mondosapore

Farewell, thou $50 bottle

There's an interesting piece from Reuters on the MSNBC web site today. It covers the "worldwide glut" in wine and how it's affecting prices.  The leading case in point, the collapse of the market for $50 Pinot Noir from a California vineyard, which is now offering the juice for $19.  (Click for entire article.)

Leave 'em hanging, boys

Well, business cycles come and go. There are periodic wine gluts, which are not always directly connected to business cycles -- bountiful harvests in several wine regions can skew prices for a season or two.

But the really significant piece of information in the article comes at the end: 

Danny Brager, vice president of beverage alcohol at The Nielsen Company, said, "When we last looked at wine at price points north of $20, we saw declines at each of them. It would seem quite logical to us that consumers are stepping down from what they used to spend per bottle, to a lower outlay."

He also found consumers were quite happy with the quality of wines they were buying for less than $20.

Marcelo Papa echoed that sentiment. Papa is one of the four chief winemakers for Chile's Concha y Toro, which unlike its competitors has seen sales of most of its brands rise 30 percent this year.

"Compared to 20 or 30 years ago, wines under $20 or $15 are of much better quality today. They're just better made wines." he said.

(Underscoring mine.)

It's normal for people to scale back in hard times, so the crash of the $20+ segment is no surprise. It's only a slightly greater surprise to read that some cult wines are offering deals. 

But the truly significant point is that improved quality from every wine region in the world, combined with vast production, threatens the medium-term viability of the over-$20 market. Why spend $50 or even $25 for a bottle when there's as good as one on the shelf at $20 or $15?

We see this problem quite clearly in Italy, our source. Makers of perfectly fine but unexceptional wines continue to demand 5, 6, 10, 15 euros a bottle. When we explain the realities of the economic situation in the United States -- not to mention the pitiless competition from all the world's wine regions --  the producers must think we're telling them a tale, something meant to entertain and swindle them.  As an Italian  acquaintance of mine who lives in New York said recently, "They are living in a fantasy. No one's buying there and no one's buying here at those crazy prices." He predicted a collapse of asking prices for wine after the first of the year.

We'll be there, bargaining hard for everyone's sake.

    

Shit Europeans spend money on

I'm in a contemplative mood. I just got back from the Yitzkor service at the synagogue. You get somber when you spend two hours devoted to the dead.  The fact that most of the service is in Hebrew helps; you can drift easily.

So my heart and mind were open as I came across town in a taxi. I saw all the happy people prancing around town on their New Yawk vacation, often wearing the same bewildered-but-we're-determined-to-be-delighted look you see on Americans wandering around Rome and Paris. My heart was heavy as I considered all the expensive toys these Europeans have -- all the shopping they do thanks to our low prices and death-spiraling dollar. 

Item 1: Every European tourist carries around his neck an expensive camera with a vast assortment of expensive, complex lenses. Americans are content with a point-and-shoot digital job.

Reason: Americans spend their money on health care.

Item 2: So many of these tourists lug around big shopping bags stuffed with goodies -- from Saks, Bloomingdale's, Chanel, Tiffany, D & G. Americans tote bags from Daffy's and H&M.

Reason: Americans spend their money on health care.

Item 3: Europeans can be seen eating in voluble, greedy groups in glossy Midtown restaurants. The only Americans you see in such places are on expense accounts, and those far fewer than formerly.

Reason: If Americans have jobs, they're spending it on health care. If they're unemployed, they're going bankrupt from spending on health care. Hello, Subway.  Hello, Quickie Mart.

I'd like to go out for lunch. I'm sick of tuna fish sandwiches. But I'll open a can.

Reason: I just sent in my health insurance premium.

Shit.

Another Tre Bicchieri winner from the Domenico Selections fold

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Di recente in Italia..

Recently in Italy...

Here are some pictures of Italy -- in Tuscany, when I was still fresh and felt like playing Paparazzo -- complete with my usual clever commentary in the captions.

