Feed has no items.
  • Toscana – dati di produzione dei vini DOC (2020)
    by bacca on 16 Agosto 2022 at 19:00

      Trovate all’interno del post le tabelle relative agli ettari rivendicati, ettolitri certificati, ettolitri imbottigliati e valore della produzione (ai prezzi di base) delle DOC più rilevanti della regione Toscana. I dati sono ricavati dalle pubblicazioni ISMEA. Ho anche inserito un paio di grafici (quelli che mi parevano più espressivi), relativi al valore della produzione

  • Esportazioni di vino – Italia – aggiornamento maggio 2022
    by bacca on 14 Agosto 2022 at 19:00

    Le esportazioni italiane di vino procedeno un po’ a singhiozzo lungo un percorso di crescita piuttosto incorraggiante. Maggio è stato un ottimo mese, dopo un aprile sottotono. Conviene quindi sommare i numeri e guardare ai periodi cumulati ma sopratttutto anche al parametro di riferimento del 2019. Nei primi 5 mesi del 2022 le esportazioni sono

  • Why do you wish to explain my world to me?
    by noreply@blogger.com (Alfonso Cevola) on 14 Agosto 2022 at 21:38

    This is going to be a bit of a ramble. But humor me. I think I’m going somewhere with this. It’s just going to take time to unpack this bag of seemingly disparate notions that recently came into confluence. I promise I’ll get to it, eventually.   So, we’ve been watching this TV series at home called, “This Is Us.” We’re into the 5th season of six. It was a popular series, seen on broadcast television. We’re streaming it. Of course. All this to say, when they got into the season of 2020, with Covid and George Floyd, a lot of issues between White and Black people in the series were laid bare. And it got me to thinking about my blind spots, with regard to Bipoc and Apida peoples. The thing about a blind spot is, you often aren’t aware of it. So, usually someone, or something, must point it out to you. You rarely can “see” it on your own. So, let me give examples from my life. During that time period (summer of 2020) a couple of (college) friends and I were talking about doing a Zoom call. One was a White woman, in California. The other was a Black man in D.C. We were old friends, back in the day. We still try and stay in touch. So, we talked about this Zoom call and my buddy in D.C. said he’d get back with dates that worked for him. He’s a busy guy. So, we waited for him. Eventually, not wanting to bug him, and considering all around us that was going on, the last thing he needed was a White guy bugging him about a call among college friends of yore. So, my friend in California and I went ahead with the call. About that time my bud in D.C. and I share birth days close. So, I wished him a happy birthday and told him I had a good call with our mutual friend and was sorry he missed it. I didn’t say it to be mean or to make him feel bad. But I did make him feel bad, and he let me know that he didn’t appreciate me firing off a membership loyalty drill. I tripped the guilt lever. Now, I know about the guilt lever, and in my mind, that wasn’t my intention. But it doesn’t matter. Because it did trigger my friend, and I initiated something which triggered it. So, I owned it and apologized. But I think it ostracized me from him and his world. I’m not Black. I will never know what it means to be Black. I am a White male of (mainly) European descent, heavily skewed towards Italian. That is my place. Those are my people. I have studied the Italian culture all my adult life. And while I am not an expert on all things Italian, I know what I know. More about that later. More examples. When I was about 9, I was walking with a White friend of, Danny, at the local ball park. On the other side of the ballpark, I saw a Black friend, Johnny, and I called to him. Now bear with me with what I said – I called out to him and said, “Hey nigger, whatcha doing?” Well, he came over, ran over, and was going to beat the crap out of me. I was scared, yes, but also confused. My White friend got in between us, as he knew our Black friend was pissed. But he saw the confusion in my eyes. Johnny was going to kick my ass because I called him a nigger. Danny was trying to keep Johnny from doing that. I was flummoxed. And I asked Johnny why he was so angry. “Because you can’t call me that.” I apologized and said I was sorry, I was just calling him the name all his friends called him at the boy’s club, where we played pool and ping pong. I was too young to know it was a bad word. I had never heard the word in my house. Danny convinced Johnny that I didn’t know what I was saying. So, Johnny backed off, but he said to me, “Don’t you ever call a Negro that word ever!” Believe me, I never did. Fast forward to college years and my D.C. friend and parents’ house in Los Angeles where he lived when he was young. His sister was talking to him in a side room and called him that (N) word. I did a double take. It was then, and there, that I realized that a forbidden word might have cultural boundaries. Another for instance: In the Northeast of the U.S., Italian-Americans use a term, Goombah, that when used among themselves is considered congenial. But if an outsider says it, well, those could be fighting words. I’m not a fan of the word, but I understand where it came from and how it came to be changed from the word it used to be. I don’t think it has anywhere near the same charge and triggering effect the (N) word has, but all this to say I understand now when a word is not to be used outside of the culture that uses it. There are other much larger reasons, as well. So. Whew. This is a big bag. Lots of stuff in it. Endure just a little longer. A few years ago, I got an email from a wine writer. I had asked this person about a winery region in Italy that they had just gone to (for the second or third time), and to make friendly conversation, I asked them what they found, what they liked, wines, people, etc. A few weeks later I went to that region, as I have been doing for 50 years, with multiple visits, over many days and weeks.  In other words, it was a place I was intimately familiar with. And it was part of my heritage. From a vinous perspective, the surroundings where my expertise was hammered out. I know this place. Eventually, when I got back, some articles were written, including one by another wine writer who had also been on that trip. And this first wine writer wrote me a fairly acerbic email, upbraiding me for revealing, to the other wine writer, their special finds from that region. I clarified that I did nothing of the sort, and if they had a problem with the other wine writer, to take it up with them. I was polite. But we were talking  about my oenological (and ethnological) back yard. As far as I am concerned, wineries aren’t something a single person finds. They are simply there. And they were probably there a time or two when I was there, which was a decade or two (or three) before our hyper-sensitive wine writer visited and “discovered” the place. Nonetheless, all this left a bad taste in my mouth, because I didn’t understand there was a boundary around winery X or winery Y in Region Z that I had to ask someone else’s permission to visit or photograph or write about. And it was my people's place, my tribe. But for sure, I will never know how someone outside of myself perceives the world around us. And so, I kept my mouth shut and my opinions to myself. Until now. Now I see, all around me, in the wine world, experts appearing, who have seldom, if ever, been to a region that I have been to dozens of times. These “experts” who, once they get a free junket, now write about the place as if no one else had ever set foot on the spot. Who misspell the names of the grapes or the wines or the people or the towns, when it is so easy to find the proper spelling on the internet. But now they are the whiz kids, the "discoverers." As if that gives them a pass to forgo due diligence and not check their facts. Some of them are even teaching master classes! And many of them have not an iota of Italian blood in them. Oh, but I’m supposed to be open-minded and understanding. Alright, alright, I can do that. I will do that. But I’d like to say one thing about that: How is it some of you don’t want me to (rightfully) explain your world to you, but some of you, out there, are still trying to explain my world to me?  ‘Splain that to me, please. Or maybe, just maybe, we’ve just reached the point where everything worth writing (and telling and teaching and master-classing) about wine has already been done?       © written and photographed by Alfonso Cevola limited rights reserved On the Wine Trail in Italy wine blog +  Italian wine blog + Italy W

