I’ve known Alice for many years and have always been impressed by her passionate “battle” to spread the gospel of natural wines. She’s a polemical figure in the wine world and her new book is making waves around the blogosphere (just Google Alice Feiring and Parkerization and you’ll find myriad reviews, threads, and opinions about her and her book).
A review of the book from me would be biased and so I’ll spare you my panegyric. I did like an alternate title that one reviewer proposed: à la richerche du vin perdu. Her madeleine is a bottle of wine tasted long ago but not forgotten.
If you do get a chance to read it, you might recognize one of the characters. Buona lettura!
Scallops on the shell were divine. Note how they chef left the scallop’s tasty “foot” attached.
On Monday, April 7, Céline (vox aka Verena Wiesendanger), Bonnie (vox, violin aka Emily Welsch), and Jean-Luc (vox, bass aka Dan Crane) arrived at the Venice airport and we headed north to Duino, a little lost-in-time village just south of Trieste along the Adriatic coast. We had a reservation for dinner and an over-night stay at what is simply one of the most delightful hotel/restaurants I have ever had the pleasure to experience.
La Dama Bianca (The White Lady) is a family-owned seafood restaurant with just five single rooms on the second floor: the father does the fishing, the mother does the cooking, and the son serves as sommelier (and his list is a wonderful romp through Carso, Collio, and Colli Orientali).
Lost in time: the Dama Bianca has remained seemingly unchanged since the 1960s, as has the village of Duino. The rooms, each with a sea-view terrace, were spartan but immaculately clean and after six days of traveling and wine fairs, the gentle rhythm of the tide against the breakwater lulled me to sleep like a baby.
One of the chef’s signatures was the combination of two types of seafood in every dish, like these sautéed shrimp served with baby sea scallops.
When I told Dario that we wanted to drink a Vodopivec Vitovska with our our main course — scorfano (scorpion fish) in cartoccio (en papillote or in parchment paper) — he produced no less than four vintages. On his recommendation, we drank the 2003, which was beautiful, oxidized, with fruit notes as golden as the color of the wine (below).
2003 Vodopivec Vitovska.
It was dusk when we arrived at the small breakwater and harbor. A gentleman was fishing and enjoying the “golden hour.”
An auto-timer of Jean-Luc, Bonnie, Céline, and me (Calvino di Maggio, detto Cal d’Hommage).
Albergo Dama Bianca
Frazione Duino, 61/C
34011 Duino Aurisina (TS)
040 208137 Stay tuned for Slovenia Day 1!
Last week’s posts generated some interesting comments, including the following note on Charbono from Wine & Spirits senior editor and wine blogger Wolfgang Weber:
Ah, charbono. There’s a picture somewhere around my computer (and even online I think, gulp) of me and an empty 3-litre bottle of 1981 Inglenook Charbono in a rather compromising position. Anyway, the wine was delicious, subtle and complex, with a savoriness that perfectly matched the braised lamb shanks we ate that night. It had aged beautifully despite spending many years on a closet floor in suburban Napa. A true testament to the old (dry-farmed?) charbono vines that were planted at Inglenook for much of the 20th century. I’m sure it’s all grafted, or replanted, to cabernet now–that terroir instead going towards the lofty Rubicon rather than an earthy old schooler like charbono. Although I’ll admit to quite liking Rubicon, it’s fun to imagine what prime Rutherford charbono would be like these days.
Coturri makes a good Charbono. I remember reading that it may have originated in the Savoie region of France and had previously been called Douce Noir.
I’d like to get my hands on a bottle of the Coturri Charbono.
Messere Alfonso Cevola also weighed in on the “to irrigate or not to irrigate” question. I think that he’s 100% on the money when he asks rhetorically, “Maybe they shouldn’t plant vines where vines are not meant to be?”
Not sure I agree with allowing irrigating in the Brunello DOC. We’ve seen producers in other low lying land (Napa Valley floor, for instance) who have access to irrigation, with resulting vines producing a shallow root system that isn’t drought resistant. So in light of the current situation, I don’t think that would help to steer Brunello back in the right direction. Maybe they shouldn’t plant vines where vines are not meant to be?
