Denouncing Sexual Violence

Yesterday, 6th April 2023, was the day that Isabelle Perraud went to court to defend herself against a diffamation charge brought by Sébastien Riffault.

The back story : a year ago, the Paye Ton Pinard association (of which Perraud is president) shared allegations online that the famous Sancerre vigneron had sexually assaulted and even raped young, female sommelières during his frequent trips to Denmark.

None of these victims have officially reported the allegations to the police, thus enabling Riffault to claim that the entire affair is a baseless witch hunt against him.

I don’t want to run the risk of receiving a diffamation letter myself – so I’m going to share three, very revealing, pages from yesterday’s Libération newspaper. (If you right-click on the image, open it in a new window, you can zoom in and read the text for yourselves.)

If your French could do with some brushing up, in italics is my translation of what is reported: the article in yesterday’s Libération, summarising the conclusions of their investigation, states that in the period between 2019 and 2022, 11 young women in Denmark claim to have been victims of sexual harassment or assault by Riffault; 2 of them claim to have been raped.

The numerous testimonies are moving, corroborative, and IMO convincing. There’s also a sequence of events detailed in the article which is a little too familiar with my own experience. (Remember that?)

This sequence starts with: let’s try to keep this private and pretend it didn’t happen so that I can move on. Sometimes that’s enough and with time and therapy, it is possible to sweep the emotions and memories under the rug. But, sometimes, the next step is realising that the situation is bigger than just you, that other women have found themselves in similar situations and that you’re dealing with a potential serial predator.

Next, word gets out but there’s a sense of “let’s try to figure this out ourselves” – by the employer in my case, and by the importer in Denmark in this instance. The Libé article says that at the end of 2021 (at this point, the accusations were all still word of mouth) Rosforth&Rosforth supposedly spoke to Riffault and gave him a warning. In January/February 2022, after the publication by one of the victims of an article in Frihedsbrevet, they ceased importing Riffault’s wines completely.

That’s an important step but it doesn’t take much to realise that the solution is not sustainable. Accepting the resignation of the employee or dropping the winemaker from the portfolio doesn’t remove the toxic element. Another employee will arrive or another importer will seize the opportunity and the behaviour will re-start.

The absence of criminal charges against Riffault allows him to deflect judgement on his own behaviour by pointing an accusatory finger at those who give voice and share the words of the young women. As an outsider to this case, I feel it’s important to state that I adhere to the principle of “innocent until proven guilty” but, when the body of evidence is this substantial, my gut says that the wrong person was being tried in court yesterday.


There are a couple more elements published in the Libé article which leave such a foul taste in my mouth, I feel they are worth translating for a wider audience:

1. Riffault’s Australian importer Ryan Larkin made his own investigation (finding other alleged victims in Sweden and Norway), published the findings in a newsletter (May 2021) took a position (to stop working with Riffault’s wines), only to backtrack six months later and seemingly wash his hands of the matter.

If we are asking women to come forward, to bear their soul to the police, to go through the agony of testifying in court, to put their trust in the justice system… then it’s not too much for us to ask men to grow a backbone and show some active allyship.

2. I needed to look up the definition of “corbeau” this morning because whilst I was familiar with its English translation as “crow” or “raven,” I wasn’t familiar with its alternative meaning: “poison-pen letter-writer.” Between October 2022 and January 2023, an anonymous person was sending emails to discourage potential witnesses from testifying in court, and sometimes even signing off those emails with the identities of other women who knew nothing about the case. The Libération article finishes with the bombshell that the police traced the fradulent email address back to none other than Riffault’s wife who is now under investigation herself.

Because the final line of the article is a threat from Sébastien Riffault to press diffamation charges against anyone who propagates these supposedly false accusations against his wife, I will bow out here and trust that the police investigation leaves no stone unturned in the quest for justice.


If you want to read a thread of live tweets from the hearing yesterday, Stéphane Méjanès has a blow-by-blow account of the proceedings:


The judge will announce their decision on the 8th June and then there will surely be an appeal. Whoever said justice was quick and straightforward…

In the meantime, I wish that all those involved in the case – particularly Isabelle and the two women who testified yesterday, but also all the other women involved, and even Sébastien and his wife – regardless of the outcome of this affair, if they have a clean conscience, I wish that they are able to find peace and sleep easy at night.

Castello di Lispida, Monselice (Colli Euganei)

For a long weekend last year, we went to go and stay at the Castello di Lispida, hidden away in the scenic Colli Euganei, hills of volcanic origin just south of Padova. I’d been to the Castello di Lispida before, in May 2018, for a tasting of volcanic wines called Vulcanei and so I was happy to find an occasion to return.

The estate dates back to the 11th century, when it was run by monks, but the buildings that you see today were built by the Corinaldi family who bought the estate in 1792. Currently, the estate comprises a total of 90 hectares, but only 8.5 are planted with vines and an average of 20,000 bottles are made annually.

The Lispida hill was renowned during the Venetian Republic for the presence of high-quality trachyte rock that was frequently used as a building material – particularly paving stones – in the flourishing city and further afield. (Geek out on that here…) The site’s other claim to fame is that the King Vittorio Emanuele III used the castle as his base during the end of WW1 in 1918-1919 so it is now classified as a “Villa Italia.”

As you may expect of a castle of this size and historic significance, the cellars are enormous. Approximately 2000 square metres, I’m told, but I’m not going to go measure it myself. Just take a look at the photos…

We went for a wine tasting in the cellar one evening before dinner. It started with a wine called “P. 2019” – a col fondo wine made from glera grapes (“P” stands for prosecco.) The alcoholic fermentation takes place in underground amphora (like those pictured) then the wine is blended and referments in the bottle. It’s fine, but if I’m honest, nothing particularly special.

One of the wines which did pique my interest was the Amphora bianco. It was first released in 2003, back at a time when very few wines were made entirely in terracotta amphorae. The fact that it is a blend of tocai friulano & ribolla grapes reveals its raison d’etre: Alessandro Sgaravatti (owner-winemaker at Castello di Lispida)’s close friendship with Josko Gravner in the late 90s/early 00s. There are other clues of Josko Gravner’s influence, if you know where to look…

At the Gravner winery, they use this one-person “cart” during harvest.

