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Mondo Di Vino
Mondo Di Vino





[01/07/2024, 16:02] The Small, Small, Small, Small World of Italian Wine

?Compared to what??

On the Wine Trail in Italy
The land mass of Italy figures out to be 0.2% of the world, similar to Poland, Ecuador, New Zealand and Vietnam. In regards to wine production, though, Italy is often the largest producer, occasionally swapping with France, depending on the harvest. How such a small land mass became to account for such a large amount of wine production is a fascinating thought. The reality, is that Italy, like France and a few other select areas of the world, is uniquely situated to produce large amounts of fine wine. A miracle one might even say. However, that miracle took a long time to create and it was not without its share of purgatorial tribulations.

Still, as one observes today on the social media platforms, one might think it to be one giant movable feast. The young generation who?ve inherited it from this point surely make it out to be a well-tanned cake walk, with the commensurate high-toned tastings in exotic places from Bangkok to Miami. Along with that, the four and five star stays at hotels in fascinating spots like Dubai and Singapore, poolside moments notwithstanding, as well as sumptuous dining experiences at all hours of the day and night. One might think the essence of Italian wine was just one long glamorous ride on a magic red carpet, like something out of One Thousand and One Nights. Were that it was as simple as that.

On the Wine Trail in Italy

It's like watching someone drive up to the valet in Houston or Los Angeles in a Ferrari or a Lamborghini and imagine that is the epitome of the Italian car tableau, the end all and the be all of it. And for those in the pits, they know that ain?t so. So it is, as well, in the Italian wine landscape. There?s a  hell of a lot more blood sweat and tears than foie gras and Franciacorta. In the field, a Defender is a work vehicle, not a totem for status. And a filone and a carafe of the new wine is more likely to feed the body, like a deconstructed savory cannolo and a quartino of orange wine is employed to feed the ego in some far-flung destination touted on TikTok.

The actuality is that it took a long time and a lot of hungry souls to get Italian wine to the place it is today, and even though it is a small world, it has taken, and will continue to take an army of committed individuals to keep the continuation propelling into the future. Which means some of the children on the beaches of Phuket and the Maldives might have to come back home and get a little more dirt under their nails. Why?

On the Wine Trail in Italy

Let?s just say AI. Or in wine terms, China. Just as we?ve seen in fashion and vehicles, the competition to create a dominant bedrock for a market is not a static thing. The urge to be better, to be number one, is a human craving, not the sole possession of any one culture - not the French, not the Italians, not the Americans. The whole world is plugged in now, and they want their shot at the brass ring. We?ve already seen it in technology, and with the effects of global climate change, the conditions that make Italy (or France) so unique for wine production can, sooner or later, exist elsewhere. And the loom on which that future lore will be woven is more easily achieved in that kind of future in which we are heading.

A friend of mine frequently reminds me the Rome fell because they essentially ran out of money. The economy stupid. Well, it doesn?t take a genius to look at Western countries, like Italy, and their enormous debt linked with the unequal distribution of wealth, to know that those Cartier and Botox bedecked princesses lying on tanning mats in Abu Dhabi while sipping on Bollinger RD is not a recipe for sustainability of supremacy. But hey, don?t take it from a plebe. Just wait and see, because the fire-storm is coming. Get your fiddles ready.

Time and chance are unlimited to all. It's a small world, and it?s getting smaller.

On the Wine Trail in Italy
 

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[12/31/2023, 19:36] Walking on Frozen Water
?When life is sweet, say thank you and celebrate. When life is bitter, say thank you and grow.? ? Shauna Niequist

On the Wine Trail in Italy
Often, I sit down at the desk here and just start typing, as I am doing now. And then the words appear, maybe making sense, and sometimes not so much. After eighteen years doing this, at least once a week, often more, I?m resigned to seeing where it takes me, and you, if you?re still with me.

About 85% of you will not make it to this sentence and new paragraph. So, it goes. We want it in small bites, and we want the punch, the energy and the electricity right from the get-go. No time to waste.

Knowing more acutely about that aspect of time at this point in life, I empathize. There is precious little to waste.

On the Wine Trail in Italy

What will 2024 bring on the wine trail in Italy? I have no idea. I know there will be some early physical challenges to be overcome next year. That kind of goes with the territory of the elders. Does my voice have any bearing in the world of Italian wine? At this point, if I haven?t already done and said what I was going to do and say, I?d hope that whatever aftertaste I leave in the mind of the reader will be a light one. Soft and trailing off into the sunset, a dessert wine, a Moscato passito from Sicily perhaps. That would be fine with me.

