A summer of wine and countless train rides

the real journey along the sustainable wine route. An appendix to my graduate thesis

I attended graduate school for the opportunity to live in Europe, dive deeper into my love for food, wine and Italian culture. As a part of our graduation requirements, all the students were to write a thesis on the topic of our choice. Naturally we all chose subjects that were aligned with our background, previous experiences, or current interests. One of our professors told us that we should choose a topic that we will not get tired of, as we will be living and breathing this topic for the next six months. I already lived and breathed my topic of interest before even attending this university, so the joke is on them. The realities of writing the thesis were less exciting than I imagined, and I felt like even through the 70 pages I was not able to really express what I had experienced during my fieldwork. I spent the summer working, volunteering my time with small wine producers throughout North and Central Italy. I cleaned fermentation tanks, picked grapes, conducted wine tastings, and shared amazing meals with winemakers who welcomed me into their home. I took 34 train rides and 13 bus rides from May to September. Roma Termini and I shared a lot of early mornings and late nights. While there were so many beautiful moments, there were also harsh realities, as there always are with solo travel. The entries below are observations and journal entries that I believe described my real experiences along the sustainable wine route. I am proud of my thesis, but I am even prouder of the journey.  

Orvieto, Lazio 

The meal, the view and the outdoor setting were so beautiful and as much as I wanted to take pictures of the meal and the wine, it seemed disrespectful in a way. Like I was playing tourist or influencer at their home. We drank a bottle of ruby-colored pet-nat made from Sangiovese. It was exactly what I needed, light alcohol, fizzy, tart and refreshing. I could not ignore the fact that tasting and experiencing food and wine at the location has this sort of effect on the taste. Was it the wine or the moment? The view, the pasta, the budding springtime, the insects pollinating the flowers around us. That is the point, the beauty of it all lies in both, and in Italy, you cannot have one without the other.  

White wine aging in neutral oak.

Chianti, Tuscany 

The winemaker walked me through the vineyards, and it amazed me how close to the vineyards were to the forest. Lamole is a unique region of Chianti because of its high elevation. We were tucked away in the hills with cooler climate, surrounded by more biodiversity than in other areas of Chianti Classico. Before my knowledge of low intervention wine making and family farming, I would have considered the vineyards to be unkept and mismanaged. They looked abandoned, surrounded by overgrown plants. It was the exact opposite of the parceled, organized Napa Valley floor that acted as the background on my commute up and down Silverado Trail three years ago. It started to occur to me that this was what made all the difference, the other plants helped retain humidity and moisture in the soil and provided shade for the newly planted grape vines.  

Later that night, the plan was to have a BBQ with the gentlemen that worked at the winery and for their families. When she mentioned a BBQ, I thought of my experiences with a BBQ in the US, which took place outside on the grill with beers in hand (emphasis on the outside). This fire was made in the kitchen, and the food was cooked on the hearth, inside of the house. While I was getting settled in my new home for the next week, random strangers walked into the house with plastic grocery bags. They started filling the fridge with soda and beer and what looked like every part of the pig. Her kitchen was out of a story book, but an adult wine lover's storybook. Wine of all shapes and sizes from various parts of Europe spanning decades covered the counter. I wish I could take an inventory of all the wines she had stored in the kitchen, just from a brief overview I knew some of the wines I saw were worth a lot of money. But these wines were not collected with the purpose of being auctioned off to thirsty sommeliers or collectors. These were wines that her father and grandfather had kept. I imagined that these wines were simple gifts from winemaker friends who came to visit their home. Not status symbols with ulterior motive. I watched as one of the men built the fire and I asked if I could drink one of the beers they brought. It was a simple German lager in 16 oz can. Typically, I chose to buy craft beer or source my drinks from small boutique shops rather than the grocery store. In that moment I much preferred this nondescript beer for one euro fifty than an Italian craft beer that cost me six euros back in Rome. As I watched this stranger (who later became my confidant) add wood to the fire, and kindle the flame, I glanced at all the priceless wine that sat on the shelf directly in harm's way. Wine exposed to hot temperatures (in this case, a roaring fire) was not ideal. Sun exposure and heat exposure even for a short amount of time can do irreversible damage. Not that he blatantly disregarded this fact, I am assuming he did not think twice or even knew the value and fragility of the collection that sat behind him. It was not until the fire was blazing and everyone in the kitchen began to break a sweat that I suggested we build a barricade around the bottles to protect them. I was worried at that point the damage had already been done. Maybe this was a part of the terroir? The wines had no doubt been sitting in the kitchen for a long time, decades even. This was not their first BBQ.  