I also enjoyed both the story and taste of a wine called Amphora Rosso 2018 too. It’s a 100% Sangiovese, which, while there is Sangiovese is many regions all over Italy, caused me to raise an eyebrow because I don’t remember coming across Sangiovese in this part of the Veneto before. It turns out that rootstocks were given to Alessandro Sgaravatti by another friend – the Brunello legend, Gianfranco Soldera. The vines are now about 20 years old and they produce a super aromatic wine, not too tannic, bursting with wild strawberries and cherries.

We finish the tasting with a drop of the Montelispida 2015 Merlot which spent two years in oak butts; the story here goes that the family owning the castle were responsible for first introducing merlot into Veneto in 1870. I don’t know if it’s true… I supposed I’ll just have to go back to the Castello di Lispida to find out… what a tough life!

I’ll pack my swimming costume too!

CASTELLO DI LISPIDA “Amphora” 2018, 13% abv, vino bianco

I’m told that, for this vintage, the wine did 6 months of skin contact and then continued amphora ageing (i.e. without the skins) for a further 8 months. Despite those 6 months on the skins, this is a wine whose colour I would define as lightly golden rather than anywhere on the orange spectrum. As I write this tasting note, I’ve just poured the very last drop from the bottle and, as a result, the liquid in my glass is very slightly cloudly, but not at all bothersomely so. Nose is precise, delicate and floral. The mouthfeel is round, smooth, slightly nutty and the acidity has a beautiful flinty character. Overall impression is: balanced perfection. It’s a natural wine – low in sulfites – but one which is approachable at all levels.

€€ – a weekend wine

**** – something special

Tasted : 10th February 2023

To show the colour of this skin-contact wine… unfortunately it’s impossible to find a piece of paper which is completely white these days…

Cantine Matrone IGT Campania Bianco 2020

In the wake of this week’s disaster in Turkey and Syria, while dealing with feelings of helplessness in the face of Mother Nature, it feels somewhat apt to drink a wine which was make on the slopes of Vesuvius, the site of its own large-scale natural disaster two thousand years ago.

Wine from volcanic soils are increasingly trendy across the world – Santorini and Etna are the first two zones which leap to my mind, followed by areas such as Soave (and by extension Gambellara obviously!) Then there are the Colli Euganei (in the Veneto) and some parts of Lazio, where only true wine geeks know of the presence of that tell-tale black basalt rock. It is strange therefore that such a symbolic volcano as Vesuvius is not better known amongst consumers for its wines.

I hope this is about to change – hopefully with the success of books like Robert Camuto’s “South of Somewhere” – and also with the emergence of a younger generation of winemakers taking the reins of existing wineries or starting from scratch on this iconic terroir.

The bottle of wine that was calling me today was made by such a person: a young (about to turn 40) man by the name of Andrea Matrone who having worked harvest in Australia, New Zealand etc, recently took over the family winery and has taken it on a natural twist.


CANTINE MATRONE “Bianco 2020” IGT Campania Bianco

However well you know Italian wines, every so often when you step outside your comfort zone, you can be sure to come across a grape variety you’ve never heard of before. In this case, it’s caprettone. Officially registered in 2014, its homeland is on the slopes of Mount Vesuvius in Campania.

I love Ian D’Agata’s opening sentence when presenting this variety in his book Native Wine Grapes of Italy (2014): “Wine lovers with unconfessed masochistic tendencies will revel in the knowledge that fewer Italian grape varieties will provide a headache faster than Caprettone.” He continues “for many experts, Caprettone is exactly the same as Coda di Volpe Bianca… but don’t tell that to anyone farming the volcanic soils of the Vesuvius… unless you’re a sucker for an eruption of a different kind.”

Not wanting to provoke an uprising amongst the farmers or reveal a hidden personal penchant for masochism, I willingly accept Ian D’Agata’s analysis: “For what it’s worth, Caprettone looks very different from Coda di Volpe Bianca to me. … I think Caprettone is a very interesting variety and its wines potentially exciting. Chances are high that we shall hear a lot more about it in the future.”

The Bianco 2020 from Cantine Matrone is a blend of 80% caprettone, 15% falanghina pompeiana and 5% greco. It has a marvellous golden colour, testament of several days skin contact no doubt. The resulting wine is confident, gutsy and expressive, without being OTT. Its aromas are layered – there’s apricot, bourbon vanilla bean and warm spices – but as with many of the really original Italian white wines, it is the mouthfeel which characterises this charming wine: completely bone dry, rich and defined. I read on the back label “no added sulfites” – but the wine is so assertive you’d never know. The ample tannins give structure to the body, while the sapidity gives shape and elegance. It’s a wine which would call an inattentive drinker to attention and which rewards an attentive drinker with a satisfaction that is hard to come by.

In short, this is one of the most accomplished southern Italian wines that I’ve tasted recently; it reflects the warm climate and the volcanic soils, and possesses an umami character that pleases all the senses.

Price: € – a weekday wine

Rating: **** – something special

Tasted on Jan 9th, 2023

A Mission for the New Year

I’m not one for resolutions. Resolutions are susceptible of breaking at the first opportunity and then because they’ve been broken once, they subsequently lose all their power. I prefer to think about a mission, a channelling of motivation, but even then, sometimes January is not the right month for finding inspiration and motivation.

There is a pile of books on my bedside table, with a bookmark in each of them as a testimony to my good intentions but lack of perseverance. So, I’ve been using the downtime between Christmas and New Year to catch up on some of this reading. One of the books I’ve just dusted off again is Jamie Goode‘s “The Goode Guide to Wine – A Manifesto of Sorts”. It’s an easy read, which often puts onto paper thoughts that I have been harbouring myself, without ever having expressed in such black and white terms.

This is one of these such passages and it was after reading it this afternoon that my mission for this blog in 2023 finally crystallised.

“As wine drinkers, we are lucky to be living in times like these. We are not, of course, lucky that lots of very famous excellent wines have leapt in price over the last decade, taking them out of reach of the likes of me and many of my friends. But we are lucky because never before have so many interesting wines been made. Go to pretty much any wine region and hunt around, and you will find keen, talented winegrowers prospecting for special vineyard sites and then trying to make wines that express these privileged patches of ground.

