I say this as I have been delving into the food and flavors of Ethiopia of late. It appears there is a lively Ethiopian community very close to my neighborhood, and I have been learning to make a few dishes. Because of that, new flavors and combinations of flavors (and aromas) have been coming out of the kitchen lately. I only say this because it sparked in me an exploration of my longtime relationship with wine and its many varied experiences.

I?m at the stage in my wine journey, where the high tide is receding. I?ve narrowed down my ?collection,? having given away many old bottles to other folks. It?s not that I?m not as interested (am I?), but I am looking at the window of opportunity narrowing in terms of having the time to actually experience the wines I?ve collected in a time frame in which the wines can be enjoyed, hopefully, in or near their prime.

I?ve been contemplating not just wine, but photography and the human life experience, from the perspective of looking at something as if for the very first and the very last time.

It isn?t easy. I?ve tried it with regard to seeing things from the perspective of the younger generations, other cultures, other genders, animals, birds, trees, even rocks. It?s a response due to the overbearing presence of so many voices shouting out from the wilderness from their point of view. Imagine someone you?ve known for a long time declaring: ?You don?t know anything about me!?

In effect, blind tasting can offer somewhat of a clean slate look and taste of a wine that maybe one has had numerous times. The field of exploration could be limitless, time constraints permitting. But in essence, the exercise is put up there more for an inner probe, a psychological isolation tank of sorts. What are you really seeing? Smelling? Tasting? Sensing? That?s really the destination of this drill.

We all need to work on better communication skills between the generations, the genders and the various cultures within this pot of stew that we call life in America. And while those challenges are foremost in my mind these days, I can?t help but wonder if I work on my neural links in regard to the way I appreciate wine anew, that there might be a little spill over from the way I approach perception going forward.  Refining perception in one domain?like taste?can enrich empathy and openness in others.

Before I get to the good news, I want to mention a plethora of reports, some journalistic, some opinion based, relating to the state of wine in America in these times. There sure as hell is a lot of unease over so many fearful aspects of the commerce of wine, from the boardrooms to the Substack macrocosm that is burgeoning with speculation. Even the business socials, like LinkedIn, showcases articles written by authorities (self-proclaimed ?wine brand creators?, ?wine media gurus? and otherwise) lamenting the deterioration of wine in society. Pieces running the gamut, from the supposed homogeneity of supermarket wine selections (maybe that critic has never been to a Central Market in Texas) to the shame of all shames, celebrity wines, and how those kind of wines are almost single-handedly destroying any progress towards the actualization of truly authentic and naturally derived wines. Maybe the supermarket managers need to put a stack of Kleenex in wine aisles to accompany the crooning coronachs that wine writers bellow ? that is if they were ever to set foot in such a subjacent haunt. Of course, that would preclude them having to unlatch themselves from their laptop, phone or tablet and veer out into the real world and do a bit of journalistic digging for the more substantive stories.

Fourteen years ago, in the glory days of wine blogging, the wine blogger Samantha Dugan asked the wine critic Eric Asimov a question:

SD: I find that Rombauer Chardonnay makes me gag, you ever experienced that sensation with a wine?

EA: More with wine writers than with wine.

Moving on?.

Ok, for the good news. Mind you, this is just one little place in the galaxy of Italian wine, but it is a place where I found no black holes ? only light.

Secondly, I do what I call ?cleaning the Aegean stables? some days, and ?rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic? on other days. Simply put, I help to re-organize the wine set at ye olde Italian store. It is 99.999% Italian wine and some of the wholesale merchandisers (and salespeople) don?t always know where to put a Montepulciano (not in the Tuscan section, please) or a Soave (not in the Campania section). Stuff like that. Anyway, if a couple of us pay attention to it, it won?t get too out of hand. I?m also charged with making sure all the point-of-sale (i.e. shelf talkers and signs) have a clean and uniform look, and that the information is vintage specific. It?s not a full-time job, but it?s something I fit into my weekly schedule, easily. And it keeps me up-to-date on a lot of Italian wine changes, especially pricing and trends (and scores, which have meaning for some folks).