I was looking at one the other day in the wine shop that I go to ? it was from Pantelleria, an island I spent time on and loved dearly. Great memories, even if some of them were profoundly sad, made that way by grief and loss. But the sweetness of the wine, as I remember, offered solace. So, perhaps, in 2024, maybe my voice can assuage that around me, and that which occasionally pulls up to these pages. It is a hope of mine. Dare I say it is one of my resolutions for the new year? I would if I did such things. In any event, it?s on the punch list.

On the Wine Trail in Italy

One of the things I want to focus on, with regards to wine and writing about it, is not so much how it tastes and what a great time I?m having with whatever magnificent bottle is in front of me. Rather, how it embeds itself into the greater picture of life, and a life that is looking more for peace and tranquility than one mired in chaos and upheaval. Girding our loins for this new year, there will be plenty of that from the souls who feed on such impulses. Feeling more alive among disruption seems to be a dominant dystopian trope in these times. But at this point in my life, I?ve seen as bad, maybe even worse, in previous eras. We will either get through it ? or we won?t. It?s, more or less, out of our hands.

One of the things I want to grapple more with in 2024 is the level of seriousness we seem to take ourselves when we are in present moment situations. I know that when I was working full time, that work took up a lot of mental and psychic energy, not to mention the physicality that went along with it during some of those times. I was all in, which wasn?t such a bad thing. But now I look at folks who are all in, and I wonder if that is really why we are here. Of course, I could turn that right back at me and ask myself if where I am now, my ?all in-ness? is any less ludicrous than those who are in the work place and earning their way. There is this future me, somewhere 5-10-15 years from now, looking back and wondering why I am doing what I am doing now. Could I be engaged otherwise? Should I be volunteering? Should I read more? Should I finally get my photographic archives sorted out, so that sometime after I am long gone, there might be a story about a time, with images galore, that could help clarify this time and why it turned out the way it did? Am I walking on frozen water, not knowing if the surface will hold the weight? Does that matter?

On the Wine Trail in Italy
Ukraine, July 26: The body of a Russian soldier in the Zaporizhzhia
region, where Ukraine was waging a counteroffensive. @tylerhicksphoto

The departed soldier in the photo above (getting my vote for photo of the year), in a way, tells the story of all of us these past few years. We?ve been plowed under by the weight of events that have passed over us. How we decide to persevere and pivot under such overwhelming odds is up to each and every one of us, individually. For better or worse, I?ve inherited a survival mechanism that has taken me thus far. I imagine it taking me further, or so my future me tells me. What I plan to do between now and then is what is left of my journey on this pretty little orb.

Happy New Year to all y?all. See you in 2024. Warm wishes and marshmallow kisses!

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[12/24/2023, 17:52] We?ve Come So Far, So Good

On the Wine Trail in Italy
Looking back over the past year, if I were to assess it as a grape-into-wine harvest, I might say this:

We started with a late but mild spring. Rainfall was average, with little to no hail or tornadoes. Once summer arrived, in June, the heat went up and stayed there for months. And months. And months. For humans, as well as grapes, it made for a difficult growing season, as there was no recovery available during the night. Often temperatures never went below 90?F, even at midnight! It was a brutal summer, the second in a row.

Still not as brutal as the summer of 1980 or even 2011. In 1980, it was just plain hot for hundreds of days, temperatures over 100?F the whole time. And 2011 also had extreme drought. Thousands of cows died from lack of water and relief. So, 2023 wasn?t as bad as it could have been.

And if a wine were to come from a harvest like that?

On the Wine Trail in Italy

Grapes are like humans in many ways. We?ve traveled together for thousands of years. Our has been a mutual journey through time and space. If I were a grape, I doubt this year I would have been made into that good of a wine. But seeing as I?m a human, it struck me a little differently. It felt like I was being taken down a peg or two from more youthful times.

Time, the ultimate leveler. As I perused the pages the NY Times 2023 obits, there were skads and skads of folks who figured so prominently in our lives the past several generations. People like Henry Kissinger and Silvio Berlusconi. Powerful men, womanizers, aggressive behaviors. And others like Tony Bennett and Tina Turner, who embellished our lives for the better with their artistry. All of them steeped into their lives fully. All of them with one common denominator now ? the ride is over.

I know that might sound a bit morose, but actually, for me, it is illuminating. What we get ourselves into, in this life, which occupies so much of our time and attention, and our love (or our antipathy) make up a lot of what we call our life.

On the Wine Trail in Italy

I remember a friend?s father, who was a hopeless alcoholic, and when he was three sheets to the wind, he?d often sing this little ditty:

?Happiness, happiness, everybody?s looking for happiness. ?Round and ?round they all do chase, everybody looking in a different place.?

