Every era has its vices.

When it’s not the moralists, it’s the experts who exhort the virtues of sober or smoke-free living.

For nineties kids, fat was public enemy number one. Cue a collective shudder at the memory of those green boxes of fat-free Devil’s Food cookies that bristled their way down our greedy gullets. So shamelessly unsatisfied were we.

Sugar is taking a real finger-pointing at the moment. You would do well to stock your cellar with bread and pasta as the war on gluten shows no sign of subsiding.

What you may not have noticed, or have likely embraced, is the not so quiet assault on suntanning. Laying out. Sunbathing. Call it whatever you want.

Over here in Rome, prendiamo sole. We take sun. The Greeks engage in Ηλιοθεραπεία (pronounced ee-lee-o-the-ra-PEE-a). Heliotherapy. Literally sun therapy.

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Somehow this most glorious and egalitarian ritual has assumed the sinister connotation of sneaking cigarettes out back. Enter the realm of bad girls who revel in self-destruction.

Picture the scene: copper-colored children naked but for white noses. They gather around a sandcastle where they squat on pin legs to reinforce the turrets carved from an overturned pail. They toil fervently and delight in the dash from each oncoming wave.

A few feet away, their mothers sprawl atop oversized towels. Their shins glisten. Every now and then they’ll cast a gaze toward the shore.

Perhaps you saw this all happening in black and white or in the faded, filtered shades of a 1970s snapshot. I spotted a vintage poster the other night, relegated to the bathroom of an uptown Manhattan bistro.

A Côte D’Azur tourism promotion proclaimed Le Soleil Toute l’Année. It featured a row of umbrellas against a glittering horizon line and a bronzed woman in white, her limbs splayed out in absolute abandon, the last vestige of a carefree and bygone era.

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, exhibit number one is what the freckled and fair-skinned, the handwringers and naysayers envied from behind the brims of their floppy hats. I stand before you, clad only in my type-four skin, in defense of the sun.

I’m barely the first to praise and deify this life-giving sphere of light.

Since the dawn of human expression, the rising and setting of the sun has saturated archetypes and influenced language. It has inspired poets and painters and awed anyone lucky enough to catch a dusk strewn in shades of magenta or watched a golden orb slip below the horizon across a glassy stretch of ocean.

I’m here today to advocate for sun worship in its most contemporary form.

I remember my very first beach bag, a plastic-lined tote passed down to me by a friend’s older sister. It contained the liquid from condensing cans of Fresca and bottles of spilled sunscreen on the inside and kept the sand outside.

I can conjure the scent of that bag even now: creamy orange blossom and chlorine, the vague mustiness of damp bathing suits and towels abandoned overnight or longer.

Over the years, that bag would carry Seventeen Magazine, US Weekly, The New Yorker, and tattered paperback copies of The Pelican Brief or Crime and Punishment. Some people switched to the Kindle for reading, but I never did.

I cherished the sound of crinkling paper under my sweaty forearms and ink smudges across the tops of my thighs when I would read laying on my back with my knees bent and a water bottle or a rolled-up pair of jean shorts as a pillow.

Bags in hand, we proceed with a thoughtful occupation of our patch of sand or grass or cement. We carve out cupholders in whatever the earth is made of and stretch our sarongs out wide. We secure the corners of our beach towels with our sandals to keep them from flapping and folding in the wind.

We take into account proximity to the water, the path of the sun, and of course, the view—a tranquil bay in Piñones, Puerto Rico or a throng of teenage boys at the public pool. Or maybe it’s the rooftops and steeples of Brooklyn from our own illegally paved rooftops, or the brushline of pines across a gentle bend of the Missouri River.

Throughout our lives we will come to define paradise in different ways.

Finally, we cast off our clothes and with them any last restraints. We take turns coating each other’s shoulders in SPF, careful to get under the straps of our swimsuits. We reacquaint ourselves with the feeling of the breeze on our skin.

We listen to the crescendo of an invisible chorus of cicadas, to seagull cries and the rustle of wind in the palms that almost sounds like rain, to water slapping the sides of the pool and the patter of wet feet on pavement. These inimitable summer soundtracks.

In what the Italians call il dolce far niente, we enter a state of blissful idleness. We unapologetically do nothing. Within this sacred space, we find permission to lose ourselves in trivialities. We debate for hours the power of Scorpio rising and discuss the merits of electrolyte content in tropical fruit.

Sometimes, unwrapped as we are, we tell secrets. Memories surge to the surface and sometimes it just makes sense to cry when there’s so much salt water nearby.

Under the radiant spectrum of the sun we revel in our insignificance. There is something restorative in feeling so small. For a moment we are the bronzed woman in white.

We are the sand. We are the sea. We are suddenly content to breathe and exist as part of the landscape, unhindered by thoughts of who or where we ought to be.

During this reprieve from real life, we remember what it is to live.

Hello wine lovers!

Welcome to Wine Wednesdays. A Tastefully Plus, premium feature for paid subscribers. Your support helps me continue to do what I love, so this is for you!

The comment section is exclusively yours. To participate, consider upgrading today!

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Ask me anything (about wine)

I’m a wine professional, certified sommelier and everything. People ask me wine questions all the time.

Don’t be shy. The more details you provide, the better.

Need some inspiration? Here’s a selection of questions I’ve been asked over the years.

• What’s the best country for wine? Contentious, but fun conversation starter.

• White wine always tastes sweet to me. Can you suggest one that isn’t?

• Why does white wine give me heartburn? I get the same question for red…

• I’ve got a big event and need to buy at least few cases of what’s a good wine for the value? I used to do wine events in NYC, where budget was always tight! I’ll need more details for a question like this (location/occasion/food)

• I’m going to Rome, what are some of your favorite wine bars?

• What does corked wine taste like, and can you still drink it?

• What is natural wine? Do not even get me started! But no, do! Great topic. So many opinions. And so many great wines!

Rules of the Game

Post your questions in the comments, and I will answer them over the course of the week. Only paid subscribers to the comment section.

Ask me anything, but please be respectful. I’m a certified sommelier with particular expertise in Italian wines.

I’ve been writing, selling, marketing, and teaching wine since 2008, but the learning never ends.

If I don’t feel qualified to answer, I’ll check in with a fellow sommelier, wine maker, restauranteur, or consultant. We’ve got you covered.

Join the Conversation

Engage with other subscribers in the comments! This is a community space where we can all learn from each other.

Share your favorite wines, wine pairings, and wine stories if you’re feeling it.

*If you no longer wish to receive Wine Wednesday emails, you can opt out by clicking on your subscription settings in the manage subscription link at the bottom of this email.

Hello wine lovers!

Welcome to Wine Wednesdays. A Tastefully Plus, premium feature for paid subscribers. Your support helps me continue to do what I love, so this is for you!

The comment section is exclusively yours. To participate, consider upgrading today!

Subscribe now

Ask me anything (about wine)

I’m a wine professional, certified sommelier and everything. People ask me wine questions all the time.

Don’t be shy. The more details you provide, the better.

Need some inspiration? Here’s a selection of questions I’ve been asked over the years.

• What’s the best country for wine? Contentious, but fun conversation starter.

• White wine always tastes sweet to me. Can you suggest one that isn’t?

• Why does white wine give me heartburn? I get the same question for red…

• I’ve got a big event and need to buy at least few cases of what’s a good wine for the value? I used to do wine events in NYC, where budget was always tight! I’ll need more details for a question like this (location/occasion/food)

• I’m going to Rome, what are some of your favorite wine bars?

• What does corked wine taste like, and can you still drink it?

• What is natural wine? Do not even get me started! But no, do! Great topic. So many opinions. And so many great wines!

Rules of the Game

Post your questions in the comments, and I will answer them over the course of the week. Only paid subscribers to the comment section.

Ask me anything, but please be respectful. I’m a certified sommelier with particular expertise in Italian wines.

I’ve been writing, selling, marketing, and teaching wine since 2008, but the learning never ends.

If I don’t feel qualified to answer, I’ll check in with a fellow sommelier, wine maker, restauranteur, or consultant. We’ve got you covered.

Join the Conversation

Engage with other subscribers in the comments! This is a community space where we can all learn from each other.

Share your favorite wines, wine pairings, and wine stories if you’re feeling it.

*If you no longer wish to receive Wine Wednesday emails, you can opt out by clicking on your subscription settings in the manage subscription link at the bottom of this email.

Hey wine lovers, if you aren’t following Tanisha Townsend, as the Parisians would say, Allez! Hâte-toi! Va, cours, vole! (Come on now! Get on it!).

Townsend, also known as J’ai Soif on Substack and @girlmeetsglass on the the ‘gram, moved from Chicago to Paris years ago to pursue her wine career.

I met Tanisha on the slopes of Mount Etna last September during a press trip.

This lady does it all.

She’s sommelier trained, a wine educator, consultant, and wine tour guide. She hosts events, judges wine competitions, and is currently judging me for not visiting her in Paris….(yet!).

