Sognando Piemonte (Piedmont Dreamin’)

bricco boschis

Above: We got to drink a bottle of 2005 Barolo Bricco Boschis by Cavallotto last night. Photo by Tracie P.

As Tony Coturri told me the other day (and as Mama Judy mentions when we talk on the phone each week), California is having the coolest summer it’s had in anyone’s memory. Out here in Texas it’s H-O-T hot — not exactly what I would call “Barolo weather.”

But when our friend (and my client) Julio messaged and said he had a bottle of 2005 Barolo Bricco Boschis by Cavallotto that he wanted to share with us, we couldn’t resist.

And, man, what a treasure in this bottle. Here’s Tracie P’s tasting note: “bright cherry acidity with graphite minerality and a balance of earthiness, so balanced and savory and fruity; it just had everything in the right place…”

The wine is young and the curious thing was how generous it was with its fruit right when we opened and decanted it. But by the time we finished the bottle, it had begun to close up.

On a hot Texas summer eve, it made me dream of Piedmont and a few new-to-me destinations I can’t wait to visit when I return. Like the Museo dei Cavatappi, the Corkscrew Musuem in the town of Barolo.

paolo annoni

I was actually scrounging the interwebs for something else (for a consulting job) when I came across Paolo Annoni (above) and his amazing museum, which preserves more than 500 corkscrews from the eighteenth century to the present. As they say in Italian, this type of stuff is pane per i miei denti, literally, bread for my teeth, in other words, I can’t wait to sink my teeth into it.

serralunga

Another destination at the top of my list is the Vinoteca Centro Storico in Serralunga. I literally drooled over my keyboard when I read about it in the excellent blog authored by McDuff, who possesses one of the palates I admire the most.

Check out his post for details. Just the thought of grower Champagne and carne cruda is enough to make the mimetic desire kick in (at 9 a.m. in the morning, I can literally feel my saliva glands working as I type). Auerbach anyone?

aaaaaaaa… Sognando Piemonte…

PRODUTTORI TIME

Both Tracie P and I had a tough week this week. Let me just put it this way, people: sometimes work is a bitch.

And so last night, when work was done, we decided to treat ourselves to an evening of dueling DJs (Tracie P took it over the top with MJ’s “Wanna Be Starting Something”), kitchen-dance-floor grooving, Polaroid self-portraits, and a bottle of 2005 Barbaresco by what is probably our favorite winery of all time in history: Produttori del Barbaresco.

The wine was bright, tannic but generously nimble in sharing its lip-smacking wild berry fruit and succulently muddy flavors. We paired with gruyère and crackers, we dedicated songs to each other, we danced around the dining room table, and we forgot all of the worries of our world. It was PRODUTTORI TIME.

Tracie P and I aren’t the only ones obsessed with Produttori del Barbaresco: one of the wine bloggers we enjoy and respect the most, Cory (and one of the funnest and nicest people to hang and taste with, above), wrote about Produttori del Barbaresco in his wrap-up to the 32 Days of Natural Wine, in a piece I highly recommend to you.

Like last year, Cory had to deal with plenty of משוגעת from folks who didn’t agree with this or that and other bullshit.* But, man, this dude deserves a medal. He’s the nicest sweetest and brightest guy and his hypertextual project, 31 32 Days of Natural Wine, represents a truly fascinating study in semiotics, not to mention an encyclopedia in fieri of natural wine around the world. Wine writing is by its very nature an affliction otherwise known as synaethesia — humankind’s overwhelming and at times unbearable urge to capture in words the literally ineffable, ephemeral, and ethereal experience of tasting wine. With his unique project, Cory has warped the boundaries of wine blogging in an exhilarantly meaningful way.

So, people, whether Puzelat or Produttori, pour yourself a glass of your favorite wine on this hottest weekend of the year, squeeze your loved ones tight and remind them how much they mean to you, remember that first kiss and the way you felt when those lips touched yours, and remember that very first moment you tasted a wine that made your heart flutter…

* Yiddish meshugas, Esp. in Jewish usage: madness, craziness; nonsense, foolishness; (as a count noun) a foolish idea; a foible, an idiosyncracy (Oxford English Dictionary, online edition).

Best wine in Chicago and what Comrade H had for dinner

Comrade T recently wrote me asking for advice on where party members find good wine in Chicago. I reached out to Comrades N and L for their advice and here’s what they said (paired with Comrade H’s excellent dinner, including Comrade B’s Dolcetto).

