F is for Frascati
I promise I will not make any more bad jokes like these, really. In case you have not worked it out, I don’t really drink Frascati (or Evian for that matter).
About twelve years ago, there were lots of Japanese cartoons which featured cars which turned into robots, people who turned into robots and vice versa. Transformers and DeceptiCons - you get the idea. Well, Frascati is like one of these DeceptiCons of the wine world. A shade slightly darker than straw, it looks like it should taste like one of the oaked Chardonnays from the New World - honeyed, buttery and so on. Or as that weird woman from the BBC’s Food and Wine programme (not Oz Clarke, the other one) calls it “bosomy”.
Magari - if only Frascati were that. No, it taste like a mixture of vinegar, water and cat’s piss (not that I’ve tried the last but if I did, I would not have any problems recognising it - it would be just like Frascati) and nobody other than people who live around Rome ever tries to defend it and the reason for its existence.
My friend Anna who does live in Rome has tried to convince me that it tastes fresh (my milk cartons say that as well) and that served really cold, it makes a passable aperitif. No, apologies but it would take a lot more to convince me on that one - you are still my great friend and if we are to keep up the hitherto accurate claim that we have never shared a dud bottle then we must forgo the Frascati. Ego te absolvo.
I know if you were to think of Italian wines, you would hardly think of whites. It’s not what they serve in Italian restaurants and the Italians themselves seem to prefer to drink red wine with their seafood than risk the whites. However, and you will have to take my word for it - the Italian pinot grigios and chardonnays are by far the best value for money white wines (and surprisingly the most dependable) you could find on the wine list of a pub or wine bar in London unless you happen to like honeyed, buttery and bosomy white wines from the New World.
A word about the Chardonnays from the Veneto region - it is the same stuff that goes into the Prosecco, really and I believe I once heard a story (although I cannot be sure about this) that at Harry’s Bar in Venice, they make the original Bellinis from whizzed up white peach and dry, still Chardonnay which they then top up with the sparkling Prosecco. Be adventurous - go spend £4 (or S$28 in Singapore although there is a sale in a couple of weeks) on a bottle of Ruffino Libaio, a cheap and cheerful Chardonnay - see if you like it. What have you got to lose?
In some ways, it is a bit of a shame that Rome, which has great people, great food and great art, should have lousy wine but I read in Hugh Johnson’s excellent account of viticulture that the Romans (both ancient and modern) were to blame for this (and as you may recall from the excellent Life of Brian - what have the Romans done for us?) . You see, for the longest time, vines were grown, not staked and trained in the ground but up and on top of trees. Like olive trees.
Yep, you heard it right. Up and on - which meant that the vines could not be pruned and therefore improved. Yields were low historically and the quality poor - the winemakers got what juice they could and tried to make wine out of it. It’s not an encouraging story.
What hope I have in the region and its wine industry lies in the fact that not so long ago (say 50 years), Tuscany was in exactly the same situation. Chianti was what you tried to flog off to unsuspecting tourists (there is still some pretty dire wine in Tuscany). Then some money added to desperation as well as a stroke of luck led to the development of the Super Tuscan IGTs and the subsequent dragging up effect on the rest of the Chianti industry.
One can only hope that investment in new techniques and who knows, even new varietals would improve the wine around Rome. After all, I will always maintain my heart lies in Rome and the Eternal City will forever be my spiritual home.
Senatus et Populous Qua Romanus.
About twelve years ago, there were lots of Japanese cartoons which featured cars which turned into robots, people who turned into robots and vice versa. Transformers and DeceptiCons - you get the idea. Well, Frascati is like one of these DeceptiCons of the wine world. A shade slightly darker than straw, it looks like it should taste like one of the oaked Chardonnays from the New World - honeyed, buttery and so on. Or as that weird woman from the BBC’s Food and Wine programme (not Oz Clarke, the other one) calls it “bosomy”.
Magari - if only Frascati were that. No, it taste like a mixture of vinegar, water and cat’s piss (not that I’ve tried the last but if I did, I would not have any problems recognising it - it would be just like Frascati) and nobody other than people who live around Rome ever tries to defend it and the reason for its existence.
My friend Anna who does live in Rome has tried to convince me that it tastes fresh (my milk cartons say that as well) and that served really cold, it makes a passable aperitif. No, apologies but it would take a lot more to convince me on that one - you are still my great friend and if we are to keep up the hitherto accurate claim that we have never shared a dud bottle then we must forgo the Frascati. Ego te absolvo.
I know if you were to think of Italian wines, you would hardly think of whites. It’s not what they serve in Italian restaurants and the Italians themselves seem to prefer to drink red wine with their seafood than risk the whites. However, and you will have to take my word for it - the Italian pinot grigios and chardonnays are by far the best value for money white wines (and surprisingly the most dependable) you could find on the wine list of a pub or wine bar in London unless you happen to like honeyed, buttery and bosomy white wines from the New World.
A word about the Chardonnays from the Veneto region - it is the same stuff that goes into the Prosecco, really and I believe I once heard a story (although I cannot be sure about this) that at Harry’s Bar in Venice, they make the original Bellinis from whizzed up white peach and dry, still Chardonnay which they then top up with the sparkling Prosecco. Be adventurous - go spend £4 (or S$28 in Singapore although there is a sale in a couple of weeks) on a bottle of Ruffino Libaio, a cheap and cheerful Chardonnay - see if you like it. What have you got to lose?
In some ways, it is a bit of a shame that Rome, which has great people, great food and great art, should have lousy wine but I read in Hugh Johnson’s excellent account of viticulture that the Romans (both ancient and modern) were to blame for this (and as you may recall from the excellent Life of Brian - what have the Romans done for us?) . You see, for the longest time, vines were grown, not staked and trained in the ground but up and on top of trees. Like olive trees.
Yep, you heard it right. Up and on - which meant that the vines could not be pruned and therefore improved. Yields were low historically and the quality poor - the winemakers got what juice they could and tried to make wine out of it. It’s not an encouraging story.
What hope I have in the region and its wine industry lies in the fact that not so long ago (say 50 years), Tuscany was in exactly the same situation. Chianti was what you tried to flog off to unsuspecting tourists (there is still some pretty dire wine in Tuscany). Then some money added to desperation as well as a stroke of luck led to the development of the Super Tuscan IGTs and the subsequent dragging up effect on the rest of the Chianti industry.
One can only hope that investment in new techniques and who knows, even new varietals would improve the wine around Rome. After all, I will always maintain my heart lies in Rome and the Eternal City will forever be my spiritual home.
Senatus et Populous Qua Romanus.
posted by porcorosso at 8:23 AM
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