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Let’s give them something to talk about.

Wine is subjective, of course.

But asking for expert opinions is a great jumping-off point for conversation. And Tanisha has opinions.

Read on for her rosé picks, pairings, and some commentary.

Your go-to rosé when summer hits

Maison St Aix, AIX rosé. Winery site

Three rosés you are excited to drink this summer

Souleil vin de Bounté - The word literally means ‘sun’ and it’s such a light and refreshing rosé that wows people every time. Winery site

Domaines Ott Chateau Romassan - There’s a hint of salty/saline on the palate of this one that I just really like. Winery site

Gerard Bertrand Cote de Roses - Fresh with ripe berry fruit notes and the bottom of the bottle is shaped like a rose, perfect for all my summer flower bouquets. Winery site

A rosé that’s great all year round

Rosé Champagne!

Any good stories about rosé?

I mean, it’s not a story, but the number of discussions I’ve had with people about whether or not you can put ice in rosé.

People really have strong feelings about this! I personally believe that you can do what you want with what you spend your money to drink, just know I will be secretly judging you LOL!

Favorite rosé and food pairing?

A simple charcuterie or seafood board...rosé and crab dip slaps!

Girl Meets Glass

Through her company, Girl Meets Glass, Tanisha helps curious wine lovers and travelers discover, understand, and enjoy French wine through expert-led tastings, education, and immersive experiences in Paris and beyond.

She currently offers wine bar tours in Paris and day trips to Champagne, but don’t wait for a Paris trip to check her out tout de suite!

READ MORE ON ROSÉ

How Rosé is Made

These are the three most common techniques for producing rosé wine.

Direct Press

Crush the grapes with the skins for anywhere from 2-24 hours before filtering.
The longer the juice stays in contact with the skins, the bolder the color, aroma, flavor, and texture.

Saignée Method/ Metodo Sangrado

Crush red grapes with their skins briefly. “Bleed off” a portion of the pink juice from the tank, and ferment that juice separately as rosé wine.

Blending

As it sounds, these rosés result from a blend of white and red wines.

Rosé ‘Round the World

Rosé is incredibly diverse!

Here’s a handful of places, appellations, and styles to check out.

Provence, in southern France, is practically synonymous with rosé. Provençal rosés use the same grapes as Rhône Valley reds: Grenache, Cinsault, Syrah, Mourvèdre and Carignan.

The most iconic and widespread style, Côtes de Provence, is known for its pale salmon color and mild notes of red berries, Mediterranean herbs, and touch of sea spray.

Bandol utilizes more of the Mourvèdre grape in the blends (often, but not always) resulting in a more structured and ageable rosé. They’re great young and fresh, but also hold up in the cellar, and alongside more complex cuisine.

Tavel rosés defy Provence’s pale pink stereotype.

They’re also made with Mourvèdre, and instantly recognizable for their magenta pink color and correspondingly bold aromas and flavors. Think: blackberries and black cherries, balsamic herbs and even a touch of spice and leather.

Cerasuolo d’Abruzzo (Italy) From cerasa (”cherry” in the local dialect).
It’s made with Montepulciano, the region’s beloved big, juicy, red variety. Expect deeper floral notes (purple, cola, green-tinted violet) and an energetic, juicy texture. These wines are chewy. They’re also great with food.

Etna Rosato (Italy)
The volcano has never felt so fresh! Wines that grow atop Mount Etna thrive on fertile soils and lava-laced rain. The principle grape, Nerello Mascalese is muscular and savory, with dark fruit notes and a never-ending mineral finish.

As a rosé, you get bright acidity, smoky and volcanic notes, and a blast of young berry aromas.

Rosato di Salento (Italy)
Rosés from the sun-drenched heeltap of the Italian bootheel are bold and filled with ripe fruit notes and spice. Made from Negroamaro, Primitivo and Malvasia Nera grapes, they’re still dry and finish with a blast of sea-salty minerality.

Loire Valley (France) makes rosé from Cabernet Franc, Pinot Noir, Gamay and a local grape, Grolleau. These range from pale pink and light in structure to deeper and juicier. Rosé d’Anjou, for example, is sometimes slightly off-dry. Keep that in mind if you prefer a sweeter, smoother style.

Rosé from Pinot Noir

Everybody loves Pinot Noir!

Sancerre Rosé and wines from Oregon exude wild, strawberry and fresh cherry. Pinot Noir’s earthiness still comes through, as does its prim tightness and pretty fruit.

Greek rosé may seem niche, but it’s on the radar for rosé-lovers in the know. Read more about Greek wines here.

Look for Nemea, a sunbathed, mountainous region in Greece’s central Peloponnese. They’ve been producing rosé for ages from their indigenous red variety, Agiorgitiko.

They’re immensely fruity and floral with a snappy finish.

Further north, Xinomavro—a fascinating grape with Nebbiolo and Pinot Noir-like qualities produces steely, bright, herbaceous rosés.

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Notes of Rosé

Rosé comes in so many styles there’s virtually no end to the list of possible notes you’ll find. The most common ones correspond to the season: summer fruit, wild herbs and flowers, and sea breeze.

Here’s a more exhaustive list. Have fun sniffing them out!

• Strawberry tops

• Ripe summer strawberries

• Cool water washed raspberries

• Cherry

• Watermelon

• Grapefruit

• Citrus zest

• Mediterranean herbs (fresh and dried)

• Wild flowers

• Dried flowers

• Flower petals, especially rose

• Peppery peony

• Ginger

• Sweet spice

• Honey

• Sea spray

• Wet stone

• Pumice
  

Rosé Wine and Food Pairing

Rosé is incredibly versatile, which makes it fun and easy to pair with food.

Keep in mind that the richer the hue, and the bolder the aromas and palate, the more your wine will match up with more complex flavors.

Sautéed Mussels

A Provençal classic! Tomato sauce and herbs like bay leaf and sage give this dish just enough power to pair up to a bright and juicy rosé.

Salmon and Tuna

Both of these fish work with rosé, for its brightness and acidity. Keep the seasoning to a minimum, as both tuna and salmon have a lot of personality.

Once you go bold—for example, Sicilian style olives, capers, and tomatoes, you’re dipping your toe into red-wine territory. Otherwise, choose a rosé with more body.

Rice and Grain Salads

The combination of crisp veggies and seafood, and even cheese, with earthy grains is pink wine-pairing paradise!

What NOT to Pair with Rosé

Wine pairing is an art and a science, but it should also be fun. The only absolutely horrible pairing seems counterintuItive.

Watermelon and Cucumber

They’re both members of the cucurbit family, super summery and refreshing. The only problem is their lingering bitterness at the back of your palate. It will clash with rosé, and most wines actually.

If you’re determined to have your Greek salad, or your watermelon and feta, choose a softer, smoother, sweeter style of rosé, like Anjou.

A Recipe with Ancient Roots

The ancient Greeks and Romans traditionally infused their wine with fruits, honey and herbs (among other unlikely things (Look up garum for a shocking taste of ancient Roman cuisine).

Flavoring and infusing wine was also a common solution to less than palatable wine.

Infusions with plants and herbs were also used to cure digestive ailments. This ultimately led many of today’s aperitif and digestif wines and spirits.

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A Break in the Fields

Drinking on the job? You bet.

In the Roman countryside, for as long as anyone can remember, during the wheat or grape harvest, farmers would enjoy this simple preparation in the middle of the afternoon.

It provided immediate relief from the heat, along with natural sugars and much-needed hydration.

Le pesche (peaches) proved to ideal as they maintained firmness, even when fully ripe, which made them easier to slice.

Local Fruit and Local Wine

If you have access to local peaches, by all means, use them.

As for the wine, to get closest to what we’re tasting over here, look for wines from Lazio containing local, aromatic variety, Malvasia like Frascati Superiore.

Moscati di Terracina would also work well. Terracina is located in Latina, on the coastline south of Rome.

Terracina produces bright, sunny Moscato wines bursting with ripe fruit and floral aromas that finish with a swish of sea-salty minerality.

Don’t waste a drop!

Serve the peaches in glassware, and save the juice. Drink it as is, or add some ice for a refreshing after-lunch or after-dinner sip.

Thank you to Luca Boccoli and his team at 100C for the recipe!

Hello wine lovers!

Welcome to Wine Wednesdays. A Tastefully Plus, premium feature for paid subscribers. Your support helps me continue to do what I love, so this is for you!

The comment section is exclusively yours. To participate, consider upgrading today!

Subscribe now

Ask me anything (about wine)

I’m a wine professional, certified sommelier and everything. People ask me wine questions all the time.

Don’t be shy. The more details you provide, the better.

Need some inspiration? Here’s a selection of questions I’ve been asked over the years.

• What’s the best country for wine? Contentious, but fun conversation starter.

• White wine always tastes sweet to me. Can you suggest one that isn’t?