This occurs in the new world, where pioneers have established great terroirs but also in the old world, where a new generation of growers is emerging, shedding the complacency of their forebears, respecting the life within their soils, and making superb wines. For these brave souls, wine is a vocation rather than a job.”

Jamie later cites Swartland and Stellenbosch in South Africa and Loire and Beaujolais in France. My mission for 2023 is to use this blog as a platform to shine a light on what’s happening in the less trendy, but just as deserving stretch of northern Italy where I’m setting down roots. From Piedmont to Friuli passing by Lombardy and the Veneto (but not exclusively limiting myself to these regions) there are new winemakers making terroir-driven, minimal intervention wines, at very reasonable prices.

Some of these winemakers I’ve already mentioned – e.g. Sieman (Veneto), Thomas Niedermayr (Alto Adige), Uros Klabjan (Istria, Slovenia) and Olek Bondonio (Piedmont) – but there are many more who are languishing in my Drafts folder and require dusting off and a quick lick of polish… much like those books next to my bed.

Exactly how Joe Dassin describes the Champs Elysees in 1969, in this small strip of the globe, il y a tout ce que vous voulez: big reds, bubbles, macerated whites, volcanic soils, maritime influences, mountain wines. I’m going to turn a blind eye to the commercial wines that are omnipresent and focus on the interesting wines that are affordable for anyone with a passing interest. I hope you’ll join me for the ride.


P.S. Given the recent spectacular decline of the bird-site, please sign up to receive new blog posts directly in your inbox. The link is in the toolbar on the left. You can also keep up-to-date on Mastodon where I go by @emmabentleyvino@epicure.social, or if you have more time on your hands, head over to Substack (emmabentleyvino) for musings on food and life in Italy.

R.I.P. Paolo Dettori

Twice this morning I wrote an introductory paragraph just to shake my head and hold my finger down on the backspace button. Once, I only got as far as a starting sentence. Then I sat in silence, looking at the white screen for I don’t know how long.

The truth of the matter is that it is very hard to write about the legacy of a man whom you called your Italian dad, my babbo, when it doesn’t seem in any way possible that he has left us.

He was only 69, but coming from Sardinia, a land known for their population of centenarians, he should have seen many more harvests.

I think this was the first fair we did together: Vini Birre Ribelli, in Brussels – December 2014.

Paolo was not the founder of the winery Tenute Dettori, nor is the winery’s future in any kind of jeopardy, for his conscientious and highly capable son Alessandro has been firmly at the reins for twenty years. Obviously Paolo shaped and grew the business, but this post is not the place for listing professional accomplishments; no, this is strictly personal.

Paolo was a man of few words; sometimes when presenting a wine he would simply say “this is my wine” but while it sounds strange, it actually made space the other person’s reaction. Similarly he frequently introduced me as his daughter, and I, in turn, addressed him as my babbo, father.

It must have been sometime in 2015, when I was still very much single, and I accompanied a journalist from Le Rouge et Le Blanc to Tenute Dettori. It was during a lunch with Jean-Marc and signor Paolo that conversation turned to my wedding, which at this stage was completely fictive, but it was decided that the wedding would obviously be held at the Badde Nigolosu agriturismo. Jean-Marc offered his services for deciding the menu – clearly I couldn’t risk trying all the rich food and not fitting into my dress – and Paolo turned his mind to which wines from the family archive would be appropriate.

When I first started dating my now-husband, I took him to meet the Dettori family. They are already sitting at a table outside drinking a beer before dinner when we arrive, so we sit down and I introduce my new man to the Sardinians. Paolo had been smoking a cigarette somewhere else and when he comes back to the group, without a moment’s hesitation, he pulls up a chair right between us, and starts asking my Alessandro questions so quietly that even I couldn’t hear but I believe they were along the lines of “what do you do?” and “how many hectares do you have?” After a couple of answers, Paolo turns to me and says “va bene, va bene questo” and gives me a smile and a thumbs up.

A few years later and Paolo meets my father-in-law, Angiolino and it’s wonderful to see both strands of my Italian family come together.

My babbo cracking jokes with my father-in-law, Vinitaly 2022.

The funeral is at 4pm this afternoon so this evening, I’ll open a bottle of Dettori, probably a 2007 – one of the wines chosen for my hypothetical wedding – in his memory. My thoughts today lie with his real family – two children, five grandchildren and the wider Dettori family. But once these acute recollections start to fade, this is how I’ll remember you, signor Paolo, looking out to sea in your happy place.

Photo: June 2014… but it could just as easily been taken the day before yesterday, for you could always spot signor Paolo sitting here looking out to sea.

Marco Turco “Vespasi” 2021

“Vespaiolo is clearly named for the hungry wasps (vespe) that target its sweet grapes.”

Ian D’Agata – Native Wine Grape of Italy, 2014.

Vespaiolo is about as local and obscure as a grape as I can get. It is found almost exclusively in the little-known town of Breganze just north of Vicenza, where it is most famous for being made into a sweet wine called Torcolato (after the method of production called “torcolare” / “twist.”)

A month or so ago, at the Ombra delle Mura wine fair, Marco gave me a couple of bottles to try at home. I may be a little biased because I have known Marco for a few years now and I’ve tried some of his tai rosso wines in the past but this wine “Vespasi L.0522” blew me away.

It has all of that juiciness which gives the variety vespaiolo its name – ripe apricots, acacia honey – but instead of following the tradition and going down a sweet wine path, this is completely dry and has a beautiful complexity and depth that comes from old vines and a little skin contact.

The acidity is not invasive; a counterpoint to the richness of the wine. Full of character while remaining a easy to drink. A masterpiece which held its shape even after the bottle had been open for 3 days.

Speaking of which, did you see my recent blog post on wines that improved with time?

Marco doesn’t seem to have a website yet but you can find him on social media here.

I messaged him for some more technical information about this wine:

If you find the 2020 vintage, Marco didn’t do any skin contact. This was the 2021 and it did two days on the skins.

The vineyard is located in Breganze, where the soil is 60cm deep before you hit red rock from an old lava flow, rich in oxidised iron.

The vines are 50-60 years old, the wine was vinified in cement and just 700 bottles were produced. Boom!

