| Buon Pomeriggio Free Rangers, I was just about to write something really important. Full of wit and fury. But I’ve forgotten what it was. But fuck that noise. So, I was sitting on a plane high up over the Atlantic (ocean, not avenue), wondering what the hell I was doing there, and what my point was. I was deep in my head, not in a good way, so I pulled up the The Big Lebowski on the in-flight entertainment system to distract me. That film is absolutely nothing without Julianne Moore; really a profoundly effective piece of character work. I just dropped in to see what condition my condition was in, indeed. The impetus for my first real vacation in a decade sprang from a tweet from my awesome and unreasonably positive friend, Lizz- the Feminist Buzzkill– who mentioned taking her first ever trip to Italy. So, I thought I’d use the excuse to call in a couple of favors and get us hooked up in wine country. Two of my all-time favorite Italian growers are Volpaia in the Chianti hills, and Paolo Bea in Cerrete, and our respective reps from whom we buy not insignificant amounts of their products told me “almost positive” and “shouldn’t be a problem.” Well, Giampiero Bea and his #2, Sergio, didn’t ever reply to me, our rep- who knows them personally- or Sarah, the woman at Rosenthal (importer and distributor) who arranges grower visits (or tries anyway). Given that they seem to not be responding to anybody these days, including press requests, it’s hard to take this too personally, but I have also told said rep- in no uncertain terms- that I expect some kind of a story when they have it. I’m assured that will be the case. And Bea bottles have become so marquee that ceasing to buy them only serves to punish me and you. Quite the contrary at Volpaia, after some bumps, bruises, and some wasted time, which negated the possibility of staying in their villa, or eating at their restaurant, I was promised that when my friend Lizz, my new friend (her old friend), Karen, and I arrived, the quality of the experience would wash away all that had occurred before. Spoiler alert: the only favor that anyone at Volpaia did us, after we learned that the villa had been booked in the week in between when I made my request and when I was given the information, was that we should stay at Palazzo Leopoldo in the beautiful, surreal, medieval hilltop town of Rada in Chianti. And at this point, my unrelentingly wonderful friend, Lizz, would insist that I shine a light into this darkness and admit that the week was beyond grand, and that everything worked out to the profound benefit, joy, and relaxation of our little travel trio, in those historic hills, at the beach in Follonica in the days that followed, and at one of the finest restaurants in the world in our final night in Rome. But after traversing menacing roads and countless savage switchbacks (driving in Italy under normal circumstances is fairly treacherous), we arrived at Castello di Volpaia to find that we had an appointment for a generic 15 minute consumer group tour hosted by a tour guide who didn’t look old enough to drink (though his English was far better than my Italian). He repeated himself constantly, and couldn’t answer fairly basic questions that were off script. This culminated in a beautiful outdoor tasting area where we very slowly given tiny tastes of their basic offerings from brand new vintages, which stopped short of their storied Cru wines. To add insult to injury, we were seated next to a Wilson Daniels (Volpaia US importer) executive who also seemed surprised that this was the best they were going to do for him as well, and really wanted to bond over it. It wasn’t just that he was a repellent massive albino-toad-creature un-ironically wearing a powder blue Hawaiian shirt (way too open at the soggy marshmallow neck), that I didn’t want to talk to him. This is a small industry, and I recognized his pasty face and condescending demeanor from a previous gig, but didn’t dig into that either. After the fourth time I suggested that I was fairly upset about the situation and that we should change the subject- which he didn’t respect- I told him that he could also stop talking entirely. After he finally shut his filthy pie hole long enough for me to take a breath and regroup, I tried to ask him about his proclivities in wine, and to no surprised, like so many at his level in the industry, he didn’t really care about the products or producers, just about how he was treated. He might as well be selling lawn furniture or used cars for his bloated salary. The Marshmallow Man suggested that I not take it out on Volpaia, but blame Wilson Daniels. I posited, should one blame the fingers or the hand? The point was lost on this jackanapes, and the conversation because downright hostile. His lady friend claimed to work for Apple, but didn’t seem to be so bright, and when the rest of us were talking about the wines in the glass, she kept saying how pretty the labels were, so she must be in marketing. He brought back up that he wasn’t getting any better access than I was, and forced me to point out that in this scenario, I am the client and that we had been buying Volpaia for a long time, and not a tiny amount. “Oh yeah,” he belched, “how many bottles, a thousand?” This is the short version and I’ll spare you the rest. So, you won’t be shocked to learn that we’re closing out all Volpaia products in our shop for this week’s sale. It’s a shame, really, I absolutely love and collect their wine(s), and genuinely believe that they produce some of the most delicious Sangiovese based wine of which I am aware in the world, even if they have increased their prices three times in four vintages. On top of this, Allie, our rep from Wilson Daniels is a close friend (on whom I and just about everyone we know in common has a huge crush- man, woman, child, animal, vegetable, and mineral), and one of my favorite people with whom to share irreplaceable bottled art. She’s even been adopted by my nerdy group of wine buddies and is part of our regular wine dinners, and I can’t wait to see her there next week. But the firm that she represents and this producer allowed me to travel 4,584 miles just to be treated like a total schmuck, in front of now dear friends (who were unreasonably sweet about it). And until someone from Castello di Volpaia comes to the shop, pours me something old and rare, apologizes sincerely, and explains exactly why it had to go down that way, I’d have to be a total asshole to spend another dollar in their direction, and I am completely different kind of asshole. And until then, I don’t want to see their godforsaken pretty labels within the confines of our little shop for the foreseeable future. Volpaia has been growing in popularity, well on their way to cult status, and they just don’t have to care about anyone, which they have proven to me. They aren’t likely even to notice that we’ve stopped buying their wine, but Allie will (truly sorry, my dear). So, Derek has put together a great sale page, including Volpaia Chianti Classico in 375ml and 750ml, two vintages (and one in magnum!) of Chianti Classico Riserva, tiny amounts of their highly allocated and absolutely delicious Crus, Coltalassa, Balifico, and the beyond profound 100% Sangiovese Il Puro, and two vintages of the very rare delightfully sweet Vin Santo. So have at these wonderful bottled delights, and please get them out of my sight. The are all starting at 10% off, and increasing with volume thusly: 1-3 bottles: 10% off 4-6 bottles: 15% off 7-11 bottles: 20% off 12+ bottles: 25% off (!) Click here for the hidden sale page (!) *** Online exclusive! *** *** This week only! *** Cheers, Jack Proprietor Free Range Wine & Spirits P.S. Free Range E-mail Archive |
