Still, having followed their posts and tweets with keen interest, one aspect of this trip that leaps out at me is the relative uniformity of the wines that have been presented to them. The cries of "too much oak" and "too much tannin" have echoed through each communique. I attribute this sameness to five factors:

1. The selection committee, however composed, has picked wines that they believe will appeal to international (American) consumers.

2. The producers are afflicted with group-think and are convinced that the high-oak, concentrated route is the sure path to success.

3. The same producers are the ones with sufficient clout to get themselves selected. Think intense involvement in the C of C, Rotary Club, Lions, etc., or their Italian equivalents, and you see how small-town networking pays off for the assiduous glad-handers.

4. Fear. A perennial favorite. Along with it, risk-averseness. An unvirtuous feedback loop is established.

5. The exclusion -- or self-exclusion -- of smaller players vastly reduces the chance of tasting wines that don't conform to the prevailing style. Visiting writers receive a fairly representative overview of the zone's production, but necessarily an incomplete one. The prevailing style is consecrated as "official," even to the detriment of the production zone.

I wish I could reveal how going against this grain has benefited Domenico Selections in finding a true gem in Barbaresco, but I won't until the deal has been signed. Suffice it to say that you aren't going to find "hidden" gems by hanging around consortium offices or the local Chamber of Commerce. The quality outriders don't play that.  

Well, blogging is in. We have to have bloggers. We're hip and with it, after all. It'll be a cinch. The regular American wine press are such pushovers, and in exchange for the all the free stuff and the chance to swan about il Bel Paese, they write the nicest things about our wines. Just think what these nerds from the sticks will write! 

It must have seemed what, in the 80s, was called a win-win-win. I mean, if you get three wins, how can you lose? Right?

As wine-market historians will long note, this event was when It All Changed. For now we know for sure that wine writers may indeed bite the hand that feeds them.  

I can't help it. The Schadenfreude is too delicious. I must savor it. 

Now to the announced topic: Importante

In a post by Saignee, the word important was bandied about quite a bit in a heated confrontation between the bloggers and the producers of the Barbera d'Asti appellation. Saignee's post began with:

What is an “important” wine? Does history and culture deem a wine “important” by the simple fact that a wine is tied to the land and the people that make it? Or is a wine “important” because it is massive, tannic, structured, “bold?”
Yesterday at the barbera meeting we attended two events where the conception of importance was central to the debate that seems to define this event.

Later in this near-brawl:

And then someone asked the question point blank. “Why are you doing this to these wines? Why is there so much wood? Where is the acid, where is the beautiful simplicity of barbera? Are you going so far as to add tannins to these wines?
What can only be described as a shouting match broke out. A sore spot had been touched. These are structured, elegant wines, important wines, the producers protested. 

"Important." I hear about "important" wines from producers all the time, in which case the word is code for "an overpriced, overoaked, overconcentrated mess that was concocted for you wine barbarians in America."  Imagine their outrage when we tell them, "Actually, this isn't your best wine. It's obviously created for the American market, but the market's flooded with such wines. Why would we want to bring them in to fight for shelf space against Argentina, Chile and every other low-priced producing country?"

"But we used only the best new French barriques!"

"I'm sorry. You should have saved your money. We prefer the wine you made in the tank. It actually tastes like it came from here."

And so on. 

Whether the word "important" is meant to delude us or is a form of self-delusion, I won't try to discern. Maybe it's a bit of both. Certainly the desperation of throwing the word "important" around is all too clear. They do it with big, clunky bottles -- "And here our cru is in an important bottle --"

"Why is the bottle important?"

"Well, you see, it's so big and imposing -- so thick. Like for an important wine. Like Burgundy!"

"No one in America cares. Anyway, how long will this wine improve?"

"At least four or five years!"

"Not like a Burgundy. Buy a cheap bottle and put your money in the wine, please."

