Carpe Vinum (Part II)

 Carpe Vinum (Part II)

Our Vintner Host, 
Giuseppe

Helios’ hair riffled in the breeze of the early morning air. Even before he’d arrived in Cumae (today’s Naples) from Athens aboard a trireme galley years earlier, he’d carefully looked after his vines.  He’d taken special care to watch over the sprigs he’d taken with him on the voyage.  Thankfully, the grapes that now stretched out before him, plump with juice, had flourished in this new land.  Clearly, the gods favored him, especially the sun god Helios, for whom he’d been named.  It was Helios, who, each day, in his horse-drawn chariot, pulled the sun across the sky to flood their leaves with light and heat the skins of their fruit.  He had arrived early, for the temple priests had designated the day auspicious for harvesting this bounty.  He’d sampled the grapes himself over the past few days and did not doubt its favorability.  It was time.  Today, he would carry his first full basket of ripe grapes to the temple as an offering of thanks.  Later, along with family and friends who would soon join him in the harvest, they would celebrate.  May the gods be praised and pleased.

Previously, in Part I of Carpe Vinum (Seize the Wine), I described the exquisite quality of our local wines in a tour of the D’Angelo Winery.  Here in Part II, it is time to get our hands dirty in the fields; this

time, seizing grapes instead of bottles.  As my fictional Greek character, Helios did centuries earlier, we again had an opportunity to participate in the collective Vendemmia harvest ritual.  Along with relatives and friends of Giuseppe and Vincenzina, we arrived early at their vineyard on an October morning to join in the harvest. 

There is winemaking in Giuseppe’s blood.  The wines that define Italy define him as well for his is a busy lifestyle in the fields.  While the vineyard remains dormant for months, well before sunshine and heat do their magic, he is busy pruning, mending the trellises, and tying back young shoots.  The fickleness of the weather, like moisture and too much rain in the spring that can result in mildew, are but some of the threats he faces to a successful season.  Beyond their aesthetic value, he will take time to plant rose bushes at the end of each row to serve as an early warning system to protect the vines.  Like a canary in a mine provides a warning of the presence of poisonous gases, roses, being easy targets of fungus as well as insect magnets, stand guard.  A parameter of electric fences to guard against foraging animals like wild boar is also a necessity.  Even with a pause in physical activity, there remains the continuous annoyance of worry and uneasiness.  Taken together, along with other concerns, there is much unseen that goes into each bottle of wine.

I’m not exactly sure how Giuseppe decides on the exact date to harvest.  What I do know is that for as long as we have participated, it has always been in October, with November reserved for gathering olives.  Certainly, the weather forecast plays an important role.  That might narrow it somewhat, at least down to the best week, which, due to logistics, will be on a weekend when volunteers are more plentiful.  While it is likely ancient

Romans sought an auger to determine if the gods saw it as a propitious time to harvest; nowadays, there is a science to it, although I’m confident there is also a prayer or two involved in seeking divine guidance. 

Months of sunshine and adequate rain, since the vines were pruned in the spring, are critical.  The results are evident in the vineyard's appearance and when sampling the mature grapes.  A ripe grape is plump, juicy, and pulls easily from a cluster.  The onset of ripening is captured in the French word veraison (verr-ray-zohn).  Up to this point, the grapes are small, hard, highly acidic, and very green in color.  The onset of veraison is evident when the grapes begin to change from green to red (white grapes become almost translucent).  This is the first sign that they're on their way to ripeness.^.[1]  This is the point when the vine begins to use its energy to dramatically increase the size of its grapes as they sweeten from their accumulated sugars.  This ripening process takes anywhere from 30–70 days for the grapes to become fully mature, ready to harvest.  That is a wide window of uncertainty and is when close monitoring and sampling take over.  I grew up far removed from Italian grape fields, but as a kid, I could easily sample the Concord grapes growing a few doors away in our Italian neighbor, Mr. Calamarine’s, backyard.  I didn’t know the French word for it then but from frequent sampling as I’d rode by on my bike, I knew when bitter had turned sweet.  When I would accidentally chew a grape seed and discovered it was soft, it was another signal that the grapes were ripe and unknown to Mr. Calamarine, I’d be sure to return for more.

Today, primitive techniques like mine are bolstered by the utilization of scientific tools to determine if grapes have reached their perfect ripeness.  Vintners like Giuseppe can test to make sure

the sugar-acid balance is optimum by measuring the pH level which increases with ripeness.  Too much acid (a low pH level) can cause the resulting wine to be tart and astringent, but if the acid level is too low the wine can be flat and unstructured.  Grapes can also be assessed for pH and acidity in labs.  The red wine pH target is around 3.5.  A good acid target is generally around 7 grams per liter.  Measuring pH levels may be less enjoyable than tasting the grapes, but it is definitely much more accurate. 

With the aid of a prism, a portable refractometer can visually measure sugar levels.  Grape sugar is measured in Brix degrees, which is the measure of sugar in solution.  Every winemaker has a Brix number they look for, somewhere between 20 and 26.  Together, both levels give the winemaker an idea of the wine’s acidity.  It’s time to harvest when the acid comes closest to its optimum and sugar approaches the sought-after Brix level.  All this goes on behind the scenes.  When the chemistry looks right, the tractor, trailer, and barrels are prepared, the weather is acceptable, intuition and experience mark the time as right, and the birds and wild boar suddenly show interest in your grapes, the call for volunteers goes out.  In the meantime, on alert, we wait.