• Why does white wine give me heartburn? I get the same question for red…

• I’ve got a big event and need to buy at least few cases of what’s a good wine for the value? I used to do wine events in NYC, where budget was always tight! I’ll need more details for a question like this (location/occasion/food)

• I’m going to Rome, what are some of your favorite wine bars?

• What does corked wine taste like, and can you still drink it?

• What is natural wine? Do not even get me started! But no, do! Great topic. So many opinions. And so many great wines!

Rules of the Game

Post your questions in the comments, and I will answer them over the course of the week. Only paid subscribers to the comment section.

Ask me anything, but please be respectful. I’m a certified sommelier with particular expertise in Italian wines.

I’ve been writing, selling, marketing, and teaching wine since 2008, but the learning never ends.

If I don’t feel qualified to answer, I’ll check in with a fellow sommelier, wine maker, restauranteur, or consultant. We’ve got you covered.

Join the Conversation

Engage with other subscribers in the comments! This is a community space where we can all learn from each other.

Share your favorite wines, wine pairings, and wine stories if you’re feeling it.

*If you no longer wish to receive Wine Wednesday emails, you can opt out by clicking on your subscription settings in the manage subscription link at the bottom of this email.

Hello wine lovers!

Welcome to Wine Wednesdays. A Tastefully Plus, premium feature for paid subscribers. Your support helps me continue to do what I love, so this is for you!

The comment section is exclusively yours. To participate, consider upgrading today!

Subscribe now

Ask me anything (about wine)

I’m a wine professional, certified sommelier and everything. People ask me wine questions all the time.

Don’t be shy. The more details you provide, the better.

Need some inspiration? Here’s a selection of questions I’ve been asked over the years.

• What’s the best country for wine? Contentious, but fun conversation starter.

• White wine always tastes sweet to me. Can you suggest one that isn’t?

• Why does white wine give me heartburn? I get the same question for red…

• I’ve got a big event and need to buy at least few cases of what’s a good wine for the value? I used to do wine events in NYC, where budget was always tight! I’ll need more details for a question like this (location/occasion/food)

• I’m going to Rome, what are some of your favorite wine bars?

• What does corked wine taste like, and can you still drink it?

• What is natural wine? Do not even get me started! But no, do! Great topic. So many opinions. And so many great wines!

Rules of the Game

Post your questions in the comments, and I will answer them over the course of the week. Only paid subscribers to the comment section.

Ask me anything, but please be respectful. I’m a certified sommelier with particular expertise in Italian wines.

I’ve been writing, selling, marketing, and teaching wine since 2008, but the learning never ends.

If I don’t feel qualified to answer, I’ll check in with a fellow sommelier, wine maker, restauranteur, or consultant. We’ve got you covered.

Join the Conversation

Engage with other subscribers in the comments! This is a community space where we can all learn from each other.

Share your favorite wines, wine pairings, and wine stories if you’re feeling it.

*If you no longer wish to receive Wine Wednesday emails, you can opt out by clicking on your subscription settings in the manage subscription link at the bottom of this email.

Non c’è estate come l’estate italiana.

L’estate italiana.

Bastano queste due parole per evocare immagini di acque color zaffiro, spiagge di ciottoli, bikini bianchi, e pelle baciata dal sole.

L’estate italiana è l’apice della dolce vita: vivere senza pensieri, piatti di spaghetti alle vongole e fiumi di vino serviti in modo informale a bordo di una barca o nelle trattorie affacciate sul mare.

Non importa se la tovaglia manca e le posate sono tutte diverse. Guarda il panorama!

per avere nuovi articoli direttamente nella casella postale (in italiano!), abbonati qui!

L’estate italiana è uno stato d’animo.

Un’idea definita collettivamente, inseguita collettivamente e, in un certo senso, realizzata collettivamente.

Come una Coppa del Mondo: la vince una squadra, ma la festeggia un intero Paese. Così è l’estate italiana: un motivo d’orgoglio, uno dei pochi fenomeni culturali davvero condivisi da tutta la nazione.

Già da giugno, le copertine delle riviste iniziano a riempirsi di celebrità distese sui ponti di megayacht o immortalate mentre si divertono in riva al mare.

Luglio e agosto scorrono in un susseguirsi di fotografie rubate dai paparazzi, una scena più invidiabile dell’altra.

Loro non sono italiani qualunque, certo, ma partecipano agli stessi rituali condivisi, semplicemente nella loro versione più patinata, quella a cinque stelle.

Una delle prime cose che notai quando mi trasferii qui, nel 2001, fu quanto gli italiani fossero legati ai rituali. In quei gesti ripetuti c’è un senso di conforto, di appartenenza, di radicamento.

I rituali vissuti insieme agli altri diventano la struttura portante del nostro modo di percepire la realtà.

Attraverso la comunità ci riconosciamo. Vediamo riflessa la nostra identità nel collettivo.

Forse non abbiamo tutto ciò che desideriamo, ma qualcun altro, qualcuno in cui ci identifichiamo, colma gli spazi vuoti.

Quando arrivai a Roma—fresca e ingenua come un mattino nella campagna del Missouri, lo Stato nel cuore del Midwest americano dove sono nata e cresciuta—inseguivo un’idea d’Italia costruita con l’opera lirica, il cinema e la mia immaginazione.

Il desiderio di evasione mi aveva portata fin qui — insieme a un visto di studio e a due genitori abbastanza comprensivi.

Forse non trovai esattamente ciò che stavo cercando, ma trovai abbastanza. E, soprattutto, trovai me stessa.

Anche vent’anni dopo, riconosco il conforto che si prova nel credere a quella piccola menzogna, nell’abbracciare quell’illusione di Roma.

Un espresso non risolverà i miei problemi.

So perfettamente che, oltre la porta del bar sotto casa, la vita continua con tutte le sue infinite incertezze.

Eppure, quando tutti decidiamo di crederci, di partecipare a questa grande finzione, di esserne attori o semplici comparse, allora non ha più importanza.

Per quei cinque minuti trascorsi al bancone possiamo semplicemente respirare.

Anche la cena al ristorante è un ottimo esempio.

I piatti arrivano al tavolo, due o tre per braccio del cameriere, accolti da un coro di: «Wow! Mamma mia! Buonissimo!»

Come potrebbe non essere delizioso?

Magari, per gli standard italiani, è perfino un pasto mediocre. Ma ormai l’atmosfera è stata creata.

Perché rovinarla con dettagli fastidiosi come il vino della casa di scarsa qualità, o gli spaghetti troppo cotti?

Che cosa possiamo imparare della felicità osservando il modo in cui gli italiani sfumano continuamente il confine tra aspirazione, rituale, e realtà?

La mia prima vera vacanza estiva italiana andò così…

Il mio fidanzato, Stefano, aveva due settimane di ferie ad agosto e una macchina con cui portarci da qualche parte.

Passavamo ore a sfogliare le inserzioni sul retro delle riviste, cercando appartamenti in affitto sul mare in Calabria. All’epoca quella regione era ancora poco conosciuta e, presumibilmente, più economica.

Il New York Times non aveva ancora scoperto qualche pittoresco paesino, comunicando miracolosamente con gli abitanti senza condividere una lingua comune per raccontarne il calore, l’autenticità e il pesce fresco a buon mercato.

Ma i prezzi dell’alta stagione avevano ormai raggiunto perfino i tratti di costa più remoti.

Così allargammo la ricerca agli alloggi «vicino al mare» e, alla fine, ci accontentammo di qualcosa «a pochi minuti di macchina dalla spiaggia».

Per una parte di giugno e per tutto luglio, non riuscivo a togliermi dalla testa le immagini di quella vacanza.

Io e Stefano ci saremmo baciati con passione sopra grandi lastre di granito, la pelle lucida di sole e spruzzata di salsedine.

Saremmo stati i protagonisti del nostro personale spot di Acqua di Giò o di Calvin Klein Escape, senza gli addominali scolpiti e i seni perfetti che sfidano la gravità. Non eravamo modelli, ma eravamo follemente innamorati.

Avremmo comprato gamberi e cipolle rosse di Tropea, cucinato la cena dentro casa e mangiato all’aperto sui nostri due metri quadrati di terrazza.

Dopo il tramonto, non avendo altro da fare, avremmo fatto l’amore con calma, per poi addormentarci con le finestre aperte e il ventilatore al minimo, perché troppa aria, si sa, fa venire la febbre.

Passavo in rassegna gli scaffali di Calzedonia, il marchio italiano per eccellenza: d’inverno sinonimo di collant, d’estate di costumi da bagno.

In farmacia comprai una crema snellente e mi avvolsi le cosce con fanghi minerali e pellicola trasparente, insieme a metà delle donne italiane.

Le stesse donne che, però, non rinunciano mai alla brioche della colazione, nonostante l’incombente prova costume.

Molti italiani si preoccupano del proprio peso, sia chiaro. Non voglio certo sminuire questa loro battaglia.

Se necessario, pesano al grammo prosciutto e mozzarella per il pranzo e si limitano a un solo bicchiere di vino bianco.

