In the era before the Italian wine renaissance, Prosecco wasn’t called Glera (a grape name that sounds like an ocular ailment). It was simply called Prosecco.

It’s hard to imagine a world today without Prosecco.

The last time a Houston-based, Italian-focused wine professional visited his favorite honky tonk in Austin, Texas, he was agasp to discover that the barkeep was pouring not one but two Prosecco brands by-the-glass.

In the time before the pandemic, said tradesman often drank a Tiffany-tinted bottle of Prosecco, acquired via the local Target, at his sister-in-law’s Thanksgiving and Christmas gatherings in southeast Texas, a stone’s throw from the Louisiana border.

He can remember a time not so long ago that he poured his 80-something mother a glass of his favorite Champagne in his native southern California.

“Prosecco!” she exclaimed exuberantly.

Like Pinot Grigio, Prosecco has become part of the American lexicon. Its utterance evokes a bubbling lifestyle choice and a notion that sparkling wine is not just for the elite but for everyone.

That’s the magic of Prosecco: it’s a delicious, refreshing celebration under cork seal for around $15 (or $25 or more if you want to upgrade).

And I owe so much to Prosecco and that notion.

When I was a student at the University of Padua in the late 1980s, I used to join my friends as they drove up to Valdobbiadene (a short hour’s trip) to fill the trunks of their cars with farmer-vinified Prosecco — what some would call Prosecco Col Fondo today although no one called it that then.

In later years, when I returned to Italy for graduate studies, I would spend my summers playing and touring with a cover band across Proseccoland.

And it was thanks to those years spent meeting Prosecco growers and tasting their wines that I was given one of the greatest opportunities of my life, one that would change the arc of my career.

While I was working as an assistant editor for La Cucina Italiana in New York in the late 1990s, I was asked to write a 300-word piece on Prosecco for the “front of the book” as we used to say in the print media days. Instead, I called every Prosecco producer I knew (from my days playing music there) and filed a 3,000-word feature story on Prosecco that got me promoted to associate editor and wine writer for the masthead.

It’s incredible to think it now but 20 years ago, Americans hardly knew what Prosecco was. Super Tuscans were trending, Brunello was on the horizon. But no one, including me, could imagine the sales powerhouse and economic engine that Prosecco would become in this country and throughout the world.

For more than two decades now, I’ve made a living by working in wine. And it’s all thanks to a stroke of luck that I call Prosecco.

And it’s a gift that keeps on giving.

Today at 11 a.m. CST (12 p.m. EST), I’ll be joined by my good friend Flavio Geretto, one of the smartest people I know in the wine business, for a live Instagram story @EthicaWines. He’s the export director for Prosecco producers Villa Sandi and La Gioiosa (the latter now imported by Ethica).

I’ve done a lot of media consulting for Flavio over the last year and a half and we always have a blast working together. We even realized that we were both students in Padua at the same time (me at the college of letters, he in the economics department) and we used to go to the same clubs.

We’ll be joined by winemaker Stefano Gava, another colleague whom I admire greatly, as we talk about how to taste Prosecco like a pro. Please join us if you can.

Every click counts, every like matters. Thanks for your support.

It seems like a lifetime ago. In many ways, it was.

In January, a middle-aged traveling salesman made his last trip to Italy before the world changed in ways that no one could imagine.

Stranded over a weekend between Friday and Monday meetings, he snuck away for a moment of respite in a village that lies literally on the edge of the western world.

There he hiked through vineyards and read a novel he’d been meaning to crack. He couldn’t call his loved ones in any case because the internet connection was too faint.

He rested, drew a hot bath, and gathered his thoughts and dreams before he headed to one of his favorite taverns in the world, La Subida.

The purple top turnips had been julienned, soaked in red wine sediment and patiently cooked in a pot before being tossed with lovingly crumbled musetto, Friuli’s boiled pork sausage.

Glorious brovada, so simple, so rich in flavor, so satisfying in his belly and his heart!

