The Inside Story from Italian Wine Merchants

A Tale of Two Bottles

a summer spent with people and wine

As a writer and a misanthrope, I spend much of my time alone, brooding, typing and occasionally, writing. But this past summer, I’ve been unusually social. I attended dinners, parties and weekends away, all pleasant obligations that require me to purchase and proffer a bottle or six of wine. This past summer, the social summer of 2010, has been defined by two specific bottles of wine: Di Conciliis Falanghina 2008 and Valle Dell’Acate Il Frappato 2008.

Neither of these bottles is particularly chic—they both come from southern Italy, areas windswept and arid, not lush, romantic regions like Toscana and Piemonte—so I wasn’t buying to impress a wine snob. They’re not expensive; both retail in the low $20 range. They’re not crafted from well-known varieties; rather, both Falanghina and Frappato are little-known indigenous grapes. They’re not big, fruity, international wines; some people might not easily understand either bottle. Not endowed with the qualities given to most hostess gift wines, the wines I chose are small, delightful, slightly eccentric and cheap—and I love them.

I’m not very good at describing wine in customary wine discourse. I could say that the white Falanghina has a white peach and lychee palate and a bouncy acidity or that the red Frappato has a lovely bright cherry color, a nose of raspberries and a charming, lissome body, but I’d sound disingenuous. That’s not how I think of these wines. It’s now how I remember them, and it’s not why I cart them by the case out to Fire Island.

Instead, I’d say this: the Falanghina always reminds me of a really pretty girl who is a lot snarkier and smarter than you first thought, and the Frappato always makes me think of eating berries on Central Park’s Great Lawn with the love of my life.  Regardless of how I think of the wines—with analogies to fruit and flowers or in metaphors of people and experiences—I’ve enjoyed spending time with these wines, and I’ve liked them enough to introduce them to the people I love.

Summer is ending, and even a curmudgeon like me starts to feel nostalgic. My nostalgia too has become embodied in these bottles. Though the Falanghina may have begun in Campania and the Frappato in Sicilia, they’ve become forever attached to my summer here in Manhattan, on Fire Island and in Vermont. Though they’re wines, they feel like friends. I’ll miss them when they’re gone.

Cheese, Please

The skinny on some of IWM’s favorite Italian cheeses

La Tur

As a server for the IWM Vintage Tasting Room and our Studio del Gusto events, as well as being a sales associate in the store, I’m required to learn the ins and outs of each cheese and wine pairing, which couldn’t be a more enjoyable work requirement. In the spirit of sharing this delicious knowledge, I’m giving you a thumbnail sketch of some of my invaluable on-the-job cheese knowledge.

First, here are a few common terms to remember as you venture into Italian cheese territory:

Fresco—fresh

Tenero—tender

Dolce—sweet

Duro—hard

Stagionato—aged/matured

Vecchio—old

Stravecchio—very old

Toma: this soft- to semi-hard cow‘s milk cheese comes from the high Alps of Valle d’Aosta and Piemonte regions of Italy.  It ripens like Brie to create a thick rind with a pale to golden yellow sweet paste on the inside. One of Piemonte’s traditional cheeses, it works especially well with Chianti, as well as local Valle d’Aosta wines such as Torrette and Piemonte’s Dolcetto and Barbaresco.

Bra

Caprino: derived from the word, “capra,” which means “goat,” this cheese is made from whole or skim goat’s milk. It can be made in the fresco (fresh) or stagionato (seasoned) styles. The Fresco only ages for three to five days, and therefore maintains a soft, creamy texture. Fiano, Falanghina and Asti Spumante are white wines that serve this cheese well, as do reds like Barbaresco and Beaujolais.

Bra: originating in northern Italy in the Piemonte town of Bra, this cheese is made with pasteurized or unpasteurized cow’s milk. The unpasteurized version is the traditional hard style that ripens for three to six months. During this time, the color darkens and the flavor intensifies. The other type, which is pasteurized, is sold after only 45 days of aging while the paste is still soft.

Robiola: deriving from the word “rubeole“ (ruddy) due to the hue of its seasoned rind, Robiola is made from a mixture of cow, goat and sheep’s milk and is a soft-ripened cheese from the Stracchino cheese family (Stracca means “tired”; cheeses from the Stracchino family are made with the milk of tired cows since it’s richer in fats and more acidic).  Robiola is tangy and has an intense aroma with subtle creamy flavors to compensate. Robiolas can be aged alone or wrapped in different kinds of leaves to absorb the flavors of the leaves, imparting complex flavors.

La Tur: my most favorite cheese on the planet, it is a bloomy, pasteurized mix of cow, goat and sheep‘s milk. It stands about two inches high and about two inches wide, cakey in texture, yet oozing towards the rim. It’s fresh but also tantalizingly funky. I love pairing this cheese with unusual, obscure varietals such as Frappato, Grignolino and Freisa.

Fontina: a cow’s milk cheese made in the Alps of the Aosta valley since the twelfth century, this cheese has stood the test of time and is one of the most popular and easy to distinguish Italian cheeses. Also made in Sweden and France, the Aosta valley stands as this cheese’s original hometown. Fontina is well known for its earthy and mushroom flavors, which pair perfectly with braised meats and shaved truffles.

Taleggio: a washed-rind cheese, this is another one of my favorites with its buttery texture, pungency and fruity flavors. This cheese goes best with young Nebbiolo wines and fluffy Italian loaf.

Toma

Pecorino Romano: produced primarily in Sardegna and very popular in the States, this cheese is made completely from ewe’s milk. Showing a slight sweetness with a buttery and nutty aspect, Pecorino is usually aged for eight months, making the texture just right—not too hard, not too soft. This flexible cheese goes superbly with most Italian wines, especially Chianti Riserva.

Gorgonzola Cremificato: Also known as “Gorgonzola Dolce,” this gorgonzola is creamier and sweeter than most other blues and a lovely complement to sliced pears. If serving it as an after-dinner treat, don’t forget to pair it with every blue cheese’s favorite dessert wine, Sauternes.

Callu de Cabreddu: also known as Cabrettu, this unusual cheese dates back 6,000 years. A Sardinian goat’s milk cheese that is ripened in a baby goat’s stomach, the flavors of Callu de Cabreddu are extremely strong and explosive.  It’s tough to pair this cheese with wine, because it’s so intense; I prefer this cheese on its own with some warm, Italian ciabatta bread.

As with the vast majority of Italian food, the adage “if it grows together, it goes together” works with wine and cheese as well. Check out the region, and if possible the township where your wine and your cheese originate. Chances are you’ll be on the right track. Or ask any of the IWM sales associates. We love to share our cheese expertise.