Tag Archives: Chianti

Sunday poetry: For You, O Democracy (red, white, and rosé)

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Above: We spent the Fourth of July in Orange, Texas, along the Louisiana border where Tracie B grew up.

Had you told me a year ago that I was going to fall in love with a gorgeous Texana and move to Austin, I would have told you you were crazy. But, then again, stranger things have happened. I can’t complain: for all of its surprises, life certainly has been good to me so far. Yesterday, Tracie B and I celebrated the birth of our nation with her beautiful family in Orange, Texas, along the Louisiana border (pronounced LUZ-ee-AH-nah), where Tracie B grew up.

Above: Tracie B’s Uncle Tim — an outstanding cook — used his grill as a smoker. He stuffs his bacon-wrapped jalapeños with cream cheese and chicken (or duck when he has it).

Living in the South has been an interesting experience for the San Diego Kid. There’s perhaps no other place I’ve lived in the U.S. where people feel such a strong tie to culinary place and culinary tradition. And I can’t imagine a warmer welcome anywhere in the world.

Above: “Low and slow.” That’s the mantra of Texas Barbecue. The centerpiece and litmus test of any Texas barbecue is the smoked, dry-rubbed brisket, smoked for 10-12 hours at 200-225° F. The “depth” and evenness of the pink “smoke ring” are two of the criteria used to judge Texas barbecue.

Yesterday, we were the guests of Tracie B’s Aunt Ida and Uncle Tim who were also celebrating their return to their home: flooding and storm damage following hurricane Ike had forced them out last September. What a difference a year makes…

Above: Tracie B’s Mee Maw’s deviled eggs paired beautifully with the Bisson Golfo del Tigullio Ciliegiolo, which has become my new favorite barbecue wine and probably my favorite rosé for the summer of 2009. It was the hit of the flight that Tracie B and I brought to the party.

Tim, an excellent cook (his gumbo is off-the-charts good), made barbecue and Tracie B and I opened a bottle of Inama Soave, Bisson Golfo del Tigullio Ciliegiolo, and Villa di Vetrice Chianti Rufina — a tricolor summertime triptych.

Above: Ida and Tim live on a bayou. They only recently moved back into their home. The backlog of reconstruction in the area kept some people out of their homes for nearly a year.

Yesterday’s celebration made me think of this poem by Walt Whitman.

from Leaves of Grass, 1855

For You, O Democracy

Come, I will make the continent indissoluble,
I will make the most splendid race the sun ever shone upon,
I will make divine magnetic lands,
With the love of comrades,
With the life-long love of comrades.

I will plant companionship thick as trees along all the rivers of America,
and along the shores of the great lakes, and all over the prairies,
I will make inseparable cities with their arms about each other’s necks,
By the love of comrades,
By the manly love of comrades.

For you these from me, O Democracy, to serve you ma femme!
For you, for you I am trilling these songs.

Above: At the end of the night, the glow of the DuPont plant down the road lit up Cow Bayou. The image reminded me of the first part of the Pirates of the Caribbean ride at the original Disneyland in Anaheim.

Happy Fourth of July, y’all! Thanks Ida and Tim and thanks Mrs. B and Rev. B for having me!

What would the Iron Baron Ricasoli say if he were alive today?

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In a 1989 show entitled Le balene restino sedute (Whales, please stay seated), the Bolognese comedian Alessandro Bergonzoni (left) noted that if Sigmund Freud (center) were alive today, he would say: “Well, I sure have lived for a long time.”

Above: The Sala delle Armi or Armory Hall in the Brolio Castle in the township of Gaiole in the heart of Chianti.

Reading Carlo Macchi’s post about yesterday’s conference on the Ricasoli-Studiati Papers, held at the Ricasoli family’s Castello Brolio in Chianti Classico, I couldn’t help but wonder what would the Iron Baron Bettino Ricasoli (1809-1880, above right) say if he were alive today? Among other significant entries on Italian unification, Italian national identity, and the importance of agriculture and winemaking in the forging of a new Italian nation, the correspondence between Ricasoli — Italy’s second prime minister, one the architects of its independence, and a champion of Sangiovese — and Pisan professor Cesare Studiati contains the famed letter in which the Baron described his experimentation with “every grape variety” in his vineyards and his conclusion that Sangiovese — or Sangioveto, as it was called in Tuscany then — was the ideal grape to grow in Tuscany. (You can read my translation of the letter here.) Many claim erroneously that the Iron Baron wrote a formula or recipe for Chianti. He did not. But when he tore out international grape varieties from this vineyards and replanted with Sangiovese, Canaiolo, and Malvasia, the land holders of Tuscany followed suit. If you read the series of letters between the two men during that period, you will discover that he was trying to create (and he ultimately succeeded in creating) a fine wine that could be shipped abroad. He realized that Italian wine could help to fuel the nascent national economy if and only if it could be shipped abroad. And through his experiments, he discovered that Sangiovese grown on Tuscan soil was ideal for this purpose.

