Wine Essence

The Universe works in mysterious ways... Mice, Cougars, black Panthers and Elephants in a restaurant?

2010-11-20T12:23:00.000-08:00

The place is busy, I'm having a beer and sipping on a taste of Priorat with the Owner of the place (which is also my friend). All of a sudden someone shows-up, a couple on their late 50'. I know him, I hope they will not decide to join me and my friend. Tough luck... They did!

So, the guy is in the Wine Industry like me. We sit down at the table and in a matter of 30 seconds he starts badmouthing half a planet: everybody sucks on what they do; he's the best on everything; he knows everybody; he hooks up everybody with everybody; he gives his blessing on major company acquisitions or dropping portfolios... Blah blah blah!!!

He brought three crappy wines and says are the best, I taste them and politely decline to say what I REALLY thought of them. I brought 4 kick-ass wines and humbly stay quiet. As he tastes the first of my four he starts to talk shit about it. I LITERALLY say in front of his 50something slutty girlfriend and the restaurant owner: "please shut up and enjoy the dinner!"

Now there is an ELEPHANT in the dining room... He changes totally attitude and becomes a "tiny mouse" in the claws of a black, aged, Man-eating PANTHER (She's too old to be a COUGAR, and I'm too old to be a Cougar's meal...). During dinner she gets wasted and asks me to pour wine to her several times. She even tells me to keep pouring and when to stop. She starts flirting with me, she puts her leg on top of my knee to show me her booths... Are you kidding? I feel so uncomfortable. And the pity I felt for the "tiny mouse"?

I wished at that point I could rewind the night and leave at the point when they show up uninvited... I look into her eyes and tell her in front of them: BEHAVE! Do you think she did? How embarrassing...

When they joined me and my friend-owner of the place, I felt like leaving but then a little voice inside told me: let's see what lesson the universe wants me to learn from this... It turns out, I am the one that teaches them a lesson...

The universe works in mysterious ways.

Once upon a time… in Los Angeles

2010-04-10T16:09:00.000-07:00

Play Ennio Morricone’s dramatic “Spaghetti Western” soundtrack

Michael, a friend of mine with whom I used to play in a short-lived but really fun band, would start one of his funny songs pretending to be serious, with this phrase:

--“this is a true story”…

Well, I will borrow that phrase to start this story, Michael, just this time I promise…

So, here is my (pseudo) serious face. I clear my throat and there it goes…

--This is a true story! Most of us who live in La-la-land take for granted Downtown Los Angeles, but picture this: once upon a time in Los Angeles, there was no skyscrapers, no high rise buildings, actually no buildings at all! No freeways, no cars, not even taco stands... There was just a little pueblo with lots of farmland around and a river that ran through it. And there was about a hundred wineries, small and big, constellating the banks of the nowadays cement-paved Los Angeles River.

It seems so strange, but it’s all true. This business district which is undergoing a “Renaissance”, or rather a total “Makeover”, with more and more nightlife-driven attractions, hotels and restaurants opening, was once very different than what we see nowadays. There were more wineries in Los Angeles than those of Napa and Sonoma combined (at that time). It was a thriving and prosperous business, employing many Italian and French immigrant families. They would ship grapes throughout the US and provide wine for countless families and parishes (you’ve gotta keep the local parish well stocked with sweet wine for the mass!) both locally and across the nation. This reality found its own demise with prohibition. A living “Fossil” survived the era of industrialization Los Angeles underwent (not to mention prohibition…). Although more of a negociant that an “Estate” per se, San Antonio Winery is the living proof things were very different in this part of Southern California about a century ago. It’s still there to remind us of how important and fertile the soil was around the Pueblo de Los Angeles, and how many families of immigrants both European and Mexican used to live off it. The vineyards disappeared, replaced by what is nowadays Chinatown, the railroad system and all the urban area around, encompassing Downtown and Boyle Heights. The remains of the Pueblo, along with the Italian Hall still stand as a mirage, an oasis in the middle of an ocean of urbanization that hosts millions of Angelenos. They show us how fast and how drastically life changes.