In the case of fracas in Astilandia, the producers are acknowledging that their traditional wine styles aren't important, that they are destined to be also-rans in the great wine olympiad -- the Jamaican bobsled team of Piemontese wine. You can easily imagine their dark thoughts: "There they are over in Barolo and Alba, raking in the dough with their big-name juice and celebrated terroir, and what have we got? Bupkas! And I spent 60 cents for each bottle!"

It must gall them on the best of days. But on the day of the bloggers it must have shattered many a carefully built house of mirrors. 

The truth will set you free, boys. If you choose to heed it.

I can imagine the people who dreamt up Barbera Meeting 2010 believed the Yanks would sing the praises of the mostly oak-ridden, unbalanced wines as good Yanks are supposed to do. That they'd be doling out 95's and 96's like nobody's business. That Barbera d'Asti would receive a badly needed boost in awareness and perception in the United States. 

The "Barbera Boys" (6 boys, 1 girl, actually) -- the Barbera Boys were supposed to have accomplished a PR  slam dunk for the various regional and consortial entities that put the whole thing together. This naive goal is now about as fraught with controversy and polemics as another slam-dunk situation of recent memory. That would be the war in Iraq, ladies and gentlemen.

The Barbera 7's frequent posts -- becoming ever more outspoken and negative -- show them reaching a consensus on the lack of a consistent, recognizable varietal character in the Barberas. (A problem I have long had with them.) The bloggers have also reacted sharply to the producers' hostility -- defensiveness built on the evident fear that they HAVE lost their way and their markets -- so that some of their dispatches have taken on the tone of war correspondence. It's all highly entertaining and revelatory. It's also a must-read: go here to catch up on the reportage.

This, by the way, will be the breakthrough to "importance" that wine bloggers have been seeking. (See the quotes from US-side organizer Jeremy Parzen in Turin's La Stampa.) 

Let's hear it for the Barbera Boys. 

 When we were at the International Wine Academy in Rome the other night, Ian D'Agata mentioned the third "noble grape" of the reds of Italy. 

It's pretty obvious that Nebbiolo is one of them. In fact, it's the first one most people in Italy or America will think of.

What are the other two? 

Operators aren't standing by, unfortunately. But Typepad craves to receive your comments.

Grazie, amici. 

Brava Betty!

She will be at one of the don't-miss fringe events of Vinitaly, VinNatur, which, as you might have guessed, features organic wines from Italy and elsewhere (especially France, the biodynamic leaders of the world.) VinNatur will take place this year, as usual, at Villa Favorita, on April 12. In celebration of Strappo's 64th birthday. (Aw, shucks, folks, you SHOULDN'T have! So where are the presents?)

Which one of these is Betty?  

This is a wonderful kind of recognition for this excellent young winemaker. 

Auguri, Betty, siamo orgogliosi di te!*

Villa Favorita on another day. Cosy, isn't it? 

*Congratulations, Betty, we're proud of you!

Roberto Nicodemo & a bottle of his Aglianico, Petrale

Terra di Vento is located where the Salerno coastal plain ends and the Picentine mountains begin. From the property you can see the Mediterranean and part of the Amalfi coastal region. This nearness to the open water moderates the climate, assuring cooling breezes in summer and mild ones in winter. Since Terra di Vento means "land of wind," you might guess -- correctly -- that the constant circulation of air cuts the risk of mold and mildew to just about nothing. 

This pleasant exposure is one of the factors that encouraged Dr. Nicodemo to take the winery to biologic (organic) certification. 

The other major physical factor for taking this path is the unspoiled nature of the soil on the 160-acre property. It has been farmed for centuries but never subjected to the abuses of modern chemical pesticides and fertilizers. 

There are more than physical or material factors in every important decision, of course. Roberto's grandmother farmed many of these acres herself, and his mother was raised there. There is a strong emotional bond, a desire to commemorate the lives and hard work of his family and the others who worked beside them on this earth. 