Eppure non avevo mai sentito tanti uomini sostenere con tanta convinzione che un po’ di carne sulle ossa è una cosa bella.

Quando arrivai in Italia avevo ventidue anni, ero sbocciata tardi e mi portavo dietro dieci anni di insicurezze riguardo al mio corpo. Credo che il cambiamento di scenario abbia avuto un ruolo decisivo nella mia trasformazione.

Il cibo era più sano, certo. Anche le porzioni erano più piccole. Ma soprattutto, a Roma mi sentivo più bella. E questo è già metà della battaglia.

Quando arrivò agosto, Stefano litigò con il suo capo e trovò un altro lavoro come addetto alla sicurezza in un campeggio.

Vendette la macchina e comprò una moto usata, con la quale, nei suoi uno o due giorni liberi, raggiungevamo spiagge più belle appena fuori Roma.

Per una settimana vissi con lui in un camper, così da poter cenare insieme nella pizzeria del campeggio prima che iniziasse il turno di notte. Facevamo l’amore e poi colazione quando ci svegliavamo, di solito nel tardo pomeriggio.

Non era una situazione ideale e, a volte, litigavamo. Ma rileggendo il mio diario, non si sarebbe mai detto che non fossi in paradiso.

Non dimenticherò mai la gioia di quella prima estate.

Mi affascinava la straordinaria normalità di quell’attesa condivisa.

Quel rituale collettivo con cui si evocava l’arrivo dell’estate italiana. Sentivo le ore scorrere lentamente e partecipavo anch’io alle conversazioni che iniziavano sempre con: «Dove vai quest’estate?» oppure «Non vedo l’ora che arrivi...».

Da straniera — e per di più americana — lo percepivo ancora più intensamente.

Negli Stati Uniti, la cosa che più si avvicina a questa attesa e a questa gioia collettiva sono le vacanze estive da scuola. Ma, una volta compiuti diciotto anni o iniziato a lavorare, tutto questo finisce.

Naturalmente anche gli italiani sono esseri umani e l’economia non attraversa il suo momento migliore.

Sempre più spesso i giornali parlano delle migliaia di persone che non possono permettersi una vacanza. In un Paese cresciuto osservando i privilegi dei potenti e l’abilità dei più ricchi nell’eludere le tasse, risentimento e delusione sono sentimenti reali.

Le copertine delle riviste di ieri sono gli influencer di oggi.

Esibiscono vite lussuose, irraggiungibili e, per certi versi, inspiegabili.

I loro reel e i loro selfie suscitano invidia e alimentano l’insicurezza. Ma chiunque sia stato a Positano senza uno staff al seguito sa bene cosa significhi trascinare una valigia su e giù per infinite scalinate affacciate sul mare.

Quando smetti di scorrere il telefono, però, le spiagge tornano a essere nostre.

Ben presto gli influencer si sposteranno verso un’altra destinazione alla moda, inevitabilmente distaccati dai luoghi che mostrano, perché devono continuare a muoversi per riuscire a catturare la nostra attenzione.

I social media amplificano alcuni dei nostri peggiori istinti: l’invidia, l’insicurezza, la competizione e, sì, anche una versione filtrata della realtà. Ma i social non fanno altro che evidenziare qualcosa che esiste da sempre.

Gli esseri umani hanno sempre avuto la tendenza a proiettare un’immagine della vita a cui aspirano. Sorridiamo davanti all’obiettivo. Indossiamo i nostri abiti migliori per la domenica. Un tempo ci vestivamo eleganti perfino per prendere un aereo.

Ci mettiamo un po’ di rossetto per sentirci più belle.

A volte, basta un pizzico d’illusione.

L’intera popolazione italiana non passa certo le giornate a sorseggiare spritz.

Eppure, nella mia via, il meccanico, il calzolaio e l’antiquario si concedono spesso una birra o un bicchiere di vino bianco prima di pranzo.

Quando le temperature salgono e le prime fotografie iniziano a comparire sugli schermi dei telefoni, siamo tutti su quella spiaggia. Sogniamo tutti. Aspettiamo insieme le vacanze, contando i minuti che ci separano da un angolo di verde in campagna o da un fazzoletto di sabbia in mezzo alla folla.

Nel frattempo, ci fermiamo per un gelato e lo mangiamo all’ombra. Ci tratteniamo qualche minuto in più davanti a un espresso.

E quando l’estate finisce, indipendentemente da come l’abbiamo vissuta, ne condividiamo la nostalgia. Ci scambiamo fotografie e racconti. sospiriamo.

Si torna al lavoro.

Fino all’anno prossimo.

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Hello wine lovers!

Welcome to Wine Wednesdays. A Tastefully Plus, premium feature for paid subscribers. Your support helps me continue to do what I love, so this is for you!

The comment section is exclusively yours. To participate, consider upgrading today!

Subscribe now

Ask me anything (about wine)

I’m a wine professional, certified sommelier and everything. People ask me wine questions all the time.

Don’t be shy. The more details you provide, the better.

Need some inspiration? Here’s a selection of questions I’ve been asked over the years.

• What’s the best country for wine? Contentious, but fun conversation starter.

• White wine always tastes sweet to me. Can you suggest one that isn’t?

• Why does white wine give me heartburn? I get the same question for red…

• I’ve got a big event and need to buy at least few cases of what’s a good wine for the value? I used to do wine events in NYC, where budget was always tight! I’ll need more details for a question like this (location/occasion/food)

• I’m going to Rome, what are some of your favorite wine bars?

• What does corked wine taste like, and can you still drink it?

• What is natural wine? Do not even get me started! But no, do! Great topic. So many opinions. And so many great wines!

Rules of the Game

Post your questions in the comments, and I will answer them over the course of the week. Only paid subscribers to the comment section.

Ask me anything, but please be respectful. I’m a certified sommelier with particular expertise in Italian wines.

I’ve been writing, selling, marketing, and teaching wine since 2008, but the learning never ends.

If I don’t feel qualified to answer, I’ll check in with a fellow sommelier, wine maker, restauranteur, or consultant. We’ve got you covered.

Join the Conversation

Engage with other subscribers in the comments! This is a community space where we can all learn from each other.

Share your favorite wines, wine pairings, and wine stories if you’re feeling it.

*If you no longer wish to receive Wine Wednesday emails, you can opt out by clicking on your subscription settings in the manage subscription link at the bottom of this email.

If there is one color with the power to set the mood, it is without a doubt pink.

As humans, we’ve evolved to trust in our eyes implicitly. We associate colors with expectations, smells, and flavors.

Watching Pink host the Grammy Awards reminded me of just how loaded the color can be.

Precisely because she—Alecia Beth Moore that is—exists in direct opposition to her musical moniker.

Think Pink

Say the word out loud.

Pop your lips and click your tongue. Pink. What comes to mind?

Bubble Gum. Ballarinas. Sweet. Pretty. Cosmopolitans.

Pink ranges from girly to girl power to breast cancer awareness.

Then there’s Pink herself, who refused to brand herself as a pop princess and rose (literally) to popularity on her own terms.

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And then there’s rosé.

Europeans have been drinking pink since wine was invented.

Earliest evidence of winemaking surmises that grapes were likely fermented with their skins on and stored in porous amphora casks. This meant even the white wines most likely had an amber tone.

Rosé, rosato, rosado, and roséwein

Throughout Europe, rosé comes in all shades and styles.

From magenta pink, bold and spicy to sea salty, zingy, and almost crystal clear.

Provence rosé stands out for its signature pale salmon pink color and dry, mouthwatering finish. It’s less fruity than herbaceous, and even slightly savory.

Rosé is such a staple of the region, it flies off the shelves year-round.

Rosé Piscine: A Little Pool of Pink

In summertime, rosé on the rocks is de rigueur.

Snobbery melts away with the sunshine, and the cheap stuff goes on ice.

The expression, rosé piscine translates to “pink pool” a reference to a generous pour of rosé and stacked with ice until it hits the brim.

If you’ve ever caught side eye for dropping a cube or two into your wine glass, consider rosé piscine, your permission.

Anti-Rosé Bias in America

For years in the USA, rosé wine was considered cheap and treacly.

During the mid-1970s, Sutter Home Winery attempted to produce a dry version of their signature big, bold red Zinfandal.

Instead, they turned out a batch that hadn’t fully fermented.

They released it anyway, and the deep pink, fruit-juicy wine became a shocking commercial success.

That mistake set the pace for Americans’ perception of pink wine for decades to come.

For wine aficionados, the so-called “White Zinfandal” was seen as cheap, sugary swill.

And just like that, all rosé wine assumed a collective identity as commercial crap.

Decidedly unsophisticated.

Pink Progress

Americans have a history of struggling with color bias.

But if we’ve learned anything from history, it’s that the heart of bias lies in our own insecurity and desire for superiority.

We want to be the best, so someone or something else must become the worst.

We can thank the French for finding a solution to our pink aversion. Merci!