How true those words are, even though coming from him it sounded a bit more tragic. Still, we can learn from almost anything, with an open spirit. And 50 years later, I see all this running around, all these people shouting and screaming and bleeding and crying and dying and laughing and it?s astounding we, as a species, have accomplished as much as we have, especially in the last 70 or so years. I?m both bewildered and amazed at the quantity of human expression on earth. And I?m just an erstwhile wine guy who aspires to be more photographically proficient before his time runs out.

Oh, wine. Yes. I zagged.

This week I heard a thud and a crash and went outside to see if a branch fell on the roof. I saw nothing. A few days later I walked into my wine closet and saw what it had been. A fairly old bottle of (Texas) Port wine had leapt from the shelf and committed oenocide. I got me to wondering if other bottles in there had shared similar dispositions. After all, in the way I arrange the bottles, that wouldn?t be terribly difficult to conjure. I went down a rabbit hole, imagining what a wine must feel like when they know they?ve come a long way in time and they are still lying there, in the dark, in the (sometimes) cold and with very little to stimulate them (thankfully) or motivate them (as if?) towards a timelier conclusion to their existence. Like I said, a rabbit hole. Anyways, I have to think a bit more about this, as there might be a post in there, somehow. Next year.

On the Wine Trail in Italy

One of my young friends, my Sicilian waif, of sorts, was grilling me on my future. ?Oh, next year, are you going to write more?? he asked. To which I responded, ?I?m running out of things to write about, and doing one post a week is more than enough,? I pleaded. ?Oh, nonsense, you have reams and reams of stories in you, get off it!?

In a way, that was a pleasant prod. In fact, even though blogs, and wine blogs especially, have long passed their use-by date, it seems enough people are coming here monthly, so many that I am surprised why they are still coming? Didn?t I peak ten years ago? It seemed like it to me. But what do I know, I am water in the river. Not the River. There is something greater sending me wherever I am going. And in the spirit of the season, thank you for taking this little trip with me these past 18 years. Yes, in a few days, On the Wine Trail in Italy will be 18. Old enough to vote. But not old enough to vote myself off the island, like my little Texas Port friend did earlier this week.

On the Wine Trail in Italy
So, stay tuned. Open up some older bottles ? they?re ready to go. And crack open a panettone and some Moscato too.  Merry Christmas and Happy Festivus. So far, so good!


 

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[12/17/2023, 15:13] What do you call home?

On the Wine Trail in Italy
Having migrated to Texas from California 45 years ago now, I have been occupied with two things: the next chapter and the meaning of home.

Years ago, I read a book, Gods, Men and Wine. Somewhere in it there was a passage about how humans and grapes traveled together through time and history. Making home where they landed and hopefully thrived. Italy was surely a good move, for both grapes and humankind.

I?ve wondered if 45 years has been enough for me in Texas. And I?ve gone to other places to research uprooting and transplanting myself. It?s getting late for these old vines, to be sure, but what if? I grew up in California and spent my early years and most of my youth there. I loved it. But that was then, and the California of my youth no longer exists.  To quote Yogi. ?Nobody ever goes there anymore ? it's too crowded.? It?s also too expensive now.

On the Wine Trail in Italy

Can I ever have called New York City home? Well, I tried living there, but I didn?t take root. Put myself back into the Southwest, where I have spent most of my life. Much better for that. But we all have to try things, don?t we? It doesn?t mean we will thrive or be our best selves (or best wines). But try we must.

I have narrowed it down to the Southwest, which is not that small of a target. But it is something. Still, I?m already there, so, where else in the SW is going to be a better fit, if at all?

I had this rose bush, for 20 years on the east side of my yard. And for 20 years it sat there and did nothing. Nary a flower in 20 years, and scrawny growth. Sad. And then, during the pandemic, I moved it over to the west side of the yard. Bingo! It grew and grew and produced flower after flower. Maybe 50 feet difference? But all the difference in the world. You never know, how near or far it will need to be until you take the steps.

Grapes and where they call home. Can a Sangiovese grape call Bordeaux home? Can Viognier call Sicily home? Well, if they moved there and spent some time there, I reckon eventually any grape can call anywhere home, as long is it survives there. 50 feet or 4 million. Not an exact science, this search for home.

The song God Bless America has the line, ?God bless America, my home sweet home.? When I heard that recently it was as if a light went off inside. Not to get all mushy and pseudo-patriotic, but was that what my Italian grandparents were looking for when they came here, for America as home? It sure felt like it.

Maybe instead of looking somewhere on a pinpoint on a map, this place, home, is bigger and more amorphous than one specific place? Is it something inside now?

