Our family’s hearts and prayers go out to earthquake victims in Morocco. Click here to donate to Unicef relief efforts (there are plenty of other platforms where you can donate as well).

That’s an image captured in the Fernet Branca bottling facility on Desbrosses St. in lower Manhattan just south of Canal St. It was taken sometime in the 1990s.

The photo arrived in my inbox last week. It was among a group of images sent by a photographer named Ken Tannenbaum. He and his family lived in Tribeca back in the late 1990s and at some point, the Tribeca Trib (a local paper) asked him to take some photos of the space.

I don’t know what inspired him to search for other people who would remember the space. But somehow he found me.

Back in 1999, when I first broke out as a freelance writer, I landed one of my first gigs with the new management at the Fernet Branca space. I helped them to launch and publish a monthly print newsletter.

Fernet Branca was still a widely available product in the U.S. in the 1980s. In the 1930s, the brand was so popular here that the company opened the bottling facility.

But as I understand it, they continued to sell Fernet Branca as a medicine rather than as an alcoholic beverage.

If you talk to Italians and Italian-Americans of a certain age, they will tell you that they didn’t drink Fernet Branca to party. They “took” it when they felt under the weather. Many people, usually about 10-20 years older than me, have told me that their mothers gave them an espresso spiked with an egg yolk and a shot of Fernet Branca every morning.

In the 1980s, the FDA came down hard on the brand. Evidently, they had never re-registered it as an alcoholic beverage.

At some point during that decade, the U.S. government shut them down and they abandoned the facility.

When Fernet Branca called me in 2000, they were relaunching the brand and had seen something I had written about it.

They invited me to see the space. It was like a scene out of Mel Brooks’ “Young Frankenstein.” Evidently, they just picked up and left and left everything behind.

The image above comes from the space’s counterfeit testing lab. Hence all the test tubes.

On the morning of September 11, 2001, I was heading to the Atlantic Avenue stop to catch the 2 train that would take me to the Fernet Branca space. Before I left my apartment, I called one of my colleagues to confirm a 9 a.m. meeting.

He screamed at me: “Are you fucking crazy? Turn on the TV!” And then he hung up.

I went upstairs to my landlord’s apartment and we watched — in absolute disbelief and absolute horror — as the second tower was struck by the plane.

Had I not called my colleague, I would have been traveling underneath the World Trade Center right around the time that the second plane hit.

I was extremely fortunate. I’ll never forget the singed documents that rained over Park Slope, Brooklyn that afternoon.

G-d bless everyone who lost their lives and suffered that day. G-d bless their families. G-d bless America.

Thanks for reading.

There’s a long Californian tradition of growing Italian grape varieties that stretches back to the early wave of Italian immigration to the state in the late 19th century.

Barbera, for example, was widely grown in what we now call California wine country. It was planted there by Piedmontese migrants who fled extreme hardship in their home country. Had Prohibition not come along, we’d be probably be drinking Californian Barbera instead of Cabernet Sauvignon today.

Over the last decade or so, there’s been a revived interest in Italian grape varieties in California. Idlewild Wines in Healdsburg became a pioneer in this movement with its focus on Piedmontese grape varieties.

The winery’s general manager, Thomas DeBiase, has now branched out with his own line of Italian grape varieties. It’s called Jupiter Wine Co.

That’s his super popular Vermentino above. You’ll find it, he told me, by-the-glass at some of San Francisco’s hippest spots. The label was designed by artist Evan Dorkin (who just happens to be an ex-schoolmate of Thomas’).

All the wines are spontaneously fermented. And little to no sulfur is added.

I really loved how varietally expressive these wines were. One of my big disappointments with Italian grapes grown in California has been their lack of classic character, probably due more to winemaking than to growing practices.

Thomas seems to have threaded that needle with this project. The Vermentino tasted like Vermentino (perhaps more peninsular than insular but totally spot on). The Sangiovese had that unmistakable plum note and the wonderful lift that fresh Sangiovese has when it’s good.

I also really loved how clean the wines were. That’s another tricky issue for producers of uninoculated wines.

His years of working with Idlewild, where the new line is made as well, have allowed him to hone his skill as a winemaker. And it shows in these fresh, youthful expressions of Italy via California.

The labels take it over the top.

We tasted the wines yesterday at his food and wine shop in downtown Healdsburg, Ciao Bruto (adjacent to the winery). I love chatting Italian wine with Thomas. He’s one of the best Italian-focused tasters I know and his approach to everything he does is so thoughtful and soulful. Profits from Jupiter Wine Co. are invested in housing solutions for the houseless.

Thanks again, Thomas, for a great tasting! And congrats on the success of your new project!

Writing on the fly, from the road today in northern California.