This factor, a spiritual one, has impelled him to make Terra di Vento a biodynamic farm in all the things that it produces, with wine and olive oil only two of the most prominent. BD certification is a long, expensive process -- so much so that some people who could qualify don't bother to pursue it. This is something that Roberto is deeply committed to, along with an educational and cultural component; Terra di Vento is already a venue for local artists, farming tutorials for kids, equestrianism, and new agriturismo facilities tucked into and over the fields and vineyards.

With all this in mind we tasted one of Dr. Nicodemo's favorites, a rosato made of Aglianico. The 2009 Tecla Madre -- named for Santa Tecla, the frazione where his grandmother was brought up and worked, and Madre Terra (Mother Earth) -- is a stunningly beautiful rose'. Light cherry-red in color, it has both loads of fruit and the structure to keep it lively and fresh for several years. The wine has a clean, long finish. 

The sample bottle of 2009 Fiano, which is still in tank and wood (7% in acacia), is clean and fresh as a sea breeze with delightful citrus and tropical fruit notes that do not cross over the line to heaviness or sweetness. Honey on the nose. A delightful summer white, whether on its own or with light salads and seafood dishes.

Finally, we tasted the 2007 version of our best-selling red, the Terra di Vento Petrale, which is 100% Aglianico. Cleaner and brighter than the 2006, its fruit gradually revealed itself in the glass (the wine started out rather cold), more structured and tannic and more nuanced than the 2006. The 2007 growing season was hotter than 2006 in the Colli di Salerno zone, yet the wine's balance impressed. With some time in glass the Petrale 2007 opened up with scents and tastes of purple fruits. It revealed new depths to us. 

Oh yes, and these vintages have no added sulphites. A very small amount occurs naturally. But if you are one of those who fears and/or loathes them, the Terra di Vento wines are surely ones you must try.

Under the bilingual leadership of Luca Azzellino and Ian D'Agata, we tasted some interesting wines that we had never heard of and others which can be found pretty widely in the Untied States. It was a nice mix of whites, reds, traditional styles and more modern, fruit-forward ones, and various regions of Italy. 

A couple of standouts, to me, were a white made from Nuragus, Salnico, made by the Sardinian producer Pala. Another was a dry muscat from Valle d'Aosta, Chambave Muscat from La Crotta di Vegneron -- its powerful aroma of white peaches promises a sweet wine, but on the palate it surprises you with a minerality and balance that make it compulsively drinkable. These were just two of the eleven wines that showed some of the rich variety of Italy's wines.

It's worth making a trip to the Wine Academy just because of its setting, a very posh one. The entrance is on a little side street, just to the right of the Spanish Steps (as you go down), but you can go up the elevator to the top, where you find yourself outside the super-posh Hassler Hotel. In fact, the Wine Academy has four rooms to rent (three gorgeous, one definitely not), which are managed by the Hassler. It ain't cheap, but it's a lot cheaper than paying for a rom at the Hassler itself. 

The Wine Academy has a restaurant, also managed by the Hassler.  You get the advantage of their kitchen and the Wine Academy's cellar. Meno male! 

That's roughly what we traveled over today in deepest Tuscany -- 40 miles of rutted, muddy, kidney-bruising dirt roads to reach a couple of cantinas that are sooooo off the beaten path it's surprising the people who run them don't believe that Garibaldi is still uniting Italy. 

As the famous guidebook says, Vaut le voyage. We found two properties that make very small quantities of really elegant wines, among which we found Brunellos and even a Cab-Merlot blend that was more truly Bordelais than any of the stuff I've ever seen from Bolgheri and environs. Balance, elegance and a very judicious use of oak, along with excellent aging potential -- these qualities were shared by all the wines, different as their territories and grapes were. As always, opening prices are high; as usual, the winemakers are sitting on cellars-full of wine that simply must move, as much to make cellar space as to generate cash. 