Six Wines Which Got Better The Next Day

Recently on Twitter I’ve been seeing – and trying to hold my tongue in – conversations about how natural wines tend to get a little, let’s say, “untidy” once they’ve been open for a while. It’s true that sometimes they don’t show so well if they were made in a haphazard “let’s hope for the best” approach, and even the best-intentioned winemaking can occasionally suffer the effects of oxygen bringing out unwanted character traits, like mouse/souris for example. But, over the last few weeks, I’ve had the pleasure of finding some natural wines which got noticeably better after a day or two and I decided to write about them.


VILLA JOB – Friuli – “Sudigiri” Sauvignon 2019

Alessandro and Lavinia inherited an estate in Friuli which was a galactic leap away both from their previous careers in Milan and from their parents in Sicily and Tuscany respectively. They now cultivate 9 hectares of vineyards and twice that of various agricultural crops. Their style – whether vinifying pinot grigio or refosco equally – is to create superbly aromatic wines which surprise the casual drinker for their frankness and freedom of expression.

On the second day, the citrus fruit aromas – particularly grapefruit peel, meyer lemon and gooseberry – of this sauvignon blanc had been amplified. There is spice too, white pepper, coriander seeds and a beautiful saltiness to the finish. If Marilyn Monroe were a wine…

LA FERME DE SEPT LUNES – northern Rhone – Syrah VDF 2019

This winery, run by Jean Delobre with Jacques Maurice, needs no introduction. I fell in love at first sip with their Saint Joseph (at Stefano Bellotti’s house… remember that?) so in 2020 when we went on holiday in the Ardèche, we just had to stop by the Ferme de Sept Lunes in the village of Bogy. This was one of the bottles that we purchased at the winery and tucked away for a year and a bit. At first it was so subdued compared to what I remembered of this wine; it was dense but silent almost to the point that you wondered if someone had pressed the mute button. I needn’t have worried; the next day at lunch, it had the same dark, opaque, broody, purple colour and there was now an explosion of leather, vanilla and plush fruit in the glass. Savoury and meaty – lip-smackingly good.

CASTAGNA – Beechworth, Victoria – Adam’s Rib 2008

Many moons ago, I worked for Julian Castagna’s importer in France; this – I believe – is the last bottle I had left from that time. (The penultimate was the Sparkling Genesis which I wrote about here.) They are wines which I love and I was convinced that squirrelling away a bottle for a few more years of ageing would pay off.

At first glance, though, maybe fourteen years was one too many; the cork was in good condition but the wine was looking weary. A distinctly brown rim and seeming rather past its best, I was concerned. However, on the second day, in a gravity-defying feat worthy of a circus magician, the situation had turned around completely. Adam’s Rib (so-called because it is part of the range vinified by Julian’s son, Adam) is a blend of nebbiolo and syrah and just as you might expect from those grapes, it was now showing a fantail of sour cherries, prunes and dried flowers…. even better, the vibrancy that I remembered in the Castagna wines was back!

GIOVANNI IANNUCCI – Campania – “Costa delle Viole” Barbera Beneventano IGP 2020

Italian grape varieties are notorious for being so numerous and in many cases, obscure. So just when you think you’re starting to have a pretty decent knowledge base, this Barbera from Campania shakes up that fledging confidence. It turns out that barbera from Piedmont is not the same as barbera from Campania, even though they share the same name. This is Barbera di Sannio, and yes, it’s different, very different. This, on the first day, was tasting rather like a northern Rhone syrah – a rustic wine, dense, rich with hints of leather, spice and coffee. On the second and third days, however, it had become an explosion of flowers – violets, in particular – and fruit (ripe plums, berries and forest fruits), finishing on a vanilla note. Very much reminiscent of an old-vine carignan. Mellow tannins – though they were never particularly tough even on day 1 – and a similar finish. It’s a red wine that would pair better with pasta and tomato sauce rather than a steak because it has more acidity than tannin structure. A well-made wine, full of character, and it held up impeccably despite three days sitting on my kitchen counter.

HEINRICH – Neusiedlersee – Edelgraben Ried Breitenbrunner 2015

I’d even go as far as saying that this wine was best on the third day. Like the twelve days of Christmas, the first day brought funk, the second day brought fruit but the third day brought the spice and the substance. Blaufrankish 100%. A beautiful, lush texture evolved from the ashes of the first day’s wine. Tannins are velvety soft so all the body comes from the pulp of the fruit. It’s a wine which listens rather than shouts but which succeeds in commanding attention anyway.

REMI SEDES – Loire – Rosé Samplemousse 2020 Coteaux d’Ancenis Rosé AOP

I bet you weren’t expecting to see a rosé on this list of wines which improve days after opening… but yes! A fond de bouteille got left in my fridge when we went away for the weekend and I honestly didn’t know what to expect upon our return on Monday. Rosé Samplemousse is a direct press gamay wine from Rémi Sédès in the Loire-Atlantique which (as you can see) I very much enjoyed upon opening but even after those extra days in the fridge, it was still super fresh, with crunchy cherries and raspberries, and a perfect balance of acidity and alcohol (neither of which are particularly shy.) A prime example of a really well-made natural wine that managed to surpass my expectations.

In The Vineyards With: Daniele Filippini (Siemàn), Veneto & “Saverlo” 2020 IGT Veneto

Tucked away in one of the most picturesque parts of the Colli Berici is a small, family-run winery and brewery called Siemàn. It situated on the south-eastern side of these strangely shaped hills, near the small town of Villaga, just south of the more well-known town Barbarano Vicentino.

Looking towards Villaga from the side of the winding road which eventually leads you to the centre.

Siemàn in the local dialect means “six hands” and the name alludes to the three brothers – Marco, Andrea and Daniele, all in their mid-late 30s – who work there. A year ago, their father retired from his job teaching business management at the local university and he now lends a helping hand in the vineyards… although sometimes he still needs a bit of supervision… 😉

(Daniele is unlikely to thank me for capturing the moment he had to run and tell his father on the tractor that he needed to mow alternate rows.)