Start with the first good cherry tomatoes of the summer.

FROM COMRADE N

Comrade J, we’re always happy to aid the cause.

Webster’s and Rootstock are the most simpatico establishments in my view. Avec is also a good choice.

Good garlic.

If you really want top Italian wines (including properly aged), head to Spiaggia but be prepared to pay dearly for the privilege.

Comrade T, if you need recs for restaurants, shops or anything else in town, feel free to drop me a line.

Wild arugula.

FROM COMRADE L

The two Comrade N mentioned are really it in terms of well thought out, conscientious lists. Again, Comrade N is right in that Spiaggia, while quite expensive, has a very well thought out list. And Alinea, too. This is just more of a beer town (and BYO which helps). That said some places do have nice lists. I just went to the Purple Pig the other week and was able to find a few things (they have some López de Heredia there).

Life is good.

Anyway, below is a list that I put together for someone a couple months ago. The only thing I’d add is the new Girl and the Goat that just opened by Stephanie who won Top Chef a couple seasons ago.

RESTAURANTS
http://www.longmanandeagle.com/
http://www.kumascorner.com/
http://thepurplepigchicago.com/
http://thepublicanrestaurant.com/
http://www.avecrestaurant.com/
http://www.thebristolchicago.com/
http://www.nightwoodrestaurant.com/
http://www.rickbayless.com/restaurants/xoco.html
http://bigstarchicago.com/
http://www.girlandthegoat.com/

COCKTAILS/BEER
http://www.whistlerchicago.com/
http://www.theviolethour.com/
http://www.maproom.com/
http://hopleaf.com/

And of course, good oil (sourced from Rare Wine Company), good wine (Comrade B’s Dolcetto), good vinegar…

WINE STORES/BARS
http://www.permanwine.com/
http://www.redandwhitechicago.com/
http://www.websterwinebar.com/
http://rootstockbar.com/

AVANTI POPOLO!

(and buon weekend, ya’ll!)

Chianti and Brunello, the brand names

Inspired by that Prince of Paronamasia, Thor, I was tempted to entitle this post, “Brand on the Run”… But have you ever known me to mince words?

Above: The Castello di Brolio, site of the Ricasoli winery. The “Iron Baron” Ricasoli, winemaker and Italy’s second prime minister, re-branded Chianti in the late 19th century when he replanted his vineyards with Sangiovese. Would he recognize the wine his family makes today?

Reading Eric the Red’s brutally honest column on Chianti Classico yesterday, I couldn’t help but wonder out loud: would the “Iron Baron” Ricasoli, father of pre-industrial Chianti Classico, recognize the wines that his family makes today?

Even more chilling was the thought: in the light of Montalcino’s “vote for modernism,” as Ms. Robinson put it, is Brunello heading down the same path as Chianti Classico?

In other words, will we not recognize the wines that are going to be made there 20 or 30 years from now, leaving us as befuddled as Eric and his colleagues? “Of the 20 glasses before us,” wrote Eric, “many did not look like Chianti Classicos, the designation for Chiantis made in the Chianti region’s heartland in the hills of Tuscany. Or at least they did not look the way I expect a Chianti Classico to look.”

By the time Ricasoli was purchased by behemoth Seagram’s in the 1970s, Chianti had already achieved antonomastic status in the collective consciousness of the American consumer. In other words, it had become synonymous with “Italian wine.”

I cannot tell you how many times I come across the common misconception that Italians pair pizza with Chianti. The other day, a young Sicilian woman here in Austin told me that the traditional pairing for Parmigiano Reggiano was Chianti.

As the apologetic title of the column reveals (“Tasting Report: Chianti Classicos, So Dark and Oaky, but Still Recognizable”), the wines that Eric and colleagues tasted did not resemble the wines that they expected to uncork. In fact, “Many were densely colored and dark, almost impenetrable in their blackness.”

As rumors of corporate take-overs in Montalcino abound (reminiscent of the heady Seagram’s years), I fear I see a (literally) dark cloud in my wine horizon. To borrow a phrase, from Mel Brooks, “Let’s hope for the best…” You already know the next line…

Veronelli’s handwriting, Bartolo Mascarello’s backward thinking, and the “triumph” of barrique

You may remember a post I did not long after I launched my blog on Luigi Veronelli as Poseidon and a Trident of New Oak (and Eric the Red’s subsequent post). In that post, I translated a passage from Luigi Veronelli’s landmark 1983 Catalog of the Wines of Italy.

