Wine as Sunshine: Warm Rays from the Mezzogiorno

See the end of the article's continuation for an important addendum

Let the Sole Shine In

Tuesday was another gloomy day in New York.  That evening I was invited to a tasting dinner by Paolo Milani (Consorzio Selezione Vini Italiani) and Chris Rudney (Great Sunsan Wine Importers), featuring small producers from several regions of Italy, most notably from the South.  Both the wines and the people were very nice--a ray of sunshine, so to speak. 

I was especially taken by the wines of one producer from Campania, whose family is credited with having revived the excellent Falanghina grape.  Year of revival? 1979.  It shows us how recent the "autochthonous" grape movement is in Italy, and what a really radical departure it represents from the old traditions.

The dinner tasting was held at a restaurant at the South Street Seaport.  After wine and hors d'oeuvres on a terrace overlooking the East River, six wines were paired with six courses.  The food wasn't anything special but the wines were--particularly because they retail for $25 and under, all representing excellent value. 

Here is the wine list (including those served before dinner):

Before dinner, from Angelo Pittaro (Friuli) there were Pinot Grigio, Refosco and Tocai. I didn't have time to try them all--just a sip of the Tocai.  It was competent and typical, but I couldn't stop to get any deeper sense of it.

Also before dinner there was a very nice Rosso del Salento from Peppino Colombo (80% Negroamaro, 20% Malvasia Nera)--very pleasant "quaffing" wine.  "The southern sun is in there," said Paolo.  He was right.  A happy wine for a very good price (about $10).  The Colombo Montepulciano d'Abruzzo was sound and typical. 

They served four different wines from the family-owned winery Mustilli, all of high quality, even though not all were to my personal taste. They are based in a historic hilltop town in Campania,  Sant'Agata de' Goti, where they age their wine in ancient cellars cut deep in the tufa, and where they have turned their family "palazzo" into an agriturismo (sort of like an upscale country inn with homegrown food and wine on the table).

Falanghina (Sant'Agata de' Goti DOC) 2005 -- no oak, light and lively, a surprisingly long finish, perfect with light summer fare and, of course, seafood.  A fine example of the variety, and why not?  This family is the one credited with rescuing Falanghina from obscurity 30 years ago, and endowing it with its modern identity.

Vigna Fontanella Greco (Greco Sannio DOC) 2005 -- vivacious and complex, a wonderful example of a grape that is perhaps my  favorite Italian variety in whites.  More flavorful and nervous with acidity than Falanghina, it epitomizes the strengths of Campania's white wines versus the bland, take-it-or-leave-it whites of so many wine regions.  Everyone at our end of the long table loved it.

Cesco di Nece Aglianico (Sant'Agata de' Goti DOC) 2003 -- I love pure Aglianico, so I was very satisfied with this one--big-shouldered and rather tannic but still balanced, alive with that all-important acidity.  Oak is deftly applied.  Remarkably balanced given the heat of the summer of 2003.

Briccone 2003 -- a 6000-case experiment by Mustilli to create something international. 85% Aglianico, 15% Merlot.  The Merlot is there to soften and sweeten (literally) the rugged character of Aglianico.  The oak wasn't at all intrusive.  Two Americans at our end of the table much preferred this to the Cesco di Nece Aglianico; one of them was a retailer, so I'm betting he'll buy it and flog it.  This Briccone was nice but the blending had, to my way of tasting, robbed the Aglianico of its distinctive voice; the wine tasted a little generic.  It could have come from Australia or California, which is no doubt what the Mustillis were after. 

It did pair well with the filet mignon or whatever cut of steak we were on at the time, what with the softer tannins and added sweetness.  I retasted the Aglianico "in purezza," which my charming table mate Donatella preferred.  Despite the obvious attractions of the Briccone, I had to stick with the Cesco as well.

That was a real "symposium"

Now, if I couldn't remember what the cut of steak was, what does that tell you?  This was a dinner--no spit buckets.  There was wonderful conversation--I learned a great deal from Paolo Milani and particularly enjoyed a wide-ranging conversation with Donatella, a friend of Paola Mustilli's.   (Donatella is from Naples and loves Andrea Camilleri's books--we could have spent all night on those two subjects.)  It reminded me, after I'd sobered up and thought about it, of a real symposium, the conversation-rich drinking parties that were a feature of Plato's time.  Wine made us more eloquent and frank but only in a good way.

Whatever.  I left my menu and notes there, not to mention my best umbrella, and somehow managed to stagger to a taxi for a $17 ride back uptown, which was interesting because I had just $10 on me.  (Compare and contrast: a $1 subway ride downtown.)  "Tired but happy," to dig up a cliche'.  And horrifically hungover all the next day. 

So what.  I also felt like I was carrying around a little of that southern sunshine under the dark, wet skies of New York, wrapped in sensations of the sun and the earth of Magna Graecia, a place which the Greeks and Romans found as intoxicating as we do.

What Gambero Rosso says

The 2006 Gambero Rosso places Mustilli in the "Other Wineries" section for Campania -- "but not for long," it says on page 761 of the English-language edition.  They award the Briccone 2 glasses and 1 each to the Cesco di Nece, Falanghina ("unexciting") and Phileno (a passito, dessert wine). 

Briccone 2 glasses?  Looks like I'll have to recant my opinion.  Or shrug and say, "A ciascuno il suo gusto."

 

Comments

[Fredric Koeppel]

Sounds like an interesting event, though it's too bad the food couldn't have supported the wines better. Wonder why the choice of restaurants? Your hosts should have picked something like I Trulli or another place that emphasizes the cuisine of the hot, dry South. Well, it all has to do with payback and what wine list carries whose wines or potentially will. I once was about to have dinner at a Midtown restaurant with an importer (who would have spent lots of money on food) and the restaurant owner said that he would have to charge corkage for the wines we were going to taste because he hadn't received last year's allotment of a particular wine from that importer. We ended up having a superb dinner at La Caravelle not long before it closed. But what we inquiring minds want to know is -- how did you pay for that taxi ride uptown?

[Terry Hughes]

You could be right about the choice of restaurants, although that's mere speculation on my part. I agree that I Trulli or someplace would have been very nice, but what sort of relationship do THEY have with the importer, etc.? Especially since that place has an associated wine shop.

Oh it's a dirty old world, I'll tell ya.

As to the cab ride home...I did have enough presence of mind to call home and have Ken leave a twenty with the doorman, who was on the steps waiting for me when I drove up. Quid pro quo at work again: we give those guys pretty nice Xma$$$ tip$$$.

BTW, I'll soon be posting a piece on Falanghina and the history of the grape, derived from a book that was given out as a freebie at the event. Fascinating perspectives.

[Fredric Koeppel]

Do not, by any means, recant your opinion. The editors of Gambero Rosso sound as if they're enthralled with the "International" style of winemaking and are using their award system to encourage it. If an Italian wine looks, smells and tastes as if it could have been made in Australia or California, at the expense of regional integrity,it doesn't deserve acclaim.

[Terry Hughes]

No, I wouldn't revise anything--my preferences are my preferences and that's it. You're right, the GR taste profile really does lean in the international direction. They are sometimes severely criticized for this in Italy.

I think the criticisms are pretty much
justified, especially given the fact that "native" grapes including Nebbiolo (in both trad and international styles) are the country's strongest suit.