| Bressan Schioppettino |
Exacting what I must, I tend to always give the proper opinion, or least I think I do, on certain items that come to my attention every so often. The potential subject may have something to do with the utmost relevance, or just be part of some reasonable quirk of mine that happens to interest me at the current time. What I can say, is that in most cases , it tends to strike me dumb when I least expect it, and I have no recourse but to shun everything else that may be of an indefinitely lesser importance. Sure, I’ve tried to be honest as possible, but for the untimely gift of suggestion; i.e., “recommendations,” I honestly have something here that I think you’ll like. All the verbal tid-bitting and “hey, look at this!” mentality of my posts have either brought readers to gainfully dismiss my profiling of wine and spirits, so they can move on with their more exciting, more expensive wine, which they probably are.
Ergo, I have Schioppettino in mind, partly because it’s fairly unknown to the common buyer, and it’s from the Fruili area where Pinot Grigio is still seated within its cruel, almost laughable kingship of sorts. The varietal is red, it’s certainly not the product of feminine overseas interest, but it’s still elegant as it is powerful. The more you drink it, oh wait, the more I drink it, the closer I become to realizing there’s few wines which are able to uproot the old passions and proclivities that forwarded me into this business. It’s obscure, sure, it’s from Northeastern Italy, and you would probably find Refosco much sooner, but the little indigenous grape that almost faced extinction, is now being recognized as a successful single varietal that doesn’t need any tempering whatsoever.
I Had Bressan’s 2005 vintage, which for me was a savage treat, because it was actually affordable, and I felt a certain uprisen carnality occur in my being, because the power of this Schioppettino was frightening. A sultry, dark crimson color, fitted with tightly knit legs, about two millimeters apart, came through to a medium-to-full-bodied frame that opened up into densely-packed, ultra-concentrated handful of strawberries and raspberry. A slight undertow of black fruits and leather, with notes of juniper and sweet woodland herbs followed. It nearly makes one quiver thinking about the finish as-is, but the experience is the real exception here. So far, the appeal is probably all my own, but whichever, the fact remains that I can actually feel a certain candor about discovering something that years ago, could have been extinct, or worse, limited to an old Italian winemaker’s backyard.
I just thought I would share that with readers this week. Not because I’m gloating, but it’s nice once and awhile to feel reminded of why I wake up every morning trying to extract the conscious and subconscious elements of wine and its participating creators. I do not however, enjoy the early morning, but It’s just another obfuscation before another sip of that Italian red wine I’m so obsessed with lately. I keep asking myself how grapes alone are responsible for so much, and I think I found an culpable answer to my question. Is it nature? Or just something that just happened with the right pair of human eyes, or intervention? I guess if there was no one around to make it, then I wouldn’t be enjoying it right?
Well, I guess my next path in life is winemaking...but I doubt it.
Brian Maniotis
Wine Warehouse Team
Visit us @: westchesterwine.com
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