In my never-ending quest to apply the tools of textual bibliography* to wine writing, I chomped at the bit when I came across two subsequent editions of Veronelli’s almanac of Italian wine. After breaking away from the pack on a tour of the Tangley Oaks manor, where Terlato Wines International has its corporate offices, I found myself alone in the library: to my joyous surprise, when I opened the tomes to the title pages, I found Veronelli’s personal dedications to Tony Terlato.

I am very proud that Thony [sic] will use this book. Gino (LUIGI VERONELLI), May 12, 1989.

To Tony, in Bordeaux (but with my heart “in” Italian wine), with friendship, Luigi Veronelli, June, 22, 1989.

What a find! And what a wonderful document and example of handwriting! The “autograph” (or even better, the “idiograph”) as we call it in the study of textual bibliography reveals so much about the intentions of the author. In June of 1989, the renaissance of Italian wine in the U.S. had yet to take shape and both men played fundamental roles in the emergence of Italian wine as a fine wine category. The dedication in the second instance leads me to believe that the two men met in Bordeaux but their “hearts were in Italy.”

In Veronelli’s 1983 preface, he called the introduction of barrique aging a “provision” that “must not be delayed” in Italy. By 1986, only three short years later, he wrote of his dissatisfaction at the limited number of Italian wines he was able to include in the catalog due to space and time constraints. At the same rate, the increased number of wines “raised in barriques” marked his “triumph.”

He also writes of how he has lobbied for a single-vineyard (cru) system in Italy. He didn’t give his top rating (the Sun) to the “sublime” bottlers Bruno Giacosa or Beppe Colla in this catalog, he observes apologetically. But he did give it to Bartolo Mascarello, however reluctantly.

“Bartolo Mascarello,” he writes, [is an] “advocate of a theory that I’m forced, in his case, to accept: the best Barolo is composed by using different vineyard supplies.”

He also bemoans Violante Sobrero’s sale of his rows in Monprivato and Villero (to Mauro Mascarello?).

There’s so much more wonderful information to be culled from this bundle of sheets but that’s all I have time for today. In another lifetime, I hope to be employed by a royal court as a textual bibliographer of wine. In the meantime, I gotta make a living… thanks for reading!

* From the Bibliographical Society of America website: “Textual bibliography, the relationship between the printed text as we have it before us, and that text as conceived by its author. Handwriting is often difficult to decipher; compositors make occasional mistakes, and proofreaders sometimes fail to catch them; but (especially in the period before about 1800) we often have only the printed book itself to tell us what the author intended. Textual bibliography (sometimes called textual criticism) tries to provide us with the most accurate text of a writer’s work. The equipment of the textual bibliographer is both a profound knowledge of the work of the writer being edited (and of his or her period) and an equally profound knowledge of contemporary printing and publishing practices.”

The story behind Vajra’s Barolo Albe

Above: The good news is that it looks like Vajra’s wines will be coming to Texas soon.

So many questions, so little time…

When Mr. Franco Ziliani took Tracie P and me to taste with Aldo Vajra back in February at the winery, I neglected to ask Aldo what the “Albe” in his “Barolo Albe” denoted.

Luckily, we got a chance last week to sit down with Aldo’s son Giuseppe here in Austin. (I’d never met Giuseppe before but I felt like I knew him already: his face and his family were familiar to me, however virtually, through the excellent blog of David McDuff, whose palate and writing I admire immensely and whose taste in music and Nebbiolo are unsurpassed.)

The designation “Albe,” he explained, is simple: it’s the plural of the Italian alba, which in this context, means dawn.

“You see, our Barolo Albe is a traditional-style Barolo made from fruit sourced from three different vineyards,” Giuseppe told us, “Fossati, Le Coste, and La Volta. When the sun rises in the morning, it takes about 20 minutes for the sunlight [dawn] to reach each vineyard. So, there are three different albe [dawns].”

I’ve tasted the 2005 Barolo Albe by Vajra on three different occasions this year, and, man, it just keeps getting better and better. As much as I love their flagship Barolo — the single-vineyard Bricco delle Viole — it’s always the blended Barolo that keeps calling me back. At each occasion, I’ve found that signature freshness and drinkability that Vajra magically seems to capture in the bottle (a quality due, no doubt, to meticulous, gentle vineyard management and an honesty in the cellar).

