I have been living in Italy for years now. I drink Italian wine regularly, I write about it obsessively, and I genuinely believe it is some of the finest wine on earth. And I had absolutely no idea this happened until I started digging. In the spring of 1986, Italy…
There are wines you drink. And then there is Barolo — the kind of wine that doesn’t accept being ignored. You don’t open it on a random Tuesday. You don’t multitask with it. If you treat it like background wine, it responds accordingly: it shuts down and makes you work…
Let me tell you something about Prosecco that nobody in a fancy wine shop will ever admit. It doesn’t need a special occasion. It doesn’t need a reason. It doesn’t need a speech, a milestone, or a carefully chosen glass. Prosecco is the wine that shows up when you need…
Ask almost anyone how to pair wine with dinner and you’ll probably hear the same answer. Fish gets white wine. Meat gets red. Simple, neat, easy to remember. It’s also one of those rules that starts falling apart the moment you spend enough time eating in Italy. Not because Italians…
Most people hesitate before buying a $50 bottle of wine. Someone once spent $558,000. Not on a wine collection, not on a wine cellar. On a single bottle. The obvious question isn’t whether the wine was good. The real question is: who spends that much money on a bottle of…
Most people in this series discovered wine and fell in love with it. Bought a vineyard, planted some grapes, lived the dream. Jay-Z built a Champagne empire because someone disrespected him. And honestly? That’s a far better story. First, A Quick Word About Cristal If you were anywhere near a…
Wine is one of those topics where everyone suddenly becomes a nutrition expert after two glasses. One person says it’s “good for the heart.”Another says it’s basically sugar in disguise.Someone else will confidently call it a “Mediterranean health secret” like it’s a prescription. And honestly, most of these takes are…
Prosecco vs Champagne vs Spumante I have a small bone to pick, and it’s been sitting in my glass for a while now. Every time someone hands me a glass of Prosecco and calls it “Italian Champagne,” a tiny part of me dies. Not dramatically. Just a little. The way…
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