They have 9 hectares of land – 4 of which are vineyards planted with garganega, tai bianco, bronner, incrocio manzioni (for the whites) and tai rosso, barbera, turchetta, corbinona and pinot noir (for the reds) – centred around the winery, on the unspoilt hillside near Villaga.

The grapes are all hand-harvested, fermented spontaneously and for the last three years, they haven’t added any SO2. The brothers make a range of approximately 8 different wines: some aged in stainless steel, others in oak and one, even, in terracotta amphorae. Nearly all the white wines spend at least a day on the skins, but not more than 10. The resulting wines are fresh, light and easy-drinking.

Daniele: “I did the traditional sommelier course but I then discovered wines made with no added sulfites and then wines with skin maceration and so, since 2010 I only drink natural wines. There was no going back.”

The winery itself is nothing fancy. The brothers have inherited and repurposed an existing farm building. Where Daniele has just ducked underneath to pick a few bottles of wine for me is where animals were once kept.

Siemàn is not just a winery; there is a large room, completely separate from the winemaking facility, which has been dedicated to a craft brewery. Andrea’s passion for beer led to the start of a project to make beer which combine a base farmhouse or sour ale with local fruit (sometimes with blackberries, apples, or elderflower and but more often than not, with grapes.) Depending on the harvest, some of the grapes that would otherwise be destined for wine get added to the base ale and mature together for somewhere between 15 days and 3 months. Just like the wines, the beers are fermented slowly in steel or in oak barrels, with indigenous yeasts, never pasteurised or filtered and referment in the bottle.

A snapshot of some of the Siemàn beers.
Unlike the hills of Soave, Gambellara and the Colli Euganei, the Colli Berici are not of volcanic origin. An old sea bed, the white rock is rich in limestone, marl and fossils. This rock has long been excavated in order to build the villas for which the area of Vicenza is famous.
Looking over the plain to the volcanic Colli Euganei.

Saverlo 2020 (Bianco Veneto IGT) – a blend of garganega and sauvignon blanc which spent one day on the skins, fermented in wood and saw out the winter in amphora. 3ml/l of SO2 declared on the label. At first a little reductive, but given time, it expands into a beautiful, mineral wine which expresses the fruit and the limestone soil. The nose is flinty; the mouth is soft but laden with ripe greengage and kept upright with a backbone of limestone saltiness.


My visit to the winery took place in May 2021. The blog post only got published in January 2022 when, finally, thanks to covid isolation, I had time to polish up a few unfinished sentences, uncrossed Ts and undotted Is.

If you want to read more about Siemàn, here are two links to their website and Facebook.

Giorgio Pinchiorri guilty of stalking ex-sommelier

There’s a famous restaurant in the centre of Florence called Enoteca Pinchiorri. It has three Michelin stars and the tasting menu starts at 175 euros, not including wine. It’s reputed internationally.

According to the Michelin Guide: “For decades Pinchiorri has represented luxury and haute cuisine at the highest level in Italy. The restaurant has a number of dining rooms, including a historic room, which has an almost museum-like feel. Highly attentive service from the legendary owners, Annie and Giorgio, and an excellent menu featuring the best of Tuscan, Italian and international cuisine. The wine list is renowned across the globe.”

Three days ago, a judge agreed a plea deal from the owner Giorgio Pinchiorri (age 78) for stalking an ex-sommelier and gave him a four month suspended sentence. The victim was a 30-something woman who started working at Enoteca Pinchiorri in 2015. She quit in 2016 to avoid his unwanted advances but the SMSs, telephone calls and letters continued nonetheless for several years. As reported in La Nazione “Pinchiorri also tried to win her over with gifts and surprises outside her house.”

The local newspaper Arno gives more detail: “The employee had told him to stop more than once, even going so far as to report him to the police, and the commissioner gave him a warning and told him not to go near the woman anymore. But he [Pinchiorri], apparently, had not given up on her, continuing to give her unwanted attention, with messages, phone calls and gifts.”

The situation reached its peak in September 2019, when she found him waiting for her outside her place of work. She called the police once again and the justice system was then, this time, cranked into action.


The first I heard about this story was while scrolling through Facebook earlier today, when I saw a post from wine writer Jacopo Cossater (who writes for Intravino and has a podcast called Vino sul Divano) asking why no-one was talking about the Pinchiorri story. The comments underneath were what prompted me to write this blogpost. I’ll give a selection of them here.

I think he has already had his punishment. After all he is a man of a certain age who has probably lost his mind. Of course she had the right to defend herself and she did. That’s enough.”

“But really, seriously, does anyone think that he actually posed any kind of danger? More than anything, it seems to me more a form of senile fallacy than sexual blackmail.

I remember that time when Marchesi, in his eighties, kissed me on the mouth. Had he had been my employer I would have been pissed off, at work I am asexual and even excessively so. Instead, I simply felt sorry for him.


“It has been in the public realm for years, Giorgio Pinchiorri and his family are “paying” for his “crime” both emotionally and criminally, I don’t understand what the restaurant has to do with it, in which families work and which is a flagship in the industry.”

“There’s something I don’t get: it is right to talk about it but it had to be done when the news first came out and in fact it did. Now there is a sentence in a plea deal. That is, there has been the course of justice, right or wrong, so the offended party – at least in theory – I believe has been compensated. So good to talk about it but it is also important to do it at the right times. In my opinion, the sentence can be a starting point but not a crucifixion.”

So if we talk about a case before it has been concluded by a judge, firstly, journalists risk being accused of slander and, secondly, the defendant should (rightly) be considered innocent before proven guilty. However, if we talk about a case once a sentence has been passed, we shouldn’t be talking about it because it’s in the past? #facepalm

It shocked me how quickly people are to make excuses for a man who has publicly conceded that he stalked an ex-employee. Every so often these cases come up, sometimes in Italy, in France or in the USA and we tend to brush it under the carpet because the man is famous, or is old, or “didn’t do it to me.”

A 78 year old is just as capable of harassing, assaulting or stalking a woman as an 18 year old man and, in this case, it’s even worse because he was blinded by his position of superiority and did not accept her requests for him to back off.