Our call came from Giuseppe’s daughter, Concetta, a few

Maria Elena Dons Her
Harvester Wardrobe

days prior to the harvest.  She’d arrived from the Spumante sparkling wine city of Asti in northern Italy to help her mother and father.  Giuseppe had determined it was time.  This time-honored tradition was underway elsewhere as well, in the fields, hillside grottos, garages, and basements throughout the area.  The appointed day dawned clear and bright along with Maria Elena and me at sunrise that October morning. 

We arrived in the fields at 7 AM.  Accompanying us was a new arrival to Calitri, Samantha.  We’d met her in the street market in town weeks earlier.  Hailing from Argentina, she was hoping to make a new home in Italy.  Young, motivated, and eager to meet new people and make new friends, Samantha was excited to participate.  We welcomed her help.  Over the years, our basketfuls of output have gradually decreased and while we wouldn’t miss the experience, any helping hand is appreciated.  No one is paid outright for their labor.  It is on more of a friendship basis with any payment taking the form of a celebration after the grapes have been harvested.  As in California, tourists would pay and flock to Italy to experience this facet of Italian culture.  I’m sure there are instances where they do.  To a small wine producer like Giuseppe, however, my guess is that to satisfy this romantic idea, would only add taxes, paperwork, and the complications of insurance to his workload. 

After years of harvesting experience, we’ve accumulated an interesting wardrobe that accommodates clear sunny days to muddy rubber boot days.  We dress in layers of old clothes refined

and reserved for moments like these; their thickness adjusted with the heating of the sun.  A few T-shirts, old pairs of jeans, sweatshirts, a ratty pair of sneakers, and worn jackets, make up our assorted wardrobes.  Whatever the mix, when topped with wide-brimmed hats, we are ready for a memorable day in the fields of Calitri. 

We thought we’d be early arrivals, but the hillside was already alive with activity and few parking spots remained along the gravel road bordering the fields.  The familiar faces of various Angelos, Lucias, and Lorenzos greeted us.  Our first order of business was to find some grape clippers.  I prefer the needle nose variety with a spring-loaded return action to automatically open the blades following each snip.  I find it makes the work easier and speeds up my production.  Luckily for us, there were still a few available. 

Giuseppe’s hectares of vines lie in the shadow of

Mount Vulture, scant miles away to the east.  This extinct volcano, the remains of its seven-humped caldera visible on the skyline, is the basis of the region's terroir, that combination of climate, soil, and topography that imparts a characteristic taste and flavor to the region’s wines.  His fields slope toward the west, bathed in shadow until some hours after dawn when the sun crests the ridgeline, warming his fields.  His vines have the time-honored layout of long, straight, parallel rows with consistent spacing between rows.  Some rows run north-south, others east-west, which breaks the vineyard into units.  Each unit might represent a different variety, an accommodation for sloping terrain,

The "Before" Maria Elena

irrigation needs, soil type, access, or property lines.  Whatever the case, this serves to enhance the distribution of sunlight on the plants and simplifies the harvest.  While these blocks of vines don’t have names or numbers, they allow different teams to be assigned to collect their fruit, making the task less formidable and adding a sense of accomplishment as each is completed. 

Collecting the grapes is efficiently performed.  We harvest from either side of a row simultaneously which sees our tubs gradually fill as we drag them along beside us.  If I could have my wish, my clusters of grapes, when clipped, would defy gravity and flop into my tub unaided, and the trellis latticework supporting the climbing plants would be a bit taller.  They are likely optimized for Italians who, in general, are typically shorter than me.  The continuous bending, with the need to kneel at times, accounts for the handful of Advil tablets I bring along.  Thankfully, young helpers with strong backs collect them and supply an empty replacement.  They carry them to the loading area where other workers transfer them to larger tubs and load them onto the trailer.  For easy access, there is a central avenue for the tractor which transports

The "After" Maria Elena

tubs of grapes to Giuseppe’s cantina near town.  This smooth process is interrupted only by an occasional finger cut.  While intended for a cluster of grapes, clipping a finger can occur when you’re tired or happen to snip in the blind.  The rhythm of the harvest also shifts at the toll of a bell.

It is mid-morning when the bell rings.  You can’t miss its clear clang in the crisp, airy fields.  It is Vincenzina’s way of announcing that breakfast is ready.  While we have been in the fields, she’s been home preparing a morning meal for the team and then transporting it to the vineyard.  With no coaxing needed, everyone heads for a small hut carved into the vineyard.  It serves as the headquarters of the operation.  Inside are some basic stores along with a single bed.  Outside, in an area shaded on two sides by sloping roofs, are simple tables arrayed with plastic plates and cups, enough for everyone.  This breakfast is different, not your just out-of-bed variety, and absent any American notion of bacon, eggs, and buttered toast.  After all, by this time we have been outside, active for hours.  Something to eat about then would be appreciated, and it is.  Italians are not big on breakfast. 