There is an impressive research compiled in a book called “Los Angeles’s Little Italy” done by talented and knowledgeable (not to mention “very beautiful”) Italian-American author Mariann Gatto, of which I pride myself in saying I have an autographed copy. She works for the City of Los Angeles as the Curator for several Museums, and I always teas-her by calling her “Big Shot”. A note she wrote to me on the book says: “don’t ever forget your roots”! Are you kidding me? How could I? When she heard I’m from Sardegna she was very excited to let me now that the first Italian immigrant to settle in Los Angeles was “fellow Sardinian” Giovanni Leandri in 1827. It goes without saying that I “corrected” her on the fact that Sardinia wasn’t part of Italy at that time, and Italy itself was not unified until 1861. So Mr. Leandri was really a citizen of the “Kingdom of Sardinia”, soon to become the “Kingdom of Italy”. I’m sure she thought I was an “extremist” at that time but who can blame her? Whoever knows me would agree with her anyways. Anyhow, if you are Italian-American, and you are a true “Angeleno”, you should get a copy of this book. Did you know what is today “Olvera Street” was once called “Calle de las Vignas” (Vineyards’ Street)?

Conclusion:

Next time you find yourself strolling in the streets of downtown Los Angeles on a nice warm afternoon, blessed by Southern California’s weather, imagine that a century ago, on that very spot you would have been walking through rows of vines, or orchards, or a field of tomatoes. You probably would have brought along a basket with cheese and bread, a nice flask of locally-made wine and enjoyed it under the shade of a giant fig tree. But there is one thing that remained virtually the same throughout the years: you still need to be fluent in Spanish if you live in L.A. ;)

On Modern Men (and Women, one in particular)

2010-04-06T01:36:00.000-07:00

Soudtrack to this post:

A wine-induced moment, which I shouldn’t post because I will probably look and sound like a fool tomorrow but…

I will start by saying this: for sure, there is NEVER a time to drink-and-drive!
But, there is a time to drink-and-dial; and a time to drink-and-text; and a time to drink-and-write an e-mail. But the worst is the time to drink-and-knock at her door! Don’t ever do that, unless you drink-and-text your intentions first…
They are probably all wrong, by the way…

See, the way I see it is: there is an advantage to drink-and-write an e-mail versus the others…
a) Your spelling is corrected by Microsoft word (especially if English is your 3rd language…)
b) You can slur and nobody can hear you ;)
c) You can save it as a draft and read it the day after, understand what an idiot you are and cancel all of it.
Or… if you had enough wine you just push send! That’s what I am likely to do with Lady K.

Then what? Well, once you push send it’s too late; you stepped on the threshold (actually “beyond” the threshold) of the point of non-return. Lady K’s vortex sucks-you in, and its likely to digest you then spit-out your bones and shoes (I don’t blame her for spitting out the shoes and dirty sox… yuck! But I bet my bones still taste pretty good!).

The ancient Romans used to say: -In Vino veritas. (In wine lies the truth). I am definitely under that spell right now…
Why the ancient people always seem to know better? Are we modern humans so weak?
But are we really modern after all? Or is it just our technology what defines us “modern” versus our ancestors? I mean, are we hiding our weaknesses behind technological devices that help us to be better articulated (or replace human presence at once…)? Julius Caesar Used to be an excellent Lawyer and orator. Did he have the luxury of accessing the Web before writing his speeches and addressing the crowds? But boy did he win over people’s attention and the crowds! Socrates did not need the web to formulate his theories either!

Wait a second! I am not the one avoiding the conversation here! And Lady K. knows I do not need to hide behind an e-mail to speak the truth.

What’s up with us, post-industrial revolution, post-romanticism and post 1960’s offspring? We have all these eras to learn from, good and bad, but instead of becoming better communicators we are getting worse. Can we, without manipulating our purest feelings (And I’m not talking only about guys here!), open up ourselves, look into someone’s eyes and speak the truth? I mean “the truth”! And not let some materialistic society-driven, twisted, standardized “I wanna be someone else” thought get in the way?

