Forget-me-not wine

So, I have myself a job. And it’s about guiding people through a cellar tour, followed by a wine tasting in a Barolo producer’s family winery.

The above is what I expect the job description would be. For me though, it’s about much more than that. It’s about avoiding floundering my way through concepts and practices I had forgotten. It’s trying to communicate the passion and interest I’ve always had in wine, while trying to be taken seriously and represent this family as best I can; though I’m not part of the family or the Barolo hill on which we perch.

In fact, I’m a newcomer to the town next along the ridge, which by the way is not in the DOCG of Barolo, and what would you know of farming anyway, thou from a heretical city origin? Hell, I’m not even from the same hemisphere, let alone to be considered a wannabe local.

Still, I love this land, and I swear that somewhere in my veins course little drops of Nebbiolo. I floundered my way through a sommelier course in Italy years ago, finishing at the top of the class and earning myself the reputation of wine taster extraordinaire and someone with discerning olfactory capabilities. I swear I’ve never smelled white hawthorn except in a glass (and this is a project of mine next spring).

So to flounder a little less it’s back to basics for me, reading through old notes and books, visiting when I can, listening and learning. It is an enormous privilege to do so, and I know I will go from floundering to being enriched by this beautiful place, to restore my soul, get my shoes dirty with marl, see all the cloud formations the world has to offer and step out my front door every morning to be greeted by a Langhe landscape. A new chapter in life.

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