What a wonderful pairing for the tavern-keeper’s wine, the traveler thought to himself. It was a fresh, mineral-driven Tocai (Friulano) that achieved balance thanks to its masterful blend of fruit sourced from different plots with different ripening times. But then again, of course it does: if it grows with it, it goes with it, he chimed silently remembering the adage uttered by a famed restaurateur.

Every aspiring restaurant professional, thought the traveler, should experience this dining experience as he had for the first time nearly a decade to the day before this last visit.

The taverner Mitja Sirk worked the dining room like Muhammad Ali. Outside a silence fell upon the countryside as the waning gibbous moon hung in the sky.

Lonesome but fortified, the man found fleeting peace in his bones as he hiked back down the hill to his bed.

I’m dreaming of Mitja’s Subida this morning. It all seems like a world away even though I was there just a few months ago.

Tomorrow, the kind folks of Friuli are mounting what they are billing to be the largest toast of all time.

At noon CST (1 p.m. EST), 7 p.m. CET, you can attend a white wine toast hosted by the Strada del Vino e dei Sapori del Friuli Venezia Giulia (the Friuli “wine and flavors” trail).

Register on Zoom here.

The middle-aged salesman hopes to get back there soon. Some day, he will.

There were a lot of people I already knew at Ethica Wines before I started working with the company as a media consultant in late 2019. After all, the owner and founder is a friend I met 30 years ago when I was touring in a cover band in Belluno province (no shit!). He’s been a wonderful friend to me over the years. And a handful of the sales and marketing folks have been my students at the Slow Food University of Gastronomic Sciences.

But before this January, I had never met the inimitable Alessandro “Sandro” Angelini, one of Ethica’s sales managers, whom I soon discovered was my Italian brother by another mother. That’s Sandro, above, donning his Cappello Alpino, the classic Alpine soldier hat (from his days during mandatory military service), a photo I poached this morning from his Facebook.

It only took one dinner (and a few bottles of Barolo) on a chilly night in Novello before he and I realized that we used to go to the same clubs and used to hang in the same bars back in the day, when I was a student and musician in Italy.

We weren’t surprised to learn that we also share a profound appreciation of great wine and food. He’s a true gourmet, in the genuine sense of the word. And he’s also a true mensch, a person of great humanity.

AND the dude can also tell a great joke in Veneto dialect (unprintable here, of course).

I’m super stoked that he and I will be meeting again in a live story today at 11 a.m. CST (12 p.m. EST) on the @EthicaWines Instagram.

We’ll be discussing and tasting wines from the La-Vis cooperative (that’s a photo of the mural that appears outside the winery, below, taken when I visited and first met Sandro in January).

I hope you can join us! Thanks for your support.

Master Sommelier Brett Zimmerman at home in Boulder, Colorado.

Master Sommelier Brett Zimmerman, owner of the Boulder Wine Merchant, may be best known among wine lovers across the country for his Boulder Burgundy Festival. The gathering would have celebrated its 10th anniversary this year.

But some in the wine trade will remember that the early years of his career as a master were spent focused on his passion for the wines of Italy.

Knowing that he’s a big fan of its wines, a few weeks ago my client Antica Casa Scarpa reached out to Brett asking him to contribute a few educational videos to its ongoing “Scarpa Cellar Dive” social media campaign (you can view the first one below or follow along on the Scarpa US blog here).

As he does in all things, he produced a clip that serves as an instruction manual for how to produce high-quality wine education videos. From the lighting, framing, and backdrop to the length and confident tone of his presentation, this is how it’s done.

As stay home/work safe orders remain in place around the country, the wine industry is sprinting toward a new virtual presence and new ways to interact with trade and consumers. But teaching and sales skills don’t always translate into high-quality video production.

Note how Brett’s face is well lit. This is so important for making the a video compelling and engaging.

Note the even pacing of his presentation. He speaks with an even-keeled conversational tone but he keeps it moving along — another important element in keeping the viewer engaged.