On the Wine Trail in Italy

A friend was talking to me as I was ruminating over this subject, especially the moving part. I mentioned I needed to find a safe harbor if all hell broke loose in 2024. His comment was ?If all hell breaks loose in 2024, there will be no place to run, no place to hide.? He is right, for better or worse. We?re all in this together, whether we want to be or not. That is what America is right now. It may not feel like we?re very together. But when you pull back the focus a couple of thousand miles and look at it from the space station, that?s pretty much the essence of it.

Your roots are in, you are where you are. Grow the best grapes you can and make the best wine from them. And fear not.

  • Oh, and would you like an Italian wine recommendation? Sure, why not?

On the Wine Trail in Italy

I picked up this bottle at my local Italian wine and food store for $14.99. Casale del Giglio Bellone from Lazio. A 2021 vintage, I was making chicken cutlets Milanese and needed a dry, crisp white.

Ian D?Agata has three pages about the grape, Bellone, in his landmark tome, Native Wine Grapes of Italy. I recommend you search out his notes, as they are detailed and profuse. Tasting the wine, I had the sensation of time travel, and was transported to a loggia in Frascati where I most likely enjoyed a wine with this grape in it 30 or more years ago with my bride.

In the present moment, the wine was perfect. It was crisp and dry and with not off flavors, no oxidation, which I have come to expect almost instinctively from Italian white wines, a remnant of past inculcation. These days, winemaking and science have advanced, so the wines are cleaner and less furry. It was a fabulous match with the cutlets, and the side dish of steamed spinach agio olio didn?t fight the wine. I actually found myself reaching for the wine after a bite of the spinach to detect any contrapuntal conflict. Nada, niente. A minor victory for food and wine matching.

All this to say, get yourself a bottle of this wine, seek it out. It was a surprising find.

On the Wine Trail in Italy
 

 

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[12/10/2023, 22:05] Where in Heaven's Name?

On the Wine Trail in Italy
This past week I?ve been racking up miles across the great Southwest looking for the future. The journey has taken me to Santa Fe, New Mexico, a place I hadn?t been to in more than 25 years. It used to be a place I went to often, for work and for play. I even went there once for a honeymoon. So, there are plenty of good memories in that place.

This time, while on other business I managed to go to a few wine shops and restaurants. I was happily surprised to see Italian wine thriving there. Mind you, you could fit Santa Fe into one of the new developments in Dallas or Houston. But the place attracts artists, intellectual and the very well healed. Some of the folks in Santa Fe have another home in Tuscany, from the conversations I was privy to. The Italian connection is alive and well.

And the wines are exciting. In one local spot near the square, Pasqual?s. one can get a very respectable white from Etna (Tenuta delle Terre Nere) or an equally honest Nebbiolo (Vajra) from Piedmont, by the glass, under $20.

Out in the tony Las Campanas neighborhood, Arroyo Vino is a wine shop with a restaurant attached to it. From the wine shop side, one can source many a wonderful Italian red and white, both from the traditional producers as well as the crunchy granola camp. A short walk to the caf? and voila, many a great evening awaits.

Further up the highway, at Pueblo of Pojoaque, I stopped into a little Mexican place, El Parasol, to lunch with the locals for some good, solid Mexican food. Afterwards, I walked it off and strolled over to Kokoman Fine Wines and Liquor, where I discovered a treasure trove of Italian reds with enough age on them to be more interesting than when they were first released. I spotted a covey of  Nino Negri wines, a Sfursat Di Valtellina. 2012, for under $50, a steal, and an accompanying 2013 Nino Negri Cinque Stelle Sfursat di Valtellina for under $70, also a bargain. Matched with a nice oxtail stew with polenta, on a cold high-desert night in December, both those wines were made for the moment. Great stuff, and Santa Fe has it in droves.

On the Wine Trail in Italy
With friend and colleague Eugenio Spinozzi in 1995

You might be out in the middle of nowhere, in a little caf? in Eldorado, and a radiant little piece of Italy and Italian wine will welcome you. It was wonderful to see and to taste as well.

In Texas, Italian wine has become successful. But it also has been fetishized at some of the bright and shiny spots in the larger cities. You can see it on Instagram, with the  sparkle ponies showing off their bottles of Monfortino or Gaja, Sassicaia or Solaia. But here in New Mexico it has undergone a more earthbound display, where wines are accessible not just to the 1%ers or the influencers. Not that one couldn?t find that in New Mexico. It just isn?t the default here.

