Synopsis

Title: Vino Italiano

While this book is a wonderful appellation by appellation guide of all of the Italian winemaking zones, it does presume a certain amount of prior knowledge and can generally be classified as for people with “just enough Italian wine knowledge to be dangerous to themselves.” There are some basic black and white political maps attached to each section, but again they presume a general prior notion of topography in the reader. Often this topography is described in the narrative texts, but as always, I recommend using the World Atlas of Wine as a companion while reading this book. In fact, Vino Italiano is a perfect mate with the Italian sections of that Atlas.

On schizophrenic women and Italian wine

As I touched upon in the prefacing anecdote to this review, Italian wines were my first love and my first avenue into the world of fine wines. While I have been in love with Italian wines for several years and while I seek out new and exciting ones all the time, I find myself constantly in a fog of misunderstanding and more importantly, I find myself constantly exploring and discovering new things. As Vino Italiano hopscotches along from zone to zone it becomes clear that no precedent set in any one section endures to the next. In fact, a casual reader might assume that iconoclasm is paradoxically a rule and not an exception when it comes to this winemaking tradition. The casual reader would be right on this count. If you are a bit more advanced (let’s say you know a thing or two about all the major French appellations), it’s probably best that you check your left brain at the door—you’ll find little such consistency here. Even within any of the individual zones there are reversals of rules and norms even from one town to the next, often a mere 10 miles away.

 So one might ask of Italian wines and the appellational authority of Italy what can be done to clean that up, to make things consistent. And while they certainly have made several sometimes disastrous and oftentimes impotent attempts to make Italian wines easier to understand and more palatable to international audiences, I think nothing would be more apocalyptic for these longstanding traditions. After all, Italian winemaking is living oenological archaeology. While not historically the origin of winemaking, Italy, or Rome more accurately, was the seat of winemaking for centuries—quenching the thirsts of kings and paupers throughout France, Italy, and Germany long before those countries had thought to put their own land under vine. These drastic differences in approach should not be hammered into some ill-thought convention, but celebrated and highlighted.

Italian wines are that schizophrenic girlfriend you had in college (or maybe you are that schizophrenic girl—if so, welcome to my blog, you can contact me here). Erratic, possibly insane, never the same from day to day, but seemingly living for love. Maybe later in life you met that “special someone”—perfectly balanced and adjusted. While your life may be a good one now—better perhaps than if you tried to saddle the bronco that was your schizophrenic college girlfriend—you think of her sometimes, don’t you? While life in her company may have been a brand of living hell, no highs were higher, no lows lower, and no day perfectly boring. So maybe you’re just a regular person, you have your stable of Napa cabs, Bordeaux, and Burgundy wines. But wouldn’t it be fun to take the stallion out every now and again? What’s great here is that your Burgundies won’t get jealous and leave your cellar. It’s just a night of random passion with an unpredictable schizophrenic wine with no one around to judge you harshly. Little in life brings this kind of creative élan.

Italy: land of intuition

As I touched upon above, Vino Italiano is a sort of hybrid reference and narrative with a little cookbook thrown in for good measure. Even better is that it all comes off effortlessly. Bastianich and Lynch’s narrative writing is excellent, fresh and interesting. Each zone section begins with a short narrative that seems to be equally concerned with the place and with the wine—presumably with the goal of making readers understand that these are inextricably linked. These narratives are unflinching, not attempting to gloss over the less savory elements of Italian culture. The subtitle for the section on the Veneto zone reads, “They Eat Horses, Don’t They?” And rather than pass judgment on such a practice, it is merely described in the overall pattern of culture that defines Veneto. Too often American notions of Italian wines get lumped into one great characterless mass where people believe all Italian wines are akin to basketted jugs of Chianti. With each section of the book we are gently asked to break down this unfair conglomeration of many zones which could almost better be understood as separate countries unto themselves.