@David, btw, would love to hear your recent notes on this wine.

Above: The Vajra family begin bottling the historic Baudana wines in 2009 with the 2005 vintage.

We also re-tasted the 2005 Barolo by Baudana, which the Vajra family began bottling for the iconic Langa family in 2009. I can’t say that I am a big fan of the 2005: its woody notes are a turn-off for me. Giuseppe did tell me that for the 2006 vintage, the barrique is toned down. And he added that we’ll see great things from these historic vineyards in vintages to follow (where he plays a greater role in the aging regimen).

As an indication of the greatness and potential of these historic vineyards in Serralunga (Baudana and Cerretta), Giuseppe also pointed to Mr. Franco Ziliani’s recent post on the 1982 Franco Fiorina Barolo, which was sourced in part from Baudana (I translated Mr. Ziliani’s post for VinoWire).

In all honesty, I’m not such a fan of the wine as it is right now. But I do believe that its future in the hands of Giuseppe and his father Aldo has immense potential to become one of the great icons of Langa. Stay tuned…

And let’s keep our fingers crossed that Vajra wines make it to Texas this fall! I don’t know how much longer Tracie P and I can survive without super-old-school Vajra Moscato d’Asti!

Thanks for reading!

Maybe it’s the way she grates her cheese: Tracie P’s rice balls

Maybe it’s the way she grates her cheese…

Above: When Tracie P asked me what I wanted for my Sunday night birthday dinner, I told her I would love her fantastic ragù. It was great as always, but she surprised me with RICE BALLS. Unbelievably good…

Whether its Faicco’s in the City or the Focacceria di Ferdinando in Brooklyn, Tracie P knows that I love me some Sicilian rice balls. On Sunday she made me one of my favorite dishes of hers, her ragù, but she surprised me with fried rice balls: stuffed with Brooklyn-style domestic mozzarella, using some leftover risotto alla parmigiana that I had made with Arborio earlier in the week for supper.

Or just the freckles on her knees…

Above: Did I mention that the GIRL CAN COOK?

She ALSO surprised me with a bottle of 2004 Sagrantino di Montefalco by Paolo Bea. This wine, at once extremely tannic and ethereal in the mouth, achieves that magic balance of simultaneous power and lightness in the mouth. It showed stunningly well last night and was such a great pairing for Tracie P’s stellar ragù alla bolognese (via Marcella Hazan).

Maybe it’s the scallions…

Above: Our favorite dried (pastasciutta) egg tagliatelle are made by Rustichella d’Abruzzo. Isn’t funny how Tracie P and I agree on the important things in life? ;-)

My good friend Charles Scicolone is not the only one “blessed” by his wife’s amazing cooking!

Maybe she’s Italian…

blueberry pie

Above: She also made me a DELICIOUS fresh blueberry crostata, a tradition for my birthday started by mama Judy.

My goodness, Tracie P, what a wonderful birthday week (I’ll have to hope my birthday falls in the middle of the week again next year!). I love you so… :-)

The lady sticks to me like white on rice…. She never cooks the same way twice…*

Above: We’ve been having so much fun with our new Polaroid 300 instant camera.

Rev. and Mrs. B and the B family gave me a power drill for my birthday over the weekend when we visited with them on Canyon Lake in the Texas Hill Country. We SO NEEDED it for our little home and the new library I’ve been setting up. :-)

Thanks, so much Rev. and Mrs. B and B family!

Birthdays used to be a nagging reminder of all the things I haven’t done yet in life. Now they remind me how lucky I am to be surrounded by wonderful folks who share such rich love and warm joy for living with me. Thanks again, also, to everyone for all the warm birthday wishes this week on Facebook, Twitter, and here at the blog… I’ve got so much to be thankful for this year… The words of support mean so much…

* “Eggplant” 1975 (same vintage as Tracie P!) by Michael Franks (my fellow La Jollan)

In other news…

Everyone in Italy is reading BrooklynGuy’s excellent post on old vintages of Vallana Spanna. Be sure to check out Alfonso’s comments to the post as well.

The James Suckling era ends (and what we ate and drank for my birthday)

poggione

Above: We treated ourselves to a bottle of 2004 Il Poggione Brunello di Montalcino and porterhouse steak last night in celebration of my birthday. When we planned this classic Tuscan meal, I had no idea that my birthday would also deliver the news that James Suckling had left the Wine Spectator.

