Not Cheese.

Velenosi Pecorino

Scores of people know that homophonic words are sometimes tricky. We tend to wonder why someone, at any point, would decide to create one term while another, with the same exact pronunciation, exists in the same spoken language. Consider also, those examples of vocabulary that have the same exact spelling and elements of dictation, but have completely different meanings. I’ve wondered about the many coincidences in the world of phonics, but there are some pretty interesting parallels. Especially, I begin to wonder about the “Llama.” A supposed indigenous term for that wooly camel-esque creature that trots down Peruvian hillsides. Is it mere chance that the Spanish word for “Name” is also ‘Llama?’ I personally, do not know for sure, but the idea is just as prevalent when looking at such curiosities as “Duck!” or “Bat.” I know, this is probably much too adolescent and unarguably insipid in value to start meddling with, but sometimes it’s better to question simple ideas than to disassemble the difficult ones. 

It’s why snorts and laughter ensue when I recommend one white wine in particular that has experienced a less than a prestigious following; well, as one would expect, you might understand how certain wines bear the burden of namesakes. You may already know it, but on a dissimilar note, it’s one that claims the same title as a very well-known block of fermented milk which is found in almost every supermarket or local Trattoria. There are some variations, but the two most popular are from Rome and Tuscany. “Pecorino....” I say it with an almost nonchalant attitude, but it has all the comedic intent that most people tend to handle with this statement: “Um...cheese Wine? Seriously...what is it?” Sorry for the letdown, but the fact remains, it doesn’t have anything to do with curds, whey, or casein proteins. 

It has a role as one of the wines found in Italy’s Marche region, but has had little success with would-be drinkers of every other white varietal that exists just about everywhere else. It’s a little on the rustic side, with those imitable sweet tarragon notes, dominated by peaches and the baskets in which they were carried, See: “woodsy.” Think of it as a white without semblances of apples, butter and that breadth of toast and spice. Quite frankly, It’s like a stone fruit packed with herbs and honeycomb. Though not set to explode, it should...I mean, there’s no harm right? Of course I mean this figuratively, but there’s no pain in imagining it. 

Velenosi Offida is one of the more exciting producers as I digress to mention that I was once cleared-out of an entire stockhold of their product. That’s good publicity for them, and bad news for me as I contemplate whether or not I’ll see it again in my lifetime. Not that it’s of lower allocation, but there’s a considerable appeal to this type of thing when you have customers who know when they have a specialty on their hands, and they buy it by the palette. I would sooner recreate the appeal and buy a case myself, but, hey...when able, I get it for free. Don’t judge me on it, but I find myself with some delicious burdens and Pecorino has been one of them. 

I honestly say, if you happen to like cheese enough to pair it with something of similar pedigree, then you might have a point. Both the grapes and the curds themselves come from completely different regions, but somehow, their end products act as complimentary foodstuffs which are still highly interpretive.  I would welcome any person to say they do receive a hint of formaggi here and there, but with Pecorino, I really don’t. Anyone can divulge on the quality of the wine and spread some info on it, but I would not go as far to chuckle about it’s nomenclature. 

Heh...I’m still waiting for Taleggio, or Grana Padano to become a grape one day.      

Brian Maniotis

Wine Warehouse

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