Call It The Breakfast Hut

The “fast” part of the word “breakfast” is fitting for theirs is typically a hurried experience, usually a cornetto and fleeting shot of espresso.  However, this break in the fields is a smorgasbord of egg frittatas, loaves of bread, baccala, fortifying bottles of last year’s vintage, potatoes, fried peppers, and, of course, espresso.  Watching Giuseppe cut a slice of bread borders on artistry.  Standing there with a round loaf held on edge vertically against his chest, he nonchalantly manages to somehow carve slices as he pulls the knife blade toward his chest.  

After breakfast, this time absent the clang of the bell to begin round two, we return to the fields.  Although there were still grapes to gather, Giuseppe called a stop early in the afternoon.  The cantina was filled with tubs of grapes by then.  Besides, Maria Elena

and I, along with others I’m sure, were tired and harboring dreams of retirement for at least another year.  It was time for the ‘crush’ when the berries were mashed and turned into grape juice.  First off, we go home to change our clothes and freshen up before heading to Giuseppe’s cantina, where the team has gathered.  One of Italy’s oldest traditions., this is the more pleasurable part of the operation, where we get to put our beaks to the enjoyable task of partaking in another hearty meal.  The crushing could wait.

We gather in the basement area of Giuseppe’s and Vicenzina’s home, behind the doors that conceal the presses, banks of vats, and bottles of the cantina.  We were in Vincenzina’s domain.  A table, the length of the room, had been prepared on one side.  On the opposite wall rested a long built-in stove (forna), in this region known as a fornacella.  This historic device, traditionally

covered with tiles, serves both as a furnace and a stove.  Its function as a stove is exemplified by three holes along its top into which progressively larger copper pots are partially inserted.  Along the face of the stove beneath each pot, a small metal door provides access to the fire, fueled by wood.  Vincenzina and her helpers have been busy here since returning from serving breakfast in the vineyard.  As the team took their seats, Vincenzina was putting the finishing touches on her menu. 

The featured dish is likewise historical and a fitting accompaniment to a historic event like the vendemmia.  The local pasta, called cannazza, a dish typical of rural Irpinia, dates to the 700s, when the fresh pasta was dried on canes, hence its name.  This pasta, centered on the table, is a daily mainstay in homes throughout the area.  It has the familiar shape of ziti, but instead of being pointed or cut perfectly straight, its ends are jagged.  You will not find cannazza boxed on a market shelf either.  They are made from insanely long hollow tubes of candele pasta snapped into five pieces.  It is served coated in a rich,

flavorful ragu and then sprinkled with a layer of pecorino cheese.  The more adventurous among us add a condiment of garlic-fried oil or ground red chili peppers called peperoncini.  This main course is occasionally accompanied by some protein like chicken along with servings of vegetables.  Vincenzina knows she has captivated her guests from the deafening silence throughout the room when the cannazza is served.  As you might anticipate, the pasta is accompanied by more wine, followed by bowls of unshelled walnuts or peanuts and cheese.  Every time a bottle of wine is emptied, it is rested on its side with the announcement soldato morto (dead soldier) as encouragement for a quick replacement.

Celebrations like this serve in striking contrast to centuries of hunger that pervaded the lives of the people of southern Italy.  While vines may grow

Vincenzina Before Her 
Fornacella

best when made to suffer, people do not.  Never bountiful, food in a stratum of poverty shaped life here.  But on this day, we feasted and enjoyed.  Sitting alongside these salt-of-the-earth people highlights the difference between a world of elegance and a humbler way of life and simpler cuisine.  The chatter of their stories, boastful camaraderie, friendly teases, and laughter filled the cantina.  For me, this is the other, more authentic Italy, a reflection of the true Italian way of life distant from the familiar tourist haunts.  It remains an earthy world inhabited by wonderful people united in the fields and, afterward, united around the table. 

Following our repast, we moved next door to the cantina for the crush.  Creating the juice has moved beyond the foot-stomping technique prevalent in Italy for centuries.  Some of us may recall the episode of I Love Lucy where Lucy, in Italy (click to see her antics), gets into a barrel and shows how it was done, or in her case how it was not done.  Concern over hygiene and the advent of efficient machinery, 

however, saw crushing grapes by foot go the way of buggy whips.  Although we are useful in the fields, we are but observers of the crush and don’t get to ‘immerse’ ourselves like Lucy in this activity.  Giuseppe has plenty of helpers and a total of four can easily handle what needs to be done.  Most of the labor involves pouring the grapes into an electric grape crusher.  To one side, the juice flows through a hose into a fermentation vat.  On the other side, the force of a rotating impeller ejects leaves and stems.  That’s about it: two to feed the crusher, someone to hold the hose in the vat, and an operator to run a rather formidable-looking screw-feed crusher. 

Operating the crusher requires a rather alert worker and demands someone who certainly hadn’t earlier laid down too many “dead soldiers” like me. 