Yesterday, as we were preparing for birthday and Bastille Day celebrations chez Parzen, the following news arrived via email from a colleague and friend:

    James Suckling, who joined Wine Spectator in 1981 and has served as European bureau chief since 1988, has retired from the company.

    Suckling’s tasting responsibilities have been reassigned. The wines will be reviewed in our standard blind-tastings in the company’s New York office.

    Senior editor and tasting director Bruce Sanderson will oversee coverage of Italy. Sanderson, who has been with the magazine for 18 years, currently reviews the wines of Burgundy, Champagne and Germany.

fiorentina

Above: To make a proper “bistecca alla fiorentina” at our house, we season the porterhouse generously with kosher salt, rubbing the salt into the meat, and then we char the T-bone, with the steak upright.

Neither Tracie P nor I could ignore the uncanny coincidence that we had decided to open a bottle of 2004 Brunello di Montalcino by Il Poggione, a traditional-style wine made by a family who has vehemently and vociferously opposed the modernization of its appellation. There’s no two ways about it: during James Suckling’s tenure at the Wine Spectator, the scores he gave to modern-style Brunello — with Casanova di Neri as its poster child — helped to eclipse the sale of traditional-style wines, like those made by Il Poggione. (In all fairness, Suckling also gave good scores to Il Poggione but his historic preference for dark, concentrated, oaky Brunello with higher alcohol levels, indisputably skewed his evaluations toward modernism.)

fiorentina

Above: Then you cook the steak on either side, very quickly at high heat. By cooking the steak upright first, the meat “heats through” entirely.

Another layer of irony was cast upon the news and our Brunello by the fact that Mr. Franco Ziliani — at times Mr. Suckling’s detractor — had suspended publication on his wine blog Vino al Vino, the leading Italian-language wine blog, a few days earlier. (Mr. Ziliani’s relationship with Mr. Suckling is even referenced by the author of the Wiki entry on the Italian wine writer.) “A pause for reflection,” wrote Mr. Ziliani on Monday, a search for “clarity” in his life and for a sense of purpose for the blog, he explained. “To blog or not to blog,” he asked rhetorically.

fiorentina

Above: High heat is the key to searing and caramelizing the fat on the outside of the steak while leaving the meat in the center tender and nearly raw.

The two events are certainly unrelated but their confluence is rich with meaning. We often forget that that the current economic crisis has affected both the wine industry and the publishing industry. Hawking wine is no easy tasks these days (especially when it comes to high-end, luxury wine like Brunello) and hawking newspapers and magazine is even harder.

fiorentina

Above: Traditional style Brunello and steak, one of the great gastronomic pairings in the Western Canon. (Honestly, I wish I would have used a slightly shorter cooking time. I prefer my steak “black and blue,” charred on the outside, blood rare on the inside. But it was delicious nonetheless!)

While I’ve been a devoted fan of Mr. Ziliani’s blog since I first discovered his writing more than 5 years ago, I can’t say that I’ve been such an admirer of Mr. Suckling’s take on Italian wine. In fact, I think that Suckling historically ignored and omitted the great icons of Italian wine from the canon of the Spectator’s “top wines of the world” because he was looking for wines that appealed to his idiosyncratic sensibility without viewing them in a broader scope and without consideration for the wines that Italians consider to be indicative of their winemaking tradition. At the same rate, looking back on Suckling’s legacy (however skewed) as an arbiter of Italian wine, I feel compelled to acknowledge his contribution to the world’s awareness of the overarching greatness of Italian wines.

fiorentina

Above: Potatoes, spinach, grilled onions, and steak, all dressed simply with kosher salt and extra-virgin olive oil.

And so we raised a glass of 2004 Brunello di Montalcino by Il Poggione last night, to both Mr. Suckling and Mr. Ziliani, polar opposites in their approach to Italian wine, leading voices of antithetically positioned vinous philosophies. I hope and trust that both will continue to share their impressions and palates, using whatever media they see fit, with a world ever-thirsty for Italy’s unique wines.

A correction on white Musar and a Tracie P[olaroid] moment

Above: I met Serge Hochar, owner of Musar, a few years ago at a food and wine festival. Super nice guy and a lot of fun to be around. I’m not sure where he wrote or said this, but Georgios Hadjistylianou in Cyprus quotes him, “the harmony of nature is better than anything we could ever create. I believe it should be a priority to seek to drink what is ‘true’ rather than what is ‘good.'”

