mondosapore

Evolution of a Wine Blogger

Here and now, in my apartment, there are 40 cases of wine samples.  The window is open and the heat is off, all the better to simulate cellar temperatures.  When the sun shines, which it is not, I pull down the shades.  My daily ritual is to select the wines I want my appointments to taste, open the bottles and make sure they're not corked, put caps with pouring spouts in them, set them in a particular order in my Winecruzer, and hit the road -- or the subway, bus and bumpy sidewalks of New York, to be precise.  The routine: retailers, generally in late morning to early afternoon; restaurants and wine bars, late afternoon. 

Given our late start and the season, and given the glum economy, I sometimes feel like a Jehovah's Witness banging on the neighborhood doors at some inopportune hour of Saturday morning.  I once joked about being taken for a JW (in Italy!), but now I feel a tiny bit of compassion for those dogged souls.

All of which alters your estimation of and feelings toward wine blogging.

 

Something else to be thankful for: More proof that red wine IS good for you

I don't want to sensationalize this, but an article in the Times today reports that scientists have found how resveratrol activates a protein called sirtuin (does that remind anyone else of "Serutan", a health tonic which was suggestively tagged as nature's spelled backwards?) -- which helps mitigate the effects of ageing. See opening para:

A new insight into the reason for aging has been gained by scientists trying to understand how resveratrol, a minor ingredient of red wine, improves the health and lifespan of laboratory mice. They believe that the integrity of chromosomes is compromised as people age, and that resveratrol works by activating a protein known as sirtuin that restores the chromosomes to health.

Read the whole piece here.

You see, ladies and germs, we are here to bring comfort, aid and long life to a suffering humanity. 

Granted, they say resveratrol is a "minor" ingredient in red wine.  But it's there nevertheless.  And they didn't mention procyanidine at all!

Sprung!*

*from wine jail

I'm t'rilled skinny as Joe Kelly, the skinny boy from Bray, used to say.

Not only have the wines with the offending labels been fixed and released but the second container and all its delicious contents has been released -- in a comparative flash -- and the complete portfolio is available to the thirsty of America.  Fantastico, no?

In other news...

* tomorrow's Thanksgiving and of course I will be drinking some lovely Italian wines. Lest we forget their role in paving the way for all those pasty-faced Englishmen, we should remember Cristoforo Colombo, Giovanni Caboto, Amerigo Vespucci, Giovanni di Verrazano and Lou Costello. They belong at the festival table as much as Squanto.

* I had lunch with Amy Lillard of La Gramiere!  Beauty, guts, moxie, pluck and some cool Grenache blends from the southern Rhone. I'll do a quickie review in January, after the just-bottled wine's had a chance to recover from its pre-natal shock.

* I'm mighty thankful. "Jehovah jirah!" as Samuel Sewell often wrote in his diary. (You'll just have to look that one up on your own.)

* peace love + the Soouuuuul Train.

Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

A plug for the good guys: DiPalo Selects

I just got a message from the lovely and talented Bronwen that the enterprising DiPalo family has also launched an online shop-and-ship site for their delectable Italian goodies, called DiPalo Selects.

The DiPalo siblings -- Lou, Sal and Marie -- offer 300 types of cheeses, and that's just for starters.  Their shop's always packed and the wait time can get a bit long, so shopping online may be a good alternative to schlepping to Grand Street. 

The only drawback in shopping online:  you can't get a little taste of this and a little taste of that, which they offer you all the time.  Believe me, it makes a nice light lunch. 

No wine sales, though.  State laws forbid. 

At least there are plans, to be executed after the new year, to expand the food store and break down the wall to the enoteca -- here the word is used in its Italian meaning as a (serious) wine store, not a wine bar.  As I said the other day, the synergy's there and the shared store traffic will be too.  Young Sam already offers his customers a little taste of this and a little taste of that in the best family tradition.  When the work is completely done there will be a room downstairs for tasting events, classes, etc. 

One thing you should know: DiPalo's is a popular stop for visiting Italian tourists and business people.  It really smells and tastes like you're in Italy.

Monday Rerun 13: Where I dig deep

This concludes the baker's dozen of reruns.  I had to republish this one.  It was hard to write -- I'll say it took me years, effectively.  I said things I'd needed to say for a long time.  If ever I had a touchstone in writing, it would be this. 

I don't what know what else to say.

Naomh Phroinsias

What does that mean?

I will send a bottle of wine to the first person to send me the answer to this question, provided that person lives in the United States of America. 

A better bottle goes to the person who not only gives me the answer to the first question, but also reveals which celebrity has that name.

