This summer, I spent a breezy August day with pioneering natural winemaker Angiolino Maule and his family and friends, exploring the vineyards of Gambellara (nearby a more famous region, that of Soave, in the Veneto, northern Italy); learning the backstory behind his foray into natural winemaking in the early days of the movement; hearing about his natural wine association VinNatur; and talking about skin contact winemaking, a topic that fascinates me endlessly. (“Skin contact” wine is also called “orange wine,” but I prefer the term “skin contact” because it’s more accurate and also because the wine can be a dark golden hue, rather than orange.)
And if you love Italian natural wine, and happen to live in New York, consider swinging by the launch party for Terre, to be held at the fantastic wine bar Have & Meyer in Brooklyn, just before the start of RAW Wine Fair. Winemakers will be in attendance and we’ll be drinking their juice at special prices.
Terre has been printed, and is soon to be shipped out, to arrive your way shortly. (If you didn’t order a copy, see if there’s a stockist near you; I will also be selling copies at RAW in Brooklyn.) I really hope you enjoy the stories, artwork, and photography, and look forward to your feedback! I alsoREALLY look forward to taking a break in December for a few weeks, because these past five months of working on Terre while traveling have been incredibly enriching, but also exhausting.
But don’t worry: as soon as I’ve had a little vacation, I’ll get to work on Terre, Issue 2! Thanks to all of you who have supported the project; it’s still amazing to me that it went from an idea in our heads, to actual reality, something you’ll soon be holding in your hands.
I hope that my latest feature on Sprudge Wine will serve as something of a lighthearted mood-lifter (tu te calmes and carry on, is perhaps what Thierry Puzelat might say…?). It’s a write-up of the raucous and extremely well-curated two-day natural wine fair H20 Vegetal, held last month in Catalunya, Spain. You can read it here.
It’s a wonderful time to be in Europe. It’s a difficult time to be in Europe.
I have been traveling for the past month. Each day, I’ve been enthralled by the vibrancy of the cities I pass through, the exceptional wines and foods I’m tasting, the generous hospitality of the people I’m encountering along the way.
And yet: constant heaviness. The world feels perpetually uncertain, unsafe. The U.S. news cycle reads like a script for a soap opera, and it would almost beg laughter if it didn’t represent actual suffering, large steps backwards in terms of social progress, and the dismantling of environmental and political institutions that are so vital to society.
What happened in Charlottesville also hits very close to home, and it was very hard to be away while it was going on. Not only did I live in this town for several years as an undergraduate student; my older brother is the mayor of Charlottesville, and while it’s been remarkable to watch him rise to the occasion, it’s also incredibly strange how the internet can superficially transport me to the events transpiring. Watching the video of the car barreling down the pedestrian road through Charlottesville’s downtown mall felt absolutely surreal; it’s a place I spent many afternoons drinking coffee, and some months waiting tables at a small Italian restaurant.
We are all processing, in our own ways. To those of you struggling to grapple with these events, or who feel unsafe and afraid, know that I’m thinking of you, even while far away.
Meanwhile, and despite the sense of angst, I’ve had some incredible encounters this past month, and have been in some of Europe’s great vineyards, wineries, and restaurants. Although my actual home is far away, I feel right at home when I’m in the company of people who are working to make something they are proud of, that represents the place they live. True hospitality is a rare find and I’m grateful to experience it.
Last Sunday, it was very special and comforting to be invited into the home of Angiolino Maule, a pioneering winemaker in the Veneto, to share lunch with his family. This was exactly the kind of warmth I needed on that day.
It was also heartening to visit the family at Slobodne Vinarstvo, in Slovakia, and spend an afternoon-into-evening absorbing their forward-thinking approach to winemaking. Walking the vineyards with their beautiful baby and discussing the fascinating history of post-Soviet Slovak winemaking, and tasting their skin contact wines full of energy under a sky full of stars, was at once calming and uplifting.
Over the next few weeks, I will begin properly writing up my notes and stories from this summer. Already, one report has come out: a write-up of Scotland’s first natural wine fair, in Edinburgh. You can read it on Sprudge Wine, link here.
I’ve returned to Paris after a week in Slovakia and Austria, where I convened with two wine bloggers for some very moving visits with natural winemakers. Pictured above is the winery of Claus Preisinger in Burgenland, Austria–one of the most impressive and thoughtful works of architecture I’ve ever seen, along with Christian Binner’s in Alsace.
I look forward to weaving the past month’s research into some insightful stories. At the moment I’m posted up in a quiet Paris café (the city is still away on vacation, which means I’ll hopefully get a lot of work done), a café crème and three full notebooks beside this laptop.
