From a certain point of view, winemakers don’t make wine; yeast and bacteria do. Juice becomes wine by the miracle that is fermentation, the conversion of sugar to alcohol and other compounds. Since I’ve yet to see a human person ingest sugar and expectorate alcohol (whoa…don’t follow that mental image), winemakers must delegate this key operation to yeast.
“Adriatico” is the name of this new line of three white wines. Each wine is made from a different native vinifera grape, in regions (now countries) which border each other on the northern Adriatic Sea: malvasia from the Istrian peninsula in Croatia, ribolla from Slovenia, and friulano (of course) from the Friuli region of Italy.
Faedo is a lovely village in Trentino, a typical little mountain village characterized by two churces and an ancient, mighty castle, Castel Monreale. This village is on the slopes above the Val d’Adige Valley and its climate is one of the most favorable in the area for grape cultivation. Here you will find one of the most well-known Italian wine producers in this area, a true original named Mario Pojer.
The natural wine world lost one of its leading figures, Sunday night, when Beaujolais winemaker Marcel Lapierre died after a long battle with melanoma. From his vineyards in the Morgon cru of Beaujolais, Lapierre had become a champion of natural wine, strictly defined as organic in the vineyard, and wild yeast fermentations with nothing taken out and nothing added in, including SO2.
It is generally accepted that wine growing and making originate in what is now the country of Georgia. With a few exceptions, Georgian varieties have existed in a juxtaposition of global obscurity and vast planting in the cradle of viticulture.
En route to the first Chardonnay Symposium the city of Santa Maria appeared in all its incarnations. Hosted at Bien Nacido Vineyards’ historic Adobe, the morning began, like most in this winemaking region, wrapped in tangible veils of fog.
I stood 1,200 miles away from home, in a dimly lit ballroom, at a historic hotel in Walla Walla, WA, clutching two bottles of the inaugural vintage of our family’s homemade wine, which until quite recently rested safely in neutral 60-gallon French-oak barrels in my garage. I was about to pour the very first public taste of this wine, for a celebrity Master Sommelier … in front of a crowd.