The only conditions I make are that you:

1) have a wine blog

2) post your review of the wine by January 9, 2009

3) make it a gushing, embarrassing, somewhat unprofessional review



See, no strings. 

Thank you for your cooperation, God/disappointed Higher Power bless and have a moderately tolerable Thanksgiving.  Survival hint:  If someone at the table on our best secular holiday, which will eventually involve Jesus in some unforeseen way, asks you to reveal what you're grateful for, I'd suggest you say, "Strappo, for the many blessings he has bestowed upon us over the past year."  Then plug the wine.

 

Strappo the Good, circa July 2008. 
More sinned against than sinning. 
Honest.

Sunday Morning Roundup of Nothing in Particular

Is it just me or is the world just a little less thrilling now that Obama is the President-Elect and naming his Cabinet, largely so far a familiar cast of Washington insiders?  I'm sorry we have this ridiculous lead time between the election and the assumption of office; it's archaic and annoying at the best of times, which this is not.  It's downright perilous now. 

******

It's cold and clear in New York again today.  Big hearty red wines are definitely in season. Time to break open one of my bottles of Amarone?

******

I'm having Italy withdrawal.  I bitched about traveling so much, but I've been in New York almost two months and am longing for Italy.  The good thing is that I've got Italy in a bottle all over the place in this purposely unheated apartment.  (Samples. Cases of them squirreled away in cool dark corners.)

******

I visited the Enoteca Di Palo down on Grand Street this week.  Grand Street is where most of what's left of Little Italy is centered.  Most of the area is being swallowed up by Chinatown. 

We met Sam Di Palo, the young man running the wine shop, back in June at Filippo Ronco's Terroir Vino manifestazione at the Palazzo Ducale in Genoa.  Sam's store opened exactly a week ago.  He designed it himself and he hand-picked all the wines.  Good selection, no mass market stuff at all.  I saw Aida Tuturro in there -- she played Janice Soprano on The Sopranos.  The shop draws a lot of visitors, locals as well as tourists, because Sam's father and uncle (and aunt, forgive me!) own the excellent Di Palo's Italian deli next store.  They import a vast array of the best foods from Italy, from cheese and salumeria to torrone and panettone.  Needless to say, the synergy's there.

 

That's Lou (Luigi) Di Palo, Sam's babbo. 

(Photo and link above -- The Gothamist.)

It helps, too, that Sam recently moved back to New York after living for four years in Italy.  He divided his time between Bra and Spoleto, and not only speaks the language but has managed to network extensively.  A trade delegation from Sardinia visited on Friday soon after Ms. Tuturro left.

******

The variety of excellent little wine shops all over Manhattan is wonderful. Wine Therapy on Elizabeth Street, just a couple of blocks north of Di Palo's, is a fair example.  The place positions itself as carrying "organic and specialty wines," which is to say small-production, carefully selected estates. The owner, Jean-Baptiste, of course emphasizes French properties, and his South of France and organic Champagne selections are deep and fascinating.  

Jean-Baptiste and his salesperson Maya are true wine geeks.  It's really fun to taste with them.

******

What is the best -- I mean, the best -- way of locating where these types of wine retailers?  Go to Dr. Vino's blog for the maps he's been maintaining for a few years.  He has them for New York, Chicago and LA, and a parallel one for wine bars in New York and Los Angeles.  The stores range from big and small, but of course most of them are rather small and specialized, and they're the sort of place where you don't see shelf talkers and scores begging for attention.  The staffs are knowledgeable and deeply committed to discovering and selling interesting wine.  

Dr. Vino's maps are an indispensable resource for shoppers in the country's three biggest cities, as well as Paris.

******

I was just thinking about limoncello.  I love the stuff after a good meal on a warm, sunny day. 

I was also thinking about the announcement that Danny DeVito is promoting his brand of it over here.  It occurs to me how very terrone limoncello is -- Southern, stereotypically so. I was reminded of that quite pungently when I ordered it after a great lunch somewhere way up in the northeastern reaches of Italy, I forget exactly where.  

I got this look from the waiter, who haughtily informed me that they didn't serve it. I felt real solidarity with all terroni everywhere.  (That fucking putz.)

******

Download 09 Sunday Girl

Amy Lillard, Franco-American Vigneronne, soon to arrive in Big Apple

Amy Lillard, whose blog has long been a favorite of those desiring to live the life of a winemaker, vicariously and without all the bother and heartbreak and investments, is coming to New York next week.  I'm very eager to meet her and -- I hope -- to taste her wine at last. 