Note the quality of the image. I believe he shot this with his phone: it’s an example of how lighting and setting can give the production polish to footage shot with a personal smart device.

Note the backdrop. It’s Brett’s living room at home. It gives the clip warmth and most importantly in my view, it imparts authenticity and intimacy. You feel like you’re “at home” with the presenter.

Lastly, note how well prepared he is. He’s done his homework. And he provides information that’s genuinely useful. What good is the production quality if the substance is lacking?

Can you tell how much I love this vlog post? I wanted to share it here because I think it’s a great model for all of us amateur videographer wine professionals.

Brett and and I first met in New York in 2007 when he was working as the in-house educator for a major importer of Italian wines. We reconnected later in Texas when he was leading seminars and tastings for TexSom (in its early years). A few years later, he asked to me to join the Boulder Wine Merchant team as the blogger for the Boulder Burgundy Festival (one of the most rewarding experiences of my career in wine).

In my view, he is the apotheosis of the Master Sommelier. He’s worked in nearly every field of the industry: as a floor sommelier, restaurateur, educator, and retailer. He is the embodiment of collegiality, hospitality, and professionalism. He’s also a professional chef (dinner at the Zimmermans’ is an extraordinary experience, I can say from personal experience). And he’s also one of the nicest and kindest people I know in the business.

Cheers to you, Brett! Thanks for being part of the Scarpa campaign and thank you for everything you’ve done to support me over the years.

Check out his video below. We’ll be posting another one later this week. And if you’d like to be part of the Scarpa Cellar Dive program, just send me a note and we’ll see if we can’t get you a sample bottle or replace a bottle you already have in your cellar.

Over my years of working in Italian wine, it’s become apparent that there are two questions posed more frequently than any other.

The first is what’s your favorite wine? My standard answer is shared by most of my fellow wine educators: it depends on what I’m eating, where I’m eating it and whom I’m eating it with.

The second is what’s a Super Tuscan? When asked to reflect on this now decades-old conundrum, my ready reply is I can’t tell you what a Super Tuscan is but I know one when I taste it.

Looking back to the early years of the Italian wine renaissance, it’s now clear (at least to me) that when we keepers of the faith railed against the Super Tuscan trend, our issue wasn’t as much with the “aia” wines as it was with the media who championed them.

Part of the problem was that many of us didn’t have the financial means to spend proper time with the wines. For many, the only opportunity to taste them was at walk-around events where we were served just a few ounces. Who could afford to go out to dinner and order a bottle of 1988 Sassicaia back then (or now)? But it was also exacerbated by said writers’ arrogance and, in many cases, their ignorance of a broader picture of Italian wine. Just because you read Italo Calvino in college doesn’t mean that Cesare Pavese wasn’t one of the greatest writers of the 20th century.

One of the things that I’m eager to discuss today on my live Instagram story with Clara Gentili of Fattoria Le Pupille (@EthicaWines today at 11 a.m. CST/12 p.m. EST) is the legacy of the OG Super Tuscans. The ones, like her family’s, that have been around since before the “aia” era. The ones, like her family’s, grown on hillsides. The ones, like her family’s, that aim for elegance and balance, with acidity that will help the wine to age gracefully and make it food friendly at the dinner table. The ones, like her family’s, that taste of the Tuscan garigue even though they are made with international grape varieties.

I hope you can join us.

Above: Jimmy’s Food Store in Dallas, an Italian specialty shop. Photo taken in late February.

As businesses in Italy begin to reopen this week, Italian food and wine professionals are looking for new ways to connect with buyers across the U.S. With travel restrictions still in place and consumer confidence low, the challenges of doing business here are greater than ever.

In keeping with its mission to foster business ties between the two countries, the Italy-America Chamber of Commerce has asked me to moderate a series of webinars with leading importers, distributors, and buyers from across the nation.

The first one is scheduled for Tuesday of next week at 10 a.m. EST and it’s open to all (you don’t have to be a chamber member to participate).