The vendemmia is a labor of love; for some, it borders on passion.  To all, it is a reflection of a historic ritual and way of life that continues in the fields of Calitri. Giuseppe and Vincenzina serve as tethers to this ancient tradition.  For a few weeks in October, through the vendemmia, they bring people together into a micro-community to embrace the simple pleasures of harvesting grapes and brewing a supply of wine for the coming year.  Participating in the grape harvest is like walking back into the authenticity of past times.  We’ve been changed by the experience.  With each bottle of wine we open, we are reminded that there is far more to wine than simply sipping this liquid sunshine from a goblet.  Embedded in each bottle, beginning with the label, are hints of Italian culture that can’t be measured with a pH strip, a refractometer, or lab tests.  In Book One of the poem “Odes”

Our Lady of the Vines

the Roman poet Horace, who lived near Calitri, advised carpe diem (pluck the day while we can as it is ripe).  Carpe is a Latin viticulture term evoking the picking and gathering of grapes.  As we try to make the most of each day, why not also take a carpe vinum moment and seize the wine?  Whether a result of Dionysus or Bacchus, or the urging by Horace, wine is a vacation from the ordinary meant to enjoy, bring people together, celebrate, share, and foster lasting bonds.  Carpe Vinum encourages us to truly enjoy the moment.  Why not, after all, it is tradition.  Salute!

From That Rogue Tourist,

Paolo

 

[1] How We Know When Our Grapes Are Ripe, https://www.mcellars.com/2021/08/19/how-we-know-when-our-grapes-are-ripe/

 Carpe Vinum (Part I)                                              

There is a word Italians use to describe an important aspect of their culture.  It is part ritual, and partly celebratory, in which the fruits of months, built on years of strenuous work in the vineyards, are gathered.  It is both an end and a beginning: a harvest that marks the end of summer and the beginning of a production phase to create what I refer to as sunshine in a bottle.  This alpha-omega word is vendemmia (ven-dem-e-ah). 

The vendemmie (grape harvests) we’ve participated in in the past have included a celebration.  Returning from the fields, all the participants are invited to the cantina to share a meal along with liberating the contents of many bottles of wine from the previous year’s harvest.  This pause occurs before the processing of the grapes begins.  More than simply purchasing and de-corking a bottle, the true enjoyment of wine involves multiple parts: the gathering of the grapes, the production of the wine, and the joyful celebration of its consumption.  This story describes the pleasing enjoyment of wine, beginning with the description of a visit to a nearby Italian casa vinicola (winery) where we had an opportunity to taste the extraordinary sunshine in a bottle from an award-winning winery.  Yes, this may be a little ‘cart before the horse,’ but there is established precedence in this each time we enjoy an aperitivo before a meal.  There are times Maria Elena and I will roguishly go so far as to eat ricotta pera torta dessert at Tre Rose before the main course.  Why not?  Why not eat intuitively instead of in an ordained sequence?  Following this line of thinking, I do not begin with the vendemmia, but its culmination, days, sometimes years later, as the finished elixir, a season’s bounty confined in a bottle, is enjoyed.

Our Dawn View of Mount Vulture

My story begins on Monte Vulture (Vul-tu-ray), opposite the seven-peaked, hollow crag we see looking outside our windows.  This precipice has lived up to its ominous name.  During WWII, in the plain among the vineyards extending from the foot of this peak, many Allied B-24 Liberator bombers from the 485^th Bomb Group, based at nearby Venosa, met their demise on the slopes of Mount Vulture.

In the distant past, this rolling and mountainous terrain witnessed the exploits 

of invading armies from feared Carthaginian General Hannibal to Norman, Swabian, and Angevin knights.  In the last century, its impenetrable forests served as a refuge for brigantaggio such as brigand and folk hero Carmine Crocco, as well as for enchanting castles and masterpieces in art-adorned rustic churches.  All were testimony to an ancient link between nature and human events which, over the centuries, seemed intense in this now serene region beyond our windows.

Today, you can drive into the volcano’s caldera and visit two picturesque lakes, have dinner at one of many lakeside establishments, and, while floating around the lake on a paddle boat, take in the Benedictine Abbey of San Michele high up along the crater's ridge amidst 

the incomparable charm of nature’s greenery.  Things have changed considerably in the 500,000 years since this volcano first emerged.

This extinct volcano is not only the epicenter of the entire process but is key to the regal wines in this part of Campania and Basilicata.  On the slopes of this ancient precipice, which rises to 4,350 feet, Aglianico vines thrive in an environment that includes hilly, windy terrain, mild winters, and summers that are neither too hot nor dry.  When the conditions are not perfect, high tannin levels in the grapes preserve the fruit. 

Along with an auspicious climate, the volcanic soil, the product of ancient lava, ash, and ejected lapilli rich in minerals and limestone, extends for miles.  