She and husband Matt are Americans who have devoted themselves to La Gramière for at least four years now, and her blog, in English and sometimes in French, tells you what it's really like to live the dream of making wine in the gorgeous Uzès area of the Rhone valley: very hard.  Very rewarding, mostly.

Come on, Amy, operators are standing by!

Amy, lady of leisure

DS so far

We've been out flogging our wines for, what, a week now.  So far the response has been gratifying.  "Very good portfolio."  "Well-chosen."  "Come in any time, we want to taste everything you have."  "I'll take 11 cases of this and 11 of that and 3 of this one just for me."

A great reception at high-quality hand-sell shops.  Lots of interest from white-tablecloth restaurants.  Jeff's killing it.  The most expensive wine currently in is already on allocation -- who would have thought that in these difficult times? 

This is why I haven't slept all night.  Too excited about what's going on.  Planning the next day and the next. I've never done anything that I've loved as much.  Jeff either.  We love this, we love our wines and our producers and, of course, anybody else who loves them.

A small start, step by step.  But a very good start.  All this planning and laying of groundwork is going to pay off. 

Bleaker Streets

Schlepping in the West Village. Cold and windy but bright. Glamour and sensuality are well hidden today, layered away for winter. The same could be said for the heady, expansive displays of prosperity which ruled till just yesterday.

Christopher Street, once the epicenter of gay commerical life, is half shuttered and empty. Many storefronts are bare except for rebtal signs in English and Spanish. Familiar coffee bars and eateries seem long gone.  The same forlorn sense spreads to Hudson and Greenwich streets and beyond.

Well beyond. Shops and restaurants that were part of the familiar scenery become landmarks only when they disappear. I see it in my area, which is on the fringe of the Midtown East business district.

I'm not going to wax elegiac and nostalgic over these changes. You do worry though.  How will a lot of people manage to pay the rent? How will they hang on?  And, again in the context of the West Village, how many people will still shell out few grand for a Lulu Guinness purse?

This time I think it's trickle-up distress.

Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

Wine & God

There's a show on Nova now that rehashes well-known findings about the evolution of monotheism in Israel.  It took centuries and the accommodation of many ethnic groups, usually the marginal and dispossessed, in a secular act of will to set "our" sole god against "your" thicket of piddling deities. It was a way to define us and them.  Got it. 

Now forgive me if I go off-topic and if I insult your most cherished beliefs -- for beliefs is all they are.  But I, raised as a kind of Christian lite (low church Episcopalian with Presbyterian, Catholic and Jewish antecedents), have never felt any particular pull in monotheism.  Or theism of any sort, to be honest.  I always felt more at home with the sensual deities of Graeco-Roman tradition, even as I understood implicitly that they functioned as metaphors for the phenomena and experiences that human beings endured and observed. Yes, even as a youngster I got this.  Blame Homer and Odysseus -- not much shock & awe there, mostly a chatty familiarity and contentiousness with the gods...flirtations with the goddesses...I got it. 

I've read the works of many monotheists, both Christians (who aren't such great monotheists, actually, if you think seriously about the nonsensical political construct of the Trinity) and Jews (who are except for that obsessive deification of Torah) -- I say, I've read many who say that somehow human life was cheap and meant nothing in "a Roman wilderness of pain" (quoting Jim Morrison), in such extreme and ridiculous terms as to render them without credibility.  I studied Christian theology with even, years ago, some foolish idea of becoming an Episcopal priest.  But after several years I felt I was dealing in a realm of irrational numbers.  I felt that I was becoming a bit delusional or like my poor schizophrenic daughter, whose impeccable logic was always based on flawed, irreal premises.

I'm eliding a great deal here.  Years of thinking, imagining, living, suffering, loving and grieving.  But let me tell you this.  The sacraments of the religions of Abraham, Moses, Jesus and Paul share the central symbolism of wine with the oblations of Greek legend and Roman history.  Wine, the sacred creation of man's craft and "god" (or nature or whatever you wish to call it) -- Dionysus the god from the Caucasus is as real to me as any other.  

More. 

Monday Rerun 12: Devilry in Tuscany

Was this my first chef d'oeuvre?  Not sure.  But it was my most prescient, there's no question.  See, this is what I did: I looked, I listened, I drew my own conclusions.  Mark you, I'd never been to Montalcino, but Italy is really the same all over, no matter what they like to believe up north.

Here's what I want to know.  If little ole me could figure out what was going on in Brunellolandia, how the hell could anyone be shocked and outraged and bitterly disillusioned when the case blew wide open? 