But just had to share how much I loved Sorella in Nob Hill (San Francisco).

Owner/wine director Gianpaolo Paterlini is one of the top Italian-focused wine professionals in the country imho.

And where his family’s legendary Acquerello is one of the city’s leading gastronomic destinations, their Sorella is a casual and approachable spot with a wonderful by-the-glass program and a super focused and food-friendly list.

Perfect for “wine people” like me and you.

I drank my friend Mitja Sirk’s bianco, a wine I have only seen in Italy. Super with raw oysters and the Parmigiano budino.

The pricing was reasonable, which is a huge plus in a city where fine dining costs have continued to rise.

The atmosphere was chill and welcoming. I just loved this place. The ideal ending to a long day on the road.

Today, I’m heading up to wine country for appointments and a dinner I’m looking forward to in Santa Rosa tonight.

Wish me luck, wish me speed! Thanks for being here.

Above: “Down with the Sommelier!” an early Prohibition-era Times editorial where the author warns that the fabric of American life would unravel were Americans to import the concept of the Parisian sommelier.

The recent TexSom conversation about the meaning of the word and title of sommelier prompted me to take a look, à la William Safire, at the term’s origins.

The word comes to English via the French sommelier. But its etymology can be traced back to the ancient Latin sauma, denoting the burden of a beast of burden, in other words, a unit of weight.

In Medieval French (circa 1300 C.E.), sommelier denoted the overseer of beasts of burden. The term soon evolved to signify the person charged with transporting the belongings of the [royal] court. Royals traveled with their own wine in the Middle Ages. And that’s when the word sommelier conflated with the word butler, the keeper of bottles (cf. Old French botellier, French bouteiller).

An early documented usage in English dates back to the 16th century:

1543 To gyve commaundement that your sommelier at Bordeaulx might be suffred to departe with such wynes as he had provided for Your Majestie (State Papers Henry VIII, 1849, 9.325).

The meaning of the title remained virtually unchanged until the early 20th century when it began to be attributed to a restaurant worker tasked with cellar management and wine service.

See the 1921 Times piece referenced above.

By the end of the century, however, the term had begun to evolve.

I found this definition in a 1990s edition of Orange Coast Magazine (as in Orange County, California):

An individual with the knowledge of a wine maker [sic], the palate of a four-star chef, the insight of a diplomat, the authority of a general, the wit of a comedian and the patience of a saint.

Perhaps with the rise of sommelier competitions in both the U.S. and France, perhaps with the new wave of restaurants and wine culture in Reagan-era America, perhaps with the raised profile of sommelier guilds, the sommelier had come to denote a larger-than-life figure, as the quote above illustrates.

Fast forward to the current era when food and wine culture writer Mike Steinberger deftly defined the figure of the new sommelier:

To judge by all the reverence they are accorded, you’d think chefs were the most interesting people on the planet. In truth, they are sometimes not even the most interesting people in their own restaurants. Often, that distinction belongs to the sommelier. Not only are their life experiences frequently more varied than those of many chefs—wine cellars are crawling with academic overachievers and white-collar refugees—their motivations are also quite different. While high-end restaurant cooking in the United States is increasingly marked by the pursuit of celebrity and lucre, wine service is generally guided by another impulse: a desire to educate and enthuse. With their missionary zeal, America’s sommeliers have helped convert us from a nation of beer chuggers into a land of Riesling aficionados. Along the way, they have revolutionized their own profession, turning a dead-end, white-men-only métier into an exemplar of upward mobility and diversity (Slate.com 2008).

Such a great writer, right?

That leads us to the present day, some 15 years later.

One of the interesting things that emerged in the TexSom dialog was that the word is evolving still today.

As one of the panelists put it, a sommelier is someone who advocates for wines. In other words, to some it no longer denotes solely and exclusively a person who manages a cellar and serves wine in a restaurant. As the confabulation reveled, many in our industry define now themselves as sommeliers because of their advocacy for wines and wine education and not because they are employed at a restaurant.

As one attendee recounted, he worked for two decades as a restaurant sommelier but now he works as an educator and agent for a major distributor of fine wines. He still considers himself a sommelier even though he no longer works in a restaurant.

I used to get paid to play guitar. Now I just play guitar for enjoyment. Am I still a guitar player?

I have worked as a floor sommelier in New York, Los Angeles, and Houston. But currently, I make my living writing and talking about wine. Am I still a sommelier?

The term continues to evolve… À bas le sommelier? Mais non! Vive le sommelier! Thanks for reading.

One of the most compelling moments of this year’s TexSom (the popular annual gathering of wine professionals in Irving, Texas near Dallas) was when speaker Julie Dalton (below, third from left) broke into tears while describing her gratitude for what she has achieved in her career.