Rows of Sangiovese

Montalcino, Tuscany  

The time came for lunch, and the plan was to dine at a restaurant in the center of town and from there I would be dropped back off at the station. The restaurant was owned by the husband of the women who picked me up at the train station. In American terms, she was the Office Administrator, but it seemed like she did a little bit of everything and worked the harvest every year. She had an exceptionally good understanding of the vineyards and the wine. Something about the small towns in Tuscany make me feel like I am on a movie set. The clean streets, the church bells ringing in the background, the afternoon sun shining through the alleyways. Lunch started with a French cheese and Italian salumi board and a bottle of Soave from 2006 from a very prominent producer. They (the winemaker, vineyard manager and office administrator) also ordered a bottle of white Burgundy. I am not sure if they were treating me or themselves. The bottle was from the 2019 vintage and was noticeably green and tight but delicious, nonetheless. My years of training to be a sommelier came in handy that day. I could never afford these wines myself, but I had studied them and knew their place in the wine world. The conversation of me being a vegetarian of course came up when they offered me salumi, and like most Italians, they asked me if I ate eggs, and cheese, unsure about what vegetarianism really means. I tried to explain that food production (specifically meat production) is a very industrial in the United States and while I understood that things are much different in Italy, more specifically in Tuscany, I still wanted to practice a vegetarian diet. I had a homemade pasta which I could tell was hand-rolled due to the small, nuanced curves on the noodles, paired with a simple tomato sauce with garlic and Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese. It was exactly what I needed. My vegetarianism had no influence on the meal choices of the men at the table. The hospitality director and the man who I learned was the formal winemaker, both enjoyed a healthy portion of beef tartar with a raw egg on top. The winemaker was quiet the entire day, and he spoke little English. He was very tan, dressed like he lived in Los Angeles. When I asked him what he would do for work if he were not a winemaker, he said he would retire and move to Thailand. A major contrast to other winemakers I met who seemed to never consider doing anything other than winemaking. It seemed like in his case, winemaking was a way to make great money, travel, and drink baller wines.  

I began to add up the context clues and concluded that this winery’s ethos was different from other natural wine producers I met. It seemed to me that wine to them was a party, a status symbol, where other producers I met, wine is their way of life. Other producers I visited considered themselves to be farmers, living off their own land...rather than beef tartar and imported French cheese. I understood my critiques could be biased because I decided to leave the world of high-profile wine two years ago and focus on the agriculture and sustainable aspects of winemaking. However, this winery is producing high priced wines in a sustainable way, so what is the harm? They utilize cover crops, practice organic farming, harvest grapes by hand, and use autochthonous yeast. Why was it hard to see them in the same light as the other producers? Was it their assumed wealth? You need to spend money to make money, does Montalcino and this winery have an unfair advantage over smaller producers because they had money to play with can afford more sustainable resources, like hiring an educated team of harvest interns instead of cheaper migrant labor. Or a fully equipped kitchen to prepare a hearty lunch during the laborious days of harvest instead of relying on cold sandwiches brought from home? These are challenging questions to answer and makes the search for the true meaning of sustainable wine production that much harder. 

Fiesole, Tuscany 

I had known about this winery before coming to Italy, we sold their wine at the wine shop I worked at in Denver, in fact, their wine was a staff favorite. I hesitated to buy it for myself because it was on the more expensive side at 30 dollars retail (21 dollars for staff pricing). I finally caved in and wanted to see what the fuss was about. At first, I did not enjoy it, it was noticeably different than Tuscan wine I had tasted. It tasted bright, with more zing than I was used to. But I was drawn to the fact that it did not taste the same as other bottles of Sangiovese from Tuscany. I loved the label and the color scheme. I would love it if someone brought a bottle of something like this over to my house for dinner. The conversation starts before the wine is even open. 

At the winery, I spent time with the winemaker and the owners. During an afternoon tasting we discussed with the guests why their wines were not being sold at the restaurants in Florence. This was not a Sangiovese wine that tourists were looking to drink. The labels alone set them apart from the rest. The etichette were much more modern, whimsical, and creative than the traditional Castello and Italian script. The artwork was drawn by the owner’s brother and each one told a unique story. I tasted their wine everyday with every tour group. When I tasted the bottle of Sangiovese in Denver, I thought it tasted off, even a little sour. By the end of the week, the wine tasted pure, fresh, and embodied the landscape in which I had the pleasure of walking through every day. I realize now I had been tasting lesser quality Sangiovese up until that point, sustainability measures of production and natural methods represent quality to me. In the past I was so focused on purchasing wine under a certain price point and often I was tasting wine that filled wine exam requirements, not my personal preference. My diet since living in the United States has changed dramatically. Over the past year and a half, I learned more about local and global food systems, and I value my relationship with artisan wine more now than ever before. I seek out wine that is made with organically grown grapes, fermented by native yeast, and made with minimal amounts of additional Sulphur. But that is my preference. I am blessed to live in Italy now where the price of these wines is a fraction of the cost, and I am privileged to try and explore new wines because I am closer to the point of production. 