While I am involved doing that (often from a rickety ladder) people stare at the set of wines and look often like they are going into a  trance over the possibility of choosing a Chianti Rufina over a Vino Nobile di Montepulciano. They are overwhelmed, but they want to know more. They are interested in Italian wine, food, culture, and they want to explore. The shelf talkers help a lot, especially when no one is on the floor, which is most of the time. And one of the owners of the store has told me that sales of wine are rocking. Wines ? not brands!

Or if you?d rather, a shot across the bow. For there is more to this story than one post or a smattering of prognostications from armchair experts, regardless of whether they call themselves wine writers, wine gurus or wine brand creators.

The real work is in the field work. In the foxholes ? not the rabbit holes.

To be continued?

I was recently reading about one of the good ?ol boys who is finally retiring. Older than me, but he just couldn?t put down the baton. Until finally, he did. I remember when I was young, in my 30?s, he was a full-on testosterone driven chap. One day I was in his office (we were colleagues, he wasn?t my boss, but he thought he was). I?d cancelled an ill-timed container of wine that he?d ?ordered.? Apparently, our bosses never took the time to let us know who-was-who on the org chart. When he found out about it, he was angry. He threatened to throw me out of the second story window of his office. Not being one for physical violence in the workplace, I got the hell out of his office, left the building, and as soon as I was in my car, used my car phone to line up another job. All in service of Italian wine. 

A few years before, a boss in one of the companies I was worked for, was not handling the dissolution of his company (staged as a ?merger?). I happened to be in his office. I mentioned that if he?d just get out into the marketplace a little more and off the phone, maybe we wouldn?t be in such a situation. He didn?t like that, and proceeded to jump up from behind his desk and throw me, physically, out of his office ? through a wall! I also left the building, called up his boss (the new owner) and told him what happened. I had pictures just in case. Well, my boss was demoted. And that company folded shortly thereafter.

In both cases, today none of that would have been tolerated. Both of those guys, using physical violence, would have been summarily fired by HR.

I had another boss, who didn?t have much of a work ethic. He liked making deals. Sound familiar? Anyway, he made a deal to buy another company. The only problem, was the company he was buying and the company he owned were incompatible from a legal point of view ? conflict of interest. So, he nominally put me ?in charge? of the company he?d grown tired of in lieu of the newer company which had greater opportunities for prestige and earnings. In other words, he wanted to become a millionaire quicker. And he did. But not without putting me in jeopardy with the law, as a possible colluder of his unethical, and illegal maneuvers. Again, when push came to shove (this time just figuratively, thankfully) I walked out of the building and got on the phone to my lawyer, who advised I ?keep walking and don?t look back.? And while that wasn?t physical violence, it was a psychological onslaught.

In all cases I pivoted, usually to a better position. I was also lucky to be a bit na?ve, forgiving (to a degree) and especially resilient. But looking back now, I realize how much physical and psychological violence there was in the wine trade when I was coming up in it. And all through this I reminded myself I was an ambassador for Italian wine. I was a soldier for Brunello, Barolo, Montepulciano d?Abruzzo, Gavi and any other number of wines from Italy. All in service of Italian wine.

So, when he came up to me with some cockamamy story about how I was spreading lies and talking bad about him (not true), this time I was ready to rumble. All those years being manipulated by people who were getting rich off my back ? white men ? who thought they could walk all over me. Something in me snapped and I looked him in the eyes and said, ?Let?s go outside so I can properly kick your sorry fucking ass ? I don?t want to sully the carpet here.? Well, he wasn?t equipped for that. He was used to ?yes? men (and women) and I could see a flicker in his eye - micro expressions - Surprise. Then fear. At the same time, my friends in the booth behind me came out and pulled me back inside, de-escalating the situation.