So far, then, this trip has yielded two new producers, two very possible ones -- and there's more to come. 

Vaut le voyage.

This, mind you, was the second breakdown of an Avis rental car in two trips. Another Italian make -- the first was an Alfa, this one a Fiat Croma. Yes, Fix It Again Tony. FIAT. The clutch failed. We were excitingly close to mammoth tractor trailers whizzing by at about 120 kph. I was on the phone with Avis employees (training motto: Just say no) a great number of times, losing my good manners in the language less of Dante than a howling member of the cursing classes.  

Then the carro attrezzi (flatbed) came and we got to ride high as pimps in the car, on top of the flatbed. The driver had to drive about 30 minutes south in order to turn around and take us to the Incisa toll plaza a little south of Florence proper. When he passed through the toll booth we too had to hand over our toll ticket and pay a euro for the less than 3 km we actually traveled under our own power. 

The rather arrogant toll-taker looked angry when I said, as I glared down at him from atop the flatbed, in a voice dripping with cold sarcasm, "E' stato un gran piacere." It's been a great pleasure.

A van driver was waiting for us at the Incisa exit. We transferred a shamefully large number of bags and wine samples to the van, which I wished we could rent, and went all the way to the center of the city to pick up the new car. That was 65 euros, which of course Avis paid for. (I should have asked for the one euro toll too.)

Then we had to double back to the ratty southern fringes of Florence, where we got a last-minute deal at a Sheraton. Cheap rooms with points; at 22 euros the slow Internet connection costs almost as much as the room. Where it's 100F and the toilet doesn't flush after you've deposited your used cinghiale.  The life of a commercial traveler, ladies and gents.

Speaking of cinghiale -- I truly love wild boar, occasionally. I've discovered that I don't much care for it every day, not to mention twice a day. Yes, between Sunday lunch and Monday dinner we devoured the tuskèd suine three times. I could still taste it until we stopped for a light lunch (a pound of pasta) at a roadside dive today at 2 PM. We resorted to club sandwiches tonight. 

What's that? "How could you?" After 10 days in Italy you begin to dread the obligatory prosciutto crudo and cheese plates, panini and all the rest of it. The big courses. You crave to snag a fast sandwich and continue on your merry way. 

More Tuscany tomorrow and then, I think, to Rome for a meeting and summative work, which will include a tasting of various samples collected on the way. Then Naples, then Friuli, then the glamorous Marriott near the Venice airport and, at last, slushy New York. 

By the way, in Tuscany the almonds are blooming, the vineyards are speckled with wee white flowers and quindi I am definitely not fed up enough to recite "Oh, to be in England!" or even "The Sidewalks of Noo Yawk." Magari!

Which is as good a way as any to say fuhgeddabaddit in Italian.

Giovanna Rizzolio of Cascina delle Rose at Vinitaly last year. "Cascina" means farmhouse. "delle Rose" = of the roses. You could translate the name as "Rose Farm" in English. I can affirm that there are lots of rose bushes here.  

Domenico Selections is in the process of signing up a producer from this area, one whose tiny production has to be allocated to Hong Kong, Italy, Sweden and (soon!) the United States. This young man of 32, whose enologo is a very famous one in Piemonte, has been working in the vineyards and making wine most of his life. 

He makes four wines: a Dolcetto that beats the pants off any Dolcetto I've tasted in a long time; a Barbera and a Barbera Riserva that, to me, redefine the potential of Barbera (I say that because it's never been a particular favorite of mine); and a stunningly good Barbaresco that is thrilling even in its youngest barrel samples. All combine superior quality with prices that are highly affordable. When the contract's been signed, I shall tell all. This guy has quite a story to tell. 

We're off to Tuscany tomorrow. We have a ton of appointments all over the southern half of the region -- Bolgheri, Maremma, Chianti, Montecucco. 

We'll tune in again from Tuscany or, failing that, Rome late next week.