Master marketers in the 1990s rebranded rosé as an aspirational lifestyle beverage.

What’s more appealing than lounging on the Riviera, diving off a yacht, and dining seaside in Saint Tropez?

And, all of a sudden, rosé wasn’t the problem, the style was.

It was now okay to embrace pink wine, as long as it was the fancy one.

An appreciation for dry, pale, salmon-colored Provençal rosé signaled worldliness.

We altered our perception of pink wine. Why? Because it made us feel chic.

From there, the American marketing machine kicked in. We got rosé season, rosé all day, frosé, and even brosé.

Rosé tastes like summer.

That’s not just marketing.

Rosé season is collective association.

If you have rosé in enough summery situations, the scent and flavor, and yes—the color pink— carve out a spot deep in your brain.

It’s like muscle memory. Our scent and flavor vocabulary starts with memory and association.

Rosé smells like summer.

This one’s real.

Notes of rosé wine are vast and varied, but the most common aromas are quintessentially summery.

To name a few: strawberry tops, ripe summer strawberries, cool water rinses raspberries, cherries, watermelon, grapefruit, citrus zest, sea spray, rocks after a summer rain, mediterranean herbs. The list goes on.

Rosé is here to stay.

Browse wine shop displays at peak summer for a dizzying selection.

Provençal still reins supreme, instantly recognizable for its color, elegantly shaped bottles including an iconic vase-inspired look made famous by Domaines Ott.

Deeper pink and textured Tavel, bold and bright Cerasuolo d'Abruzzo, sea-salt laced and spicy Salento Rosato, or Long Island’s own “Summer in a Bottle” (If you know, you know).

And if you still don’t love it, plop some ice cubes in there and close your eyes.

Hello wine lovers!

Welcome to Wine Wednesdays. A Tastefully Plus, premium feature for paid subscribers. Your support helps me continue to do what I love, so this is for you!

The comment section is exclusively yours. To participate, consider upgrading today!

Subscribe now

Ask me anything (about wine)

I’m a wine professional, certified sommelier and everything. People ask me wine questions all the time.

Don’t be shy. The more details you provide, the better.

Need some inspiration? Here’s a selection of questions I’ve been asked over the years.

• What’s the best country for wine? Contentious, but fun conversation starter.

• White wine always tastes sweet to me. Can you suggest one that isn’t?

• Why does white wine give me heartburn? I get the same question for red…

• I’ve got a big event and need to buy at least few cases of what’s a good wine for the value? I used to do wine events in NYC, where budget was always tight! I’ll need more details for a question like this (location/occasion/food)

• I’m going to Rome, what are some of your favorite wine bars?

• What does corked wine taste like, and can you still drink it?

• What is natural wine? Do not even get me started! But no, do! Great topic. So many opinions. And so many great wines!

Rules of the Game

Post your questions in the comments, and I will answer them over the course of the week. Only paid subscribers to the comment section.

Ask me anything, but please be respectful. I’m a certified sommelier with particular expertise in Italian wines.

I’ve been writing, selling, marketing, and teaching wine since 2008, but the learning never ends.

If I don’t feel qualified to answer, I’ll check in with a fellow sommelier, wine maker, restauranteur, or consultant. We’ve got you covered.

Join the Conversation

Engage with other subscribers in the comments! This is a community space where we can all learn from each other.

Share your favorite wines, wine pairings, and wine stories if you’re feeling it.

*If you no longer wish to receive Wine Wednesday emails, you can opt out by clicking on your subscription settings in the manage subscription link at the bottom of this email.

Hello wine lovers!

Welcome to Wine Wednesdays. A Tastefully Plus, premium feature for paid subscribers. Your support helps me continue to do what I love, so this is for you!

The comment section is exclusively yours. To participate, consider upgrading today!

Subscribe now

Ask me anything (about wine)

I’m a wine professional, certified sommelier and everything. People ask me wine questions all the time.

Don’t be shy. The more details you provide, the better.

Need some inspiration? Here’s a selection of questions I’ve been asked over the years.

• What’s the best country for wine? Contentious, but fun conversation starter.

• White wine always tastes sweet to me. Can you suggest one that isn’t?

• Why does white wine give me heartburn? I get the same question for red…

• I’ve got a big event and need to buy at least few cases of what’s a good wine for the value? I used to do wine events in NYC, where budget was always tight! I’ll need more details for a question like this (location/occasion/food)

• I’m going to Rome, what are some of your favorite wine bars?

• What does corked wine taste like, and can you still drink it?

• What is natural wine? Do not even get me started! But no, do! Great topic. So many opinions. And so many great wines!

Rules of the Game

Post your questions in the comments, and I will answer them over the course of the week. Only paid subscribers to the comment section.

Ask me anything, but please be respectful. I’m a certified sommelier with particular expertise in Italian wines.

I’ve been writing, selling, marketing, and teaching wine since 2008, but the learning never ends.

If I don’t feel qualified to answer, I’ll check in with a fellow sommelier, wine maker, restauranteur, or consultant. We’ve got you covered.

Join the Conversation

Engage with other subscribers in the comments! This is a community space where we can all learn from each other.

Share your favorite wines, wine pairings, and wine stories if you’re feeling it.

*If you no longer wish to receive Wine Wednesday emails, you can opt out by clicking on your subscription settings in the manage subscription link at the bottom of this email.

I didn’t expect vision, or the lack of it, to emerge as a theme in 2026.

It’s been a momentous year so far, filled with victories.

Each one brings with it a new set of challenges immediately following the Champagne cheers.

I signed a book deal with a small press. Yay!

That’s one mountain scaled, with a whole mountain range ahead: promotion, sales, platform-building. Stay tuned (please!).

I bought an ancient apartment after a six-month saga that could become its own book.

All that’s left is to renovate it, furnish it, and update anyone who still sends me letters. The first two come with moveable goal posts. The last one’s easy. I can count them on one hand.

I am reminded that moving is all that matters.

How far forward and in how much time, cannot be determined.

Good thing I run marathons.

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I’m settling into a life that is largely (finally) here in Rome.

I’m rearranging my professional priorities while trying not to neglect what (and whom) I’ve left back home.

The next step is to ship books and music and furniture and photos across the sea so I can surround myself with the material evidence of my home and my history, (and a very nervous cat named Jack Bauer).

I chose to operate on my eyes amid all of this.

Why?

As I build and build, the creeping sensation that everything could crumble looms like a constant shadow, despite the shifting sun.

I figure I may as well eliminate one obstacle indefinitely.

I’ve worn glasses since second grade.

I don’t remember what it’s like to wake up and read the sky. My prescription spoken out loud makes people gasp.

Just recently, halfway into a 10K run, a contact lens fell out of my eye.

I spent the rest of it winking at strangers and trying harder than usual not to get hit by a car.

When catastrophe strikes, I’ll waste no time scrabbling for my eyeglasses on the bedside table or digging up extra contact lenses and eye eyes drops from all the places I’ve stowed them, for just such emergencies.

On June 3rd I had permanent Collamer lenses implanted in my eyes, just behind the iris.

The entire procedure took fifteen minutes.

The second I stood up from the table I could see. For the next hour, I watched a sign down the hall come into focus.

By the next day I was watching rooftops as if for snipers and examining the shapes of individual leaves on trees.

My new bionic eyeballs are healing beautifully.

As I look around my life with technicolor clarity I realize how much I’ve been missing, but also how vision affects our perception of just about everything.

What you see is what you get.

As humanity raced toward modernity, we abandoned our sense of smell—our most primitive and intuitive sense—for sight.

Unlike so many animals, who navigate the world in what we might consider a black and white blur, we are unable to find our way home in the pitch black.

We judge beauty, familiarity, and cleanliness on appearance first and foremost.

A room must appear clean.

Spend enough time in short-term rentals, and you learn to pick up on the scent of sweat-imbued sheets (the inside of a baseball cap) and the acrid sweetness of a broken-in kitchen under a veil of cleaning solution (rotting fruit, vinegar, Windex).

Sight is only one sense.

In a poetic stroke of irony, a few months before my surgery, I became friends with a man who lost his vision completely in 2018.

READ HIS STORY

Luca Boccoli, one of Italy’s preeminent sommeliers, survived a motorcycle crash and a coma. When he awoke and discovered his condition, he had a choice to make.

As he tells it, he chose to live.

He’s since opened restaurants and wine bars in Rome, Milan, and Torino, and created his own twist on the truly blind wine tasting.

Degustazione al Buio, literally, ‘Tasting in the Dark,’ begins with a blindfold.

Participants engage all their senses, minus one. While wine is poured into glasses, accompanied by music and a short poetry reading, Boccoli invites them into his world, guiding the process of olfactory impressions and unlocking of sense memories.

Tasting in the Dark

Luca and I both trained at the Italian Sommelier Association. We learned the steps of the multi-sensory evaluation of wine.

It begins with observation.

