I inherited my passion for wine from Pasqualin, my grandfather. As a child I spent whole afternoons helping him in the wine cellar to "a cavè e vén" as it was called in the local dialect, meaning to transfer the wine from the vats to the demijohns or from the demijohns to the bottles.
I remember the evenings spent in the wine cellar checking the wine press and filtering. Immersed in the aromas, I woke up the next morning in my bed a bit dazed, high on the wine fumes. And then there were the sweet Albana grapes, filtered through burlap sacks hanging from the wooden beams; treading barefoot seemed like an ancient process once mechanical equipment was introduced to the vats.
Although I was a child I understood the love for the land and the effort required to do a good job. Today, the vineyards in which I was so inquisitive produce Sangiovese and Albana grapes.
I loved my grandfather Pasqualin. He told me that one day we will buy a horse, climb into the saddle and go out for a ride with the trap. But there was no time. Many years after his death I bought a horse myself, thinking of him. I reared the mare carefully, which thanks to a good dose of luck gave me racehorses. One of them has often won and still continues to do so. It is called Maestro, but that's another story ...
With the wines I do the same thing, in memory of my grandfather Pasqualin: try to get on track in the hope of winning some small prize. See as we are just starting out, there is still time ....