I’ll be talking to two east coast importers and a business development specialist from the south (see their bios below).

I’m particularly excited to hear what my good friend Niccolo Lorimer has to say. He’s a top logistics expert and is specialized in clearing wine for trade events, a really interesting (and sweet) guy who always has compelling insights to share.

Please use the link below to register. And please feel free to share. All are welcome.

NEW WEBINAR SERIES: Challenges and Opportunities in the Post-Pandemic Era

A webinar series on how to navigate the challenges and opportunities of the After COVID-19 Era, featuring top food and wine importers, distributors, and buyers from across the U.S.

CLICK HERE TO REGISTER.

EPISODE 1: “Open for Business: The Italian Food and Wine Supply Chain.”

Tuesday, May 12
10 a.m. EST / 4 p.m. CET

With veteran Italian food importer Cecilia Ercolino, global strategist and business development expert Denise Henderson Thomas, and logistics, customs, and importing expert Niccolo Lorimer.
Continue reading →

Yesterday evening, a Houston-based wine professional and his wife attended their first-ever virtual wine dinner.

Registered guests were asked to pick up their food and bottles curbside between 5-7 p.m. And the event was to begin at 7:30. So far so good.

After plastic bags were discarded and the to-go boxes and bottles were wiped down with sanitizer, hands were washed, the food was plated, and the bottles were opened and poured.

A mix-up with the Zoom link triggered frantic scrambling to get all the participants the correct credentials. By the time it was all sorted out and nearly everyone was online, many — including said wife — had already begun to eat the food because it was just too tempting with all the victuals laid out before them.

The hosts of the event were clearly flustered by the technical snafu and spent the first 10 minutes apologizing as the guests continued to trickle in. And just as one of the couples logged on, their chihuahuas had an outright conniption and erupted into a burst of barking, huffing, and snarling. They — the humans, not the chihuahuas — had neglected to mute their microphone.

But when the first masterfully Berkel-cut slice of Prosciutto di Parma was wrapped around an oozing chunk of burrata and a glasses of Malvasia Puntinata were first drawn to the participants’ lips, the frustrations and craving appetites all melted away like the thin layer of snow that occasionally falls across tropical southeast Texas in winter.

The foibles of Zoom users and the drawbacks of virtual events like these have been widely parsed in the mainstream media. We’re all learning, warts and all, how to connect in the new world where social distancing is the byword to live by. And although Tracie and I have already taken part in countless Zoom sessions for work and private socializing, we’d never been participants in an end-user-focused event like this — with couples we’d never met before.

And we had a blast.

Tracie wore lipstick at dinner (something that doesn’t happen regularly these days). I shaved and donned a nice shirt (as opposed to my regular two-day stubble and ratty around-the-house t-shirt). We got out some of our better dishes and stemware and set our table properly. Even our daughters, ages 6 and 8, seemed to get a sense that last night’s dinner was special (and highly unusual for them, they went to bed straight away after their own dinner without protest — a miracle!). Our chihuahuas were another story all together.

All in all and despite the mishaps, it was a breath of fresh air that disrupted the monotony and monochromy of self-isolation dining. We laughed, we pigged out, we drank a little too much, and we even made some new friends. In the era before the health crisis, I used to attend dinners like this — in person — at least twice a month. It was great to get a taste of what life used to be like. And the experience reminded me of the important role that food and wine play in creating community.

Last night’s dinner was the second virtual wine tasting event I took part in yesterday. Earlier in the day, I tasted some great Lugana with my buddy Gianpaolo Giacobbo via Instagram live stories — I was here in Houston and he in Montebelluna (Treviso province, Veneto). At the end of our chat, we even busted out our dueling telecasters and played an eight-bar blues (below).

It will take years before life in food and wine finds its footing in the new ordinary. I’m looking forward to that day. But in the meantime, I’m reminded of the great line by George Harrison:

The farther one travels
The less one knows
The less one really knows

Arrive without traveling! Stay safe and thanks for being here and supporting Italian wine.