To the trained eye, color, consistency, and effervescence are not only indicators of quality and providence, but portals to pleasure.

A glinting, crystalline white gold portents aromas and flavors to come.

When the wine delivers searing brightness on the palate, notes of tropical fruit, and a rush of mouthwatering minerality, it’s like a promise kept. We feel safe. Gratified.

Smell Unseen

What happens when you can no longer see what’s in your glass? When you can no longer see at all?

One of my favorite topics: neuroplasticity!

We can build new brain pathways until the day we die. This fascinates me to no end.

I love language learning. I speak a few.

When I began studying wine, I realized that we learn to identify aromas in the same way we learn languages.

There’s a primitive brain-building function whereby we learn to identify objects with feelings and sensations with words.

It’s why mama is so often our first.

We build emotional connections and make memories. This imprints the words on our brains, deep within the amygdala.

Sometimes called the “lizard brain,” the amygdala is our primitive, instinctive, fight or flight response system.

Smell works in the same way.

It happens subconsciously at first. We take it for granted. When we smell smoke from something burning, we know to look for the source.

When we step inside our homes at night, we know where we are before turning on the light. We remember the scent of familiar homes forever because we spent so much of our lives inside them.

We also learn to associate smells and flavors with colors.

Vanilla. Chocolate. Strawberry. White. Brown. Pink.

Red spans cherries and all the red berries first. Red Jolly Rancher, anyone?

Green is grassy, herby, minty, and fresh.

I don’t smell color.

When your remove sight from the wine-tasting process, it becomes an aromatic meritocracy, an olfactory free-for-all. Scent takes over, flavor pops.

All of a sudden were faced with scent memories and flavor associations minus our sight bias.

Luca Boccoli’s events, the journey concludes as participants share their thoughts before and after removing the blindfold, to surprise and delight.

With the lights on, nothing is as it seemed.

In a way, we’re truly tasting wine for the first time.

Hello wine lovers!

Welcome to Wine Wednesdays. A Tastefully Plus, premium feature for paid subscribers.

Your support helps me continue to do what I love, so this is for you!

The comment section is exclusively yours. To participate, consider upgrading today!

Subscribe now

Ask me anything (about wine)

I’m a wine professional, certified sommelier and everything. People ask me wine questions all the time.

Don’t be shy. The more details you provide, the better.

Need some inspiration? Here’s a selection of questions I’ve been asked over the years.

• What’s the best country for wine? Contentious, but fun conversation starter.

• White wine always tastes sweet to me. Can you suggest one that isn’t?

• Why does white wine give me heartburn? I get the same question for red…

• I’ve got a big event and need to buy at least few cases of what’s a good wine for the value? I used to do wine events in NYC, where budget was always tight! I’ll need more details for a question like this (location/occasion/food)

• I’m going to Rome, what are some of your favorite wine bars?

• What does corked wine taste like, and can you still drink it?

• What is natural wine? Do not even get me started! But no, do! Great topic. So many opinions. And so many great wines!

Rules of the Game

Post your questions in the comments, and I will answer them over the course of the week. Only paid subscribers to the comment section.

Ask me anything, but please be respectful. I’m a certified sommelier with particular expertise in Italian wines.

I’ve been writing, selling, marketing, and teaching wine since 2008, but the learning never ends.

If I don’t feel qualified to answer, I’ll check in with a fellow sommelier, wine maker, restauranteur, or consultant. We’ve got you covered.

Join the Conversation

Engage with other subscribers in the comments! This is a community space where we can all learn from each other.

Share your favorite wines, wine pairings, and wine stories if you’re feeling it.

*If you no longer wish to receive Wine Wednesday emails, you can opt out by clicking on your subscription settings in the manage subscription link at the bottom of this email.

I caught up with one of my long-time favorite wineries, De Sanctis, who produce some of the most aroma-packed white wines that truly taste like Rome and central Italy.

It’s no surprise they’re packed with Malvasia grapes, a versatile power player when it comes to floral notes, along with a host of others.

Who is De Sanctis?

We’re family operation now in our fourth generation. In 1816, Filippo De Sanctis left the land to his children. His grandchildren, Luigi and Daniela and their kids, Francesco e Andrea are currently run the business.

We have been farming organically from day one, and we’re committed to the health our soil and sustainability in the area.

We produce a small quantity of cold-pressed olive oil, but the main event is the wine. Frascati DOC and Frascati Superiore DOCG appellations made with local white varieties including Malvasia Puntinata, Malvasia di Candia, Bombino, Grechetto and Trebbiano Toscano.

We also make a rosé and a dry red wine with Cabernet Franc, the only international grape we work with.

Where is De Sanctis and how does place affect the wines?

Our farm is located in the Castelli Romani, the hill towns southeast of Rome. Sun-drenched with plenty of wind.

Our vineyards coat the basin of ancient Lake Regillo, which formed inside a long-dormant volcano.

The presence of the ancient lake led to rich volcanic soil under the vines, which is mineral-packed and very fertile. There’s also a water reserve about 80 meters deep below the surface.

This allows us to overcome periods of drought, which have become increasingly frequent with climate change.

The Essence of Land and Tradition

Our two Frascati Superiore DOCG wines are a true reflection local flavor.

Their aromatic profile is distinctive for this region. Abelos is made from 80% Malvasia Puntinata and 20% Bombino. 496 is 70% Malvasia di Candia and 30% Trebbiano Toscano).

Tell us more about the aromatics.

Both wines present floral notes, especially elderberry, as well as fruity notes of pear, apricot, and a bitter almond finish.

Abelos is more robust while still fresh and mouthwatering. 496 is a little lighter.

Learn more about wine while planning a trip abroad.

I offer virtual wine tastings and lessons via Zoom and Google Meet. Email me for more information.

If you’re Rome or Greece-bound, you might even catch me locally!

Luca Boccoli’s eyes are smiling

And so is he, a despite terrifying accident that left him instantly and incurably blind.

His skin is shockingly smooth for a Mediterranean man born in 1970, who enjoys more than the daily recommended glass or two of wine and smokes socially.

From the looks of it, he and his merry band of brothers have been at it for hours. Empty bottles and mostly empty glasses litter the table. Only the ashtrays are full.

They’re seated on the patio of Luca’s latest venture, 100C Vino e Pesce, a cheerful trattoria with a seafood menu designed to pair with his extensive wine selection.

Laughter ripples across the courtyard. It swells into a chorus of exclamations, drowning out my first attempt to alert Luca that I’m here.

When I get close enough to tap him on the shoulder, I notice he’s balancing a magnum of Lambrusco atop his thighs while working open the cap, which explains the excitement.

Luca gestures for me to join them. He calls out to bring another glass and another chair.

They widen their semicircle and fight over who will sit next to me, erasing any suggestion that’ve disturbed a sacred space.

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It’s Easter weekend in Rome, and for the first time in recent memory, it hasn’t rained.

Easter is notoriously rainy here, especially on Easter Monday, Pasquetta, a day dedicated to picnicking, which has been systematically ruined for as long as anyone can remember, the one exception being 2020, when the entire nation was trapped inside on strict Covid lockdown.

Luca opened 100C in the neighborhood where he grew up, Centocelle. His childhood best friends come every weekend. Easter is no exception.

Historically populist and rigorously working class if at one time a little rough around the edges, Centocelle encapsulates the Roman quartiere—the village-like neighborhood-y quality that is still a defining characteristic of the city, if you live here long enough to notice it.

After thirty years in the wine business, as a distinguished sommelier and wine educator throughout Italy and Europe, Luca chose to open his latest spot where he grew up.

It’s part homage to his roots, and part out of ease. He’s walked these streets for years. Home is home.

Luca knows his way around.

He navigates the space of his restaurant with the confidence of a seasoned professional. There’s a choreography to wine service, and Luca doesn’t miss a step.

He acquaints himself nightly with the wines by the glass. He opens bottles and pours glasses more elegantly than most.

After hotel management school, Luca took the traditional first steps—seasonal work at hotel bars: in Rome, on the Adriatic Riviera Romagnola, Piemonte, and London.

At Rome’s five-star Hotel Hassler, he served guests at the bar. “The cuisine was incredible, but their wine options were limited. It was a pity! That’s when I realized wine could be a part of my career,” he says.

He enrolled at The Italian Sommelier Association (AIS), and the love affair blossomed.

The more he learned, the more he wanted to know.

In 2001, he took a job curating the wine list at Casa Bleve, one of the few upscale restaurants in Rome, equally lauded for its wine list.

Over seven years, he accompanied the owner, Anacleto Bleve, on buying trips around Europe.

“I didn’t make much money, but he took me to all the hot spots.” Luca’s eyes glow as he rattles them off: “Champagne, Burgundy, Bordeaux, Alsace, Mosel. Back then, there was none of that in Rome!”

Anacleto impressed upon him the concept of ‘wine selection,’ how to discern between high-quality wines. “Maybe you fall in love with the winery, or the winemaker, or even the place.”

