In Chianti Veritas

What's so romantic about this Tuscan grape obsession? They need your desperate care whole year round. Each month of the year is defined by the almighty power of "the vines" in transforming the Chianti's scenery. So innocent, bare and naked in January - the non tourist season - when you can admire their artisticly twisted roots holding on to the wires. So needy, even in the cold February mornings, out there in the vineyard you make sure each and single one of them is trimmed to perfection. The barren landscape suddenly shows signs of life around March - the green leafs begin to shoot out as the sunsets begin setting later into the day. Then you are hit by the indecent freshness of the green colours of the Spring.. The green so intense that it makes your head spin under the bright rays of mid May sunshine as the grapes intoxicate you with the taste of that newly bottled Chianti Classico from the last year's vintage.

And when all the organic chemistry of Spring turns into the Summer, the vineyards are wild, the green grape leafs cover hectars of land while the fruit is slowely forming under the unberably hot Tuscan sun... And then you worry and wait. You wait and hope that the rain will not last too long in September, that the temperature will be just right to allow the purple Sangiovese, Merlot and Cabernet to arrive in all their health and glory for the picking season. The Vendemmia.



Though I have only picked one day this year, I have lived from October to October through the agonies of the winemaker's life. All I know is that 2006 is a very good year for the Il Borghetto Chianti... Oh, the climate change sensitive labour...

And now, as the wine is being pressed in November, all I know is that I regret that I couldn't spend more days picking these beautiful grapes from this small homerun winery... Instead, I was busy trying to remind the world that humanity has failed to deal with hunger. Reminding, that if we could devise a more lausy way to distribute food, we couldn't do better then now. The economics of agricultural polcies, the food politics where farmers have no voice.. But at the end of the day, the best conversations between Mexican activists from Oaxaca and Indians from Rajahstan, Spaniards from Madrid and Italians from Milan, French from Brittany and Mozambiquans farmers, Brazilians from RIo and Kenyans from Nairobi- were the ones held over the glass of wine...

In vino veritas.. In Chianti veritas.

Salute.