Playing Hooky in Italy

I am a good traveler but a bad tourist. When I’m on the road I typically search for the unusual local events and sights and rarely seek out the mainstream cultural attractions that are must-see places for visitors. So, finding myself in need of a break while working in Milan a few years ago, I talked an Italian friend into taking me to Vinitaly, a trade show for Italian wine that was going on just down the road in Verona. At the time, I didn’t know much about Italian wines, yet I knew this was not a tourist event but something that drew serious wine and food professionals. That was enough to get us to play hooky and make the trip. Thus began my fascination with Italian wines.

The first thing that struck me at Vinitaly was the similarity of the wine and furniture industries in Italy. Just as there are more designers and small manufacturers of modern chairs in Italy than anywhere in the world, so it is with wines. There were over 2,000 wineries represented at this show, a large number but just a fraction the 50,000 wine producers in Italy.  (By contrast, the U.S. has about 7,000). There are an estimated 400 indigenous Italian grape varietals, greater diversity than in any other place on the planet. Most importantly, both the wine and furniture industries are often the province of  small family run businesses -- highly individualistic, yet sharing a cultural commitment to quality, diversity, and good taste. Like no other culture, Italy has managed to hang onto its artisanal craft past while embracing the modern industrial world. And with its lengthy tradition, wine may be the bedrock to the Italian culture, as much as olive oil and pasta. Ferraris, Ferragamos, and furniture came later.

Following that introduction at Vinitaly, I have become something of a student of Italian wine, hanging out in I talian wine stores and bars, and drinking a lot. I’ve come to see that a good wine, like a good chair, is a study in form and function, and reflects the philosophy of the maker. If, as has been said, architecture is frozen music, wine is architecture made drinkable. The better wines show structure, balance, and character, like any well-designed object. Most importantly, both good wine and useful furniture are designed to be everyday in an unpretentious manner, at reasonable prices. The snobbery often associated with wine in the U.S. can be attributed to other forces.

This year I stumbled onto what may be the most enjoyable trade show of my life. Called VinNatur, it’s a wine fair held in Vicenza, one city away from Verona. VinNatur is for the smaller producers of organic and biodynamic wines--the off Broadway equivalent to Vinitaly’s big production.

VinNatur was held in a context no less pleasurable than its products. Who but the Italians would hold a trade show in a Palladianesque villa? You approach the villa along a road lined with column-like cypresses and enter up a flight of stone steps, all of which creates a sense of drama. The feeling inside is one of elegance, restraint, and romance; it’s as if you’re attending a party given by--and for--aristocratic landowners. No sales reps. No logo shirts. Just owners of small wineries who had set up casual fold out tables throughout the villa. You are given a wine glass and a simple guide to the 100 smaller producers of wines, as well as producers of prosciuttos, cheeses, olive oils, coffees and chocolates. The high ceilings, natural light, and classic architecture became a somewhat surreal but appropriate backdrop for the event, which was spread out from spacious upstairs rooms to vaulted brick cellar spaces. These surroundings add to the appreciation of the products on display, and you get the chance to speak directly with the owners. The organic wine movement is driven by many younger entrepreneurs who have taken over family vineyards and converted those using organic and biodynamic methods. There was a youthful optimistic vibe, and it was easy to see how this increasingly important trend in viniculture has become a cornerstone of the Slow Food movement which also began in Italy.

I can only taste about fifteen wines before my palate loses all capacity for judgment. But that’s okay. The wine industry has enough critics and authorities*. My slightly intoxicated mind began making connections that had not been obvious to me before. The Italian cultural connection to the land came at me from all angles. Earthy colors glowed on the walls and the wines shone because of the subtle, natural light. Many of the producers and attendees wore clothes in shades of ochre, orange, and red, matching the hue of the vineyard soil and architecture surrounding the villa and the brick arches in the basement. Click here for additional images. Perhaps this consistent palate is only natural if you grow up in a country where cities and regions are named Umbria and Siena. The local honeys presented also carried these same rich tones. Many of the artisan cheeses being sold resembled the limestone rocks that formed the walls around the villa, with others coated in spices that made them resemble the terrazzo floors. Here was an earthy (and earth-given) country fair sitting comfortably within classic Italian architecture. That it all fit perfectly says, perhaps, all that needs to be said about the deep roots of Italian food, wine, and design.

Need an excuse to play hooky next April?  Take in VinNatur and you will be one of the few Americans to visit the aptly named Villa Favorita.

* For detailed information about smaller Italian wine producers, there are several great sources in the U.S. Biondivino in San Francisco and the Italian Wine Merchant in New York carry the broadest ranges.  There are numerous wine bloggers, but Alder Yarrow and Vinography focus on many smaller producers with a fresh point of view.

Best,

Comments

[desyl]

If you are visiting a place you don't live, you are a tourist in that place. Do you really believe that locals think you are not?

[Ralph Caplan]

Rob,

Being a bad tourist may not be the worst thing in the world to be. Once I was working with Ivan Chermayeff on a film about productivity. For some reason we began speculating on the least productive jobs. "What's the worst thing you can be?" Ivan asked and, answering his own question, suggested an elevator operator in a building that had converted its elevators to self service. I had lunch with George Nelson that day and put the question to him: "George what's the very worst thing you can be?" His response was immediate: "A tourist," he said.

Your current post was especially enjoyable not only because of my fondness for Italian wines, but because it supports something I said last week at Haystack in a talk on designing regional products for a global market:

I remember on my first trip to Europe being astonished and delighted to discover that in France and Italy certain wines and cheeses could be found only in the village where particular grapes grew and where particular sheep and goats grazed. To sample them you had to be there. Once you crossed the town line they were no longer available.

Keep on,
Ralph Caplan

[Jay Caraway]

You're conceited