In France, Luca discovered artisan winemakers, tiny producers, and true farmers who focus equal parts—if not more so—on the vineyards than in the cellar.

He sought them out in Italy too.

“In Italy, for a long time it was just huge aristocratic families making wine. With these smaller guys, you could go hang out with them in the evening when they came in from the fields.”

He met pioneers of what he calls, “vino vero” (honest wine), wines that start with the ground, before the first buds burst on the vines.

“Iconic names today, like Josko Gravner, Angiolino Maule, Gianfranco Soldera were producing genuine wines, they weren’t always perfect, but they tasted real.”

He continues, “This was all happening at a time when big woody, California-style was exploding everywhere. High in alcohol, and so thick, they were more like eating than drinking.”

In Burgundy, the wines were lighter and transparent, lower in alcohol. “We fought to bring more wines like them to Rome.”

In 2008, Luca moved on to Settembrini, a 1920s-era pastry shop-turned café and restaurant in the Prati neighborhood.

He packed the list with Champagne, Burgundy, Riesling, along with his selections from throughout Italy.

“We were the first in the city to serve so many by the glass.” He spreads his arms wide, as if inviting a hug. “We had a chalkboard on the wall this big!”

In 2015, he left Settembrini to open an enoteca within the Mercato Centrale, a gourmet food hall located inside Roma Termini train station.

The concept revolved around Selezione Boccoli (Boccoli Selections), Luca’s handpicked bottles based on his experience and his approach to extraordinary winemaking.

Man Meets Nature: A Manifesto

As Luca explains:

Every bottle of wine is ultimately the result of man’s encounter with the land he’s working. It is the fruit of their mutual understanding—a patient, loving, and unwavering collaboration.

After years of exploration and education, Boccoli Selections features wines that represent the land where they were born, raised, and bottled by the women and men in the vineyards who cared for them.

He includes wineries that have shaped the history of wine and dynamic, dedicated producers who share his values.

During the next three years, Boccoli Selections blew up. The next steps would be to open Milan and Torino.

In October of 2018, momentum crashed to halt.

“I was about 100 meters from the Colosseum, cruising on my motorbike when the accident happened,” he recalls. It was the last time he would ever see it, or anything else.

Luca suffered a full facial fracture in the accident.

“It still hurts sometimes,” he says. “I broke every bone in my face, but somehow the rest was perfect.” He gestures below his neck and widens his eyes.

He hadn’t broken any other bones, but his body was riddled with internal hemorrhages, and he fell into a coma.

“My family was devastated. They thought I was dead.”

I did see the other side.” He muses on what may have been morphine-induced hallucinations a true brush with the afterlife. “Whatever it was, it was beautiful.”

A far less beautiful vision brought him back.

“At one point, I dreamed they were putting me in a body bag in the fridge. A doctor was telling me to wake up, to get out of there.”

That’s when his eyes opened.

On Learning He Was Blind

“The body doesn’t realize it’s blind. They kept testing me, asking me what color things were. I thought I was seeing, and all they were showing me was black.”

Luca retells these first moments with striking clarity and calm.

“So, I wake up like this and I get the news.”

He remembers standing up and wondering, “What happens now? What do I do?”

His wife Sabrina never left his side, and his two young daughters taught him to use a voiceover app on his phone. “It started as a game. We were all learning.”

Sadness spreads over his face, the first I’ve noticed since we’ve been talking. “They were as traumatized as I was. They had to learn to live with a blind person.”

He speaks candidly. “I consider myself a very lucky person,” he says.

“If you had told me 25 years ago that I would go blind, it would be agony. Always thinking about it. I had to decide to live or die. I wanted to live. So I did.”

After six months in rehabilitation, which he admits should have been two years, Luca headed to Torino for the opening of Boccoli Selections at the Central Station Market.

They had collaborations on the line, and a whole series of wine tasting events scheduled. “I couldn’t really stop,” he says, laughing.

We raise a glass to putting one foot in front of the other, no matter what.

On Blind Tasting

Wine tasting traditionally engages every sense, starting with sight.

Color, consistency, transparency, viscosity, and effervescence all play into the experience of enjoying wine.

LEARN TO TASTE WINE

When Luca lost his sight, he turned up and tuned into his other senses: scent, taste, touch, and even sound.

A perfumer and performance artist friend of his, Hilde Soliani, invited him to attend her olfactory dinners—scent experiences built around food and fragrance.

Together, they experimented with a new form of blind tasting.

“Blind tasting” refers to drinking wine without seeing the label.

A requisite exam among master sommeliers, they’re trained to identify grape varieties, distinctive wine regions, and even vintage years by looking, smelling, and tasting.

Together, Luca and Hilde experimented with blind tasting.

“I realized that the color of the wine stopped mattering to the sensory experience,” he tells me. “When we smell, we use a primordial part of the brain, deeply embedded with memories and emotions.”

As he talks, he pulls a bottle from an ice bath and pours two glasses. “When I remove color, I’m free to associate my memories and my impressions. That part of my memory gets unlocked.”

We both take a long sniff and a sip.

I’m the only one who can see its rich hue—a liquid gold that looks more like olive oil than white wine.

Luca continues. “Imagine someone who is blind all his life, how do you explain color? Consistency? How do you explain a blue sky? You can’t.”

I close my eyes.

It’s Marinic Ribolla Gialla, from the province of Gorizia, on the Italy-Slovenia border.

The wine is organically grown, naturally fermented and a little wild.

Luca describes it as “carnal.” I can’t disagree.

On the palate it’s vibrant, electric almost. As it warms up in our glasses, the aromas intensify.

If I hadn’t seen it I might not have the words for it, but Luca does. “It’s savory, botanical. It smells alive, like you can taste its entire life cycle.”

I’ve felt the same way about biting into mozzarella di bufala, the way you can taste the grass the cows ate.

I tell him about the first time I tasted fresh mozzarella on a farm, still warm, and served aside a sparkling wine made from grapes grown on the same property. An explosive and unforgettable combination.

As I tell it, I can hear our forks scraping ceramic, I see the faces of my coworkers and the winemaker hosting us. I remember exactly what I was swearing, and that my hair was dirty, but I didn’t care.

“When you take away sight, and all its preconceived notions, you have a more intimate relationship with the wine,” Luca says. “It’s like people. In the beginning, you don’t ask sensitive questions.”

Tasting in the Dark

In 2019, Luca hosted the first edition of Degustazione al Buio, which translates as “tasting in the dark.”

Inspired by his experience, he invites participants to put on a blindfold and gather in dark and quiet room.

He pours the wine and plays soft music. Sometimes a coworker reads poetry. “People have trouble sitting quietly in the dark,” he tells me.

“In the beginning, I only left them a few minutes. I was afraid to leave them blindfolded for too long. But after a while, they started asking for more time.”

The Degustazione al Buio has since evolved, and Luca is taking the show on the road-to major cities in Italy, with plans to visit London and maybe even New York.

You can expect to taste in silence for around twenty minutes, followed by up to an hour of conversation about the wine—what you tase, smell, l and remember—while still blindfolded.

When the lights come up and the blindfolds come off, it’s shock and delight all around, but the true magic happens right before.

“In traditional tastings, people are quiet, nervous, they don’t want to speak up, “Luca says. “Blindfolded, they all talk on top of each other.”

No one can see, yet everyone feels seen.

Nothing Against Pinot Grigio

I’ve had some incredible ones, especially when they’re made in the traditional ramato style.

Ramato comes from the Italian word for copper (rame).

In wine words, grigio (grey) as opposed to bianco (white) refers to the skin of the grape.

Pinot Grigio sits somewhere between what we would call a red and white grape. some skin contact. When pressed a little skin contact, even for an hour or two, wines comes out with a gorgeous coppery rose hue.

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Il Mondo è Bello Perché è Vario

Italian for “Variety is the spice of life.”

This expression can also be used sarcastically, if still affectionately, for example—some harmless weirdo you and your friends observe while sitting at a café. You shrug, maybe laugh, but ultimately don’t judge.

Generally speaking, it means that the world is a beautiful place because it is so diverse.

Italy is home to around 500 registered, certified, indigenous grape varieties.

Of those, there are hundreds of regional synonyms and local clones.

That might seem overwhelming, but why? Take your time and find your favorites.

Once you’ve tracked down a Pinot Grigio that stands out from the crowd, check out some of my favorite Italian whites.

Arneis

You’ve heard of big reds from Piemonte, like Barolo, Barbaresco, and Barbera. You may also know Moscato d’Asti, the aromatic and often unfairly maligned white wine from the same region.

Arneis, like many grape varieties, is a reference to its characteristics.

In this case: difficult to cultivate, temperamental, and tough, or strong-willed in Piemontese dialect.

There are other working theories on the etymology of the grape names, including Arnese, which is more of an industrial term for ‘an instrument necessary for performing a specific task or function.’ iIn this case wine.