By the way, Jancis Robinson is my obvious but unnamed heroine here.  From the way she writes and reacts in real life, I think it's a plausible cartoon portrait, don't you?  (I love you, Jancis!)

Yes yes, I AM Strappo

A bunch of us went to the workshop of the new Sondheim musical drama at the Public Theatre.  ("The Roadshow".)  Most of our group liked it though they didn't love it.  I was rolling my eyes after the first three minutes -- typical Sondheim, blah blah. Some of the actors were terrific but the material struck me as -- what?  Archetypal?   Is that a nice word for cliche?  I'm accused of not loving the theatre -- guilty.  But my companions really could be enthralled by your garden variety flea circus.  

Fortunately, it didn't go on too long and four of us walked over to Otto for a very early dinner or a very late lunch. The food was fine but the real treat for me is the extensive all-Italian wine list.  The prices are pretty reasonable, especially by the bottle.  We mixed and matched a few different wines for the four of us, sharing a nice bottle of Muller-Thurgau to start. Ken and I also ordered quartinos of a Mastroberardino Aglianico (2005?).  Very good with his prosciutto and veggies and my plain old Marinara pizza, which was a bit of a disappointment.

The highlight of the evening, though, was when I asked the sommelier a question.  I pulled out my BlackBerry and showed him the Domenico Selections logo on the home screen. Before I even got out the business card, the somm, Paul Tortora, said, "I know who you are.  You're Terry Hughes of mondosapore!  I've read your blog for a long time."

Paul added, "I'm good friends with Gabrio Tosti.  I spend a lot of time at his store -- I live across the street."   I liked him anyway.

My dining companions were overawed by my celebrity.  They really were.  I guess they thought the blog was me just -- oh, I don't know -- wasting my time.  (I was going to use a cruder expression.  But I'm feeling a little above the vulgar fray right now.  Obama's being interviewed on 60 Minutes as I type.)

Gianni Brunelli: A real Brunello maker dead at 61

I saw this morning on Franco Ziliani's site that Gianni Brunelli died on Saturday.  Brunelli, 61, made superb Brunellos that were really Brunello -- never jammy, never inky-purple, always beautifully structured and pure in their expression of Sangiovese. Proof of the pudding: they age well and do not fall apart after 8 or 10 years.

Brunelli also founded the excellent Osteria Le Logge, a restaurant located not far from the Campo del Palio in Siena.  I've eaten there a few times, most recently in September when we had a superb lunch (beef cheeks -- fantastic) and of course a bottle of Gianni's wine.  The Osteria is no pan-Italian restaurant; all Tuscan, all Sienese, all hearty and well-prepared, delicious food.  It is a perfect accompaniment to Brunelli's classic Brunellos and Rossos. 

The restaurant will stay in business.  The wines in bottle will continue to age gracefully.  The winery will go on.

I never met the man.  I did talk with him on the phone, and he at one point offered us a place to stay at his house in Montalcino when we had a hard time finding a hotel room in Siena during the height of the tourist season.  Those who knew him well said he was that kind of person.

Urgent update & correction!

Gabrio chastised me today [now yesterday, oh how fleeting etc.]  for reporting that his cellar and wine shop are not exquisitely temperature-controlled.  The storage cellar is always air-conditioned and cool.  The store is a fairly cool[ish] 21C (70F).  There are awnings.  Buildings block the worst of the westering sun.  It is a cool enological paradise in a hell of heat and pollution. 

This after I hinted that a 1997 Paolo Conterno I bought there recently had been badly affected by warm conditions. 

I was reminded that '97 was a mad hot year.  Not as mad or as hot as '03 but pretty darn warm, you betcha.

I stand humbled and effectively chastened.

Even though he didn't buy damned thing today.

Gabrio remains a very good friend. 

What possessed me?

A few brief observations and reflections before leaving for the day.

All kidding aside. No fake interviews with one of my personaggi (characters). 

Times are hard, getting harder; who knows where the bottom will be.  Our town is awash in wine, Italian wine included.  Ditto importers.  Unditto distributors.  It's not going to be easy.  It isn't in the best of times, and this, clearly, is not the best of times.

Then why?

My passion for Italy and for wine -- a passion shared by my partners and fellow investors in a dream.  Doesn't that sound corny, very 1970s and Human Potential Movement-y?  Scott Peckish and all that? 

But when you've lived long enough you realize that the only things worth doing are the ones that fill you with an inexhaustible passion which buoys you up in adversity and renews you constantly.  Which changes the way you act and the way you deal with others.  It doesn't assure success or the achievement of all your goals and aspirations; but without it you can't accomplish too much and whatever you do accomplish depletes you beyond measure.