My soul and my heart in New Mexico underwent a bit of an overhaul, hopefully for the better. Back in Texas, the politicians and the angry not-so-young men are battling over their personal Gaza?s. Enough already, it?s Hanukkah, Kwanzaa and Christmas time. Time to stop bickering and find a way to make peace.

Meanwhile, in New Mexico, the quest continues, the search for Eldorado. At least I won?t have to look far to find Italian wines I know and love. Thank Heavens for Santa Fe.

On the Wine Trail in Italy
 

 

? written and photographed by Alfonso Cevola limited rights reserved On the Wine Trail in Italy
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[12/03/2023, 14:50] It All Depends on You

On the Wine Trail in Italy
Jackson Pollock Salmon
It is so very entertaining observing from the edge of the river. Swimming along are the young fish, all bright and shiny and determined to show the world just what great swimmers they are. And aren?t they beautiful? Along with that, regulated by the river and depending on the fish, they might just be swimming somewhere to save their species, as members of their group have done for countless generations.

Likewise, it is a similar swim, on land with the up-and-coming crop of wine tradesmen and women. They?re all suited up and shimmering in the bright room, say, at a wine tasting. I love to study their movements in the room, who they talk to, what they talk about, which wines they are drawn to, and the people they connect with. We all did it, consciously or otherwise. It?s part of our humanity.

What I?ve been pondering, a lot, lately, is how the present iteration of today?s wine professionals - the movers and the shakers - is girded. And with the news coming out lately that wine, once again, is lumbering, due to economic malaise and several other factors, I can?t help but wonder how they will pull the wine trade out of the nosedive it seems to be finding itself in.

For myself, I had no idea just how severe the present crisis was. And surely some of the doomsayers can?t all be right? But we all love to see things bleed, don?t we? And some of us actually want to read about the rescue being a successful one.

I read this recently by Edith Zimmerman:

Not long ago, when I ordered a caf? au lait in downtown Washington, I was told my lait choices were oat, soy, or almond. ?I?ll take regular whole milk,? I said. ?Sorry, we don?t have that,? the barista replied.

It reminded me when I was taking a walk around my local shopping mall and stopped in at the Italian Emporium. In the cold box were wines that warbled the oat, soy or almond mantra, this time regarding Italian wines. There were orange wines. There was a Sicilian Viognier and a Piedmontese Riesling. There was no Soave, Verdicchio or Gavi to be found. ?Sorry, we don?t have that,? the barista replied.

On the Wine Trail in Italy

I?m all for inclusion. I?m befuddled when the basic building blocks, the ones that got us here, are cast aside for the idiosyncratic being presented as the standard-bearers. It took years to bring people over from France and California to Italian wines, and to Italian whites even more of a challenge. A Sicilian Viognier? It?s a bizarre anachrony. No wonder they?re reducing floor and display space in the store. 

I?m saying this because even though I am open to all, what happened to the rest of all? By the way, the Viognier and Riesling, strangers in a strange land, were selling for well over $20. Not your everyday ring-up. Who?s making these choices? Who is teaching the young decision makers how to run a successful business, not just curating a list of one?s favorite off-the-wall wines? What good is this for anyone involved?

Years ago, there was this buyer in a town in Texas who moved around from store to store. One could tell their current interests, at the time, by the set. In one store, they had 90+ Parker wines from Australia that were selling for over $30. In another they hand-picked a slew of Grosses Gew?chs Rieslings from Germany, again, $30 and up, 90 points and up. And the wines sat there. Meanwhile the wine buyer moved on. Eventually that town in Texas became like a cemetery for said wine buyers? current crazes, until the  person left the business and the state. And it took years to move those wines out, many of them suffering from sitting too long under the fluorescent lights of the wine shops. For what?

Look, we all have a learning curve. But many of us had teachers and guides, souls that steered us away from the cliffs of bad decisions. I don?t see those safeguards as clearly today.

I went into a local Italian place that just opened up. Nice decorations, pleasant environment, not too loud or bright. The server handed me the wine list. $12 for a glass of red from Abruzzo, essentially a co-op wine. Twenty years ago, this would have been a $5 pour. Now entry level is $12. Of course, the wine is probably better now than it was twenty years ago. But a savvy buyer could have readily found an even better wine and maybe it would have been seen as a good deal, by folks like me, at $12.

On the Wine Trail in Italy

I didn?t drink wine that night. Ok, that was the other end of the spectrum from the ?anything goes? curated selection at the Italian wine and food emporium. But I wonder what folks, who are just looking for a good Margherita pizza and a mellow glass of red, are getting themselves into when they step into some of these places which are governed by that shimmering crop of today?s wine tradesmen and women.