Arneis is mostly delicate, with elegant notes of unripe apricot, green apple, and white flower petals. It’s usually lower in alcohol, but beautifully balanced and round.

A pleasure on the palate.

Greco di Tufo

If mouthwatering minerality is your thing, put Greco di Tufo at the top of your list.

Wines made from this grape variety, especially Greco di Tufo DOCG, finish with an explosive and addictive volcanic minerality. But they begin with pretty fruit notes like white peach and not-quite ripe apricot.

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Vermentino

Vermentino might be the ultimate beach wine, and is absolutely perfect with oysters.

It comes in different styles from different parts of Italy, but a good place to start is Vermentino di Sardegna. Even more specifically is the DOCG Vermentini di Gallura.

Vermentino is the signature white from the isle of Sardegna, but also flourishes in Tuscany, Liguria, and Corsica.

It’s known for notes of bright lemon zest, yellow grapefruit, Mediterranean herbs, and briny sea breeze.

Catarratto

Another fun name, Catarratto sounds a lot like the eye condition, cataract.

That’s likely a misnomer, though the grape is known for the luminous coating on its skin.

Catarratto, like another great Sicilian white, Carricante, has a root word meaning abundant or fully loaded. Both varieties were cultivated for bulk wine and Marsala for years.

They’re both coming into their own lately.

Carricante is the dominant grape for Etna Bianco, whereas Catarratto has a broad presence throughout Sicily.

It’s known for its sun-ripened citrus, apple, and wild herb aromas (oregano and mint). Naturally balanced and smooth, this wine thrives on volcanic and sandy seaside soils, and picks up loads of those pretty, stony notes on the palate as well.

Famoso

Just when I thought I’d tasted every version of Italian white wine, this grape came out of nowhere and stopped me in my tracks.

Also known as Uva Rambela, it appears to be completely indigenous the region of Romagna (as in Emilia-Romagna).

While not considered a classically aromatic variety like Moscato or Gewürztraminer, Famoso may have earned its name for its instantly impactful blast of aromas.

Think: tropical fruit like mango, pineapple, and citrus, opulent florals like orange blossom and jasmine, fresh sage and even pine needles and mint.

It’s fabulously perfume-y, but on the palate is searing and dry, with a truly endless mouthwatering finish.

Malvasia

If you were a wine, what would you be?

I refuse to play unless we break it down in to red and white.

My white of choice, ride or die, is Malvasia.

My red is Sangiovese. Much of my early adult years were informed by Chianti Classico. More on that another day.

For a taste: watch our finalist entry to the 2022 Wine Spectator Video Contest

Malvasia most likely arrived with the Greeks. For the purest and most ancient expression of the variety, try Malvasia from the Aeolian Islands in Sicily, mainly Salina.

Caravaglio, a producer I used to sell in NYC, makes everything from clean and direct versions, to sumptuous, aged and skin-contact ones.

Eolia, a more recent winery I’ve come to know and love, makes exquisite elegant ones.

Malvasia is also a signature white variety in Lazio, the region surrounding Rome. There’s even a local clone, Malvasia Puntinata AKA Malvasia del Lazio.

It’s known for rich, ripe apricot and peach aromas, pink rose, and velvety white flower petals, almost always balanced with intense salinity and a pleasant sea-salty finish.

Verdicchio

The root of this one is verde (green). Verdicchio is known for its stiff, fresh, and bright qualities. Verdicchio has what we call ‘tension,’ it reverberates on the palate, which also makes it a wonderful food-pairing wine.

A glass of Verdicchio will absolutely cleanse your palate.

Thanks to its stealth acidity, it also ages well. The tight citrus notes meld into beautiful botanical herbal notes with time.

It’s mostly found in the Marche region, most famously in two growing areas: Castelli di Jesi and Matelica (look for those designations on the bottle).

Ribolla Gialla

Ribolla Gialla shows up in northeast Italy, in Friuli-Venezia, and on the border of Slovenia (where it also thrives).

Gialla means ‘yellow.’

Like Moscato—which technically comes in bianco, rosa, gialla, and nera—the colors represent visual and aromatic characteristics of the grape.

Gialla is the most pervasive variety, but nera, verde, and bianca did (or do) at one time exist.

Ribolla is one of the most ancient, early documented varieties in Italy. Its name is thought to be a derivative of ribollire/ bollire —stemming from the root ‘to boil up’—undoubtedly for the wine’s energy and vibrance.

Depending on how its made, Ribolla Gialla can lean on the fruity-green citrus side, but its main event is acidity and steely minerality. Water-washed stones and zing.

This wine historically in skin-contact versions. They come out amber-bronze in color with earthy, cider-like notes of hay and dried flowers.

For the most intense and artfully crafted versions, look for Collio, Colli Orientali del Friuli, and Brda Slovena on the label.

Glera (Prosecco)

I could have chosen from hundred of others, but I wanted to wrap this up with Glera.

Just in case you didn’t know, Glera is the Prosecco grape.

Indigenous to Veneto and Friuli-Venezia Giulia, it features in one of Italy’s most successful exports, and happily fills glasses here at home.

Look for aromas of apple and pear, wispy white florals like camomile, linden and Bradford Pear blossom, and subtle citrus.

While it’s rare but possible to find it in still versions, it expresses itself most prosaically in everyday, easy-to-drink bubbly.

The Grape and the Wine

Greco di Tufo DOCG is dry white wine made from the Greco di Tufo grape variety.

It’s notable for its panorama of fruit and citrus aromas and long, profound, flinty, mineral finish.

Greco di Tufo DOCG

Greco di Tufo is a designation of origin (appellation) from Campania, in southern Italy. It is made entirely from the Greco grape variety.

It was first recognized as a DOC (denominazione d’origine controllata) in 1970, and officially upgraded to superior DOCG (D’origine controllata e garantita) in 2003, for its unique character and particular ability to age with grace while remaining fresh and vibrant, which is not an easy feat for white wines grown in such hot, sunny areas.

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Greco di Tufo History

The story of this wine, like so many Italian wines, has very deep roots. The grape variety Greco, or more generally, Greco Bianco, was already circulating the central Italian Peninsula during Roman times, and believed to arrived with Greek colonists, hence the name. It thrived in the hillsides surrounding Mount Vesuvio, just inland from the coast, where soils are rich in volcanic soils and glacial mineral deposits.

It would later take on more specific local names like Greco del Vesuvio and Greco di Nola, the latter of which would eventual make its way from the town of Nola to the town of Tufo where it truly took off.

A Greco di Tufo Winery

In 1647, the Di Marzo family fled their home in Nola which was beset by a terrible plague.

They relocated to nearby and plague-free Tufo, and they brought cuttings from their winery with them. Among grape varieties was the Greco di Nola, which took excellently to the well-drained soils and sun-drenched slopes.

A Secret in the Soil

What they didn’t know at the time, but discovered in the mid 19th Century, was that just below the surface of their vineyards were vast sulfur deposits, also known as brimstone.

As the legend goes, Francesco di Marzo was galloping on the grounds of the estate when he spotted some shepherds warming their hands of burning rocks. In fact, sulfur, in its purest solid form ignites.

It is also an essential natural fertilizer and fungicide vital to agriculture.

The Di Marzo family saw an opportunity and developed a mining industry in the area that not only served the surrounding farmers, but also proved jobs and boosted the local economy.

Deep Roots and the DOC

The Di Marzo family, along with the region and the Greco grape thrived. They ultimately registered their winery with the local chamber of commerce in 1833, making them the oldest official winery in Campania, and one of the oldest in southern Italy. While the winery, now called Cantine di Marzo, has changed hands a few times, it remains property of the same family tree. Through their influence and unprecedented success with with the Greco variety, they were instrumental in the official designation of origin (DOC) Greco di Tufo in 1970.

Greco di Tufo DOCG Production

To be considered a DOCG, the wines must be grown and produced within the Province of Avellino, in the communes of Tufo, Altavilla Irpina, Chianche, Montefusco, Prata di Principato Ultra, Petruro Irpino, Santa Paolina, and Torrioni.

It must contain at minimum 85% Greco grapes and a maximum of 15% local variety Coda di Volpe. It is generally produced as a dry white wine, but is also permitted as a Spumante, made in the classic method, aka Méthode Champenoise.

Watch a video about Cantine di Marzo Greco di Tufo.

Greco Di Tufo Tasting Notes

LOOK

Generally consumed on the younger side, the wines are straw yellow, often green and gold-tinted.

SMELL

Greco di Tufo is a cornucopia of fruit and flowers. Lemon, lime, orange flower, white peach, and wild flowers abound. Almond and ripe peach as well as the quintessential flinty note.

TASTE

Expect a blast of fresh acidity and mouthwatering minerality from start to finish.

DISCUSS

Greco di Tufo is the essence of terroir. It exudes mineral a mineral quality that speaks not only to the volcanic soil below, but the nearby sea. It is also a slice (or glass, rather) of history every time, as the wine has deep documented roots.

Find a Greco di Tufo Online

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