It's like the difference between being in love and love itself.

HABEMUS VINUM

So we gathered at my place today, the tre amici, the mud whisperers of winter vineyards, and we were scared.  Here we'd spent all this money and time and effort -- all our adorable hopes and dreams -- and we got the first cases of samples of the first containersworth of vino.  Jeff brought the wines and the crusty bread, the Parmigiano and the salumeria, just like we were back in some chilly cantina in the windswept hills of Irpinia or Montecucco.  We opened and sniffed and tasted.

What happened?

We laughed.  We cried.  We liked them better than -- well, than ever.

Now we're pumped.  We're happy.  We're in business.  We're hmm still scared but in a good way.

    

 

 

Internal monologue. Some wine.

bout time though late in the season springing the goods from federal wine jail such a pain in the ass signore your labels are one-eight of a millimeter something or other jerkoffs.  however let's see all that legal shit to wade through new contracts and partner crap and lighting fires under the asses of lawyers who BY THE WAY keep losing the fucking paperwork and we pay them HOW MUCH?  ah tis all par for the course they tell me every metier has its hassles and frustrations and god knows we ain't seen nothin yet.  dark already you want to start cocktail hour at 5 on the button but no no dig we must.  loved meeting with G___ yesterday great guy and the wines are fine maybe first foray into piemonte for our merry band.  puo' darsi the old folks say you never can tell.  more schlepping through muddy vineyards in february the glamour of wine but oh my boy it beats the daily torture of teaching for hardly any net income whatsoever & made me want to stick the gaspipe in my mouth at 5 in the dark am.

wonder if 3 bicchieri has any sway over here does anyone care what they have to say or is it like slowfood ZLUFF'D where they think they're the center of the universe but only a small coterie of fringenuts really pay any attention to them.  slowfood fucking irritates me what is it about the damn thing there's some kind of holierthanthou sanctimoniousness that makes me want to tear me eyes out whenever I read their smarmy selfcongratulatory horsehit eata zlow eat locala eata shitta.  worse than 3 bicchieri damn sight worse.

can't get enough of those early coleman hawkins songs from istore all i can listen to now is him louis jordan joe turner & ziggy stardust & the spiders from mars pretty wacko myself oh and dinosaurs walked the earth and chased adam & eve back into the garden of eden where james dobson made em put some clothes on.  guantanamera oh hija guantanamera like sending em to god's little gitmo ha.

 

stephen dedalus as jimmy j nora barnacle's bibulous bucko

need to use the light box feeling really low because daylight is getting scarce.  was it like this for people in 1931?  gets worse & worse.  but people need to forget their worries and feel good for a while which is where i come in drink baby drink drink till you drop louis jordan sang what's the use of gettin sober when you gonna get drunk again.  darkness has fallen hard sirens wail in the avenues but it's a calm commute people aren't leaning out of their cars and screaming at each other recessions are nice because less traffic pollution noise. the ones in work too scared to complain cause they're conditioned that way bet commuter traffic was pretty light in 1931 & forget about 1933. but oh how they drank witness william powell & HE lived to be 90some. more wine anyone oh do have some it's awfully good n'est-ce-pas. & those hangovers help prepare you for the big sleep.

though said he ominously one does hear more people screaming in the streets late at night & early in the morning these days drunk or crazy or both like that hopped up ugly dogwalker with his pack of giant killer canines eeww who knows reminds me er ONE of the magic mountain near the end when everyone started acting weird and untrammeled and fighting over nothing eve of the great war.  still would rather read ulysses again from PLUMP STATELY BUCK MULLIGAN to YES YES I WILL I SAID YES A to Z ah to zed nana used to say.  ah giacomo joyce you did curse your disciples with your insurmountable genius and your riverrun 2 riverrun though who knows what it's really a

Monday Rerun 11: Sweeter than a kiss

This post focuses on a couple of wineries, but it does attempt to present their dessert wines in the context of a bigger, long-term trend to quality in Italy. I still think that good Italian dessert wines are among the best in the world, right up there with all but the very grandest of Sauternes and Tokaji.  (Port and sherry are in another realm altogether, I think.)

Quickie: Paolo Conterno "La Ginestra" Barolo, 1997

I had been hearing about Paolo Conterno's Barolos and other wines for a while.  In fact, they were highly recommended by Jo Cooke of Wine Spectator, whom I met at a great party near Grosseto with Gianpaolo Paglia back in September.  I tracked down a bottle of Paolo Conterno's non-Riserva Barolo, La Ginestra, at De Vino this week.  Here's a brief diary of what I found.