Lastly, Mark Fornatale, whom I met for the first time this year at Vinitaly, sent me a correction for the record. For those of you who followed the thread generated by my Squires Paradox post, Mark pointed out that it was not he but rather another Squires chat room regular who posted erroneous information about Dante Rivetti and Borgogno:
Allow me to set the record straight. I never posted that Rivetti would have a hand in the winemaking operations at Borgogno. Ralph Michels, a small client of Borgogno in the Paesi Bassi [Low Countries] had suggested as much on the board, and I immediately saw to it that he correct himself, which he did.
As a result, Franco and I posted an errata corrige for the record on VinoWire.
In other news…
Speaking of the Agora, can anyone help me to attribute the following ingenious wordplay?
Editor’s note: The events and characters depicted in this photoplay are fictitious. Any similarity to actual persons living or dead, or to actual events, is purely coincidental.
Above: 7:19 p.m. chips and salsa at Bahia Don Bravo taco shop in Bird Rock, La Jolla.
Sail on down the line
About half a mile or so
And I don’t really wanna know ah
Where you’re going
Maybe once or twice you see
Time after time I tried
Hold on to what we got
But now you’re going
And I don’t mind
About the things you’re gonna say
Lord, I gave all my money and my time
I know it’s a shame
But I’m giving you back your name
Guess I’ll be on my way
I won’t be back to stay
I guess I’ll move along
I’m looking for a good time
Sail on down the line
Ain’t it funny how the time can go
All my friends say they told me so
But it doesn’t matter
It was plain to see
That a small town boy like me
Just I wasn’t your cup of tea
I was wishful thinking
I gave you my heart
And I tried to make you happy
And you gave me nothing in return
You know it ain’t so hard to say
Would you please just go away
I’ve thrown away the blues
I’m tired of being used
I want everyone to know
I’m looking for a good time
Good time
Sail on honey
Good times never felt so good
Sail on honey
Good times never felt so good
Sail on sugar
Good times never felt so good
Sail on
Above: winemaker and ex-football coach Dick Vermeil and Sports Illustrated writer and wine expert Paul Zimmerman (seated, right) reminisced about pigskins and old Charbono at the Wine Media Guild’s Charbono tasting this week.
Larger-than-life celebrity visited this week’s Wine Media Guild of NY tasting in Manhattan: legendary NFL coach and owner of OnTHEdge (Calistoga), Dick Vermeil (above) — one of the most down-to-earth megawatt personalities I’ve ever met — presided over a tasting of 28 bottlings of Charbono — including a rosé, a “Charbera” (Charbono/Barbera blend), and a fortified wine. Winner of the 1999 Super Bowl, Vermeil was portrayed in the 2006 film Invincible, the story of his ground-breaking 1976 “open” tryouts for the Philadelphia Eagles.
Charbono, you say? Erroneously thought by many to be a relative of Dolcetto (or even Barbera), Charbono is a rustic-tasting, tannic, but fruity and food-friendly grape that Italian immigrants favored in late-nineteenth-century California. Today almost entirely forgotten (there are only “84 tons of Charbono grown in the state” of California, according to enologist and man behind the Opus One project, Paul Smith of OnTHEdge), Charbono is a distinct cultivar grown by a small but devoted group of California wineries (the tasting included wines by Pacific Star, Oakstone and Obscurity Cellars, Shypoke, Robert Foley, Jospeh Laurence, Duxoup, On the Edge, August Briggs, Chameleon, Summers, Turley, Tofanelli, Schrader, Fortino, and Boeger).
A wide variety of styles — from the luscious and modern to the more lean and traditional — were represented at the tasting. My personal favorites were old bottlings of Charbono by Pacific Star, including a 1990 and a 1994 (above).
Because many of the vines are 70-80 years old, Charbono can be a late-ripening grape and “only 60% ripens fully,” noted winemaker Sally Ottoson, of Pacific Star, who first made Charbono in 1989. “That’s why it needs extended aging” in cask (she prefers neutral, large-format barrels) and in bottle, she said.
In his colorful address to the group, Wine Media Guild senior member Paul Zimmerman fondly remembered tasting Inglenook’s Charbono in the 1960s and observed that the tannic wines “tested your manhood.”
In other news…
The Brunello saga continues. Check out today’s post on VinoWire.
Above: me and my friend, top Italian wine blogger Alfonso Cevola at Terroir in the East Village.
When in New York, do as New Yorkers do: go to a wine bah.
