The whiz kid
The whiz kid. No, it is not me.
You will find out in due time, if you are quick-witted and pay attention, as this story unfolds backwards.
Yes, you’ve heard it right; this is going to be a backwards article.
Lunch break. A blessed one.
A Village near the Cinque Terre. Liguria, Bonassola.
First days of March and first beautiful sun. I leave my jacket in the car. Shirt sleeves rolled up like a carpenter. But who cares?
"Damn cool! I love it!".
I need a break for at least an hour. A few scattered tables and chairs by the sea at a charming place that is almost completely empty. I chose the best spot and sit down. It doesn't matter what kind of place this is. I like it, there’s something about it. Good vibes indeed. With the sun kissing my face. So soothing, so warm. A young boy comes to greet me and introduces himself as the owner of the bar. He gets me somehow and suggests a mixed fried paranza – small fresh fish – that is cooked directly on the fishing boat, and points out at a moored one not far away.
Where am I?
Is this a dream?
Is this a corner of paradise?
I passionately accept his suggestion and ask for a glass of white, a good one, you know what I mean. He nods as he knows his business, and I know he knows me too. Anticipation, and I let myself be served. The steaming paper wrap arrives, and my glass of wine shortly after.
Intense straw yellow, crystal clear. Bright. Way more than that!
Like the sun twinkling on the sea water.
It has all the sea savory freshness, (or fresh flavor) that makes it pleasantly persistent. Enveloping scents of green apple, Williams pear, star anise, Mediterranean herbs and citrus fruits, cedar, a light mineral touch and delicious floral hints of gorse and jasmine.
An exquisitely delicious Vermentino. (or deliciously exquisite)
Needless to say, the servings of fried paranza had become two and the glasses of wine… well, as they say:
"You should never count the years, the kisses and the glasses of wine!".
You do understand that I had to make a note of the label however, and had the bottle delivered to the table at some point. My new friend brought it to me, and pointing to the hills overlooking the sea he said "That’s where it comes from”.
I promise to visit!
And I kept my promise a few months later.
A natural amphitheater facing the glorious sea.
An evocative place where the fresh sea breeze mingles and mixes with the overwhelming scents of the Mediterranean scrub forest.
The vineyards seem to deepen their roots directly into the sea to enrich the bunches with its full tasty flavor (or flavor fulness of taste). Vermentino, but also Albarola and Bosco, to make the Bonazolae and the Intraprendente, a dessert wine, and other native varieties.
The Ruzzese white above all, which has been planted recently, after having been lost for over a century, and with very defined and intriguing future projects. Or rather, Entrepreneurial. Very Entrepreneurial.
A whiz kid.
In fact, Sante Lancerio, bottle man of Pope Paul III Farnese, wrote that the Pope "used to dip dried figs in the lovely Ruzzese".
I dare add:
"Better a wiz kid in Bonassola than an entrepreneur in Milan."
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