The soil is also heat-retentive, and its sponginess allows water to be absorbed for later release so as not to stress the vines.  It is a setting that grapevines love, leading to a final product marked with complexity and structure.  This combination of climate, soil, and topography, together known as ‘terroir,’ imparts a characteristic taste and flavor, making this wine one of the greatest red wines in Italy, as attested to in numerous honors and recognitions including the award of Denominazione di Origine Controllata (DOC) status for the Aglianico del Vulture wine of one particular producer, D’Angelo, in 1971.^[1] 

How this black grape came to thrive in this terroir is lost in the uncertain mists of time.  Even the origin of its name is controversial.  For a long time, it was believed that the name of this grape was derived from the word Ελληνικό, meaning ‘Hellenic’ or ‘Greek.’  However, it wasn’t until the period of Aragonese domination of the area (1442–1504) that it became “Aglianico.”  According to another theory, the term Aglianico stems from the Greek word agleukinosicos or "wine without sugar". ^{[2] [3]}

In any case, this king of the vines is definitely here and seems to have been introduced by the Greeks through their southern Italy coastal colonies during the Magna Grecia period around the 7th-6th century BC.  While physical evidence is scarce, literary testimonies to the wine include the famous praises by the Roman poet Horace (65 to 8 BC), originally from nearby Venosa within sight of Vulture and known for its wine production.  In Roman society which did not value teetotalling, Horace’s poetry linked wine with the god Bacchus (Dionysus to the Greeks).  Through this deity, Horace promoted the concept of wine as a liberator of poetic inspiration.  It was his muse.  In his day, Aglianico was a major ingredient of the historic Falernian wine of the Roman Empire.

We toured the D’Angelo Winery in nearby Rionero in Vulture some weeks ago.   As you might guess, the town is named after the volcano looming on the horizon.  Thankfully, Vulture hasn’t erupted in 130,000 years, which was reassuring to us.  We were with friends Annamaria and Joe from neighboring, lofty Pescopagano.  About an hour later, with Joe at the wheel, we pulled up to the historic Casa Vinicola, the D’Angelo winery, for a wine tasting.

The Seven Humps of Mount Vulture Seen from Rionero in Vulture

    The D'Angelo family has been an icon of winemaking for almost a century.  Their journey into the world of wine spans generations of the D'Angelo family.  While we waited for our English tour to

begin, we noticed wine magazine posters on display.  They had clearly earned the right to brag for Wine Spectator Magazine ranked D’Angelo’s 2019 Aglianico del Vulture vintage 49th of the top 100 wines for the year 2022.  

Currently at the helm of the business are a fourth-generation brother and sister duo who navigated this achievement, Rocco and Erminia.  Today, Rocco is the winemaker responsible for overseeing the entire process of winemaking from harvesting to bottling.  Erminia runs the commercial side as CFO and heads the marketing of Vulture wines around the world.  Together, they manage two vineyards, 25 hectares (62 acres), and produce 250,000 bottles/year with 85% of their production exported to US, Canadian, German, Swiss, and Japanese markets.  Daily, they see that the vines flourish, the vats fill, and their

wines are enjoyed worldwide.

Their success led them to the cover of the Wine Enthusiast Magazine, also proudly on display.  We were among wine elites, and we, part-time grape wranglers in Calitri, both with scarred fingers to prove it, were humbly impressed.  Covergirl Erminia D’Angelo herself gave us our tour through aisles flanked by wooden vats that culminated with the tasting of three varietals along with cheeses and meats at a table prepared for us among the vats that awaited us in the cellars.  

“Wine, great wine, is the sum of the culture of a place.”

This sentence summarizes the beliefs of the D'Angelo family.  It

reflects on their spirit of winemaking passed down, generation to generation, and speaks to the uniqueness of their vineyards.  Wine is emotion, tradition, culture, love, and definitely a passion.

  Walking through the cellar, we learned that traditional methods of winemaking are being augmented with the introduction of large innovative concrete tanks constructed in the 1960s.  Ancient Romans used large amphora jars made of terra-cotta to ferment and age their wines.  Today's modern rectangular concrete tanks not only help keep the wines at a constant temperature but while allowing for the optimum utilization of available space, promote slow and natural maturation with good oxygenation of the wine.  This is key to the evolution of Aglianico in a process that promotes the softening, fermentation, and aging of the crushed grape slurry.  Further aging, for periods up to 24 months, is performed in the barrel cellar where row upon row of 

French barrique casks, along with small and large barrels, afford a wide range of refinement.  Their stained tops attest to vigilant sampling. 

A highlight of our tour was sampling D’Angelo varietals from a venue of fourteen different product lines.  In addition to their full-bodied Aglianico wines, their wine roster includes grappa, merlot, rose, Moscato, and malvasia varietals.  Had we sampled them all, returning to Calitri would have been problematic.  Instead, we sampled three 100% Aglianico wines ranging in quality from buono, to meglio, to migliore (good, to better, to best), all of which varied in the vinification technique employed followed by the number of months aged.

Their Sacravite, a name derived from the word ‘sacred,” is an IGT-classified, youthful, and informal wine ranked a tier above Vino da Tavola (table wine).  It has a very short eight-day rest period

in large barrels to keep the grapes' most fragrant and fruitiest characteristics intact, with further refinement for a brief period in standard barrels.  It presented an intense bouquet with every sip followed a few swirls later by a robust, soft, consistent flavor.