What happened to our species? 5000 years ago, King Gilgamesh used to be way tougher, and at the same time way more romantic and genuine than us.
Is this a “Modern society”? Where is the evolution?

Chile and the Colchagua Valley

2010-03-19T01:04:00.000-07:00

My prayers go to all people of Chile who’s lives, directly or indirectly, were impacted by one of the most powerful earthquakes this planet has witnessed since recorded history.

This Chilean traditional song sang by late singer Mercedes Sosa “Todo Cambia” is dedicated to the people of Chile.

“A wine country with two distinct faces”

The sign along the "Carretera del Vino" at the entrance of Cochagua Valley

Santiago (

Chile

), November 2009. I set my foot for the first time in my life in Southern Hemisphere’s ground. While in North America the first cool weather starts to reverse the effects of a long and hot summer, here in high Mountainous, Andes-surrounded Chilean capital, people craves the first warm sunrays of spring. We stayed in Santiago for two nights and I was not thrilled by this big city that resembled too much like the suburbs of Milano. Nightlife seemed pretty happening though, with many neighborhood hang-outs, outdoor tables and rivers of Pisco Sour (Cile’s national drink). One of the things I noticed about

Chile

is the many stray dogs that roam the streets. They roam proud, free, in packs like wolves. They mark their territories like gang squads that hang their tennis shoes on the power wires of Los Angeles’ intersections. They bother no one, and no one bothers them. It is a symbiotic relationship that endures since man first domesticated them and keeps going on, in a very casual, natural way. But I long for the “real” Chile, and finally, after about one hour of struggling and wrestling to rent a car, driving in Santiago’s roads avoiding deep pot-holes and maniac drivers (by default, being from Italy, I am a maniac driver myself…) we manage to get out of that cement-made, chaotic, congested trap.

Finally free! Finally the “Autopista” takes us South, up to the mountains, and down to the hills, and through the fields. Finally I see what I came here to see,

Chile

’s most important wine country: Valle de Colchagua.

A farm in S. Jose' de Maipo, Maipo. At 3,600 feet elevation, often farmers still adopt horse-pulled ploughs (on the right)

Life runs at its own pace in Chilean wine country. It flows slow, mellow and melodic. Here, Chilean culture is expressed on a canvas full of flavors, colors, sensations and feelings. Images and memories from a distant past flow out ever so naturally from this “Cornucopia” called Valle de Colchagua, it seems like time stands still. In some parts, if you don’t pay attention to graffiti and junk scattered here and there in the front yards of more recent buildings, it could very well be late 19th or early 20th Century. As I drive through “La Carretera del Vino” (the Wine Highway), I swiftly and consciously detach my eyes from the road to observe the landscape. I get carried away by my emotions feeling like this is what California would have looked-like a century and a half ago, when resident Mexicans farmed the land and the first European settlers planted their first vineyards. I’m talking about the California of the Adobe houses and the Missions. I can’t help getting excited by the thought that just south of here, in the neighboring region of Maule, Poet Pablo Neruda was born.

An adobe brick house in Santa Cruz, Colchagua

I notice right away there are “two very distinct faces” of Colchagua. The first is very old, ancestral and colonial, still lived in the fields by the Campesinos -- local farmers -- which toil hard, away from all major cities (about three hours drive south of Santiago), most of the time working a land that does not belong to them. Many of them still live in run-down adobe brick houses with terracotta roof tiles. In the late afternoon you can see them chilling-out in their porches, observing people and the many stray dogs passing by.

Entrance at Viu-Manent in Nancagua. The winery was established in 1935 by one of the oldest families in Colchagua

The second is the “Modern” one, very modern I would say! But that has to do with the wine world, not with standard Chilean life. With the exception of a few, the wineries here have been built recently although vine growing itself dates back at least to the 18th century. Many feature state-of-the-art technology and some of them claim (thank God!) remarkable efforts on “minimal impact” towards ecosystem and landscapes by implementing sustainable farming, organic and bio-dynamic practices. This (in part) may help balance-out “human-impact”, or if you may, the claiming of hillside land and the reaping of indigenous flora which also affects the fauna and the ecosystem as a whole.

