Is Barbera (the grape and wine) a feminine or masculine noun? In other words, what’s its grammatical gender? Is it correct to say la Barbera or il Barbera?

Believe it or not it’s an orthographic that comes up frequently in Italian winespeak.

The Barbera d’Asti Consortium published my post answering the linguistic conundrum this week.

My research for the post led me to dig up my grad school notes on the great Italian poet, scholar, and critical theorist Giovanni Pascoli.

And one of his poems led me to the renowned Italian soldier and patriot Giuseppe Galliano (the one the liqeuer is named after).

And that led me to the great Ethiopian Emperor Menelik II (1844-1913) (above).

Galliano died at the Battle of Adwa (1896) where Emperor Menelik defeated Italian imperialist forces led by General Oreste Baratieri.

The biography of the Ethiopian ruler is as fascinating as it is thrilling: he was a brilliant military strategist and he became the first Africa ruler to repel European colonialism. The Italians’ defeat at Adwa stunned the world and Menelik became an icon of African and African-American independence.

Read my post on Barbera’s grammatical gender here. Next week, I’ll translate the poem (which also fascinated me) in its entirety with a brief critical apparatus.

In other news…

Parzen family made it home from Italy safely and soundly last night.

Georgia and Lila Jane (above) enjoyed one last taste of pizza yesterday morning for breakfast at Malpensa airport outside Milan.

The ladies at the food court were so sweet to them. It was a wonderful coda to our stay in a country where children are universally adored.

Both girls were extremely well behaved on our flights and both were overjoyed to sleep in their own beds last night — as were their parents.

Thanks again to all of our friends who made the trip so fun, special, and memorable. It was a really great one.

One of these days I’ll get around to telling the story of the Michelin-starred chef who made Lila Jane a hamburger on the spot (because ethereal housemade spaghetti tossed in delicately sautéed cuttlefish and garden-grown tomatoes just wouldn’t do)…

Top image via Wikipedia Creative Commons.

It’s been a wonderful three weeks in Italy with our girls, ages (almost) five and six and a half.

They’ve been trying all kinds of new foods (Lila Jane now loves rabbit; Georgia has a yen for fried anchovies) and picking up Italian words along the way (Georgia can now count to 13 in Italian; Lila Jane’s grazie is impeccable).

They’ve made a ton of friends here: Cecilia, Tiziano, Lorenzo, Federico, Andrea, Alba, Azzurra, Atena… too many to count. And they played with kids from all over the Mediterranean.

Their mother and father have been eating well, too.

Our host (and the best friend you could ever ask for), Giovanni, made us delicious linguine with fresh tomatoes and coppa last night (above), a perfect pairing for his Franciacorta Dosaggio Zero (Arcari + Danesi).

Other highlights were fish stew in Liguria, a cow-goat hybrid Robiola paired with Nebbiolo in Piedmont, spaghetti with clams at Giancarlo and Francesca’s house (Piedmont), erbazzone and homemade salame on Michele and Vanina’s farm (Piedmont), aperitivo with the Lini mispucha (Emilia), tortelli verdi with the Levy clan (also in Emilia).

Another highlight was a vineyard picnic on Sunday with my dissertation advisor Luigi and his son Edoardo, also a great friend of mine. We were the guests of the Arcari + Danesi winery in Coccaglio (Franciacorta, Lombardy), where we enjoyed perfect weather, wine, and a paradisiacal Bagòss.

And that brings me to the best part of all — loving and being loved in return.

That’s Giovanni in the photo below (top, left) with Nico (his partner at Arcari + Danesi, top right), and Andrea (their partner in SoloUva, bottom left), Georgia (center) and Lila Jane (right).

The guys did everything in their power to make sure that the Parzen family was comfortable, safe, and well fed. By the time we said goodbye this morning, the girls were playing with them (and on them!) like they were uncles — my Italian brothers.

Words cannot express how thankful I am to them for everything they did for us. Just knowing they were there for us in case we needed them made the trip all the more relaxing and enjoyable for Tracie and me.

Not many can boast of having such loving, lovely, and generous friends. We’re so lucky to have them in our lives.

Many tears were shed as we all said goodbye this morning: dew cascading gently from a grape bunch as the sun rises over Montorfano.

Arrivederci, Franciacorta! Arrivederci, Italia! We have loved you as you have loved us.

Yesterday Parzen family spent the afternoon meandering through the Michele Chiarlo winery’s Parco Artistico La Court in Asti province with Stefano Chiarlo.

Lila Jane and Georgia, who had been complaining about the hour-long drive from Bra in Cuneo province (“daddy, this is taking forever!”), literally bounded out of their car seats and headed straight for the park’s observation tower.

It was a clear, beautiful, but hot day in Barbera vineyardland yesterday.

Atop Chiarlo’s Cascina La Court, a cool breeze gently soothed their cheeks as they marveled at the newly born bunches, still green only a few weeks after fruit set.

Any keen observer of grape growing would remark on how wild Barberaland is and how the vines don’t have the manicured look of their counterparts in Nebbiololand. The farming there alternates with woods and other crops and many growers have shifted to organic practices like Chiarlo, said Stefano.

