Suspended in time

There are certain people who have played a key role in fostering my knowledge about the world of wine and I would like to remember them by relating to you some small anecdotes.

Writing about wine is probably what I do best. And although I know it won’t change anything, I hope this article will be a small, albeit insignificant, contribution to help those of you who read me get through these days suspended in time. I have many memories of places, people and wines tasted and will tell you about them in order to go back to less dramatic times and think about other things even if for just a few minutes.

Small anecdotes, stories and episodes. All these led me many years ago to become part of the world of wine, which is one of the best I can imagine. A world made up of people who believed in themselves, who sought to interpret territories and traditions through winegrowing and winemaking. And they did this in different ways. Some were and remain true friends of mine, who put up with me with patience and authentic affection. Sometimes I remember them in my articles, especially those who taught me something and not just through their wines.

Over the years they played a key role I my life and this period of suspended time helps me remember them more clearly. Today I was thinking about something told to me by Nino Franceschini about his Vapolicella. Nino passed some time ago but it is hard to not think about that area, about certain Amarone, without remembering what he did for it. He began at Santa Sofia and then became a leading figure at Masi, the right hand, and perhaps something more, to Sandro Boscaini. He later went off to work elsewhere.

Back when I was just beginning in my career, he once said to me “Come to Verona so I can take you around the vineyards and tell you things”. He didn’t have to ask twice. When I got there we drove to one of the highest places in Valpolicella, from where you can vineyards upon vineyard. “From up here you understand things. These hills are in the shape of a hand and from the wrist, where we are now, they descend towards Verona. Each finger is a hill and between the fingers are the valleys with their vineyards. We are looking from north to south and to the right is Sant’Ambrogio, to the left you can make out Grezzana in the distance. Val d’Illasi is more to the east but you can’t see it. In front of us is Negrar and further down are Fumane and Marano. Each zone has its own characteristics, its own microclimate and each wine must represent these”. No one else was around, there was just the wind and his voice that slowly explained this to me. And time was suspended.