Gratitude, she pointed out later during the session, is an emotion that wine professionals should embrace.

The theme discussed by her and her fellow panelists (below from left, Brandon Kerne, Stevie Stacionis, and Zwann Grays, far right) was “What’s a ‘Sommelier Wine’?”

The conversation began with a tasting of wines that have become popular in U.S. wine culture thanks to sommeliers’ advocacy.

Muscadet was a perfect example of this. Many wine professionals will remember the period around 2007-08 when Muscadet, with its mineral flavors and food-friendly acidity, became a favorite of top wine directors across the country. Stevie pointed out that it was also a white wine that those young professionals could afford as French and Californian whites became more and more expensive during the first decade of this century.

But the dialog veered swiftly into a lively debate over who can rightly call themselves a “sommelier” and what the title truly means.

At the end of the session, a long-time attendee raised his hand and was greeted with robust applause when he said that “this is the best seminar I’ve ever attended” at the gathering.

Since its inception in 2005, the conference has gone through some well-documented ups and downs. As it rebuilds itself in the wake of the Covid-era closures, its new cast of characters is as diverse and talented as the community it represents.

In the introduction to the two seminars I sat in on, the presenter reminded attendees that they should report any misconduct. They simply had to speak to a volunteer or could also use an anonymous online platform. The conference’s new code of conduct was shared with attendees when they registered.

It had been many years since I attended the conference (I was there to pour and talk about Abruzzo wines). I was genuinely blown away by the overall vibe of camaraderie and solidarity. It was wonderful to reconnect with so many colleagues from across the country and the state. And it felt like TexSom is fulfilling its mission to a greater degree than ever before: creating community, bolstering wine education, and supporting wine professionals along their journey, no matter what that path may be.

I cannot sing the praises of conference co-founder and director James Tidwell loudly enough. He has done a truly superb job of shepherding this extraordinary resource over the years and bringing it in line with the times.

Chapeau bas, James! Thank you for a great experience!

There’s a lot more to that deer in the photo than meets the eye.

I grabbed it from the Facebook of one of the Brunello producers that I will be presenting on September 19 in Houston, San Polino.

The folks at San Polino have been instrumental in a new movement of winemakers who are rethinking the role of biodynamics in viticulture today. Their work is so compelling that Master of Wine Jancis Robinson has published their findings on biodiversity and mycelia (fungal networks) on her site.

As cute as it may be (or as profound as the image may be for readers of ancient Italian literature),* the deer is a synecdoche for the rich biodiversity in the woods that surround the vineyards in Montalcino.

It’s part of what gives Brunello its unique and unmistakable character when the fruit is vinified with the intent of capturing the terroir — the place and its human traditions — in the bottle.

On Tuesday, September 19 in Houston, I’ll be presenting five Brunello including three by San Polino at the inaugural event of our new Vinello Wine Club.

The cost is $45 (inclusive) per person. Here’s the complete flight:

Amantis 2018
San Polino 2017
San Polino 2012 Helichrysum
San Polino 2016 Riserva
Le Potazzine 2018

Not a bad deal, right? The five glasses of wine will be accompanied by Berkel-sliced prosciutto and other light bites.

Click here to reserve.

The Vinello Wine Club is a partnership between me, the folks behind Vinello Wines, a Houston-based importer, and a veteran of Houston’s Italian wine scene. The tasting will be held at Vinello’s warehouse in Hedwig Village (on Old Katy Rd.).

This is going to be a great event and the quality-price ratio on this one is fantastic. I hope you can join us. Thank you for your support.

* For super geeks, here’s the literary reference.

Above: my friend Guerino Pescara, vineyard manager for Ciavolich in Loreto Aprutino (Abruzzo), shared the above photo this week.

Grape harvest has begun in Italy!

Earlier this week, winemakers from Franciacorta to Sicily began picking their fruit. The focus right now is on white varieties and reds for the production of sparkling wine. The red wine harvest should begin in the next few weeks, around the same time it began last year, which was also marked by extreme heat.

Despite widespread reports of peronospora (downy mildew) in central and southern Italy, prolonged high temperatures throughout Italy, and scattered but alarming reports of hail earlier in the year in northern Italy, growers are expecting a good and in some places great harvest. Rains in late May and early June provided water to sustain the plants through harvest and alleviated concerns that 2023 would be a repeat of the 2022 drought.

Tintilia for sparkling wine at Claudio Cipressi in Molise, photo by my fellow writer Matteo Borré.

Most trade observers are predicting diminished yields, especially in areas where peronospora has been endemic. In some cases, a 40 percent drop in production is expected. But as France suprasses Italy in terms of volume, many pundits are saying that Italy needs to make less wine because of significant quantities of unsold wine that will be distilled.