We stayed here. New place, very welcoming, great dinners. Located near Lucca

A view of the pool at Corte Benedetto

Favored transportation at Corte Benedetto

Inside the city walls at Lucca. Near via Elisa, which seems to have been named for Jeff's wife

A view from the ramparts at Lucca. There used to be a moat -- quite a wide one -- where the green grass is today

Lucca is very pretty and laid back

There's always a via Roma. Uncle Silvio is watching you

Then there was Pisa...uffa...

A peak experience in Modena

On our last stop before heading to Rome for the flight home, Jeff and I stopped at an enormous wine installation outside Modena.  We were there specifically to discuss the wines of a small producer that makes methode Champenois Lambruscos -- extraordinary wines that make the designation "Lambrusco" seem pathetically undescriptive and unjust.  (Made from the Sorbara subvariety, not the more common Grasparossa.)

We had tasted the wines at Vinitaly.  We liked them then and loved them now.  Stay tuned for further developments.

The CEO heard that we have our wines in several Mario Batali restaurants here in New York.  He insisted on taking us to lunch at Hosteria Giusti, an old and very small restaurant in the center of Modena, since the late Adriano Morandi and Batali's father struck up a friendship many years ago, and it is been carried forth by the younger generation.  Here Matteo Morandi runs the place with the kitchen magic of his sister Cecilia and especially his mother Laura.

You enter the restaurant through the salumeria ("Enogastronomia Famiglia Morandi"), which faces the arcade running down the length of the street.  The enogastronomia is a small jewel of the finest foods of the region -- the best salamis and prosciuttos, cheeses, breads, wines, olive oils, Modena vinegars -- and the aromas are intoxicating.

You step past the counters, down a couple of steps, zigzag a bit and find yourself in a traditionally-decorated Italian dining room. (Heavy on the lace.) Roughly 14-16 people at a time eat as well as anywhere in Italy, I imagine.  

The walls are lined with relics of old vertical tasting dinners -- Ch. Petrus springs to mind -- and old pictures of Modena and the Morandi family. 

By the way, there is another entrance, outside of which is a tiny courtyard area for drinks. The name of the street is Vicolo Squallore -- Squalor Lane.  If this be squalor, roll me in muck.

The meal was by no means one of those gut-busters that Italy so often presents to you at midday.  But it was probably the most satisfying either Jeff or I had ever had.  The starter was a small zucchini stuffed with pork and parmigiano, delicately spiced, prepared in a big padella (skillet).  The cotechino fritto with zabaione, which is featured in one of Batali's books, is a stunning marriage of savory and sweet -- and, by the way, a superb pairing with the most fined of "our" producer's spumantes. 

Aside from the spectacular "home cooking" (which it is if your mother is a culinary genius with her pick of the best ingredients anywhere), the warmth and good humor of the Morandis made a marvelous meal an unforgettable experience. 

Matteo was proud of the Batali connection and noted that several of his family's recipes had shown up on Mario's menus. "We are collaborators," he beamed.

By the way, Hosteria Giusti is booked till February at this point. Reserve your part of the table, hock your diamonds and GO. Telephone: +39 059222533

Cheesy Pisa

God what a hole.

All the charm of the Gowanus Expressway

In and out.  While we'd dawdled around Lucca and had a nice walk on the city walls, at Pisa we came, see saw, we bolted.  

Sorry, the one at the pizza place on Route 1 north of Boston is just as good

Highlight of the trip. There IS a Duff Beer!

Altre cose

Other things I forgot to mention before...

These are thoughts as stray as the dog that gnaws at chicken guts after the butcher's done with them.

1. The Fiat Croma I rented from Thrifty is truly a piece of shit. Nothing works right, plastic bits fall off and no one has changed the oil or tires since the car was new. Whenever that was. I fear for my life, such as it remains.

2. Thanks to all who have commented recently. I'd respond but the Blackberry interface with Typeface isn't working, nor has it ever. I'll assume it's Typepad's problem dince it usually is.