This was followed by the Wine Spectator Magazine’s top 100 ranked Aglianico del Vulture drawn from 25-year-old vines, but as would be expected, not from the winning year vintage.  It has a maceration of ten days with the grape skins retained.  Follow-on refinement lasts 18 months in oak barrels to promote a tannin charge with an additional month of maturity in a bottle.  It has earned a DOC ranking based on strict rules of winemaking and geographical qualifications, followed by analysis and testing by a government-approved panel.  Its color was a fairly

intense ruby red that we learned, with further aging turns garnet.  Its fragrance was that of berries, and as expected, this offspring of an award winner presented dry due to the tannins.  In its youth, this wine is at times impetuous, more rustic, and harsher.  With time, it has the potential to improve in the bottle for 6 to 20 years.^[1]  Those patient enough to have waited, claim it to be soothingly mellow with its components in harmony with soft tannins and a silkier texture.  This chemistry is what makes it an award winner.

Our final and top-of-the-line migliore wine was Canneto, a name derived from the numerous reeds found in the vineyards, used to guide the direction of a vine’s growth.  This wine features a medium-to-long vinification process of 15 days in large 8000-liter vats followed by refinement of 18 months in French barriques (it was one of the first wines to be aged in barriques in Southern Italy) with a further six months in a bottle.  An intense ruby red color with hints of crimson, along with a subtle fragrance, urged me to take more than a sip.  Magically robust, soft, and

velvety, I could only imagine how letting it breathe for 30 minutes beforehand would have added to the complexity of its aroma.  Wanting to know, we purchased a bottle.  By all the requirements, it qualifies for DOC status but still retains its IGT ranking.  When I asked Erminia about this apparent anomaly, hers was an interesting reply.  The fact that it retains an IGT ranking is by choice.  Its label dates back 35 years, making it not only historic but a well-known D'Angelo product, readily identifiable to its consumers.  More than simply adding a DOC label to the neck of each bottle, a change to DOC would result in a change to the label and possibly impact sales.  The change might also result in a rise in unit cost, which could result in a loss of consumers. 

    We savored many a season's bounty that day.  Our visit to the D’Angelo winery, followed by an opportunity to participate in the simple pleasures of the vendemmia (my topic next month), gave us pause to appreciate the labor, history, and culture represented in every bottle of wine we consume.    When uncorked, each bottle releases a stimulating tonic

representative of the labor of many hands and the wisdom of lifetimes.  For some, like Rocco and Erminia, it lies deep and is more than a vocation.  It is more a labor of love and part of the heritage and upbringing they unknowingly acquired each day as children.  Many years have passed since those carefree days when Rocco and Erminia played hide and seek among the casks in the family-owned vines and in the wine cellar.  Now as then, in childlike wonder, they see the grapes ripen and the vats being filled year after year.  Things never seem to change, only the genies behind the magic.  They, along with the alchemy of the terroir, thanks to the presence of Mount Vulture, make its presence felt to this day.  The result is a wine with an award-winning rich and balanced flavor, whose strong and decisive character is enough to give our taste buds a long and deep stimulation and is yet another reason why this brother and sister strive to bring Italy to the world and the world to Italy.  As Horace would insist, “Carpe Vinum”… Seize the Wine!

From That Rogue Tourist,
Paolo

    [1] Aglianico del Vulture, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aglianico_del_Vulture

    [2] Aglianico-del-Vulture, https://www.dangelowine.com/en/aglianico-del-vulture/

    [3] Oxford Bibliographies, https://www.oxfordbibliographies.com/display/document/obo-               9780195399301/obo-9780195399301-0483.xml

‘Trulli’ Relaxed in Locorotondo

 

‘Trulli’ Relaxed in Locorotondo

It was late September.  By then, we’d been in Calitri a few weeks.  We decided to run off to someplace new for a few days on a ‘vacation from a vacation’, but where?  When we asked friends for suggestions, Locorotondo was mentioned repeatedly.  

Location of Locorotondo in Italy

As simple as that, a short time later, we embarked on a road trip to Locorotondo.

Locorotondo is lost among olive groves and vineyards in the interior of southern Italy’s high heel, the Italian state of Apulia or, in Italian, Puglia.  We have been to this area before, though mainly along the coast of the Aegean.  In this region of olive trees, cacti, and cone-topped Trulli huts scattered in a landscape of manicured dry stone walls, Locorotondo lies close to more familiar towns like touristy Alberobello and farther south Lecce, referred to as the “Florence of Puglia.”

Locorotondo appears to be an odd name for a town although the quaintness of the name, at least for me, makes it easy to recall. ‘loco’ would seem to

The Locorotondo Old Town is
Definitely Round

connote craziness, while ‘rotondo’ conveys a sense of roundness.  At the local tourist information office, we learned that the site has been settled since ancient times.  Archaeological evidence dates the first settlement, thought to have been a Greek colony, back to the period between the 9th and 7th centuries BC.  The present town dates back to the last decades of the year 1000 AD with the development of an unfortified hamlet under the jurisdiction of a Benedictine monastery in nearby coastal Monopoli. ^[1]  It has had many names before its current one.  Initially, the community was called Casale San Giorgio in honor of its patron saint. The first mention of rotondo or ‘round place’ dates back to 1195 when it became ‘Casale Rotondo’, and subsequently, from Latin, ‘Luogorotondo’.  Only in 1834, with no craziness about it, did it become ‘Locorotondo,’ from the Latin ‘Locus Rotundus’ in reference to the characteristic shape of the historic center, a group of small white houses, laid out in concentric rings situated high on a hilltop. ^{[3] [2]}