It was only the second time I snapped. Another time, at a fancy Italian restaurant, the owner would open for lunch on Friday. A trade lunch day, where all the reps would come and eat and show their wines. There was this character who?d made his fortune  (let?s call him Tullio) preparing meals for the airlines. He?d gotten it into his head he could also be successful at running a restaurant, which proved to be a major flop and cash vacuum for his fortune. Along the way he also got it into his head that he was a wine expert and decided to import his own wines from his region. When the company I was working for didn?t bring them in for him, he took offense and brought them in himself. Eventually, as it often happens, he couldn?t sell the wines fast enough to prevent them from getting old and oxidized. They had to be closed out for pennies on the dollar.  They just weren?t that good to start off with. But his ego got in the way of good business decisions. So, he resented me for that. At this Friday trade lunch he was holding court with a group of his lackies. The sommelier on duty was taking care of them because he wanted a big tip (Tullio was a big spender!) and the attention. As I was was leaving the restaurant, Tullio yelled out to me, in front of his friends, to impugn my integrity. I got to the door, went outside, opened the door back up and put my head in. ?Tullio, would you mind please, a word outside??

Tullio came to the door, he wouldn?t come outside. That was good enough for me. I opened the door and looked down on him squarely in the eyes (he was quite a bit shorter than me) and said to him, ?Tullio, if you come outside I will kick your ass until your breath smells like shit. You are a dishonorable person and I will take no more insults from you. I will hurt you!?

Well, the look of fear in Tullio?s eyes was all I needed to know I got the best of him. He put his tail through his legs and ran back to the safety of his little mob of misfits.

I tell these stories because it wasn?t easy selling Italian wine in Texas then, nor is it now. I happened to run across several unsavory characters in my career. A couple of times, I took the licks. But when it got to be too much, I recoiled like a rattlesnake, ready to strike. I?d had enough.

I never did physical violence to those two fellows, even though I threatened to. They were bullies and cowards ? all they needed was the threat. But it didn?t change who they were. They continued to do what they did. What surprised me is how often things like that happened. And can you imagine if it happened to me ? a white man ? how many times unsavory things happened to women, the minorities, to the disabled, and the neuro-divergent in our business?

A funny story to end. In the beginning of my career, part of my route was the gay bars. This was the 1980?s when AIDS was beginning to roar through the community. I remember taking an order at a gay bar and the bartender started hitting on me. I was young and looked like I could have been Freddy Mercury?s younger brother, I get it. I thought to myself, ?Even gay guys can?t help themselves. It must be something about the male gene that makes us aggressive. Maybe it?s the testosterone.? Because they were my customer, I had to act professionally and without rudeness. So, I looked him in the eyes and said to him, ?Look, I can understand how you might have affection for other males. I really do. I am of another persuasion. But I do understand your passion for men. My most important relationship happens to be right now with a male. And he is my young son, for whom I have custody and am responsible for his upbringing and well-being.? The bartender looked at me, with a look of astonishment but also relief. He knew I was straight. ?Well, you can?t blame a guy for trying.? And he filled up a cup with maraschino cherries with the parting words, ?These are for your son. He is one lucky son of a gun.?

Oh, and he also gave me an order for ten cases of Asti Spumante for the weekend. All in service of Italian wine.

T

Some folks might disagree with me, that they like Tucci and his show. I get it, it?s entertainment. He?s an actor, with a mesmerizing voice. Good. Enjoy it. Just don?t confuse it with the real thing. That ain?t Italy, folks!

I met and got to know Sarah May Grunwald in the heyday of wine blogging. We don?t stay in touch as much since Covid, but I subscribe to her Substack site, Contadina, and she recently wrote from her perspective about this. A couple of things I pulled from her post was this notion of the ?Christopher Colombizing of Italy,? and content creators who ??write about Italian people like they are tourist attractions. Objects.?

Indeed. I?ve observed this in the 50+ years I have been going to Italy. Objectifying a culture that is so much more than their spritzes, their pizza, their gelato, and their monuments.