If I were new to Italian wine and I went into either of these places, I don?t know if I would ever become a fan of Italian wine. Seriously. I?m being told what to like by someone who hasn?t learned the basic blocking and tackling of the trade. Or someone looking to make as much profit off me on a glass of wine, to the point that the first ? glass pays for the bottle.

There?s a lot of talk about the crisis in today?s restaurant industry, in regards to attracting servers and workers into the industry. Horrible hours, demanding work, questionable compensation. I think with what I am experiencing with today?s wine buyers (not all, but too many) that the reported restaurant crisis will solve itself. Because folks will just stop coming to places that are not elevating their tastes and needs within their budgets. It?ll be like X (formerly Twitter) and just fade into the past. Peut-?tre?

Of course, many of us will by then disappear. And that will also solve the younger generations annoyance with the elders who have handed them this world.

In a world that is still looking for whole wine, what will they do with all that unsold oat, soy, or almond wine? What are they going to do, follow us into oblivion? Or keep swimming to save the species?

On the Wine Trail in Italy
 

 

? written and photographed by Alfonso Cevola limited rights reserved On the Wine Trail in Italy
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[11/26/2023, 20:49] The Right Time to Open That Bottle
The clock of time is a wild child...? - Priyansha Vashi

On the Wine Trail in Italy
Lately, as it seems I have a lot more time on my hands, although it is somewhat abbreviated compared to 30 years ago, I often muse upon the logistics of when to open a bottle. During the recent holiday, I wanted to find something red and with a little bit of age on it, maybe 10 years. Along with that, I needed a crisp fresh white wine to complement the foods we were serving along with the preferences of the other folks enjoying the wine with me. Both wines needed to be opened at the right time. In the case of the white wine, that was a little bit easier. But in the case of the red, a 2013 Barolo, I wondered just what I might be getting myself into. No, not anything dramatic. More of a desire to pinpoint the right bottle at the right time kind of thing. And if it didn?t work, well, there are plenty more willing participants in that cold, dark room, where they huddle in peace waiting for their moment to shine.

On the Wine Trail in Italy
The white, a German, is a favorite quaff of mine lately. A 2021 Sauvignon Blanc from the Pfalz and the Von Winning. Denoted as ?II? among the different cuvees of SB made by the Weingut, this one is their entry level, which sees no oak. I love this wine. It?s German, it?s white and even though it isn?t a Riesling, it has similar characteristics of one. But it is a bit more tarty, edgy and super clean in the finish. Went very well with the smoked turkey, the mashed potatoes (with lots and lots of butter) and the traditional green bean casserole (albeit a bit more artisanally created). Anyway, it was deelish and perfect.

The Barolo, a single vineyard 'Pernanno' 2013 from Cascina Bongiovanni presented a bit more of a complex challenge. Reviews had pegged this wine as maybe being a little too oaked, and slightly hot in the alcohol profile. I took that into consideration to go along with the smokiness of the turkey. The grapes, grown in Castiglione Falletto, had good enough of a pedigree, for sure. And the 2013 vintage, now ten years old, received a fair share of laudatory acclaim. What better way to find out than to pop a bottle and see where we were at?

Folks write about the strong tannins of Barolo, but for years that sensation has eluded me. I didn?t feel it. Maybe it was growing up on California wine. Or going to En Primeur in Bordeaux for years. Now there were a lot of tannic wines I tasted in Napa and Bordeaux. But Piedmont? Nahhh, I didn?t get that gene.

On the Wine Trail in Italy
But this wine was tr?s tannic. I decanted it rather ruggedly, as the picture denotes. We were going to spank this baby and welcome it into the cruel world of the living. The wine did not back down, came out screaming, bawling. But it did calm down, eventually. And in the period of an afternoon and evening, the life of that wine was laid out for all to see and feel.

So often, we labor over when is the right time to pull the cork. I think that humankind wrestles with that issue over many levels. In the case of wine, though, what I have found is that there is an infinitesimal number of times when the conditions are perfect. Conversely, there are rare few times when it isn?t the right time. Sure, we?ve all experienced those moments when the spirit of the wine inside the newly opened bottle of wine had passed years ago. Such is life. And death.

What I have learned, in my dotage, is to not sweat the small stuff. If the wine doesn?t feel right, open another one, chances are very few of us who have wine collections will live to see all of our bottles opened up in our lifetime. So, take that into consideration. And in the meantime, learn to pivot when pivoting is needed, and appreciate and be grateful for the small miracles that open up in front of us every day.

On the Wine Trail in Italy

P.S. The Barolo was just fine, it was the right time.