Barrels aging Sangiovese and Colorino. Wax seals on bottles.

Siena, Tuscany  

It has been an incredible 24 hours. It was such a treat and a rush at the same time. Once again, I had no idea what to expect when I agreed to come give a presentation to a group of interns about sustainable wine production, because I was only in the process of conducting my fieldwork at the time. I figured if anything this would be another good opportunity for a focus group to understand the consumer behavior of young adults. 

Per usual it took me three trains and a bus to reach the town closest to my destination, from there the farm director picked me up in the company van. At this point in the summer, I was a professional solo traveler. At the Tenuta, we had a fantastic lunch of pasta with red pepper sauce, lentils, marinated tomato salad and grilled vegetables.  

In the evening we gathered on the terrace for aperitivo, and I was able to taste the wines they produced at the estate. They tasted hot, there was an imbalance of alcohol and sweetness. The rosé was perfect for the setting, but not exciting to drink, especially in comparison to the other wines I was able to taste throughout the summer. Then again, the enjoyment of wine is not always dependent on the quality of the wine, but the quality of the company. Dinner was served outside, and it was the first summer that felt comfortable enough outside without breaking a sweat. Every guest staying at the Tenuta was invited to dinner. Long tables were filled with people and plates of food. Saffron rice and meatballs were the main courses. The farm director graciously went into the kitchen and put together a plate of cheese, walnuts, and pears for me in leu of meatballs. The wine was not memorable, but the night was. The wine fueled the conversation, and it was not the topic of conversation. We shared travel stories, and the interns showed me photos of them drenched in sweat as they traveled though Italy on the weekends during the summer months. I brought a vin santo from the winery I worked at in Fiesole to share with everyone. I figured a 14 percent alcohol wine would pair well with the taste buds of recently turned 21-year-olds. We drank the nontraditional vin santo made with Sangiovese and a small amount of Malvasia and ate chocolate cake. It had been years if not a whole decade since I ate a slice of chocolate cake.  

View from my room.

Valpolicella, Veneto  

I arrived in Verona with enough time to visit the local craft beer bar and grab a slice of pizza for lunch and for dinner. It was Sunday and I had a feeling that nothing would be open or within walking distance of the winery. If I wanted dinner, I had to plan. Luckily, I found a take-away pizza place and ordered something to eat and something for takeaway. Turns out I was right, and I ended up eating that cold pizza for dinner.  

The winery was run by two brothers and their father. The vineyard was technically in their backyard. Their houses in the front lot, the cellar in the middle, the vineyard behind. I stayed at their neighbor's home, as the family had recently renovated the second floor of their home into a bed and breakfast. It was starting to understand the notion that people in the north had more money and resources than in the south. It almost felt unfair to be staying at such a beautiful place. Most of the summer I lugged around a heavy backpack on a hot, smelly train, and stayed in a spare bedroom of the winemaker’s home with a twin bed fit for 10-year-old. This was a treat, but it felt undeserving. I slept with the air conditioner on cool anyway. I was not sure if the North, Center or Southern regions felt more like Italy to me.  

The work was so different in Valpolicella than in Marche. I spent the same number of hours picking grapes, but because the vines were trained by Pergola Veronese instead of the guyot system the grapes hung above our heads rather than close to the ground. While I was picking, I realized how much easier it was to pick grapes by reaching up rather than bending down. The sun was shining for the entire day, but I never felt the heat like I did in Marche. Standing underneath the pergola provided shade and kept me cool. Contrary to my experience in Marche we had designated breaks for coffee at 9am, lunch was served promptly at 12:30pm, and then an afternoon coffee and merenda was offered at 4pm. We even had aperitivo after picking and we tasted through the wines they made, thank goodness for the aperitivo because the loaf of bread and cheese I snacked on acted as my dinner that evening.  

Corvina on the vine.

Jesi, Marche 

The train station in Rome was a brutal reminder that life in the city and life in the countryside could not be more different. The air was heavy with cigarette smoke, and while that was not a new observation, I felt as though being out of the city for a week had revitalized my system. I had clean air, great food, my body went through some hardships and my feet were sore from wearing work boots all week, but as I waited for my bus, I realized that I already missed it all. The week was chaotic and disorganized, but the five of us endured that week together. It was not perfect, but neither were we, and neither is wine. That is what makes it natural, it embodies the energy of the people involved in the process. Wine is the product of natural systems, all year the natural systems are taking place in the vineyard, but then, for a special month the grapes' hard work, is finished by a group of people. Whether we were qualified or not, we were all winemakers during that week. At this winery, the wine was not simply a byproduct of grapes, but a way to communicate their passion and perseverance towards sustainable living. 

Verdicchio ready to be picked in the early morning.