  • How to destroy your Italian wine legacy in one generation
    by noreply@blogger.com (Alfonso Cevola) on 7 Agosto 2022 at 20:18

    The following is a pirated Zoom transcript from a putative conversation between two old friends – an ancient matriarch (Maria, or, M) of a renown Italian wine estate and her venerable importer (Carl, or, C) in the US. Howdy-do from an innermost and very particular cyber-labyrinth, seldom penetrated by we mere mortals.   C: Hello darling, how goes it in the bowels of Italy in August? Are you somewhere cool and wet, I hope? M: I wish, my dear. No, I am sequestered on our family estate, as my three nieces have Covid. They came for a visit and brought this dreadful virus with them. C: Oh no! You poor dear. I hope your satellite internet is working, so the children can document their every breath on their Insta. M: Of course. They live such fascinating lives and we all must keep up with it. What a time we live in, yes? C: Tell me about it. Shall we jump right in? M: Of course. Fire away, maestro. C: So, tell me about your estate and where everything lies at this point. Last time we talked, you were contemplating your ultimate demise and annihilation, and worrying about your castle, your vines, your wines and your legacy. Did I frame it up for you ok? M: Oh yes. Perfect. As you know I am nearing my 10thdecade on this lovely planet, and even though I am still quite healthy, time isn’t on my side. I took this place over from my father 60 years ago. He had married into a famous family, but papa was a working man. And as he had no sons, it fell to me, the oldest daughter, to carry on what he had started. It was quite an eye-opener for me in 1962. I was newly married, my husband was starting his job at the nearby university, and I became steeped in the feminist movement, mainly as a result of how the men on the farm regarded me. C: How so? M: Well, they did not accept a woman as their equal, let alone their boss. And they would go about doing things the way they always had. My husband was very supportive of me, mind you, but he was busy. So, I had to “learn to drive” by crashing, metaphorically. Fortunately, I was stubborn and didn’t lack for confidence. I was no shrinking violet. My father saw to it that I traveled when I was young. I went to France. Paris. Bordeaux. Burgundy. Nice. Normandy. A well-rounded tour. And then he sent me to London, to learn English, but also to study the Anglo-Saxon mind. We saw a lot of English visitors to our region after the war, but to study them and make friends with them in their element was a different experience. And I made some lasting associations that served me well in life and business. C: Your winery and its ascension in the world of wine as one of the great wines of Italy was something you had planned for? M: Oh, absolutely not! I was trying to keep the place together for papa, and it is a wonderful estate. But the winemaking in the 1950’s was far from optimal, as it was in most of post-war Italy. Along with that, our economy was slow to start. But around the time I took over the winery, we were seeing momentum. Italy was waking up. C: You and I worked together for 30-40 years. In that time, we saw an evolution in your wines. M: Yes, but we also saw a cultural shift, both in Italy and in America. The young people were becoming more attuned to globalism, not just to their backyards. Travel became more prevalent, not just among the well-heeled, but also by students. Eurail helped for sure. But also, there were the beginnings of a social consciousness that the young were cultivating. Maybe the war in Vietnam prompted it, or the birth control pill? Ha! Yes, it was probably more the pill than the war. C: I saw it here too, not just in California and New York, but all across America. Something was stirring. Fast forward to today. We’ve lived a good, long life. Italian wines are heralded as some of the finest in the world. Your estate has prospered, as has your family. Who among your successors will take it to the next level? Do you have a succession plan? M: Oh, Lord, this has been weighing on me of late. I am a bit worried about the future, even though I know there is not much there waiting for me. C: How so? M: As you know, my nieces, the ones who are here with Covid, all went to the best universities. And they are smart and beautiful, and tanned and trim, and they lack not for attention from men (and women). But they don’t have so much life experience. Oh yes, they handle our export business and our