It’s time to break the omerta, to stop making excuses and instead to start putting ourselves in the position of the victim. It is a truly terrifying feeling to find someone unwanted waiting for you outside your house or your place of work. How much entitlement does this man have to feel that a lady half his age ought to yield to his advances?! We need to turn this society of toxic masculinity and misogyny into a society in which a man accepts being told no by a woman. All these stories have a common theme and the baseline is some (not all, of course) men’s sense of entitlement. So, either men need to develop the self-awareness to recognise this in their behaviour or to have it pointed out by friends, family, colleagues or members of the wider community. And we need to talk about it.


The translations above are my own. For anyone who thinks I may have been exaggerating, the original Italian texts can be found below:

“Uno degli ultimi episodi contestati dall’accusa risalirebbe al settembre del 2019, quando, uscendo da un ristorante del centro dove lavora in quel periodo, la donna si sarebbe ritrovata Pinchiorri nuovamente di fronte. A quel punto avrebbe chiamato i carabinieri. Stando al racconto fatto dalla ex dipendente, assistita dall’avvocato Federico Scavetta, Pinchiorri aveva cercato di conquistarla anche con regali e sorprese fatte trovare sotto casa.” La Nazione.

“La dipendente più di una volta si era ribellata, arrivando perfino a denunciarlo, al punto che il questore lo aveva ammonito intimandogli di non avvicinarsi più alla donna. Ma lui, a quanto pare, non aveva desistito, continuando a riservarle attenzioni non gradite, con messaggi, telefonate e regali.” Arno.

Yannick Meckert – new winemaker in Rosheim, Alsace

I first met Yannick about seven years ago. It was at a dinner organised by mutual friends and I’ll always remember the moment this fiery man walked in, still fuming at an argument between him and his father. It was an inter-generational dispute about the management of the vineyards but it was the day that Yannick decided to break away from the family winery and carve his own path.

In the intervening years, Yannick has worked as a sommelier in Copenhagen and London, done harvest in Lazio and Burgundy, made sake nihonshu in Japan, and I’m sure I’m forgetting something… We’ve caught up hurriedly when he passed through the Veneto in 2016, in 2018 when he was working at Terroirs and again in London at the Real Wine Fair 2019 when it turned out we were staying at the same hotel… It was a similar stroke of good luck which meant that he also happened to be in Alsace when we were passing through last week.

Installed in the area around Rosheim, towards the northern tip of the Alsatian vineyards, Yannick farms 2 hectares of vineyards and buys between 20-30% of grapes négoce. He says that even if, one day, he increases the quantity of owned vineyards, the quantity of négoce grapes will always stay proportionate. Buying négoce affords him some wiggle room in years as difficult as 2021 when so many zones have been affected by mildew. He knows that even if his vines don’t yield the crop he wants, he’ll be able to find some interesting grapes to work with anyway.


Yannick is renting a bare-boned space, which he’s turned into a cellar with a handful of oak barrels, a few amphora (mainly knock-offs from Claus Preisinger in Austria) and the press, which was a gift from Bruno Schueller.

We tasted as many wines as we could before the kids called us away to take them to a nearby playground – fair enough, it shouldn’t only be adults who have all the fun! – but my favourites were a super pinot noir and a riesling which he described as being made with an oxidative style (i.e. not entirely filled cuve) but which just gave a very subtle edge. Most of the wines we tasted are yet to be blended before bottling so I can’t say much about the finished wines.

One thing that struck me was his style of working with pinot noir and gewürztraminer grapes – where he macerates them grappes entières . The temperature might rise to 32-35°C but that’s not a problem because Yannick says this “cooks” the stems and doesn’t extract any greenness. He crushes the grapes barefoot because he doesn’t want to break or be too harsh with the stems.

He actually harvested and vinified the 2019 vintage but the resulting wine wasn’t up to the standards he wanted, neither in terms of the grapes or during the vinification, so he decided to get rid of all the wine. When I pressed him on what he did differently in 2020, he replied, “I was much more aware about the grand cru vineyards that I farm and the importance of picking the right date for harvest and also I learnt that I need to be more precise in the winemaking.” Effectivement, when I saw Yannick’s notes for keeping track of the pigeage and of the progression of sugar levels in his pinot noir, everything is noted in miniscule detail. “That I learnt from Philipe Pacalet,” he acknowledges proudly.

Around 7000 bottles of the 2020 vintage are ready to be bottled at the end of the month or beginning of September. Most are sold already to various importers around the world, but Yannick wants to prioritize the local market to further limit the carbon footprint of his wines. That said, the production is so small that Yannick will not be accepting visits from members of the public so you’ll have to seek out his wines in some restaurants or wine bars in Strasbourg.

From what we tasted, they are super interesting wines and Yannick has a keen idea of what he wants to make happen. I look forward to seeing if he’s able to turn his dream into the wine he wants in 2021 harvest too.

To keep up-to-date, follow him on Instagram here.

Veneto Update / 14th July 2021

It was a long, slow spring this year; cold and rainy until the very end of May. As you may remember from the headlines at the time, larges swathes of Europe were hit by frost in April and then a couple of localised hail storms rumbled around the Veneto in mid-May. The area which produces grapes for Prosecco DOC was particularly badly hit by both phenomena. Where we are, in the town of Gambellara, only the low-lying lands were affected by the frost… and producers who work with the garganega grape were let off more lightly than those working with glera or pinot noir because garganega is a relatively late-ripening variety and therefore the buds were barely formed at the time.

Finally, the month of June brought high temperatures and thus ensued a game of catch-up in the vineyards between the rampant vines and the overwhelmed vignaiolo. The cold spring had meant that the vines were two to three weeks behind where they would normally be at that time in the year, but they were given a new lease of life by the sunshine.

A conscientious grower has one main job in June – canopy management. Garganega is a wild beast which likes to grow up and out. In Angiolino Maule’s vineyards, they like to remove the leaves which give shade to the grape bunches hence the carpet of leaves you can see on the ground in the “after” photo.


I’m writing this paragraph on July 15th – the day after a violent storm drove across most of the foothills in the region bringing hail and strong winds. In some areas (nearer to Marostica, near Bassano del Grappa) trees were uprooted and roofs were ripped off. In Gambellara, damage was widespread, especially in the westerly facing vineyards (the storm, like most do, arrived from the Lake Garda area) and particularly in guyot-trained vineyards rather than pergola where the generous canopy provides some protection.