It was a gorgeous morning as we departed Calitri and followed the Ofranto River as it meandered beside SS401.  Once we passed Candella alongside the A16 Autostrada, it would be another two hours before we arrived.  As we drove due east into the sun, the terrain gradually changed from the rolling terrain of Campania into the flatlands along the coast of Puglia.  This was especially evident when we passed Cerignola and joined A14 South into the heart of Puglia.  Palm trees, and olive trees so broad you couldn’t get your hands around them, along with cacti heavy with fruit, joined fields sprinkled with Trulli dwellings, new and old.  These traditional dry stone huts are renowned for their cone shaped roofs.  Many are now constructed with multiple cones 

to form unique estates. 

The name, Trulli, originates from a Greek word meaning cupola.  Centuries old, Trulli, made from readily available slabs of tile-like limestone, were generally constructed as temporary field shelters, storehouses, or rustic dwellings by small landowners.  One of the popular theories is that due to high property taxes, the people of Apulia built these structures, absent any form of mortar, to insure they could be dismantled quickly when tax collectors made their rounds of the area.

We were acquainted with the area from past visits to friends and from forays to places like Trani, Bari, lovely Polignano a Mare, and deeper yet to

Villa Aurilia

Lecce, Otranto, and Gallipoli.  Skirting coastal Bari, we turned inland to arrive at Locorotondo by midday.  We were in the heart of Locorotondo when some confusion developed, finding Villa Aurilia along Via Madonna della Catena.  A small sign successfully conspired with a high fence to see us drive right by.  A phone call with directions to a side street and gated parking quickly remedied our predicament.  The villa featured four suites that meet in a common area where breakfast was served daily.  At table, we joined other guests from around the world, one couple from as far away as Brazil.  While the villa dates to 1939, recent renovations make it an oasis of modern comforts.  It was an easy walk to the historic center just streets away.  As we would quickly discover about the village, it too offered a peaceful stay that began with lunch.

It was while exploring the Old Town that we were fortunate to came upon the elegant Bina Ristorante.  At Bina, the past mixes with the present, beginning with a structure dating back to the 1700s.  We were seated 

at a table beneath cross-vaulted ceilings made of a yellow stone characteristic of the region.  The wall colors and white tablecloths helped create a warm, relaxed atmosphere.  The past added to the mood further with a menu based on ancient recipes offering flavors grounded on genuine local products.  Maria Elena had her heart set on fish and chose a savory-flavored sea bream, likely from nearby Aegean waters.  In Greek mythology, this fish was dedicated to Aphrodite, the goddess of love (Venus to the Romans), which, in addition to its velvety texture, was considered the most attractive and flavorful fish.  A golden mark above its eyes, in the shape of a bow, inspired the name Orata, which is how Italians refer to them.  I went with something I’d not eaten before, a menu surprise: donkey.  We’ve eaten rattlesnakes in Oklahoma, bear in Maine, horse in Tuscany, and only days earlier, octopus in our Calitri kitchen.  Asino (donkey) is very much like chuck roast for those curious about the taste.  It was accompanied by the region’s favorite pasta, orecchiette, in a red sauce.  From their cellar, our mid-afternoon lunch was accompanied by a straw colored bottle of cooled

Maria Elena Looks Over The Menu

wine.  It was produced from 100% Minutolo grapes, a variety new to us, harvested from nearby Valle d’Itria vineyards.  Like our accommodations, this Cardone family wine from one of Puglia's oldest and most prestigious family-run wineries was of undisputed quality.

The old town of Locorotondo is a member of "The Most Beautiful Villages of Italy Association.[4]  This association aims to safeguard, conserve, and revitalize small villages that lie outside of the main Italian tourist circuit.  Criteria for participation include the “integrity of the urban fabric, architectural harmony, livability of the village, and its artistic-historical quality of the public/private buildings.” ^[4]  In recognition of its excellence in tourism, hospitality, accessibility of the old town, and the environment quality, it also received the ‘Orange Flag’

Hospitality Fills Every Alleyway

of the Touring Club of Italy. ^[5]

We began exploring Locorotondo with a walk around its perimeter.  Striking, from its high position and terraced overlooks were the unforgettable views across the bucolic Itria Valley below, dotted with conical Trulli, farms, vineyards, and olive trees.  Like many neighboring villages, this centro storico (historic center) is bathed in uniform whiteness and constructed of a yellowish stone native to the area.  It showcases how pride in a village can meld history with stylish modernity.  With little in the way of tourist attractions, its quaint nature promotes a mood of harmony and serenity, unfit for hurry.

We were soon caught up strolling through the magical atmosphere of its narrow streets, paved

Example of a Commerse Limestone Roof

alleyways, flowered balconies and atriums, precious monuments, and churches.  This intricate network of little streets is lined with old buildings, many with typical white houses called "Le Cummerse." made of two different layers of limestone, which have a regular geometric shape and a pitched roof designed to collect precious water.  Many of these buildings today house residences, businesses, cafes, shops, restaurants, and boutique hotels.