Making the most of my New York sojourn, I met up with top Italian wine blogger Alfonso Cevola the other night at Terroir — New York’s first self-proclaimed “punk rock” wine bar.
Owner Paul Grieco and I had finally exchanged emails about the Bartolo-Che mystery and he generously offered to give me a few tees to send to Maria Teresa Mascarello.
Here’s what Paul had to say (in email) about the Bartolo-Che photomontage:
The image of Bartolo came off of the web and we did a little correction to make it pop from the shirt. The beret is actually Che’s from his famous/infamous t-shirt. If I had a picture of Bartolo in a beret I would have used it. The original idea for the shirts (and there are 4 more Terroir-ists to be featured) came from my son’s Che shirt. I began to wonder why there were not any cool wine shirts and paraphernalia.
I didn’t get a chance to chat with Paul that night (he was “in the weeds,” as they say in the biz) but one of the wait staff told me that Terroir will soon offer its customers an entire line of enopunk-inspired stickers. (Dare say, have I coined a neologism? Enopunk?)
Given the chance, I’d like to ask Paul why Terroir doesn’t offer Bartolo Mascarello on its growing list of terroir-driven wines. But I fear I know the reason: from what I hear, the importer doesn’t share Terroir’s anarchic spirit.
Food for thought: are enopunk stickers the future of wine writing?
Above: no, those ain’t no matzoh balls… they’re canderli at Santlhof, a rustic tavern that shot immediately to the top of my all-time great restaurant experiences. Canederli or knödel are speck-filled bread dumplings served in broth, a classic South Tyrolean first course.
On Saturday April 5, five days in to my trip, I spent the morning and better part of the afternoon tasting at Vinitaly. The highlight that day was Il Poggione, a traditional-style producer of Brunello, who has emerged unscathed by the recent Brunello controversy. One of the most fascinating insights that winemaker Fabrizio Bindocci shared with me was his belief that mandatory dry farming is one of the appellation’s biggest problems. “If producers in the lower-lying [and consequently warmer] areas of the appellation were allowed to irrigate in 2003,” said Fabrizio, “they wouldn’t have had as many problems dealing with warm temperatures in summer.” If used judiciously, he explained, “irrigation could be a positive change for Brunello.” He also noted that many growers have vines that “are too young” and as a result, the roots can’t find the water table when the weather is excessively warm. While many have proposed that Brunello producers be allowed to use grape varieties other than Sangiovese (a change vehemently opposed by Fabrizio), irrigation, he said, could help to resolve some of the appellation’s current problems.
Above: Speck at Santlhof. Speck is a smoked prosciutto, a classic of German-speaking Italy. It’s spicier than its cousins in San Daniele in Friuli and Parma in Emilia and it pairs beautifully with the fresh white wines they make up there. (Look for an upcoming post on my visit to a San Daniele prosciutto producer.)
I had been invited to an industry party to be held Sunday night at the Hofstätter winery in Tramin (Termeno, in Italian). Late Saturday afternoon, I headed out of Verona toward the alps and checked into a hotel that I highly recommend — a little 3-star called Tirolerhof, where the rooms were beautiful, clean, and reasonably priced, and the Teutonic breakfast spread was worthy of a 5-star hotel in Vienna (the hotel also has a covered, heated pool).
Above: my main course at Santlhof was eggs, bacon, and potatoes accompanied by owner Georg Mayr’s estate-grown and vinified Schiava.
After a simple dinner and a much needed restful night, I awoke to a panorama “alive with the sound of music”: the stunning beauty of South Tyrol — a verdant, vine-covered Alpine valley — sings a soothing melody, a balm that helped to allay the humdrum din of Verona and the wine fair still ringing in my head.
On the recommendation of winemaker Martin Hofstätter, I headed to the nearby Santlhof, a rustic tavern and favorite Sunday biker stop where I enjoyed a leisurely, delicious, four-hour Sunday lunch, complete with wines that simpatico owner Georg Mayr grows and vinifies on his estate (which dates back to the 16th century). His white — a blend of Chardonnay, Kerner, and Traminer — was killer, totally natural in style, fresh and clean. I could definitely get used to the sound of this music.
Above: shredded cabbage salad side at Santlhof.
Above: simpatico owner Georg Mayr takes a load off after a slamming Sunday.