Estimates of how extensive the hail damage was depend largely on the mindset of the person doing the estimations… but they range from 5% to 50%… Time will tell what this means for the harvest because – the silver lining – it’s too early for sugars to be formed in the grapes.

As if to compensate for last night’s violence, the skyline this morning is stunning. Dark blue hills, with fluffy white clouds lying low, dipped within each valley. The scene looked rather as if it were some child’s school project to stick cotton wool on a broody landscape.

2020 was such a tumultuous year because it made us reassess how we live our lives, but it turns out to have been an excellent vintage in Gambellara – one of the best in recent memory. 2021, while arguably less anxiety-ridden in terms of the pandemic, will be a year where no winemaker will have got through the growing season with their nails in tact. It is only the middle of July and already I can hear another violent thunderstorm that is starting to rumble around the hills, threatening to cause damage left right and centre.


Wine of the month:

Marco Turco’s “Lucifer” Pinot Noir 2020 from the Colli Berici, drunk at Osteria Bertoliana, a small restaurant in central Vicenza with a menu loaded with offal and local natural wines.

Very hard to get hold of, it would seem, because Marco doesn’t appear to have a website or even a list of the wines he makes, but if you find it, drink it!

Pinella – a rare grape variety from the Colli Euganei in the Veneto

Just when I’d started to think that I’d pretty much got to grips with the wines of the Veneto, up pops a grape variety that I’d never heard of. The richness and diversity of wine in Italy continues to astound – and, in equal measure, terrify – me.

In September 2020, I stopped by Cà Lustra, an organic winery with 25 hectares of vineyards in Faedo, the centre of the unspoilt Colli Euganei, just south of Padova. The region is not particularly well-known outside of Italy, but it deserves to be. Those winding roads snaking around picturesque hills, olive groves and vineyards on either side, had me reminiscing about the time I spent a week driving around Chianti… just instead of those famed rolling hills of Tuscany, in the Colli Euganei, the hills are pointy and often scattered whimsically due to the irregularity of the volcanic eruptions many millions of years ago.

This image pinched from the website of a local hotel “Esplanade Teregesto” gives you a good idea of the landscape. https://www.esplanadetergesteo.it/

Marco Zanovello, head winemaker following the sad loss of his father the previous year, escorts us around the cellar, occasionally pausing in front of a barrel or cement tank to pour us a taste. Merlot 2018… merlot 2019… skin-contact garganega 2019… moscato bianco 2019… fior di arancio 2019 which was still in fermentation… and a most delicious and surprising rosé made from cabernet sauvignon, aglianico and – wait for it – nebbiolo!

Time is ticking away and though we have barely scratched the surface, it is soon time to go. Upon leaving, Marco hands us a bottle of frizzante Pinella 2019 to taste at home.

Legend (otherwise known as the book “Wine Grapes”) says that the grape variety pinella originated in the area around Gorizia, in Friuli (on the border with Slovenia) but these days it is almost exclusively found in the Colli Euganei – I’m sure someone is going to tell me otherwise – and even then only in very small quantities and usually blended (for a maximum of 20%) with other varieties.

In his book “Native Wine Grapes of Italy,” Ian D’Agata states that “many of today’s producers choose to call the variety Pinello instead of Pinella… Like many other grapes with similarly compact and small bunches, its name derives from pigna or pugno meaning fist or pine cone.”

It’s obviously hard to extrapolate the characteristics of a grape variety just from one wine but given the scarcity of the production (according to one website, there are just 10 hectares of pinella planted in the Colli Euganei) it’s the best I can do for now.

The transparent glass immediately shows a pristine, pale straw-yellow colour. Cracking the bottle open, there is a frizzzzzzz from the bubbles making their break for freedom. This is a col fondo refermented wine, meaning about 3 bars of pressure and some residual yeasts at the bottom of the bottle. The nose is immediately very citrussy with clear ripe pink grapefruit aromas. Dry. It has medium acidity, medium body, and a satisfying verticality which is wonderfully refreshing on a hot day. Similar in style and taste to a quality prosecco. Easy-drinking. Recommended!

Price: €

Rating: *** + brownie points for originality.

Checking In

According to the calendar, we’re nearly at the end of March but I have no idea where the time has gone. A quarter of the year has already passed and yet, what do we have to show for it? Pratically nothing, in my case.

Normally at this time, we’ve got back from a week in the Loire, slurping oysters and devouring as much salted butter as humanly possible, and we’re gearing up for Vinitaly and the spin-off natural wine tastings. Not this year and we don’t really know when we will again. The continued inability to plan ahead is increasingly tiresome.

We’re still at home (a new lockdown in Italy started 10 days ago) and if you turn on the TV, the headlines haven’t changed much. Do you remember the days not so long ago really when we knew nothing about viruses and vaccines?

The only difference is that over the last couple of weeks, the baby has turned into a fully-fledged toddler – along with all the tantrums that this adorable phase brings.

At the winery, the vineyard maintenance work is coming to an end and our attention is turning to the bottling of the 2020 vintage which will start next month. The upside of this entire situation is that the 2020s are turning out to be quite special. Who would of thought it! What a cruel twist of fate that the year most of us will want to forget – our annus horribilis – may become the year that we look for on a label.

Meanwhile, we haven’t drunk anything noteworthy recently. Quite possibily a side-effect of this daily ennui but the wines we have opened lack their sparkle.

That said, I have discovered a new cocktail on David Lebovitz’s website that has become my go-to aperitif in the evenings. The Jasmine.

Here’s my twist on it (for two people): put 3 oz gin + 1.5oz fresh lemon juice + 1 oz Triple Sec / Cointreau + 1 oz Campari in a shaker. Add ice. Shake. Pour. Garnish with a wide strip of lemon zest and top up with a splash of tonic water. (Or not, depending on how your day has gone!) Sit back and enjoy. Repeat this process tomorrow. And the next day… and the next…

Open Space

I was scrolling through Twitter this morning when I came across a conversation between Meg Herring, Peter Pharos and Randall Grahm.

It started from a relatively innocent tweet:

The discussion continued, tamely enough, between various people talking about grape varieties that can yield overly-fragrant, perfumed wines… until we reach this point:

MIND BLOWN.