social media platforms. They get our wine in front of the best influencers and trendsetters. And they make it all look gorgeous and effortless. But I worry that they live in this fabricated world so much that the visceral world is not as much to their liking as the virtual one. I try to tell them that the physical body has time constraints on it. They won’t always be young and beautiful and buxomly. Yes, my words, from this ancient feminist! C: You are worried that they don’t understand the blood, sweat and tears it took to get to this point? M: Most certainly! They have credit cards with no limits. Since they were little girls, they have traveled first class. Their lives have been curated and polished, there are no rough edges to them. But life, itself, is very roughhewn. One needs only to walk among the vines before dawn to see what a cruel jungle it can be out there. And likewise, in the so-called civilized world. You know, they can make it look fabulous. One week they are doing a vertical tasting among the greatest sommeliers in London. And the next week they are on their family yacht, swimming and tanning on the Costa Smeralda. But they have their very own unique reality, their bubble, which is very different from most of our clients. I often wonder how they can relate to the everyday person, like I had to, when I was coming up. I had no choice, I had to press on. My nieces are a bit more elevated from the dirt. Entitled? I mean, we all want the best for our children. But sometimes, when everything is handed to them, where is the struggle to achieve something for oneself? This is what is haunting me, and many like me, across the wine world in Italy and France. The generation that put wine on the map is dying and the young people, I worry, do not know how hard it was get here. We are perilously close to seeing our Italian wine legacy destroyed in one generation. And we are, more or less, powerless to do much about it. We are ancient. We are invisible. Oh yes, we have the power of the checkbook. But time is not on our side. My concern is that the youth, who all their lives have been young, will squander this opportunity by spending too much time with their selfies, their Botox, with living their best lives, to actually make provisions for their future, when they are old and grey. When I ask my nieces about their incessant capriciousness on social media, they just laugh out loud and tell me not to worry. They say, “Zia, don’t worry. We are cancelling ourselves!” It terrifies many of us who worked so hard to get here. We didn’t go this far to cancel anything. We saw a demon of a man try to cancel us, our culture, our history and our legacy. And he killed himself in a bunker in Berlin, thank God. But we never know when that sort of maniacal energy will arise. At the beginning of our chat, you asked me where I was, someplace cool and wet? And here I am on the family plot. It is hot. It is dry. It is unlike anywhere and anytime I can recall. But we, in Europe, are at war. There is a war being waged, a day’s drive from here. And my nieces complain because the Cartier shop in Florence keeps shorter hours in summer. This is the reality I am facing. So, yes, I do believe we are on the precipice of legacy ending occurrences. C: I hear from your voice the anxiety in it. I see your concern. M: Look, fortunately I am not frail. I may be on the doorstep of my 10th decade, but it is going to take more than a lazy breeze to push me over. I only hope my nieces will have the strength to face the everyday world, not this construct that agrees and “likes” their every little whim. I don’t know. I hope. I didn’t get here though, just by hoping. It was blood, sweat and tears, lots of it. And of course, lots of red wine, too, thankfully. We’ll get through this, if I have anything to say about it. And if we don’t, I hope I will be long gone by then. I’ve realized that legacy is a fantasy. It is something we pin up on a wall and before long we begin to adore and worship it, rather than the thing it represents. I’ll say it again – legacy is a delusion. C: Maria, here’s to the delusion of legacy and deliciousness of your wine. A votre santé. M: Same to you, dear friend. Come see me before we both get too old to breathe on our own. I’ll open the last bottle of the ’61 for us. See you soon, I hope.   C: From your lips to God's ears. Talk soon, amica.   © written and photographed by Alfonso Cevola limited rights reserved On the Wine Trail in Italy wine blog +  Italian wine blog + Italy W