Reader Georgios Hadjistylianou in Cyprus was entirely right to write me, pointing out that Musar white is, in fact, made from Obeideh and Merwah, grapes indigenous to Mount Lebanon. (See a fact sheet on the wine here.)

He was writing me in reference to yesterday’s post on the super restaurant Marouch in Los Angeles. The restaurant listed the wine under “Chardonnay” but the other wine professionals with whom I dined were under the impression (as was I) that it was made from Sémillon.

Thanks, Georgios for the correction! :-) I can tell you — for certain — that the wine was delicious. ;-)

Obeideh and Merwah didn’t make it into Eric the Red’s (Eric the Green’s?) excellent post today on “a dozen obscure grapes that are the foundation of some wonderful wines and will reward intrepid explorers.” But I highly recomment both the wine (Musar) and Eric’s post to you.

In other news…

Couldn’t resist sharing this Polaroid moment from Kate and Dan’s wedding over the weekend. Among other fun activities, they had set up a Polaroid studio where you could take photos with some of the western artifacts lying around the Figueroa Mountain Farmhouse.

O my goodness, my Tracie P, you are the most mellifluous melody this singing cowboy has ever heard! I love you so! :-)

Bricco, bric: origins of the word and why literature is so important to understanding Italian wine

bricco boschis

Above: A vineyard that produces one of my favorite wines, the Barolo Bricco Boschis by Cavallotto (photo taken in February on our honeymoon). Bricco Boschis means literally the “crag in/of the woods.” Note how the snow has melted at the very top of the crag. As the old (and young) folks in Langa will tell you, the best places to grow Nebbiolo for Barolo and Barbaresco are where the “snow melts first,” an indicator of ideal exposure to sun light.

While I haven’t had much time to work on my Italian Winery Designation Glossary, I did want to post my research on the vineyard designation term bricco and its origins (since so many people have written me asking me about its meaning and usage).

The best translation for the term bricco or bric is crag (“a steep or precipitous rugged rock,” Oxford English Dictionary, online edition), equivalent to the Italian dirupo.

Above: I found this wonderful book at the New York Public Library.

Most etymologic dictionaries point to an unknown origin of the word but, while in NYC, I did find a wonderful (yet forgotten) fascist-era dictionary of Piedmontese dialect that reported the Provençal brich as the etymon.

But my most fascinating discovery was the eureka moment when I found one of the earliest known appearances of the term in print.

According to the Grande Dizionario della Lingua Italiana (the unabridged dictionary of the Italian language), the great 20th-century Piedmontese novelist and poet Cesare Pavese was probably the first to use it in a narrative, his masterwork no less, La luna e i falò (The Moon and the Bonfires), written in 1949 and first published a few months before his suicide in 1950.

Above, from left: Cesare Pavese, Leone Ginzburg, Franco Antonicelli, and Augusto Frassinelli “in the 40s in the Langa hills.” (Source: Panorama.)

Here’s the passage (p. 30):

    fa un sole su questi bricchi, un riverbero di grillaia e di tufi che mi ero dimenticato.

As translated and published by R.W. Flint (a translator I admire greatly) in 2002:

    There’s a sun on these hills, a reflection from the dry soil and volcanic stone, that I’d forgotten.

It’s difficult for me to convey just how pregnant with signficance this line is, especially within the context of Pavese’s masterpiece. (See this synopsis of the novel and translation and profile of Pavese in The New York Review of Books.)

Flint renders an excellent translation of the line, perfectly aligned with the tone of the original and the translation as a whole. I like the way he has delivered grillaia into English: a grillaia is an ironic term that means literally a place where you’ll find only crickets (grilli), in other words, a barren or infertile place.

When the main character of the novel, Anguilla, returns from America after Italy’s Liberation from Fascism (but before the end of the Second World War), he is reminded of the barren nature of these hills — these infertile crags.

Let me offer an alternative, annotated translation:

    A sun beats down on these crags, reflecting off rocks fit only for crickets and the [nutrient-poor] volcanic soil — something I’d forgotten [while I was away in America, an Italian immigrant who fled fascism].

Is it not all the more remarkable that those very crags (bricchi) would ultimately deliver one of the greatest winemaking traditions of post-war Europe — Barolo and Barbaresco?

Post script: When I visited Langa in March 2010 with the Barbera 7, one of the wines that impressed me the most was the Lurëi by Il Falchetto in Santo Stefano Belbo, where Pavese was born in 1908.