Click here to see some more early harvest photos I grabbed from social media and posted on my Instagram.

Wishing a great harvest to all my friends and colleagues in Italy! Buona vendemmia!

In other news, Italy has its second Master of Wine, Andrea Lonardi, one of the country’s most prolific winemakers. Congratulations, Andrea!

As fall plans and events come into focus, a number of my private tasting clients have been asking me how many glasses should we have at the tasting?

My answer is nearly always let’s plan on one glass per person with a few extra for breakage and/or unforeseen technical issues.

Just one glass? Yes, just one.

Here’s my thinking.

One glass reduces cost, reduces the amount of water expended for washing, reduces clutter, reduces waste, and keeps the taster focused on the glass before them.

But should we be rinsing the glass with water in between wines? my clients ask.

Many seasoned wine industry professionals (including me) believe that you should never rinse a wine glass with water; you should always rinse with wine.

The main two ingredients in wine are water and alcohol. When you rinse with water, the residue liquid can affect the balance, however slightly but significantly. It’s kind of like using equalization on your stereo: you’re slightly modifying the artist’s original intent.

Water also has its own flavor, which can also impact the wine.

If you rinse with wine, even a different wine from the one you are about to taste, you stay closer to that balance. And you also avoid any flavor that the water may add.

So, with just one glass, even as you shift from one wine to the next, you limit the outside factors because the glass is always primed with wine.

One glass also forces you to focus your attention on one wine at a time.

How many times have you been at a wine dinner or wine tasting with tons of glasses on the table? People, especially laypeople, often forget which wine they are tasting!

Of course, there are exceptions. The whole point of a vertical or horizontal tasting is to experience different vintages or different parcels or grape varieties side-by-side.

But as long as there are dump buckets provided, just one glass per person keeps my tastings running smoothly and with greater focus.

Wow, it’s going to be a busy fall.

I just found out that not only will I be going to Italy — not once but twice! — in November. But I will also be going to Hong Kong!

The two Italian trips are teaching gigs: my regular slot teaching wine and food communications in the grad program at Slow Food U.; and a new teaching job for the Abruzzo consortium teaching a week-long seminar on the region’s wines and subzones.

If you’re a qualified American wine professional and would like to join me for a week in Abruzzo, please send me a DM.

I’ll also be doing a dinner for the Abruzzo folks here in the States sometime before Christmas. We still haven’t chosen the city. If you’d like to be yours, please let me know. Stay tuned for that.

Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday of this and next week, I’ll also be pouring and talking about Abruzzo wines at TexSom. I’m looking forward to seeing a lot of my colleagues from across the state and country during the conference.

Next month I’ll be pouring Brunello for a new Houston wine club that has asked me to be their presenter. The tentative date for that is Wednesday, September 20. Stay tuned for that as well.

But the event I’m the most excited about this year is the Boulder Burgundy Festival (October 20-22) where I’ve been the gathering’s official blogger for more than a decade. I’ll be moderating the seminar panel (more on that later).

Tracie’s going to be joining me this year for the festival in Colorado and we’re both super stoked about that.

Boulder Burgundy will be followed by my trip to Hong Kong where I’ll be pouring my client Amistà’s Nizza at the James Suckling tasting. I still can’t believe it!

It’s going to be a busy autumn and I feel truly blessed to get to do what I do for a living. Thank you for all the support and solidarity. I’m hoping our paths will cross and we’ll taste something great together in coming months.

Heartfelt thanks to everyone who reached out with their wishes following my trip to upstate New York last month. It was a really tough one and all those notes really mean the world to me. Thank you. Next month, I’ll be hosting a private wine tasting for my mother, who’s also turning 90 this year. We’re putting on a great party for her and the girls and Tra will be coming out to La Jolla with me for that. We can’t wait.

“How weird it is to have a sibling.” That’s what the writer said the other day. “There is this person that is the closest thing to you that you can get. But is not you. How heartbreaking that is. And how close and far away you can feel.”*

Last month my siblings and I — my two brothers, one seven years my senior, the other two years my junior — made what we all believe will be the last trip to see our 90-year-old father. The occasion was his birthday, although he had no idea why we were there.

My younger brother called our group text thread “the Brothers Parzencheski,” an allusion to a disputed variant of our last name, a patryonymic obtained through our grandmother’s second marriage.

The farcical title was also a reference to the “Brothers Karamazov,” Dostoevsky’s 19th-century novel that tells the story of three brothers each suspected of killing their father, each with a conspicuous motive. “A nice little family,” as the author calls them in the paratext.

It wasn’t that our father was actually dying. But a series of possibly countless strokes in recent years have severely impacted his mental faculties and memory, short and long term.
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