What struck us most was its orderliness.  The town was reminiscent of Dubrovnik, Croatia, just across the Aegean Sea.  As in Debrovnik, everything in this pristine world was cared for and immaculate — no graffiti, litter, decrepit buildings, wild vegetation along the streets — all were absent.  It was evident that the inhabitants were clearly stakeholders in their historic village and took pride in its appearance.  We were taken by the abundance of flowering

plants and vegetation in every nook and cranny, clearly, that we felt, were emblematic of this pridefulness.

We especially enjoyed the town park, Villa Comunale, an oasis of shade just outside the Porta Napoli entrance to the Old Town.  While not large by any stretch of the imagination, its winding paths, frequent benches, shrubbery, monuments, and sculptures offer a relaxing break.  It overlooks the Valle d’Itria and terraced vineyards on the slopes below, which at times give the impression of a seafront, although there is no sea.  According to the Pro Loco visitor center (there’s that ‘loco’ again), the phenomenon is attributed to the morning haze that promotes the illusion of a sea of green stretching to the foothills.  It is much like our perch in Calitri, when the morning’s mist in the valley below creates the illusion Calitri is a seafront Positano.  Some believe it is simply a play on words where the Italian word “lungomura” (along the walls), as the street adjacent to the overlook village walls is called, morphed to “lungomare” (seafront).  Take your pick, an imagined sea or the slip

Locorotondo Park Outside the Old Town

of the tongue.  From this belvedere, while we lingered to take in the striking view of this mythical seafront, we had the added enjoyment of impromptu entertainment thanks to two troubadours.  One played an amplified violin, his colleague a guitar.  Together they strummed melodies from Bach to lovely pieces by Ennio Morricone.  We could have sat there for hours.

It was while wandering the park that we came upon a war memorial inscribed with the names of the town’s fallen from both World Wars.  I was struck by the repeated appearance of the name “Palmisano.”  In WW I alone, the name repeats 20 times over from Angelo Palmisano to Vitantonio Palmisano.  On the WW II death list, Vitantonio appears again, likely the son of the WWI casualty.  The international,

The Prominence of the Palmisano 
Family Among WWI Casualties

bestselling Spanish author Rafel Nadal noticed this.  In his book, The Curse of the Palmisano, he presents the stunning and heartbreaking story of the family’s efforts to preserve their progeny in the face of two world wars.

What attractions there may be in the Old Town, lie in its churches.  The oldest Church, Madonna della Greca, dates to the 7-8th centuries.  Its present incarnation, dating from the time of Columbus, was erected in 1480 and rests atop a pre-existing structure as do many of the town’s churches.  Cathedral sized Chiesa San Giorgio Martire is Locorotondo’s main church.  This present renaissance-style church was started in 1790 on the same site as two earlier churches, one from 1100 and the second dating to 1578.  We observed the remains of its 16th-century predecessor, on display through the glass flooring I carefully crossed.  Construction was interrupted in 1798 over a very modern-sounding real estate issue — difficulty in purchasing some houses that needed to be removed to make room for the church.  Construction was further delayed due to an anti-Bourbon insurrection, only to resume in 1810.  The church we visited, topped by an elegant pediment carved with

Church of St George the Dragon
Slayer and Martyr

the legendary scene of Saint George killing a dragon to save a terrified princess, was completed in 1825. 

One of the highlights of our stay, totally impromptu, was just outside this parish church.  When we happened to pass by again a day later, a wedding was underway.  The square was empty, but for a gleaming Maserati sedan, its Neptune pitchfork symbol on prominent display, waiting at the base of the church stairs.  How it got there was a miracle in itself.  How it would escape the narrow confines of the square was worth waiting for.  We found the best and apparently only seats in the piazza by a café and waited.  As our glasses of Peroni beer gradually emptied,  the square steadily filled with onlookers.  The bride and groom eventually appeared to the roar of a confetti mortar, the applause of onlookers, a shower of rose petals, and the buzz of a photo drone.  I thought they would need to move our table, but the driver, assisted by pedestrian guides on each corner of the Maserati, skillfully maneuvered by us as the couple departed.  Thus, the history of a whitewashed, circular town atop

Bride & Groom Make Their
First Public Appearance

a hill added a new chapter.

We found this gleaming white town filled with its labyrinth of quaint streets wandered on for centuries, both enchanting and magical.  This out of the way place in yet undiscovered and underappreciated Puglia awaits.  As beautiful as it was with its floral appointments, we can only imagine the all-out effort the townsfolk embark on during the Christmas holidays when wreaths and ornaments take over.  Our friend’s suggestions were correct; Now I pass it on.  For relaxation among the Trulli, Locorotondo is definitely worth a visit.

From That Rogue Tourist,
Paolo

 

[1] Locorotondo, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Locorotondo

[2] Locorotondo, https://www.apuliaslowtravel.com/project/locorotondo/

[3] Locorotondo, https://it.wikipedia.org/wiki/Locorotondo

[4] I Borghi piu belli d’Italia, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/I_Borghi_pi%C3%B9_belli_d%27Italia

[5] Locorotondo, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Locorotondo