Baldo

I woke up to the news that Baldo Cappellano, one of the great wine philosophers, wine activists of our time had died. I was lucky enough to spend some time with him in 2006 when I was researching my book. I caught up with him a few days later in Verona at the ViniVeri wine tasting. This is very saddening. He was one of those mythical figures and the world was lucky to have him.The natural wine movement and the region of Piemonte and the wine, Barolo, have lost a wise and kind champion. I was thinking, if I were to come back into the world, I would have liked to have been him. From Desperately Seeking Scanavino (Chapter 8, The Battle for Wine & Love) I drove up to the town of Serralunga. In fact, I drove up and down and up and down and up and down, and then I gave up and pulled on to the shoulder of the road in front of someone's house. had great instruction and Skinny's navigation skills are impeccable, but I was distracted. I got out of the car and gaped at the vineyards across way, the chemically burned vineyards Fontanafredda, Piemonte's largest producer. Hadn't anyone told them that dead soil, chemicalizing it out of its life was no longer fashionable in Piedmont? A gentleman passed, I asked him, some gentleman 'Dove, Baldo Cappellano?' They pointed me to the art nouveau, wrought iron door in back of where my car was stopped. I liked Baldo Cappellano instantly. He is one of those gentle giants, long and weedy, he is winemaker, jokester, philosopher. Dressed in cords, flannel shirt and sweater he had a Jimmy Carter-ish air to him. Here is another character of Piemonte, like Bartolo and like Elena, who I could spend hours listening to their stories, many told with a smile, belying their profundity. Once in his cramped winery he mentioned his few nods to modernity, like stainless steel tanks. I looked around, 'but you don't have any,'' I observed. "I thought they were ugly I covered them in wood." he answered. He told us some charming history, such as land used to be measured in something called journato: the time it took for a cow to eat the grass. Eventually the talk turned from his wines, and gorgeous barolos and journatos to Italian election, to Berlusconi's plastic surgery and finally to sex and love. “There are women you love and women you want to be the mother of your children," he stated. "It is the same with wine." He continued on with the there are two kinds of theme. "There are two kinds of wines, wines of the heart and normal wines. There are two kinds of wine importers. Big importing companies like Winebow cannot import Cappelano. But there still needs to be a Winebow. Look, up the road to Serralunga is Swiss man who has cows and sells milk. I love that milk, pasteurized, straight from the cow. But I can't always get there. Sometimes I have to go to the supermarket. There has to be room for both kinds of milk and both kinds of wine. Here is the crime; industry pretends to be artisan and people believe them. This is the crime. Yes. Antinori makes thirty million bottles and he wants to be seen as an artisan. Gaja is a small producer? Of course, he only makes two million bottles. It's stupid. Of course, many of these wines are made popular by Mr. Parker. It's not that we should kill Mr. Parker, but sometimes we must break his pencil." We took our goodbyes, promising to visit him at ViniVeri, the wine fair he helped to organize as an alternative to the conventional one, Vin Italy. This is one way Baldo is helping to break Mr. Parker's pencil. Kevin McKenna wrote this wonderful piece on Baldo