According to Carlo, who attended the event yesterday, the discussion — moderated by megawatt Italian television personality Bruno Vespa — centered around the controversial expansion of the Chianti appellation. Would this have concerned the Iron Baron? Perhaps. But if he were to taste the Chianti produced by the “40 or so winemakers” who attended the celebrity-studded event, what would he say? Would he recognize his beloved Sangiovese in those wines, now dominated by Merlot and Cabernet?

I’ll let you fill in the blank…

Eating tripe with Baron Ricasoli

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Above: From left, Francesco Ricasoli and his father Bettino Ricasoli, the great-great-grandson of Iron Baron Bettino Ricasoli (in the oil on canvas), an architect of Italian unification, Italy’s second prime minister, and winemaker who reshaped the history of Tuscan winemaking by replanting the vineyards of his Castello di Brolio estate with Sangiovese.

As I write this, the world of Italian wine mourns the loss of Baron Bettino Ricasoli, the namesake and steward of one of Italy’s most illustrious winemaking families. He was 87 and his funeral is being held today in the church of the Santa Trinita in Florence (the name of the church is pronounced TREE-nee-tah, btw, with the tonic accent on the first syllable, because the Florentines use Latinate pronunciation in this and similar instances, e.g., Santa Felicita pronounced feh-LEE-chee-tah).

Above: The library at the Castello di Brolio.

Six years ago I went to visit Baron Bettino, who was one of the nicest, most generous, and most gracious hosts who has ever received me. I wanted to browse the library at the Brolio Castle and leaf through the reprinted, bound collection of his great-great-grandfather’s letters and thanks to my connections in the wine trade, I was able to contact him. I visited in January when the castle was closed and he traveled expressly that day from Florence to spend the day with me. He, personally, led me on a tour of his family’s castle and then let me spend the afternoon in the library there. It was an amazing and truly unforgettable experience.

His ancestor and namesake, the Iron Baron Bettino Ricasoli, reshaped the history of Italian winemaking when he replanted his vineyards “exclusively” with native Italian varieties in the second half of the 19th century. Franco and I have published my translation of the famous letter in which he describes his experiments and his decision to replant at VinoWire.

Many uninformed wine writers claim that the Iron Baron composed a “recipe” or “formula” for Chianti with exact percentages. This is simply not true. What he did do was to establish that fine wine could be made in Tuscany using native Italian grape varieties (viz., Sangiovese or Sangioveto, Canaiolo, and Malvasia). He replanted his estate with those varieties (inspiring other winemaking estates to abandon international varieties), and he developed techniques (modeled after what he had seen in Bordeaux) for stabilizing his wines and thus making them suitable for shipping. The culmination of his efforts and achievements was that Tuscany and a newly unified Italy established themselves for the first time as a world-class producer of fine wine that could be shipped beyond its borders.

Here are a few anecdotes from the day I spent with Baron Bettino…

We ate stewed tripe in the Florentine style at a wonderful little trattoria called Carlino d’Oro near the Brolio Castle. I highly recommend it.

He told me a story of how the Iron Baron decided to leave Florence after another man asked his fiancée to dance at a ball. Evidently, the Iron Baron was prone to jealously and so he swept his betrothed away to the Brolio Castle and began his studies on winemaking. In the end, it was a woman behind the first renaissance of Italian winemaking!

I sat at the edge of my seat as he told me about the German occupation of the castle in the last years of the second world war. The German soldiers used its turrets as mounts for their artillery and Baron Bettino was among the Allied soldiers when they liberated his family’s castle. Because he knew the terrain so well, he was able to help mount their attack. How cool is that?

It was thanks to Baron Ricasoli that I met Darrell Corti, who became an unwitting mentor to me. But that’s another story…

To be continued…

In other news…

I’m picking up the pieces after ten days on the road and ten different cities between wine, one fine woman, and song. Starting a week ago last Thursday, I have visited and eaten meals in San Francisco (twice), San Jose, Los Angeles, Austin, San Antonio, Dallas, Sedona (AZ), Jerome (AZ), Napa Valley, and Sonoma.

It’s good to be home where I belong and I have lots to post about so please stay tuned…