  • Vine and Prejudice
    by Elisabetta Tosi on 10 Agosto 2022 at 07:20

    Tired of yet another happy hour on the beach? Bored by the fourth barbecue (in 3 days) with friends? If you are looking for a diversion from the usual vacation clichés, here is something that may interest you: a new book - on sale likely next fall.

  • Verso la vendemmia 2022
    by Elisabetta Tosi on 3 Agosto 2022 at 08:57

    E’ di nuovo (quasi) tempo di vendemmia, e quest’anno la situazione si mostra più complicata della precedente. In attesa di avere un quadro più definitivo della situazione viticola veneta, ecco qualche spunto dai canali ufficiali della Regione.

  • Poil de Lievre 2017 – Domaine Bobinet
    by Francesco Petroli on 21 Aprile 2020 at 10:15

    Poil de Lievre 2017 - Domaine Bobinet, un vino quotidiano, in equilibrio tra luminosità calde e luci fredde, generoso nei sapori e ritmato dalla tensione acido/sapida. The post Poil de Lievre 2017 – Domaine Bobinet appeared first on Into the Wine.

  • My Lovely Quarantine #2
    by Claudio Celio on 17 Aprile 2020 at 07:34

    Domaine Belluard - Domaine Des Cavarodes - Francois Ganevat - Lassaigne - Praesidium - Skerlj - Vodopivec The post My Lovely Quarantine #2 appeared first on Into the Wine.

    Feed has no items.
    Feed has no items.
  • What an ex-lover and commercial wine had in common
    by Alice Feiring on 15 Gennaio 2022 at 17:54

      I recently pulled out my old book and started to read at random and thought I’d share some of it. Many of you reading might not know that my first book was published in 2008 before we really ever talked about natural wine, when the wine world was still new and not talked about but very much feared. Here’s my unedited reading of the beginning of Chapter 2.  It goes on to visit U.C. Davis where I wasn’t exactly welcomed, got into a few nasty tussles about native yeast and irrigation. So, this incident was in 2006, Big Joe was the late and certainly great, Joe Dressner. And thus, and thus.. it goes.     what i learned at UC Davis   and below, continues to the point that I am about to meet Roger Boulton.

  • On Pét-Nat, Soup Dumplings, and Chemo (At Least I Can’t Taste the Mouse)
    by On Design on 16 Novembre 2021 at 14:46