While the authors have an obvious affection for the more pastoral and antique elements of Italian culture and winemaking, these sections include frank assessments of modernization attempts. There is an acknowledgement that modernization can occur in such a way as to continue and better tradition—the real story of Italian winemaking in the last 20 to 30 years. They talk about the rise of Aglianico del Vulture, a super-ancient varietal grown in Basilicata, which has seen an exciting resurgence in quality and importance as of late. “While your friends are battling it out for rare (and often incredibly expensive) Barolo and Brunello, you might consider checking out [some of the finer Aglianico del Vulture producers].” They continue, “If you care about the wine, not the show, Basilicata is a place to consider. Get there before everyone else,” thus placing the quality of the wine in a place of prominence and inferring that obscurity can lead to extraordinary value in almost every zone in Italy.

In these narratives we get acquainted with the people most important to winemaking in that region. These people and their estates are described in very specific terms in the subsequent breakdowns of wine types of that region (commonly white, red, sparkling, rose and/or dessert). This book brings a specificity to each region that allows it to be used as a buyers guide, assuming you have a well stocked, thoughtful retailer in your neighborhood.

All of these narrative sections taken as a whole urge readers to ditch their will to know and adopt a will to understand—meaning rote memorization of facts will not get you far in “getting” Italian wine. What’s necessary is a will to understand the region as it is, along with all its cultural, historical, climactic, and winemaking quirks—and there are plenty of quirks to go around. “When [Costantino Charrere, Valle d’Aostan winemaker] greets a friend on the trail in his French-inflected Valle d’Aosta patois, it’s yet another example of the indefinable, imprecise nature of the ‘Italian’ culture.” It is this very imprecision that we are asked to embrace.

Some of these narrative sections are so strong that they could almost stand alone outside any guide as simple prose. Sections like “The Guns of Barbaresco” in which the authors describe a day sheltered underneath a noisy roof as hail stones bounce off it and artillery shells are whistling into the clouds to hopefully drive the hail away, are beautiful, terse and prosaic. They do much to evoke the specifics of each zone without dragging the reader down in endless description.

Just the facts

Accompanying these wonderfully written narratives are boxed reference sections with a basic rundown of the more important varietals in each zone as well as other facts like overall production, percentage of DOC wines produced, and other native food products of that zone. These sections also include “Degustazioni” or recommended tastings. This section contains a breakdown of several of the zone’s most important wines and some suggested producers to try from each of these wines. There are notes guiding readers what differences and similarities to look for when tasting these wines. Again, mention of these specific producers presumes access to these wines—sometimes very hard to find in US shops without some effort—but they are great guideposts to tasting Italy’s most authentic and character-filled wines. After all, reading will only get you so far along in your understanding and appreciation of Italian wines. Sooner or later you’re going to have to put your lips on a few—a chore I’m sure none of you dread.

After the narrative and data sections for each zone you can find a pretty thick set of appendixes, again meant for straight reference. These appendixes include breakdowns of the various DOC appellations across Italy, prominent producers, and varietals among other things. I found this information to be appropriately concise and easy to read. While not complete or, I assume, meant to be complete, these morsels are the perfect aperitif for a greater appetite in any of the specific zones or DOCs.

Not necessarily meant to be read from front to back as you might with the narrative sections, these sections ensure the longevity and usefulness of this book on your shelf. As you explore Italian wines, this information should provide the perfect level of illumination to remove trepidation of the unknown, and entice into deeper understanding—something that college girlfriend of yours never came with. I found the Degustazioni sections to be particularly novel and great encouragement to get out and taste these wines and have fun with it. Too often books on wine are too far detached from the stuff itself.

Cucina Italiano

At the very end of each zone section, you can find authentic recipes native to that particular zone. While I found these recipe sections to be a bit out place, they were in no way unwelcome. Each recipe is written by famous restaurateur (and mother to the author), Lidia Bastianich or equally famous chef and restaurateur . I have yet to try any of these recipes, though more than a few caught my eye, but as with the tasting sections, these recipes seem to call for some more exotic ingredients that will be difficult to find if you live in the US and not near a major metropolitan area. They are meant to be a sort of backdrop to the portrayal of the authentic culture of each of the zones and so further the efforts of the narrative sections. As with Italian wine, Italian cuisine is oftentimes maligned by being lumped into a generic and unjust stereotype.