That’s Stefano as he showed us the apotropaic totems mounted on each of the rows. His family’s park is open to the public throughout the day and the winery will organize picnics and tastings by appointment. But everyone is welcome enjoy the estate, any time of day, he said.

There are works of art by contemporary artists installed across the park. And there’s even free wi-fi.

“Hills, that’s what makes Italian viticulture unique,” said Stefano as he waxed agronomic (he’s the family’s vineyard manager). Our girls couldn’t agree more.

I can’t think of a better way to spend an afternoon…

Above: An early 16th century medical manual lists barberry lozenges as a commonly used cure.

In today’s world of hypercorrective ampelography, it’s hard to believe that people didn’t used to care as much about grape names as we do in the contemporary age.

Writers on agriculture didn’t began to record grape variety names on a wide scale until the latter half of the 19th century. And even those early modern ampelographers couldn’t rival today’s giddy obsessions with the etymologies of grape names.

Contemporary wine writers can’t seem to resist the urge to dip their toes in the etymological waters. And despite their access to Google Books and the growing legions of searchable encyclopedic resources available online, they continue to wax philologic (and errouneous) over the origins of ampelonyms like Sangiovese and Aglianico (even though the former doesn’t mean “the blood of Jove,” nor is the latter a cognate for Hellenic).

But in the case of Barbera, Hermes generously let the experts off the hook: Most concede that the origin of this grape name, which didn’t begin to appear in print until the 18th century, is unknown.

Ian D’Agata sums up the current state of Barbera philology in his landmark work Native Grapes of Italy (which I highly recommend to you).

The origin of its name is unclear; Pietro Ratti of Renato Ratti feels it’s a derivation of barbaro (barbarian) due to its deep red color, while others believe the origin is vinum berberis, an astringent, acidic, and deeply hued medieval drink. Vinum berberis is different from the vitibus berbexinis referred to in a 1249 document located in the archives of Casale Monferrato, which was most likely another variety, Barbesino or Berbesino, better known today as Grignolino.

For the record, vinum berberis was a barberry elixir. And medicinal barberry extract was more commonly applied on a lozenge (a troche, in English, trochiscus in Latin) than in a vinum or wine.

Even when we turn to a more authoritative source, our grand desire to uncover Barbera’s origin story remains unfulfilled.

The Treccani Italian dictionary (a benchmark of the Italian academy) offers two possible etyma.

The first is the Latin grape name albuelis, notably mentioned in Columella and Pliny. It’s a linguistic stretch, however possible (Barbera could be a metathetical reduplicative contamination).

Click here to continue reading my post today for the Barbera d’Asti growers association…

A week of Oregon and the Willamette Valley wine scene has really swept me off my feet.

Since arriving on Monday, my Slow Wine colleagues and I have tasted hundreds of wines and met so many cool people. And we’ve enjoyed some extraordinary meals, including an unforgettable dinner at Recipe Part Deux in Newberg where we’ve been staying.

The shot above comes from the biodynamic farm at Bergström. What pure and vibrant wines… One of the many highlights for me.

Today, Slow Wine editor-in-chief Giancarlo Gariglio and I will head to Napa where we start all over again: hundreds of California wines await us for our 2019 guide panel tasting.

I’ll already be back in Texas by then but on Wednesday, June 6, the Fiorello Olive Oil company in Fairfield, California will be hosting a tasting of wines from our panel sessions from 6-9 p.m. All proceeds from the event will go fire-affected Sonoma and Napa residents and winery workers. Giancarlo will be presenting the walk-around tasting.

Here’s the link for details and registration info.

And back in Houston… I’ll be in Italy by then but on Wednesday, June 13, my wine friends Patrick Comiskey and Taylor Parsons (two of the U.S. wine pros I admire most) will be hosting a seminar and lunch featuring the wines of Georgia at one of the city’s favorite wine bars.

The event is open only to trade and media: reserve by emailing azarr@marqenergie.com.

What a week it’s been up here in the Pacific Northwest, where the forest meets the sea! Thank you, Oregon, for your beauty, your warm hospitality, and your delicious wines. I can’t wait to get back in February when we’ll present the new guide.

What an incredible visit yesterday to Andrew Beckham’s pottery studio and winery in Oregon’s Chehalem Mountain AVA!

That’s Andrew above with the first full-size winemaking amphorae that he’s churned out of his kiln (above and below).

He’s produced a video about the project that you can watch on his family’s winery’s site here.

I had already tasted and admired some of the excellent wines that he and his wife Annedria produce there. And it was exciting to taste through their full line of wines, including their wines vinified in his smaller hand-thrown amphorae.

He may be the only amphora potter cum winemaker on the planet and it was fascinating to hear his insights into why the vessels make for such a unique winemaking tool.

Lovely people and extremely compelling wines.

The Slow Wine team has been on the ground here all week and today we have our big panel tasting. I’ve been blown away by the caliber and quality of the wines I’ve tasted over the last few days. And the hospitality and food have also been fantastic. It feels like Oregon, between its old and new guards, is poised to reshape the way the world perceives American wines. Andrew and Annedria are undeniable stars of that growing wave.

Writing in hurry this morning as I prepare for a BIG day of tasting. Wish me luck and wish me speed… Thanks for being here.