Nothing ever stays the same.

Look at Whole Foods. I?ve seen my local Whole Foods store become transformed from a New Age grocery, which I once recognized, into a company that now stacks White Claw, high and wide, in the aisles.

In reality, the local Eataly is looking more like an alter-universe of Italian wine. There is an orange wine section. Attention is paid to small producers. Two friends messaged me recently, with encouraging news of their products receiving great receptions at the Dallas Eataly. Let?s hope that small, independent streak is allowed to continue.

And looking at the shelves, so many faces of folks I worked with over the years. They aren?t just bottles, they are lives, with some of them now in their 3^rd and 4^th generations. History. Nostalgia? Perhaps. But also, the notion of passing the tradition from one generation to the next.

Same ?ol same ?ol? I mean, we could say that about Italy, for it knows about disruption. It might even feed on it, grow from it. And likewise with Eataly. I am hopeful. But I don?t have a dog in the fight anymore. I?m sitting on the dock of the bay.

But I like the developments I?ve seen in the elaboration of Italian culture in little ?ol Big D. Finally, I can get a decent espresso, a wonderful gianduja gelato, great Prosciutto, and wonderful mozzarella, both local and from the motherland. Yeah, this is the land of milk and honey.  I just hope the good times keep rolling. We need the Italian ambassadors of food and wine. now more than ever.

We will see. As Zimmy said, ?The times they are a changin?.?

T.G.I.F.

On the Rolex website, one of their newest watches, a GMT-Master II ?Pepsi? lists for $10,750 retail, but try and find one new for that price. On the secondary market though, you might be able to find one for twice retail.

I?m reading an article in Cigar Aficionado, and they?re talking about Cohiba Cuban cigars now retailing for over $100.

Before the great disruption event of 2016, you could have easily found a bottle of Pontet-Canet for under $80, still a price most people wouldn?t consider, except for maybe a special occasion, and well above the price I remember seeing the 1982 stacked in my local Safeway (for $12.99!). A Rolex, five years ago you could have gone into a local AD (authorized dealer) and picked one up, at retail. Still a pricey proposition, but reachable for folks with the means. And that Cohiba Splendido? Well, in Canada or Italy I saw them for about $10, back in the day. Still, a pricey smoke, but not a C-note!

Something is out of whack. Are we living in a world exclusively comprised of billionaires? Is there no ceiling on these consumer items? Have we all gone mad? Where in hell have we landed? Is there a way off of this planet?

Meanwhile, the earth keeps turning, and people try and piece back their lives, put the puzzle back together. And then we look up find ourselves looking at wines costing $200, watches costing $20,000 and cigars costing $100. Something?s gotta give.

The thing is, for many of us, wine and watches, and to a lesser extent, cigars, are everyday items. Common things. Something that we think are within our grasp. But when they start becoming unattainable, even for folks with a little money in their bank accounts, what is it saying about who we are as a people?

Italy has some of that. But Italy hasn?t built their brand on the premise of rare and unavailable. Oh yeah, you can look for, and find, a bottle of Soldera. And you will pay dearly for it. But Italian wine doesn?t orbit around that sun. For lack of a better term, the Italians have ?diversified their portfolio.?

I reckon much of this is built upon the sand castle of prestige and privilege. Folks want to be seen as being ?in,? and having the means to show it. All ?A? side, no ?B? side kinda thing. Italy has some of that status addiction, but when it is all said and done, Italians want to have a good time. They want to open the bottle, brandish the Cartier and smoke the robusto. Italians want to enjoy their life, not lock it up in some closet, safe or humidor. They find a way.

Will we make it? I really don?t know. But I do know it won?t be because Italy has made it impassible and futile to move forward, at least with their wines. And thank the good graces for that. Gratitude for the obtainable, the experience made available. The gate unlocked; the door open. The table set. The wine ready. For all. Thank you, Italy.

But not impossible. With threats from global climate change, changes in animal migrations, land wars, and general convulsive nature of our world, could Italian wine be wiped off the face of Earth?

In fact, a world without Italian wine existed for much longer than a world with it. Millions of years, billions. And Italian wine, how long have we had it, maybe 5,000 years? So, it?s not like it has been a permanent thing on the planet. But most of us live in the here and now, where we live our lives, and trouble ourselves little with the before and after of things.

Nothing is forever.

I look at the family tree of, say, the Antinori family, who have been around for 26 generations, 600 years, 8% of the time Italian wine has been around. They are invested in the past as well as the future. It?s part of their living legacy. But those of us without the history, the tree and the patrimony might struggle to see the why of it. Why should we care?

In short, Italian wine is a gift from the earth to her people. And her people have made it into something greater than how it came to be, originally. It is a thing humankind has done that is good and hearty, full of life. It is joyful and it is a cause for celebration. It is an everyday thing as well. It is mundane and it is extraordinary. So, if it were to be wiped off the face of Earth, many of us would see it as tragic and heartbreaking.

But life would go on, without wine, without humanity.

Photo courtesy of the winery

Everyday another wine tugs on me. ?We don?t have a lifetime for you to wait,? they call to me. The ones in the cellar are even more blunt, ?Open me, you bastard, I?ve been sitting in this cold, dark place for 20 years. I?m ready goddamnit!? A Nebbiolo, doubtless.

Oh, they don?t talk to you? You think I might be a little batty? Perhaps. Or maybe this silverback has learned to listen to his cellar mates. They don?t talk to you? I?m sorry, what you are missing out on. Take it from me, they talk endlessly, chattering all through the night, knowing that they have one function to fulfill, and that is to escape the confines of the cork and bottle in which they are imprisoned.

Yes, what a world it would be, a world without Italian wine. But not any world I care to live in. How about you?