I?ve moved beyond just wine. That was my livelihood. Now I am in a different chapter. I know there are chaps who are close to or in retirement, who cannot take off their ?wine expert? caps. Sometimes it takes a little time for it to sink in ? they?re done with you when they?re done with you, gents. Try and find a way to keep moving. Maybe even moving on. Holding on feels a little like liposuction or botox. Yeah, you can hold out and put forward your best rendition of la bella figura, but time is going to catch up with all of us ? even the billionaires partying their asses off in Venice.

So ? 500+ words in and let?s get to the point ? Italy is not anyone?s personal playground or toy, not Jeff Bezos?, not Stanley Tucci?s. It is a country made up of people with feelings and emotions. And right now, the times there are trying. Italians are wrestling with their own disruptions, politically and economically, as well as the cultural upheaval that is being presented, thanks to wars and climate change and shifting demographics and birth rates and progress. The Italy of 2025 is not the Italy I first experienced in 1971. It is a totally different country, save for the monuments and artwork and churches and so on that are now 50 years older. Which in Italy, for those things, isn?t much time. But for the humans on the ground who are living through it, this is a delicate country. Treat Italy like a butterfly, not like a Corgi.

Drinking ? leave behind the Prosecco and Spritz obsessions that are pushed on TV shows and movies. Have a quartino of the house red or white. And by the way, when it?s 90?F and you?re sitting under an awning, for gawds sake, get over your red wine compulsion. White wine isn?t for sissies, whatever that?s supposed to mean. By the way, Italy produces more white wine than red, so now you?ve got the memo. And permission to leave behind this mania for all things red, when the sun above is blaring.

City hopping ? what are you doing? Spending more time in transit than actually enjoying the country, or the countryside or the seaside or the mountains? Get over your fixation with buildings and cars and traffic and noise and heat and menu turistica?s and ticking off the boxes and the grind of urban life. Ok, you want to see Rome? See Rome. Stay there for the whole trip. Stay in a quiet little neighborhood, like the hotel I stay at occasionally in Rome (where the image above was taken from their Instagram site). Walk. Last year, eight months after I had a knee replacement, I stayed in the neighborhood, Parioli, and I did walk into central Rome several times. It took 30 minutes, but so what? A cab ride in traffic, or a bus, would have taken almost as much time. And you are on the ground, getting a visceral feel for a place. Finding a small little osteria or an artisanal gelato shop (without the tourist prices like they have in Piazza Navona). Or a quaint little wine bar, probably with both natural wines and commercial wines, for you to choose from (at ?4.00 a quartino not ?15).

Do try and prevent yourself from thinking you have to see everything in one trip. Come back again. And again. And again. I adopted that philosophy early on in my youth (one of the few wise things I did then) and 60+ trips later (many for business, some for pleasure) I have a pretty good lay of the land. Been to every region except Sardegna (and it is on my bucket list, along with a few places not in Italy). But in no way, do I think I have yet ?gotten? Italy.

Italy is my teacher, and I am its perpetual student. But Italy is also flesh and blood and feeling and hopes and dreams and it is a wonderful place to slow down and reflect on the life that?s left to you.

 ....

Italy took me in her arms and cradled me and held me and dare I say, healed me. I could not have had that happen if I was obsessed with seeing every last cathedral, tasting every carbonara to be had. It was exactly what the doctor ordered.

I hope Italy can be that to some of you reading this, 

If you?ve gotten this far, the next step is yours. It?s a wonderful journey. Buon viaggio.

 ? written and photographed (except the first one) by Alfonso Cevola limited rights reserved On the Wine Trail in Italy

Inside the bubble, though, not all is rosy. Wine lists where the average price of a bottle of wine is over $100, Taylor Swift's Eras Tour where tickets averaged over $1,000, a plethora of cars (and trucks!) now costing north of $100,000 and, surprise of surprises, a wristwatch that costs more than a Ferrari!

So, how did we get here? And why?