The above view is with my back to the tavern. You can see the flat vine-covered valley in the distance. The vines you see before you are Georg’s whites (the red lie behind the restaurant at a slightly higher altitude). His chickens forage among the rows.
Above: Santlhof in South Tyrol, where I had a fantastic four-hour Sunday lunch (I’ll do a post on it in the next day or so).
In case you’re wondering why no posts of late, it’s because I’ve been preoccupied with taking care of some business and getting my personal affairs into order. But stay tuned for “Italy Day 5: South Tyrol.”
In response to my post the other day, my new blogger friend, Signora Placida, posted a note on the origin of ciuppin and she points out that the word comes from the Ligurian suppin or zuppetta in Italian, a humble soup (zuppa is akin to the English sops, the same word that gives English its soup).
I was introduced to Signora Placida by Simona, whose excellent blog Briciole has become one of my daily reads.
Above: tasters nap in the springtime sun outside Villa Boschi where the Vini Veri tasting was held again this year. I don’t know why but my day at Vini Veri made me think of the northern Italian folk song “L’uva fogarina”: “Quant’è bella l’uva fogarina, quant’è bello saperla vendemmiar!” (The Fogarina grape is so good! So good for the pickin’!). See below…
Let’s face it: we all go to Vinitaly every year because we have to: by the second day of the massive trade and consumer fair, the pavilions are a slosh of deal-making, true and otherwise would-be wine professionals, the occasional parasitic wine writer, and a sea of reveling imbibers who show up to get their drink on. Every year, the same parties, the same dinners, the same 45-minute back-and-forth drive from Verona because who can afford a $700-a-night room downtown? Well, I can’t.
But a breath of fresh air awaits those true lovers of real wine who attend the increasing number of satellite, alternative fairs. My favorite is the Vini Veri tasting, held at the Villa Boschi in the heart of the Veronese heartland (Isola della Scala township).
Above: I was captivated by Dario Princic’s whites, all of them macerated with skin contact, like this Pinot Grigio (in the photo). Few realize that Pinot Grigio is a red grape — a light red, but red nonetheless. It was the Santa Margherita white Pinot Grigio craze (which began more than 25 years ago) that made Pinot Grigio a white grape. Princic’s wines are fantastic.
Highlights:
Dario Princic (Friuli, see above, his Tocai was among the best I’ve ever tasted), Vodopivec (Friuli, I tasted some aged Vodopivec Vitovska later on in the trip and will report in an upcoming post), Coste Piane (Veneto, Prosecco aged sur lies and fermented using metodo classico – double-fermented in bottle – in magnum, freakin’ killer), Monte dall’Ora (Veneto, great Valpolicella and his top Amarone is off-the-charts good, need to taste with Brooklynguy) and, of course, Paolo Bea (the inimitable producer of Sagrantino).
But that’s not to exclude so many awesome producers who make natural, real wines: Cappellano, Trinchero, Rinaldi (Giuseppe), Cos, just to name a few (Maria Teresa Mascarello was not at Vini Veri this year).
Above: Gianpiero Bea of Paolo Bea. Gianpiero is one of the founders of Vini Veri.
Dario Princic told me that there is a movement within Vini Veri to reunite with the splinter group Vinatur and the Triple A tasting next year: the idea is that of organizing a fair at the Vicenza fair grounds with 200-250 producers, a fair that “could truly rival Vinitaly,” Dario said.
When I asked Gianpiero Bea about this, he didn’t seem too pleased.
Above: it was great to see my old friends Steve and Sita, high-school sweethearts (they met on an exchange program in Spain), married to this day, with two beautiful daughters. Sita’s friend Giovanni Baschieri got me my first gig in Padua way back in 1987!
My college roommate (from my first year at the Università di Padova) Steve Muench (above left) and his wife Sita Saviolo (above center) drove down from Padua to taste with me. I saw them a few times on this trip and they even made it up to Ljubljana to see Nous Non Plus perform there.
I can’t recommend Vini Veri enough: if you have the chance next year, be sure to make it down there. To me Vini Veri represents a mix of all the best things about Italy: real wine, real people… winemaking as ideology, winemaking that expresses place… heavily-left-leaning politics and homegrown, grassroots organizing… Vini Veri is a wine fair that even Pier Paolo Pasolini would be proud of (especially in the light of his Friulian origins, since so many great Friulian producers present their wines there). Does anyone remember Poesie a Casarsa?