3. Italy makes me glad I left the iTouch at home. It's quite pathetic without wi-fi. And its battery sucks too.

4. I love Italy but I have to get home and to the gym. I'm ready to burst and I left half of each course on the plate. Are these people trying to kill Strappo?

5. But they can kill me with wine all they want. Loving pecorino and Rosso Piceno. Yum yum and YUM.

Time to read "My Secret Life" on Kindle. Is that great or what??

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A memorable first in Italy: A shitty meal

I feel as though I've crossed to a new plane of understanding or intimacy or something. A shitty meal. At a little trattoria in Italy. I knew it had to happen sometimes. My experience proves that it does.

Let's see...I ordered a Caprese salad. Hot-house tomatoes worthy of a Food Lion in North Carolina. Mozzarella strangely like the stuff you see them delivering in those mob-connected pizza-supply trucks all over the NY-NJ-CT Tri-State Area.

Then a pappardelle something that I believe was supposed to have meat in it. Lots of canned sauce though.

The best thing was the Coca-Cola. I was afraid of what the coffee might be like.

The name of this culinary nadir should have warned me away - Serpente Aureo -- the Golden Snake. In Offida. Make it a stop on YOUR pilgrimage to Italy. You'll stop bitching about food in America and how much better everthing tastes here. Because it aint necessarily so.

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In Macerata

I've stopped in Macerata, a provincial capital in Marche, before heading to the next winery appointment. The town reminds me a lot of the provincial capital of Chieti in Abruzzo except that it seems more dead. It's another gorgeous day, so that's OK.

I purposely made the appointment for after lunch because I've exercised so little and eaten so much. A 45 minute walk around this old town, then a truly light meal, like a panino, will prepare me well for the winery visit and spare the people the obligation of killing the fatted calf (or stuffing the old wild boar, ie, me.)

Gianna Ferretti, the food blogger and researcher, who made the reservation at the agriturismo, stopped by there and we chatted a bit before she went to her office at Ancona. It was too bad we had to rush, so I want to say, grazie Gianna again.

Speaking of the agriturismo, I had a very fitful night in no small part because a young couple returned late (like 3 am) and proceeded to fuck their brains out at top volume somewhere down the short corridor. It was all as vivid as the sound track of a porno film.

The walls are thin anyway -- you can hear the guy in the next room turn on his light switch and blow his nose. The restaurant was pretty good though, and I did get to evaluate a couple of wineries' products before and during dinner.

A dopo. Later.

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The joy of 90

Not that I'm so old. But that's how fast you can go on the autostrada without any worries.

Today I had to drive from Grosseto to Florence and then over to a place near but south of Ancona on the Adriatic. A lot of driving including the tangle that is Florence. (It was a GREAT city in the 14th century.)

The length of the drive was mitigated by the fact that you can usually cruise along at about 150-160 kpm, or 90-100 mph. That and the fact that you can get decent coffee and even pastries at frequent points on the way. A big plus for Italy.

I'm in an agriturismo in Le Marche now. The room is what I'd call a cell, as in a monk's cell, although it has a pretty good bathroom attached and not down the corridor.

The resto is pretty good and they were very helpful as I demanded q double table and special glassware as well as a broca (pitcher) as a sputecchiera (spit bucket).

I tasted 6 vini from 2 produttori. One producer excited me. We shall see.

Thanls to Gianna Feretti, a blogger from this area, for making the reservation for me.

Buona notte from a truly and blessedly sunny Italy.

Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

The joy of 90

Not that I'm so old. But that's how fast you can go on the autostrada without any worries.

Today I had to drive from Grosseto to Florence and then over to a place near but south of Ancona on the Adriatic. A lot of driving including the tangle that is Florence. (It was a GREAT city in the 14th century.)

The length of the drive was mitigated by the fact that you can usually cruise along at about 150-160 kpm, or 90-100 mph. That and the fact that you can get decent coffee and even pastries at frequent points on the way. A big plus for Italy.

I'm in an agriturismo in Le Marche now. The room is what I'd call a cell, as in a monk's cell, although it has a pretty good bathroom attached and not down the corridor.