Entrance of Super-modern Casa Lapostolle's "Clos Apalta" Estate and winery in Apalta

Wine is my life, but I would be a hypocrite if I would not recognize that modern vine-growing has changed and continues to change nature. Analyzing the “big picture” of man-made wine country all over the world, you’ll realize that big chunks of indigenous flora have been replaced by “Vitis Vinifera”. This shows how (contrary to the rest of living beings with which we share this planet) in order to survive and thrive human beings do as they please with nature. Throughout millennia, humans exploited forests to generate building materials for its habitat and means of transportation, especially in naval construction. Ancient Romans almost wiped-out Sardinian native oak forests in order to build its Naval force which was crucial in the early expansion of the empire. King Philip the II of

Spain

wiped-out most of

Spain

’s forests to build a huge Naval fleet to keep-up the trade with its huge colonial empire. However, it all started countless millennia ago, at a time where in order to survive, our species had to grow-out of its then “hunter-gatherer” nature and develop agriculture by domesticating crops. In early agriculture man did not necessarily have to eradicate forests to plant crops. He had plenty of pasture to convert to planted fields. But growing vines is different than growing crops. If you want to produce the best wine possible you have to be in the best spots. The best spots for vine-growing require some crucial attributes such as sun exposure, geological conformation, soil composition and other factors. Unfortunately for the rest of the fellow species with which we share the planet, these so called best spots are in higher elevation and hillsides where usually nature thrives with its indigenous flora and fauna. Furthermore, as humans sailed through the Oceans in search of new continents the trend continued. Why? Because this fabulous plant yields a very special fruit from which humans extract its nectar which brings pleasure to their life. Once settled in North America,

Australia

, in

South Africa

and South America, the human species realized it would be easier to plant vines and make wine locally rather that import it from their “Mother-land”. Thus continents where grapevines never did grow spontaneously were literally transformed into what we nowadays know as “New World” wine countries. Sadly, human beings brought along with them the grapevine, but never bothered to plant woods somewhere else to make-up for the disruption they brought wherever they set foot. This is the price nature has to pay in order to provide “us” humans --maybe the most destructive living species this planet ever created-- with the ultimate “Hedonistic” pleasure: what I call “Wine Essence”…

Vineyards in the Valley-floor of Apalta, Colchagua. In the background you can see how vineyards are quickly expanding high on the hillside and how the native flora is fast receding. This is a common picture in all "New World" wine countries

Now back to

Chile

. From viticulture’s stand point,

Chile

embraced the varietal called Carmenere --Bordeaux’s forgotten sixth red varietal-- as its “National Varietal”. This vine has become the symbol of Chilean viticultural tradition in which wineries and winemakers identify themselves (much like

Argentina

has done with Malbec and

Australia

with Syrah/Shiraz). It is still a debate how the varietal managed to virtually disappear in Bordeaux and thrive in this part of the Southern Hemisphere, although until DNA came to rescue many producers were convinced they were growing Merlot. However, while there I had the chance to taste some remarkable Sauvignon Blanc as well as some of the best “New World” Syrah I’ve ever drank in my life. I find that of all the so called “New World” wine regions,

Chile

has the most “varietal-correct” flavors. This is due mostly to the fact that

Chile

never had the “Phylloxera” problem. Virtually all Chilean vines are planted on the original “European” rootstock that was brought there by the first European settlers, which through time has ensured the vines all stem from a common, not manipulated or for lack of a better term “non cross-bred” ancestor.

I am very fluent in Spanish, and that made me feel very lucky while in

Chile

. It really makes the difference being able to speak the language of the country you’re visiting. Besides understanding everything when asking for directions, it gives you the chance to interact closely with the locals and get a “Real-time” picture of peoples’ lives. I had the chance to chat quite a bit with the owner of Posada Colchagua, the bed & breakfast we stayed at. Leonora (the sweetest hostess you’ll ever meet) is a hard-working woman. Although she studied to become a school teacher, she worked all her life in the fields. At the same time she took care (and still does) of her now 90yr-old mother and teenager adopted son. She’s proud to say that she never had a companion to help her in this. She saved her money for decades and just a few years ago she invested all her savings to remodel the farm-house she inherited from her parents, turning it into a little “Jewel” in the hearth of

Chile

’s wine country.

