Italian Wine Week

During the four days of February 2 to 5, everyone who was anyone in the New York metro area wine business (and many who were no one) could be found attending various parts of Vino 2010, aka Italian Wine Week. That included me, your humble taster/scribe, always a willing victim of Italy’s efforts at self-promotion.

This gargantuan trade exposition of Italian wine was the largest ever held in the United States. About 260 distributors and 400 producers introduced unfathomable quantities and varieties of wine, including some not yet available for sale in the United States, in the ballrooms and seminar suites of the Waldorf Astoria, the New York Hilton, and other sites around town. Imagine the clipboards, walkie-talkies, name tags, and unionized waiters needed.

The brainchild (or should I say, “taste child”) of the Italian Ministry of Agriculture and the Italian Ministry of Economic Development, Vino 2010 was sponsored by Buonitalia Spa (promoter of authentic wines and foods of Italy), the Italian Trade Commission and Veronafiere (the host of Vinitaly, a wine expo in Verona).

The regions of Apulia, Calabria, Tuscany and Veneto (otherwise known for hot peasants, goats, Leonardo da Vinci, and singing gondaliers, in that order) also presented specialized seminars and hosted wine dinners at the Waldorf Astoria, orchestrated by star chefs from Manhattan’s Salumeria Rosi, I Trulli, Il Gattopardo, and SD 26.

It was hard to tell who was sponsoring what: There were also tastings and seminars run by a consortium from the “Italian Wine Masters” of Brunello di Montalcino, Chianti Classico, Conegliano-Valdobbiadene Prosecco Superiore, and Vino Nobile di Montepulciano, all practicing vinous one-upsmanship alongside lessons in pronunciation.

I penetrated the chaos of gesticulating wine imbibers to attend a comparative tasting seminar of “The Evolution of Prosecco.” The setting in the Waldorf’s Starlight room was elegant, with linen and crystal at each place. Introducing the assembled journalists and wine buyers to seven wines from Prosecco’s best region, the hilly area north of Venice known as Conegliano-Valdobbiadene, was Anthony Giglio, chosen (he said) because his name also contains the “Italian speedbump,” the dipthong “gl.”

Mr. Giglio is a charming fellow, but why did the region choose a speaker whose wine experience is based on a youth spent drinking “spaghetti spritzers” (Italian-American jug wine mixed with Seven-Up) in his family’s basement? As he told us, “I’m used to doing consumer tastings. I can tell them anything. They’ll smile and laugh and agree. This is the first time I’ve talked to experts.”

He did have an important announcement to make: In response to the flood of inferior Italian wines currently being labeled as “prosecco” (100 million bottles per year, at last count), the traditional producers of quality prosecco have, after 40 years of effort, managed to change the law. Apparently, a video showing Paris Hilton sipping a can of Brazilian “prosecco” through a straw was the tipping point.

Beginning this spring, the only wines that can legally be called “prosecco” will be sparkling wine from the traditional regions north of Venice that has been fermented using the Charmat process in large, pressurized tanks. The grape formerly known as “prosecco” will now be called “glera,” and must comprise 85 percent of prosecco wine, with 15 percent of indigenous varieties (verdiso, branchetta, boschera, and glera lunga) also permitted.

Mr. Giglio sincerely tried to explain the new law, and was making progress when one of the wine journalists in the audience asked him, “What about all the chardonnay that’s used in Prosecco?”

Seeing that Mr. Giglio was dumbfounded, one of the Italian producers rose from the audience to explain, “Up to 15 percent of chardonnay is allowed, if you need it for structure. But then you can’t use those indigenous varieties.”

A wave of incredulity swept the audience. So that was a clarification of prosecco? Va bene. What really mattered were the wines, and they were delicious. They ranged from brut to dry (“dry” meaning “sweet” here—blame the French for that terminology). I particularly admired the Col Vetoraz, Conegliano Valdobbiadene Brut, which was exuberantly refreshing, with a pronounced ripe pear skin 
aroma, and the Perlage Brut Animae, a biodynamic prosecco made with no 
sulfite addition. The Perlage was distinctly different from the other, fruitier wines; its more oxidative condition gave it a lovely almond finish.

Back in the ballroom, I was selective in what I tasted of the thousands of bottles on offer. Among these, Barone Ricasoli, from Tuscany’s oldest winery, showed a fine, traditional Tuscan-style “Castello di Brolio.” I also enjoyed a briary Bibbiano and a lovely, fresh Castillo di Alma. Banfi’s 2006 “riserva” showed remarkable restraint; I preferred its more delicate style to the winery’s 2005, a difficult vintage.

Outside the tastings, I met up with Jackie Rogers, executive assistant of the Long Island Wine Council. As the two of us took in the scene at the Waldorf, she mentioned that some wine journalist had aggressively confronted her about how little promotion is done by Long Island wineries, compared to Italy. Unmentioned was the fact that Italy sells $1.1 billion worth of wine in the United States.

I guess they can afford a few more walkie-talkies and unionized waiters than Long Island’s 45 producers. And, regardless, Long Island’s Jazz on the Vine series (/www.liwinterfest.com) is more fun than a ballroom full of wine distributors.