I spent a good hour this afternoon doing some repetitive maintenance work in the vineyards so I had time to mull this concept over further.

When I talk about wine, I tend to follow the standard formula of talking about what there *is* – i.e. the aromas, flavours, finish. If I mention what there *isn’t*, it is normally a thinly-veilled criticism – i.e. “X was lacking in acidity.” The notion that some wines have “open space” turns everything on its head.

The reason this concept had such an effet on me is because it was exactly my experience of drinking Laura Aschero’s Rossese 2018 almost a year ago. “Fruity, fragrant… so light bodied it’s over half way to becoming a rosé… it works perfectly on this warm, sunny day.” (You can read the full post here.)

When assessing a wine, I am often guilty of falling into the trap of focussing on the vinification. I ask myself: is this Merlot an important wine which was fully ripe and did 3 weeks on the skins before a year or two in barrel… or is this a grappes entières carbo bomb?

If I’m hungry, my stomach overrides my brain and I tend to think about the potential food pairings: i.e. would I pair this Merlot with a cote de boeuf or with a mixed charcuterie plate? Is this wine the main course or is it just the aperitif?

What I don’t do enough – and it’s where Randall has opened my eyes – is to think more philosophically about wine. A simple, light-bodied wine could be just that, and often they are… but occasionally I come across wines which are light but exquisitely crafted. (There are a couple of Tai Rosso wines from the Colli Berici that spring to mind, for example.) It is during these moments that I will endeavour to look more holistically, in the way that Randall described, for the “palatal open space.”

“It’s not always absence but rather potentiality.”

Liberation, Partisans and Romeo & Juliet

Once you start to scratch the surface, wine is so much more than a drink. Of course, there is what you see on a shop shelf as your eye has been caught by a flashy label and you pause to think about varietals and food pairings… but that’s just the tip of the iceberg.

You may think I’m talking about winemaking – that non-stop rollercoaster ride of sugars, yeasts, bacteria, acids, oxidation and reduction… but even though there are still some things we don’t understand, it has been covered time and time again by people far more knowledgeable than myself and it’s not what I’m going to talk about today.

There’s another aspect to wine which fascinates me, probably because even from a very early age I’ve always loved history. Wine is the vehicle for being able to talk to winemakers and ask questions about their land – not necessarily the age and density of the vines – but the history of the place. Who lived there. What they did. Who they loved. Why.

I have found the Italians to be more open about these things than the French. I suppose it’s because Italians really do live up to that old stereotype of strong family ties and plenty of tradition. I was a 20-something girl who spoke little-to-no Italian when I visited Elena at La Stoppa, Giovanna at Pacina and Emilio at La Busattina. They had no real idea who I was but in each case, a mid-morning visit to the winery turned into lunch together with the family, cousins, etc… Probing into family histories is not to be attempted while tasting tank samples in a damp, frigid cellar but once you reach the end of a leisurely lunch and a waft of freshly brewed coffee reaches your nose, I’ve found that you can tentatively ask your host to tell you something about their ancestors.

Some of the stories that I’ve heard are still too sensitive and private for me to be able to recount here but that does not mean that the stories have been in any way forgotten. In many cases, I’m still filled with gratitude that they confided in me.

Those trees conceal a natural bunker, a strategic position near the crest of the hill but just off the main path.

April 25th is Liberation Day in Italy, celebrating the fall of the nazi-fascist regime at the hands of the Allied troops and the local resistance. Today I went for a walk through another part of the vineyards (you may remember my walk the other week to see the two castles) to go and revisit a partisan hide-out that I know of on the hillside.

This is where you turn off from the footpath. Watch out for snakes as you go through the long grass. I often see harmless black “scarbonassi” around here.
My four-legged companion is agile enough to have found a different route down to the bunker.
Stones from the rudimentary shelter the partisans made.

That pile of stones pales into insignificance compared to the grotto that is hidden at the Filippi winery across the valley near Soave.

I wish I could go and visit to take photos but we’re still in lockdown here so I’ll just describe it to you. There’s a path that runs through the dense woodland just below the Vigne della Brà vineyard. After a couple of hundred metres, look out for two sticks placed “haphazardly” on the left. It’s Filippo’s telltale sign to turn off the path and head even deeper into the forest. After another 40 or so metres, you’ll discover a large grotto carved out by hand by workers wanting the soft limestone rocks to build the house and the entrance arch.

13th century arch made from limestone rocks dug out from the grotto.

The grotto is about 40 metres long, 2 to 3 metres high and 4 or 5 metres deep in places. There is very little natural light as barely any sunshine can penetrate the thick woodland canopy. As a result, it’s an eerily mystical place. When it has been raining heavily, the lower half of the grotto will be underwater and the dogs go there to drink. It was a very important place for the resistance fighters as their local knowledge of the area meant that they could go there for shelter.


Today feels like a fitting day to recount my in-laws’ family link to the partisan resistance. Now the lineage is rather convoluted but the story is centred around my grand-uncle-in-law (that is: my father-in-law’s father’s brother.) At the outbreak of the ear, he was young, determined and not afraid to stand up for his beliefs. Like many others of his generation, he refused to accept the fascist regime and became part of the local resistance.

What makes this particular story more remarkable is that his girlfriend at the time decided to join him in the resistance! There were very few active female fighters in these parts and so because they were the only couple active in the hills near Verona, they were given the code names Romeo and Juliet. They cut off all contact with their families and eeked out an existence on the hills for years, in hideouts like those I’ve seen and described. The story becomes a little less romantic because Romeo’s brother – my grandfather-in-law – was arrested frequently and each time interrogated harshly by the local authorities who wanted to find the location of the two lovebirds but he never yielded.


Whilst wine has allowed me to discover these stories, it feels horribly limited and superficial at times. The majority of people only care about the taste on their tongue and the buzz afterwards. Is there a wine which would be a fitting tribute to the Romeo and Juliets, to honour those who walked back alone from the other side of the Mediterranean after they found out second-hand that the war had ended, to remember those who fell in love with the wrong person at the most inopportune of times? Or is it enough to spend a few minutes thinking about them and about how, for all we complain about our current situation, 75 years ago it was far, far worse?