An afternoon "Siesta" by the swimming pool of Posada Colchagua in Santa Cruz

On our fist night in Colchagua we decide to go and try the typical local fare. Leonora recommended us to dine at a local favorite restaurant --“El Asador del Valle”-- (The Valley’s roaster). The air was crisp and the sky was clear except for a few moon-lit, light-blue puffy clouds crowning the imposing Andes in the horizon. The stars were like diamonds shining up in the Southern hemisphere sky. The moon was so bright it casted a shadow of our bodies while walking silently in the courtyard from our neat room to the car. After getting lost in the fields for lack of signals and lighting we finally found the place. The Owner/Sommelier/Server walked us through the empty main dining room. We went outside, through the patio, and he finally took us to a dining room which rather resembled a shepherd’s hut. The fireplace was burning but the room was cold, the door was kept open at all time. I didn’t mind, I was well covered and looking forward to the smells coming from outside. I was given the wine list and noticed right away the selection was very slim (often restaurant owners here support one or two producers that are close friends, so choices are very limited). The wines were quite expensive considering we were just a few miles distant from the vineyards and the wineries. We paid about $60 for a delicious Syrah, and that after he gave us a 50% off the original price.

A delicious but quite expensive Syrah from a small producer in Apalta

The fire was bright red in the patio’s fire pit. Near it, a couple of lamb on the spit slowly roasted on a 45’ angle (at a fair distance from the incandescence of the coal). They kept sweating gamey fat drops, which in contact with the fire sizzled and released a scent in the air, resembling very much what you breathe on an Easter or Christmas night in rural Sardegna. On that night, by taking a bite of that locally-raised roasted lamb, I had a vision: I was transformed into Star Trek’s Captain Kirk! I was “teleported” with the speed of light from the “Enterprise” spaceship to a very distant place; distant in “time and space”. I felt a nice, warm and rather familiar feeling that night, which reminded me of another life; a life lived before this one. Maybe I did not physically, literally live it but I know for sure, somehow it runs through my veins. I know that both my grandparents and my parents have lived this life. It was a simple life, essential, lived to the fullest without luxury and comforts but with great value for many things nowadays we take for granted. Or maybe it was just some remote memory of my childhood? Whatever it was, it was pretty intense. Some people call it “déjà-vu”, I heard…

If there is a lesson I’ve learned that night was that food in Colchagua tastes “real”, strong and powerful, much like the life of its people, the stile of its wines and the products grown there and in the nearby high Andes Mountains.

All in all Colchagua’s beauty is still pristine; it is definitely worthy of paying a visit, now more than ever to help the local economy recover after a disastrous quake. Chances are one day consumer’s demand will attract more “wine industry-exploiting tycoons”. They will buy more hills, plant more vineyards, build large hotels and golf courses and transform Colchagua into another Disneyland-like amusement park for tourists. I think I am starting to see all of it already. Wait a second… Was I just teleported to Napa Valley?

Cannonau or Garnacha?

2010-02-19T00:39:00.002-08:00

Click on the video if you want to add a soundtrack to this post. American-Italian Jazz guitarist Al Di Meola partners with late Sardinian singer Andrea Parodi in a song that talks about ancestral memories. Dedicated to my ancestors and my fellow Sardinians.

Cannonau or Garnacha?

The old conundrum of “The chicken and the egg”

Which one came first? This question is lately stirring-up some controversy. Most Sommeliers and wine writers are of the opinion that Cannonau (Sardinian’s most important red varietal) is the result of the Spanish influence to the western Mediterranean Island. Some scholars say these theories are no longer convincing, and one of them in particular -- Giovanni Lovicu -- says the signs show Sardinia, not

Spain

, is the birthplace of Cannonau.