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[11/19/2023, 18:52] Pivoting While Whirling

On the Wine Trail in Italy
Recently, longstanding and noted wine bloggers have been declaring. Things like:

?I don?t suppose I have many of you checking this site daily for updates?? - Vinography

?I have in fact been blogging without a break about every two weeks for more than a dozen years now, and I would be less than honest if I didn?t admit to feeling a little stale at it?and (will) take a brief sabbatical from this blog? - Tom's Wine Line

??the blog will end its 16-plus year run on Jan. 15?sadly, I don?t think it?s relevant anymore.? - The Wine Curmudgeon

And while I have noticed the world of blogging in general doesn?t seem to have the oomph it once had in the world (it?s no longer the bright shiny thing in the corner) my take on anyone who might be having an existential moment (we don?t need another crisis) in regards to their relevancy is an optimistic one.

I say this because while I have been blogging for close-on 18 years now, and religious about posting at least once a week in all that time (the hard-head in me) I see wine blogging less as a way to gather more and more readers so I can influence them (those days are long gone) and more as an exercise for my brain. I?m doing a lot of exercise these days, both physical and mental. I see the upside to longevity, as long as it has a healthy component to it. Wine blogging plugs me into a creative outlet that is part of that regimen. And traffic is still pretty good, if only for the fact that after blogging for so many years, a lot of new readers come here because of a search engine and they are looking for content that might still be meaningful. I mean, a review on a 2009 Soave from 2010 might not be so helpful in 2023, but folks who come to On the Wine Trail in Italy learned long ago not to come here for tasting notes.

Why such unbounded idealism? It?s part of my organoleptic fiber. It?s the way I look at things. And I look at a lot of things, being mostly a visual person.

On the Wine Trail in Italy

I have been reading a book, Think Again, The Power of Knowing What You Don?t Know, by Adam Grant.  Recommended by a longtime friend and erstwhile college roommate Kevin, we both attended art and creativity classes at Santa Clara University back when the crust of the earth was cooling. We?ve bounced ideas off of each other a lot in the past 50 years, but more so in the post-Covid world we find ourselves in. For one, we have more time to investigate stuff. But we also are still interested in things like art and creativity. Kevin taught the stuff at a university in Minnesota. I entered the world of sales and business, being a single dad and needing to keep a leakproof roof above and the lights on below. It served me well in regards to rejection. I learned to see rejection as an exercise that could strengthen me and my resolve. And now, when I cogitate about the state of blogging, with or without wine, I don?t think about relevance too much. I focus on the work, the words, the exercise and the strength building. If you build it, they will come, right?

To the folks who say it?s over, what then? Because, as I see it, you have to move forward, or you stop living. As Adam Grant writes, one must rethink and unlearn. And after so many years on earth, I find that prospect invigorating, challenging, and exciting as all get out.

What can wine writers write about that will give their readers joy and excitement? For my part, I think the everyday living, with wine as a component of it, and integrating wine into one?s overall life, is the focus I have these days. It doesn?t matter if the wine is $10 or $500, if it?s 30 years old or barely a year. If it?s from Italy or New Mexico. There?s something there that tells a story. And in my view, the story is more a mirror or a reflection, than a score or an apostrophe.

Yeah, the world is whirling about at unimaginable speeds. But in order to keep from getting thrown off, we?re going to need to pivot. And that is what is commanding my attention presently. 

On the Wine Trail in Italy

? written and photographed (except the first photo, courtesy of Adobe Creative Cloud) by Alfonso Cevola limited rights reserved On the Wine Trail in Italy
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[11/12/2023, 21:39] The Most Important Wine Harvest of All Time

On the Wine Trail in Italy
How many times have you read it? The harvest in process and the ensuing data regarding the weather, the quantity and the quality that inevitably leads to an initial prediction that this year will be the wine of the decade? Wine of the century? Greatest of all time?

Recently I looked back over a slew of articles, going back forty years, and read something similar to that. At the time, I?m sure many of the journalists thought, indeed, that they were reporting an accurate assessment.

What I find curious, though, over time, is that the ?lesser? vintages, the ones not thought to be so great, actually delivered wonderful vinous experiences. That probably indicates that my interaction with the wine might have had less to do with the climatological conditions of past than the present conditions of my perceptual and emotional being.

On the Wine Trail in Italy

I?ve written about this a time or two in recent posts. That the experiences, the setting, the people, the food, the personal sense of well-being contributes to the wine at hand and how one appreciates it in the moment.

Which, for me, throws out much of the prognostication about wine. Or at least, the hype.

Look, I?m not drinking as much wine as I once did, when I was actively involved in the wine trade. Oh, and I was also younger, my body was more forgiving. Now the thought of a thirty-year vertical tasting gives me convulsions. Too much of a good thing? Or as we age, does our need for exorbitance dissipate?

