I thought I’d done “winetasting”. I assumed that my little trips to North Fork, Sonoma, Santorini, and Niagara Falls could be considered tasting wine. After all, I’d visited cellars, swirled my reds, and checked the viscosity of whites against the glass. I thought I knew the routine. Wrong!
In summer 2011, I was set straight at the Luigi Giusti Vineyards in Le Marche Italy.
Visiting the Luigi Giusti Winery in Le Marche Italy
As guests at La Tavola Marche Cooking School and B&B, Neil and I were invited by our hosts to join their friend, regional guide Marco on a tour of the Italian countryside. At times overshadowed by its neighbors Tuscany and Umbria, Le Marche is an underrated province. Small towns dot major thoroughfares. Ranchers herd their cattle through town and renaissance architecture looms above freshly painted houses. The Apennine Mountains roll into foothills and the Adriatic Sea is a cerulean blue. Cheese and bread are artesian crafts and families like the Giusti’s still grow ancient vines for crisp wines. What’s not to love?
Unlike some wine tours in the US, we didn’t start by bellying up to a darkwood bar manned by a haughty worker. Instead, our van rolled up a graveled driveway to a complex of three houses.
Beyond the winemaking houses, naked vines ran down a slope into a curving basin of black soil. Under the scorching Le Marche sun, I took refuge in the shade and was promptly greeted by vintner and owner, Giovanni Giusti.
His cheeks plumped to a warm smile, glasses teetering on his nose. A simple collared shirt and khakis accentuated his laidback yet focused style. With a wave of his hand, we entered a room with stainless steel tanks. “I hope it’s clean.” He tilted his head. So did I but when we passed into the cool air, I saw nothing but spotless tanks and swept floors. Power panels blinked red and blue on the wall. Clean glasses sat on a desk next to books and ledgers for the winemaker. As Giovanni explained his methods, Neil took position with his video camera and I fluttered around for angled still shots.
When we visited the warehouse, the air became much cooler. In the dark room, large oak barrels sat on their sides, wedged up against each other and flush to the wall. Giovanni demonstrated how he checked and rotated the wine. Sometimes he had help but mostly he worked by himself, fueled by his passion for good wine and family legacy.
“My father saw something in me.” Giovanni balanced an empty bottle on a keg, pointing its neck directly at the far wall. “I never even drank until he asked me what I thought of his wine.” Giovanni’s nose and palette propelled him into the business at a young age. Working with his father, they drew up plans for great estate wines. But then Giovanni rubbed his eyes. “My father died when I was too young.” I saw the dedication that flows into his winemaking, as if each bottle was a small memorial to his father. “Sometimes my clients call me Luigi. But I don’t say nothing. It’s a good name. My father’s name.”
With quick transition, we walked outside where our guide Marco and Giovanni discussed what to do next. Giovanni waved and disappeared around the corner. Marco herded us back to the van. We were going for a ride.
A five minute drive away, we turned onto another vineyard property. A lone house stood at the crest of a hill, around it green vines heavy with lacrima grapes threaded up and down the landscape. Red roses grew at the head and foot of each row. Car parked, we walked across the yard and into a small olive grove. Giovanni’s wife smoothed a linen cloth over a table. Two young boys chased each other around an old tree. And Giovanni was beginning to unpack two cases of his signature wines.
Real Wine Tasting in Le Marche, Italy
Around a long table, we settled back in our chairs. A breeze kicked up and little bees buzzed at the fence surrounding the olive grove. We were not limited to three tastings from a menu. We didn’t have to stand awkwardly in a tasting room. Instead, we were outside beside the vines where the grapes had grown. We nibbled on crusty bread dipped in olive oil and provolone cheese chased by
salty olives. There was no rush. Time was irrelevant as we tasted Giusti wines, talked about distribution, exporting, and Giovanni’s friends around the world.
Giusti wines are distributed in the US and all over Europe. In general his reds sell with regularity. But the rosé wines were different. Placing two bottles in front of a massive plate of cut meats, Giovanni patted a dark red rosé. “Italians like this one.” He then lifted the second bottle with a candy pink hue. “French and Americans like this one.”
We puzzled over the bottles and tried a true taste test.
The darker rosé had a light body that first felt like a white wine but finished with a ghost-like heavier finish of a red. It was good, a wine perfect for early spring when a winter chill still tints the air but warm afternoons are common.
The lighter rosé was dangerously drinkable in the high summer heat with a sweet start and finish. Like its taste, the wine’s hue was delicate and feminine. “Very popular with women.” Giovanni uncorked a second bottle to share.
Neil taught the two sons and a neighbor some games, and I followed Giovanni down the vineyard rows. At 2pm, Marco had to cancel a second wine tasting that he’d scheduled since we’d spent over 3 hours with the Giusti family. Instead, we headed to Ostra for a seaside lunch of egg-yellow pasta tossed with fresh seafood and accompanied by chilled Verdicchio white wine. As we left the olive grove, we shook hands and exchanged information with the Giusti family. At the van, Giovanni slipped a case of wine into the back seat with a smile. “My gift. Come back soon.”







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