Garnacha, (aka Grenache, Tocai Rosso, Alicante, and Cannonau) is a very ancient grape varietal. It is also one of the most widely planted grape varietals in the world. Wine regions like France’s Cotes du Rhône, Languedoc-Roussillion, Côte-Rôtie and Provence, Spain’s Priorato, Montsant and Rioja, Australia, California and Sardinia all embraced this grape varietal that thrives in both relatively high elevation and arid climatic conditions. It can reach high alcohol contents and in the French AOC Banyuls, Australia, and Sardinia it can often be vinified as a port-like wine.

When I studied to become a Sommelier with the Association of Italian Sommeliers (AIS) we were taught (but stubborn as the true Sardinian that I am I was never convinced) that Cannonau owes its origins to the Spanish colonization of Sardinia. Some internationally acclaimed wine publications, such as the overall well-documented book “Wine” by André Dominé” states that Cannonau is a grape of Spanish origins because in Tuscany it is called Alicante (Alicante is a wine region of Spain, not the name of a varietal, that focuses on Monastrell, not Garnacha). He also makes the mistake of saying that the best Cannonau comes from the D.O.C. Carignano del Sulcis, which is a Carignan-based wine; it is like saying that the best “Nebbiolo” of Piemonte comes from Dolcetto d’ Alba. The Hugh Johnson and Jansin Robinson’s “The World Atlas of Wine” merely classifies Cannonau as the Spanish Garnacha and does not elaborate on any specific area of production. This is just to mention a few publications of relevance available to the public, and shows how poor the research is on the topic. On the other hand, when I studied for the C.S.W. certification, I was pleased that the American-based Society of Wine Educators’ study program puts emphasis on questioning the Spanish or French origins of Grenache and embraces the possibility it originated in Sardinia.

Until recent times it was commonly agreed that Garnacha originated in Spain and from there it was brought to the Mediterranean Islands (Baleares, Corsica and Sardinia) and as well as to southern of France, subsequently making its main home in the South-Rhône region.

However, Giovanni Lovicu -- an eminent authority in agronomy and viticulture of the University of Sassari (Sardinia) -- casted some serious doubts on this globally accepted theory. His research is based on ancient traces of commerce from Sardinia to the rest of the Mediterranean, as well as the lack of documentation that would show the contrary.

Recorded history gives us proof that ancient Romans were instrumental in spreading vine-growing throughout the western part of the Mediterranean regions. However, Roman expansion to the west started “barely” 2300 years ago. When the Romans won the second Punic war against Carthage in the mid 3^rd century B.C. they conquered Sardinia and named it “Insula Vini” (Island of wines) because of the amount of vines planted on the island.

So, how ancient really is winemaking in Sardinia? Science and archeology are leading us to new discoveries that are in conflict with the old paradigm that sees Sardinia succumbed to its colonizers’ influence. Recent discoveries thorough archaeological finds in the ruins of several Sardinian Nuraghes -- megalithic fortresses that pre-date medieval castles by at least 4 millennia -- show that its prehistoric inhabitants of the 2^nd millennium B.C. were busy making wine.

And now science gives its support with the use of modern technology. Not too long ago, research in viticulture started to use DNA to identify and select clones that would be more suitable to specific soils and climates. This, in turn, helped making new progress on classifying varietals stemming from the same family, although up until then they were apparently unrelated (like in the case of Primitivo and Zinfandel). The DNA research helped develop a method to trace grape varietals’ origins, and since then, some truths have come out, as well as some doubts.

Grenache is a grape varietal that -- maybe more than any other -- is enshrouded in the mystery and controversy of its own origins, but it is not the only case of controversy in the Sardinian spectrum of native varietals. A parallel issue can be found in the recent archeological findings of intact grape seeds that date back to 1300 B.C. on which the DNA analysis confirmed they were seeds of Muristellu, a Sardinian autochthonous varietal that is also known as Monastrell in Spain, Mataró in Portugal and Mourvèdre in the south of France. How did this varietal get to the rest of Europe? Or how did it get to Sardinia for that matter? This find puts some serious doubts on Spain’s or French’s claim as the birthplace of the varietal. Could this be the case of how Cannonau made its way through southwestern Europe?