The resto is pretty good and they were very helpful as I demanded q double table and special glassware as well as a broca (pitcher) as a sputecchiera (spit bucket).

I tasted 6 vini from 2 produttori. One producer excited me. We shall see.

Thanls to Gianna Feretti, a blogger from this area, for making the reservation for me.

Buona notte from a truly and blessedly sunny Italy.

Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

At Capannori

After a long flight and an almost four-hour drive we got to Corte Benedetto, a new and very pleasant agriturismo several miles from Lucca. The owners and staff gave us a warm welcome last night, sharing a grand supper on the terrace. Lots of wine and grappa too of course. Jeff said it best, "we're home."

Busy as the schedule will be for the next week, today will be a recovery day. A visit to Lucca, lunch and a quick stop at Pisa to gape at the Torre pendente. Then back here to go over some work by the rather spectacular pool. We're kicking ourselves for not bringing swim togs. The weather's balmy here and it'd be a shame to let all that water go to waste.

Tomorrow we visit and taste with Luca D'Attoma, a well-regarded enologo with clients from all over Tuscany and beyond. We will also meet a few of his producers, so we hope and expect it to be a fruitful encounter.

Then on Saturday we head south along the tuscan coast to Grosseto to spend some time with our friend Gianpaolo Paglia of Poggio Argentiera, who happens to be a client of said Luca.

To be honest, jetlagged as I feel, sitting on the tiled steps of the agriturismo in the warm sunshine feels completely satisfying in itself. The place and view are lovely, and the cordial staff leave you in peace.

Jeff's ready, so it's off to Lucca.

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No spleen. No shirt. No blog

After some reflection I've realized why wine blogging lost its allure for me. I'm no longer angry all the time.

It's true.  Anger, the desire to ridicule and expose the institutionalized bullshit of the wine world, frustration with my own shitty existence -- all fueled the fires of spleen that got me going and spurred me to rip it up.

As I've read the occasional blog post and the frequent Twitter and Facebook entries in recent weeks, I've noticed the aggression and anger in a lot of them. And the sniping and the bullying and the small-minded assertiveness that seem to propel the bloggers as they jostle for mind-room and bigger-media exposure. I'd ask an irritated "what the fuck is that all about?" except that I know the answer.

As with everything else in our culture, the initial impulse to communicate rather quickly becomes a choice to a) inform b) perform or c) reform.

If you choose to inform in a wine-blogging context, you write even-handed reviews and provide background information without too much editorial coloring.  After all, you're not there to be an advocate or polemicist, your mission is to tell people accurately about a wine, a grape, a region, etc.  In other words, you offer balanced, relatively objective reporting (relative objectivity being the only kind there is). You sane and sober reporters know who you are.

Most of us are less disciplined and more egoistic. We wish to perform. We have an attitude and perhaps a few little axes to grind. We're tummlers. There's an element of aggression in what we do, but there's also the saving grace of play. There's nothing inherently wrong with this choice, but the sheer numbers of bloggers who elect to go this route contribute to excesses in rhetoric and phony controversies. The strategies of "performance" are varied and tricky, and some of the choices made do add a lot of unnecessary noise to the blogosphere.

In other words, a lot of silly, annoying bullshit. Sophomemes, I'll call them. Most of us tummlers are guilty of perpetrating this sort of stuff from time to time.

Finally, in my neat tripartite taxonomy, are those who are on a mission to reform. A self-appointed elite who display all the characteristics of all self-appointed elites: loneliness and contempt.  For they few are bearers of a superior knowledge and purveyors of scorn for all who fail to attain their standard. Quick to sneer, eager to denounce. Foolish in their pretense. 

Once this would have been the point at which I launched a satirical attack on such intolerable asses. But I can't work up the spleen. Splenetic no longer, I am mild as a lamb. My venom has been milked. The fires of hatred have been banked. 

Baby, I'm over it. Got others things to lay waste my powers upon. Arricazzoderci.