First of all ? yes one can still buy a good bottle of wine for $20 and even in a restaurant one can find the hidden gem for $50. And yes, One can still buy a decent, dependable car (i.e. a Toyota) for under $20k. And a watch? Well, yeah, for $100 or under one can get a sturdy, reliable, even trendy watch. So why the disparity between the two polar opposites? 

I think it has to do, in my opinion, with the meaninglessness of the value of currency in today?s world. A quarter of a million dollars today is like $13,500 one hundred years ago. 

I?m thinking and writing this because I?m seeing the premiumization of Italian wine and wondering if there is even a ceiling anymore. A bottle of ?de-classified Brunello? going for over $600 on the shelf of a wine shop feels strange. Even stranger is the ICE agents down the street scouring the local construction site.

A friend and I were talking the other day about older TV shows and he mentioned The Twilight Zone. My reply to him was something to the effect that in those days, it seemed like we were living in The Twilight Zone, not just watching it on TV. And now, it seems, we?re in reruns. It is summer, after all.

Yeah, I cannot wrap my head around the artificially inflated Italian wine prices of late. Especially as the older folks are drinking less, some already have wine at home in coolers (maybe) and the savers might also have discretionary cash to afford wine regularly, if they are still drinking regularly. And finally, the upcoming generations, trying to get into housing, afford a car (at an average cost of $40K) saving for baby and/or children?s education. Along with paying the bills? Who?s gonna walk in my little Italian store and plunk down $600 for a bottle of Case Basse di Gianfranco Soldera Toscana Rosso? The billionaires across the freeway over in the wealthiest part of town?

That?s going to sustain the Italian wine industry? That sounds more like the boat has a big leak in it, from something we just hit, there aren?t enough lifeboats, and hey - it?s everyman to themselves!

Would I like to have a watch that costs more than a Ferrari? Well, it would be easier to park, and the insurance for sure would be a lot less, along with the maintenance. But no, not my cup of Timorasso.

What really puzzles me is the cost of concert tickets. I look who is going to these $1,000 per ticket venues and wonder just how maxed out their credit cards are. The USA total credit card debt is $1,200,000,000,000 (that?s $1.2 trillion, btw). For anyone who wants to know, that?s over $3,500 of debt, per every person in America. Wow, I feel like opening a bottle of Dom Perignon, just because someone needs to drink the damn thing before the boat sinks (just kidding).

I tell you what I think. It?s gonna get a hell of a lot worse before it gets better.

It?s enough to get one to drink ? like a nice bottle of Barolo, say from 2010 or 2008? Or maybe some bubbles? 

?I cannot imagine any wine improving past ten years of age, red, white, sparkling, still or sweet. In my experience I have found that ten years is the limit. Let me explain.

But one can recommend a wine for now. And the folks in Italy are making more red wines for now.

Does that mean they won?t or can?t age? Of course not. But the way wine is being made today is not like it was being made in 1958, 1964, 1971, 1987, 1990 or even 2000. The technology and the ?culture? of winemaking has progressed. And society is more impatient now.

I want flavor. And I want fruit, fresh not rotten. I don?t want my glass to smell like a bloody compost heap. I want flowers and fruits and perfume and ?life! for Heaven?s sake. I don?t want to drink decrepitude. I can see enough of that in some future mirror. In the meantime, I want to enjoy the fruits of the labor of the winemaker and drink wine with pleasure.

Call me ageist? Not so quick. When was the last time you preferred to take an Uber in a 10+ year old car? Or rented a 15-year-old car from Turo to drive around Minneapolis in December? No, you?d go with the newer model because it is more reliable.

And there you have it in one word ? reliability. A younger wine is more likely to not disappoint you with off flavors or tired tertiary aromas.

So, for me, the meat and potatoes of wine enjoyment is that exactly ? enjoyment. And my research, albeit purely anecdotal, has proven, for me, to generally stay far away from wines older than ten years. That?s my prescription for fine wine enjoyment in the future.

Now, I?ve got to catch my Uber and get to the airport. And next time we chat, let?s talk a little more about that broken heart of yours, ok??