Even if you don’t understand Italian (or Friulian dialect), check out the images in this short on the collection of poetry that won Pasolini fame at an early age:
There are many versions of L’uva fogarina on YouTube but I liked this one the best. Most believe the Fogarina grape to be a type of Lambrusco found near the town of Gualtieri in Emilia. Something about that beautiful spring day in the middle of the fields made me think of L’uva fogarina. I’ll leave the rest to your imagination…
Have been back in San Diego for the Passover and a recharge following the epic trip to Italy and Slovenia (“Italy: Day 4” on deck for tomorrow). Heading back to NYC soon for some tastings but in the meantime, I’ve been indulging in some southern Californian classics as I rest up and get my tan on. Hey, you know, “Freedom’s just another word for nothin’ left to lose/Nothin’ don’t mean nothin’ hon’ if it ain’t free.”
Had a bowl of cioppino at my favorite local fish shack, El Pescador: most food historians agree that cioppino originated in San Francisco, a local catch-of-the-day tomato-based soup probably inspired by Ligurian ciuppin (I can’t find an etymology for ciuppin but my philological intuition points me to the Latin supo supare, meaning to toss or to throw, possibly “to toss everything into the pot”?).
Also had a smoked albacore salad. Man, that stuff is good.
And how could my La Jollan sojourn be complete without a guacamole-bacon omelet with homemade salsa from Harry’s Coffee Shop, the old-school lunch counter stand-by since 1960 (virtually unchanged).
In other news…
On Friday, I caught up with my friend Marco Barat, a super-talented wine professional and local youth soccer coach, who celebrated his namesake saint’s day at the somewhat-over-the-top So-Cal-glam restaurant Pasquale in downtown La Jolla. I really dug his Lion of Venice t-shirt (above). April 25 is also Italian Liberation Day.
The cover band at Pasquale’s did a pretty smokin’ Janis-inspired version of “Me and Bobby McGee.”
ME & BOBBY MCGEE
– words and music by Kris Kristofferson
– first popularized by Roger Miller in 1969 (#12 Country hit)
– lyrics as recorded by Janis Joplin on the 1971 album “Pearl”
(Columbia VCK-30322)
Busted flat in Baton Rouge, waitin’ for a train
And I’s feelin’ near as faded as my jeans
Bobby thumbed a diesel down just before it rained
It rode us all the way into New Orleans
I pulled my harpoon out of my dirty red bandana
I’s playin’ soft while Bobby sang the blues, yeah
Windshield wipers slappin’ time, I’s holdin’ Bobby’s hand in mine
We sang every song that driver knew, yeah
Freedom’s just another word for nothin’ left to lose
Nothin’ don’t mean nothin’ hon’ if it ain’t free, no no
And feelin’ good was easy, Lord, when he sang the blues
You know, feelin’ good was good enough for me
Good enough for me and my Bobby McGee
From the Kentucky coal mine to the California sun
There Bobby shared the secrets of my soul
Through all kinds of weather, through everything we done
Yeah, Bobby baby kept me from the cold
One day up near Salinas, Lord, I let him slip away
He’s lookin’ for that home and I hope he finds it
But I’d trade all o’ my tomorrows for one single yesterday
To be holdin’ Bobby’s body next to mine
Freedom’s just another word for nothin’ left to lose
Nothin’, that’s all that Bobby left me, yeah
But if feelin’ good was easy, Lord, when he sang the blues
Hey, feelin’ good was good enough for me, mm-hmm
Good enough for me and my Bobby McGee
La-da-da La-da-da-da La-da-da da-da da-da
La-da-da da-la-da la-da, Bobby McGee, yeah
La-da-la-da-la-da La-da-la-da-da
La-da-la-da-la-la, Bobby McGee, yeah
La-da-da La-da-da La da-da La da-da
La-da-da La da-da La da-da
Hey, my Bobby, Lord, my Bobby McGee, yeah
Lo-da-lo da-la-lo-da-la
Lo-da-la-lo da-la-lo la-la-lo la-la-lo la-la
Hey, my Bobby, Lord, my Bobby McGee, yeah
Do Bianchi 