Back in the height of the Bronze Age, Sardinia was the most powerful civilization of the Western Mediterranean. Its inhabitants were called the “Shardana” and for over a thousand years they held the monopoly of the bronze trade from the eastern part of the Mediterranean to the far west. Nuragic bronze ingots and artifacts along with pottery, specifically the type called Askos (the purpose of which was the storage and serving of wine) were found throughout the Mediterranean in places such Crete, Tunisia (Carthage), Sicily, Tuscany and as far as Tartessos on the Atlantic coast of Spain. All this information however, steers us towards a direction that makes no sense from an historical point of view when pondering on the following facts:

1) Sardinia is an island, so at a certain point people must have migrated there from mainland. Roughly 1,700,000 souls inhabit it and it’s the second largest island of the Mediterranean. (The first being Sicily, bigger by only 1700 square kilometers but with a population of more than 5,000,000).

2) Through the ages Sardinia felt pray to several colonizing powers starting with the Phoenicians in 900 B.C., then Carthage, then the Romans until the fall of the Empire. Then the Vandals followed by the Bizantines, and then independent from about 900 A.D. to 1400 A.D.

3) In more recent history Sardinia was colonized by the Spanish Crown for approximately three centuries, from 1406 – 1708, and lastly became integral part of the Kingdom of Italy since its unification on March 17,1861.

One of the advantages of conquering another nation is that the winner writes the history. Keeping that in mind, three centuries of Spanish occupation in Sardinia would justify the presence of Spanish varietals on the island as common sense would dictate. However, if that were true, it would have also made sense that Spaniards would have exported Garnacha (let alone Tempranillo and all other major Spanish grapes) to all

Spain

’s New World Colonies, according to Mr. Lovicu; however, this did not happen. This makes you reflect and ponder and… he’s got a point! Did you see any Garnacha planted by Joaquín Cortés’ descendants in South America? Garnacha did not make it to California until European settlers started planting grapes in the late 1800’s, just like in Australia. Sardinia has been making wine since ancient times, so why would the Spanish Crown impose the planting of a non-indigenous varietal in a place that had so many to offer?

In order to better understand the origins of the varietal, one has to understand the origins of its name. Lovicu states that the etymology “Garnacha” stems from “Vernaccia”, which stems from the Latin word “Vernaculus”, which literally means “of that place”. This alone proves that it’s a derivation of something more ancient, from which we can deduce it’s not a Spanish etymology in first place. Or better yet: this does not prove Garnacha is not from Spain but rather it would seem more like the Romans found it there and named it “Vernaculus”. After all, we have more examples of varietals names that stem from this etymology: the Tuscan Vernaccia di S. Giminiano, the South Tyrol Vernatsch (Schiava), Marche’s Vernaccia di Serrapetrona and Sardinia’s Vernaccia di Oristano. All these varietals have nothing else in common besides the root of their name.

However, Lovicu’s historical research of the etymology leads us to a document he obtained from the Spanish archives, the first ever to show proof of the word Garnacha. It is a Spanish document that dates back to the middle 18^th century and attests the purchase of a specific amount of barrels of “Guarnaccia” (misspelling of Vernaccia, a Sherry-like white wine vinified and oxidized with the “Flor” type of yeast, still produced in the town of Oristano on the western part of the Island). These barrels of “Guarnaccia” were shipped from Sardinia to Spain and not vice-versa. Up until then, there is no recorded history of anything that slightly resembles the word “Garnacha”.

As far as my father could remember, and still when I was a child in the 70s back in Sardinia, my grandfather owned a vineyard of Vernaccia in the village I was born. He made wine for his family’s consumption. My grandfather, my father, my uncles and all the elders I knew, always called Vernaccia with the Sardinian name of “Crannaccia”. Is it just a coincidence? Is “Garnacha” the egg, or is it the chicken?