I recently saw a photograph of Frank Sinatra and Bono at a legendary steakhouse in my old home town, Palm Springs. Frank was 78 years old and he was puffing on a cigarette. I thought it an odd thing. An elderly man, smoking a cigarette in a bar while waiting on his table. I don?t know why it struck me so. I mean, I enjoy the occasional cigar, key word, being occasional. But as a habitual practice?

Not to equate smoking with wine drinking, although one could make the argument that both have their fair share of toxicity.

On the Wine Trail in Italy

I reckon that moderation might be a prerequisite to enjoyment of anything that could become dangerous to one?s health. Skydiving comes to mind. Bungy jumping too.

But wine is supposed to be beneficial. That?s what folks have been telling us for forty years or more. Wine is good for you, they say.

Again, I?m thinking about the quality of the experience more than the actual quality of the wine. A wine that a famous critic gives 98 points versus one that gets only 89.

I?ve written about aged wines lately. But what is in my mind today isn?t about the age of a wine. And it seems it isn?t about the degree of buildup it gets in the press. No, I am diving into different waters here. The Chinese call it the Doctrine of the Mean, or Zhongyong.

On the Wine Trail in Italy

It?s a middle ground between the extremes, the water that I am wading into. And I find the subtlety fascinating.

More wines open up to me from more harvests. It feels expansive but not in a materialistic manner. I feel it in art, in music, in cooking, in relationships. Less is more? Not really. It isn?t about less or more. Like I said, for me, it?s a middle ground.

So, when I read those pieces that tout the great vintage of 20_ _, I feel a detachment from those words. Maybe I?ve died. But it doesn?t interest me these days.

For one, they haven?t always rung true. But more to the point, those kinds of parameters just aren?t what I?m looking for in an experience with wine. I?m looking in other corners of the world of wine, and especially with regards to Italian wine, there are many corners. Or, rabbit holes.

All this to say, while my world has gotten smaller, the macro-view has presented me with a whole new universe. It?s a bit quieter, a bit calmer, for my present needs. It?s revelatory. Important? Maybe not so much. After all, the greatest of all time is always changing in our world. Look at the greatest actors, artists, musicians, fighters, warriors, countries, lovers, you name it, from 50, 100, 500 years ago. And look at them now. Things change.

He says, as he jumps, again, into the abyss.

 
On the Wine Trail in Italy


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[11/06/2023, 04:21] Remember Me? I'm Your Brother
From the archives: Grappling among the Offshoots ~ Gaglioppo and Nerello Mascalese

On the Wine Trail in Italy
I?m the one who played tag with you and listened to you sing and play the piano. I?m the one who fell, more than once, sometimes just to the earth and sometimes out of sight. I?m your brother.

In the vineyards, when the grapes were full, you called from afar to pick the ripe ones for wine. You made pasta and poured red wine and gave shelter for the time. And when the harvest was over you bid adieu, until the next time you were in need. You paid just enough to make it through the winter.

On the Wine Trail in Italy
When I was little, you were grown-up. You led. I followed. And I followed you to the edge of the mist and then you disappeared. When I traveled to another land, our only connection was through our veins and our memories.

Years later, when I stumbled and fell, you picked me up and brought me back. When I was healthy you sent me back out again into the fog. It was there I had to survive or die. I wouldn?t take another grafting.

When I finally laid down my roots, in a place where my roots were never meant to take, it was years of day and night, heat and cold, year after year. It would never make for greatness, not like in the places from where we came or where our grandparents came. It wasn?t stellar, but it was steady.

On the Wine Trail in Italy
When the little ones around us grew and took to going their own ways, I?d wait under the sun and the moon to hear from you, hoping, wishing we still had a connection. After all, I?m your brother.

As your sign ascended ever higher and higher, and mine had me going deeper and deeper, I wondered how we came from the same parents. You sought light and peace. I sought depth and understanding. Our philosophies diverged ever so much more, greater and greater grew the gulf.

On the Wine Trail in Italy
It was as if we were from two different universes. Yours was on the top of the hill, full of attention and drama. Mine was on the corner of a slope somewhere, hoping for a little more light before the sun set. Pushing out a little more of the fruit and the passion.

You probably thought I was still the baby. After all, I came last and who knows if I wasn?t a mistake, an afterthought. But here I was, filling up the ridge with my tendrils, reaching where? I did not know.

Now we are all older, even the offspring. Now the days are shorter. And fewer. And still we?re a million miles from where we started. And a million more from each other. Remember me? I?m your brother.

On the Wine Trail in Italy


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