Finding the true flavor of Piemontese Wine
Cold, tired, and standing on the side of a busy mountain road with an icy wind whipping around the bend is not the best way to learn about the history of Barbaresco. Certain that gulping down so much exhaust would affect the tasting that should cap off our visit to the Piemontese winery, I attempted to listen to the stout oenologist who motored on with his speech, completely unaware that half his audience was unable to hear him over the roar of the traffic, while the other half was concentrating on bringing feeling back to their frozen legs. After over an hour and a half, our fair group leader was able to get a word in, suggesting politely that we might retire to a more suitable location--preferably indoors. The group perked up and almost skipped up the road to the winery itself, unaware that our endurance had only begun to be tested. At the door, our host stopped us, just steps from shelter, saying that he would like to tell us about the families involved in Barbaresco production, and that it would only take two minutes. When he started his new harangue, at the torturous threshold of warmth, with “Back in 1200…” the members of our group looked from one to another and collectively sighed in resignation to our frigid fate.
This was the fifth of many winery visits for the 2008 masters in food culture course at the University of Gastronomic Sciences in Colorno, and I felt as if we were hitting a new low. Never before had we been so distracted by our circumstances that it was difficult to appreciate the presentation of the producer, but I felt this experience was indicative of something more. We had been to many wineries and knew the drill: here are our vines, here are our aging facilities, here is our finished product; please enjoy the complimentary breadsticks to clean your palate. Though normally the group takes great interest in the role of the oenologist who seems, like an alchemist, to add, alter, manipulate and select to create wildly different final products, the Barbaresco ordeal stuck out as a metaphor for our class’s vague sense of unease and dissatisfaction with our winemaking education. Shivering out in the cold, I wondered how to wake myself up; how to feel inspired by the grandeur that exists in Piemonte, one of the most revered wine producing regions in the world. Before I truly realized what was missing, however, I found it just two days later. Not by the side of the road, but on my hands and knees in the dirt of a vineyard, my nose pressed to a living pile of earth.
It started with a bus ride, much like any other trip to a vineyard, though there was a certain buzz in the air for we were, for the first time, visiting a biodynamic farm. Certain members of the group already had an avid interest in such processes, while others had only heard new age sounding stories about cycles of the moon and the energy fields of living things. What in fact waited for us was a young, hip, scruffy French winemaker looking like he himself had sprouted from the earth. He explained how the farm is run by a small cooperative of people from around the world who live, work and eat together. Their goal: to make living wine that will naturally reflect the true character of the area in which it is cultivated. To illustrate their philosophy, he simply asked us to observe their neighbor’s vineyard, which was dry and dead, what we were used to seeing in February. Then he drew our attention to theirs, the rows, even in winter, teeming with vegetation and with trees grown to attract pests away from the grapes. In fact they use only naturally occurring pest control and actually do use planetary cycles to plan their farming and winemaking activities. To demonstrate the effect of this holistic approach, he fetched a shovel and dug up a pile of earth from each farm. The neighbor’s was characteristically clay-like and drab, while the biodynamic soil was a darker, richer color and smelled of humus and the various herbs they rotate through the rows for soil health. Once he had finished his presentation, he brought us to their comfortable farmhouse for a lunch made with their products and enhanced by their wines, and it was there that I started to realize what was missing from my wine education, namely people, food, and joy.
Warm, moist whole-wheat bread, the sort that still releases steam upon being torn into, scented the air and set the mood. The women in the kitchen laughed and chatted as they released hearty dish after wholesome plate to our eager hands and mouths. Sensing the energy and care with which it was prepared, the simplest of spelt salads became an elixir of health. I scooped in mouth after mouthful of tender grain, which, upon pressure from the tongue yielded nothing more than the pure, fresh perfume of ripe tomato and vegetal olive oil. Washed down with glass after glass of their bright and floral Montemarino wine from their biodynamic production, I felt joy returning to my countenance. As a delicate asparagus omelet was passed around I contemplated how, because of their methods, I was appreciating the production of this famous wine region for the first time. Six wines in all, from Gavi to Dolcetto, all fermented with the least possible human intrusion, passed my lips and with it a true connection to the land we traveled. Through the soft tannins and violet scented reds, my dissatisfaction dissipated. So much of winemaking thus far had been about manipulating the grape to create a result, and whether or not one believes in the energy of the universe, these people are connected to and working with the land in a way I had never seen and found inspiring. I looked at the smiling, lively face of the producer sitting near me who was at that moment extolling us for educating the public on what constitutes good, clean and fair food, for that, he proclaimed, was the way to initiate change, and exactly what they were hoping to achieve at their establishment. We nodded with understanding; for the first time on our visit to Piemonte, I felt more than my belly full, I felt my spirit touched.
Published in The University of Gastronomic Sciences Reader: Works by the students of the 2008 Masters of Food Culture available on lulu.com.