People often ask me: “How do you think of a story?”
Much of the time, I pitch stories based on wines or winemakers that have amazed me, or places I’ve visited where I see an interesting trend happening. But in the case of my most recent piece, a sort-of manifesto about Sauvignon Blanc (and why we might want to call it, simply, “Sauvignon,” and never “Sahv Blanc,” although I do think “Savvy B” is a nickname with a certain charm), the idea came to me the morning after a really fun pop-up at La Buvette, one of my favorite Paris natural wine bars in the 11th arrondissement. I woke up thinking about the snacks served at that event, and the wine we drank alongside them, and just started writing. In a nutshell, the piece explains why I don’t want to drink Sauvignon Blanc that tastes like canned green peas, or like a jalapeño made love to a watery green apple. I want flesh and citrus in my Sauvignon! Find out why I feel so strongly about Sauvignon in my latest for Sprudge Wine here, and I’d love to hear what you think.
Cheers to all of you from London, after a few days of enjoying the city’s fantastic eating and natural wine culture, and prior to that, a brief stay in Edinburgh, where I attended Wild Wine Fair and had lunch at Timberyard restaurant. More on both of those to come, soon!
Nowhere does that seem more true than within the culture of natural wine. After all the money spent on science and technology in the late 20th century, with the goal of creating a commercial wine industry, and thousands and thousands of wineries installing temperature-controlled, stainless steel tanks for a quick and consistent fermentation, people all over the world are now putting their grapes into clay amphorae, fermenting them without sulfites, and letting wine be just about as wild as it was back in the days of Dionysus.
Crazy, right? Next thing you know, people will actually be talking to each other in cafés instead of perusing Instagram on their phones. Er, probably not . . .
In Greece, a country with 4000 years of documented viticultural history, modern winemaking dominates, and is strongly influenced by Bordeaux-style oenology. But there are a few people making really interesting, low-intervention or natural wines, and elevating the country’s fascinating indigenous grapes. My article about the producers leading the way for natural wines in Greece is up on Sprudge Wine, read here.
I had the pleasure of tasting many of these wines during a recent visit to the country. What’s important to mention here, too, is that the wines really shine especially with Greek food, which is rich in flavor and features lots of fresh Mediterranean vegetables, like eggplant and tomato, as well as plenty of meat, feta cheese, and dolmas. So, ideally, that would be the way to enjoy the wines; however, I did recently have a fantastic 2013 Xinomavro from a producer named Oenos at a restaurant here in Paris (cute place called Tannat, in the 11ème), and it was perfect with duck. (Although Xinomavro with moussaka, that’s just, like, boom.)
If you live in New York, I really recommend the restaurant Molyvos, where I first tasted many of these wines a couple years back with the very knowledgable wine director, Kamal Kouiri; the food is really delicious and classic.
There’s a new kid on the wine journalism block (and no, I’m not referring to my own magazine, which has just about 24 hours left in its Kickstarter campaign if you want to pre-order Issue 1).
I’m talking about Sprudge Wine, an offspring of the madly popular coffee website Sprudge. The editor, Jordan Michelman, has fallen hard for wine, to the point where he decided to begin publishing wine journalism. Having met Jordan during a recent visit to Portland, Oregon, where he lives with his family, I can attest that he has great taste in wine. Example:
(That gamay from Julien Labet was a truly awesome wine; thanks, Jordan.)
I think the new Sprudge Wine site, which compares natural wine aptly to third-wave coffee, is going to do great things (follow them on IG and Twitter to keep up). To kick things off, I’ve got a post recommending some great rosés to drink now (including bubbles, and and one delicious Cerasuolo–I take “pink” as a broad category, faaaar beyond Provençal-style juice). As well, I have my final writings on the New York scene for the time being: a round-up of some slightly under-the-radar spots to eat well and drink great wine (why would you ever want to do one without the other)? Oh man, am I already getting nostalgic for New York? No . . . maybe???
Read my rosé recos here, and the restaurant piece here. Quick note about the pink wines pictuted above; I was not able to include the one on the far left in the piece because it’s too limited production, but it is a delicious Syrah pét-nat rosé from Early Mountain Vineyards in Virginia–super lively and fresh, with wonderful fruit notes, completely dry, and something I hope they make more of, so you can all enjoy it!
Written from the Athens airport, en route to Santorini. But more on that soon.
I sincerely hope you have some good rosé around to get you through this shitty news cycle! My god. I need about ten bottles.