 

In the context of social media slang, ?coded? means that someone, something, or a behavior embodies or resembles a specific character, stereotype, or archetype. It's a way of using recognizable traits to make quick, playful connections and associations, often without explicitly naming the reference.

Jumping off from that point, it got me wondering if Italian wine is coded in these days of disruption. Almost anything can be, especially when one trawls the eddies of social media. Here?s what I have surmised from my brief but spectacular subterranean foray into the dark world of the coded.

For this exercise I?ve compiled a set of interactions that I have had this year at my local Italian store which sells Italian wine. I have been tasked with providing information on little cards (shelf-talkers) for them, and while I am there servicing the racks, people come up to me with questions. They might think I work there. In any case, I?m glad to provide direction, as I no longer represent any brands and am able to speak about any or all Italian wines on the shelf regardless of who imports or distributes them.

An elderly gentleman came up to me. He wanted a ?Big red wine? to go with his frozen lasagna. ?I don?t want to wimp out when it comes to my love for red,? he exclaimed. Mind you, it was 85?F outside, and it was only the month of May. I took him over to the Amarone section and set him up with the ?bigliest? red we had. Now, how would we code the Amarone? I?d lean in the Boyardee direction. Amarone can be so many things to different people, but to this red wine zealot, I?d imagine he was much more comfortable watching ?Leave it to Beaver? when he was a kid back in those glorious days of the 1950?s. He?s still looking for his ?Rosebud,? and in the meantime has to settle for a big red and a slab of lasagne.

How to code that? She was Gen-Z, looked like part of her heritage originated somewhere in Asia. Very neat, maybe a musician. She had G clef earrings. I?d venture a guess and code that Trebbiano as Free-Range in the key of G.

Another woman, she was in her 50?s, but if I were to guess, I would have put her in her early 40?s. I know so because she was having a special event (a birthday, hers) and she was proud to have been born in the late 1960?s (she told me she was a fan of the Allman Brothers). In any case, she needed bubbles. I took her over to the sparkling section, dominated by Prosecco but augmented with Trentino DOC, various Lambruschi and Franciacorta.

Her first words were ?I?m not crazy about Prosecco, I don?t like the bubbles they make, and the wine seems too sweet for my taste.? I knew exactly which wine to hand her - Ca' del Bosco Cuv?e Prestige Brut Franciacorta with that pretty gold cellophane gift wrap it comes in. She beamed when I handed it to her. ?Give me three bottles please.? Bingo!

What?s the code here? Someone who knows her mind, who takes care of herself, who is assertive, yet not afraid to ask for advice. My code word, there is only one word I can imagine: Empowered.

For the red I handed them one of my favorite Brunellos, one with a lot of history (for the cognoscenti). It was a bit pricey, but they didn?t flinch. One of them squealed, but I think it was involuntary. In any case, I was looking away at the time and it helped to diminish his embarrassment.

For the white, I handed them a Greco di Tufo, for the simple reason that I love the wine and it has Campanian roots. So, in effect both wines could act as an homage to the two regions the gents loved so much. The wines could also act as jumping off points when entertaining their guests to talk about the wonderful villas and palazzos they?ve rented while ?on holiday? in Bella Italia.

So, what?s the code? Well, for the red, an elegant Brunello from an historic property, I?d have to go with Legacy.

For the white, I think a proper word for it might be Moonstruck. I say that because one of the fellows told me about a night they once had drinking Greco on the beach (in all white clothes) under the full moon near Positano.

Oh, I know, I?ve made up my own rules. No left, no right. No mention of independent or moderate. The closest I?ve gotten was to the elderly gent who, just more than anything, wants to run the clock back to a time when he was younger and healthier. Who wouldn?t want that?

Actually, I wouldn?t. I?m happy to be here in the present, relatively healthy and although no longer young, also not decrepit. Or so my trainer at the gym tells me.

Must be all that Lambrusco di Sorbara I drank in the last 20 years when I was part of the Zeitgeist.