Italian wine: Negramaro in 3/81
Lu mejiu amicu è lu cantinieri
Me llea de capu tutti i pinzieri2
As dusk gathers over the South East of Italy, the resinous scent of pine trees spreads in the streets and squares of town centres. People young and old move about aimlessly, dawdling the evening away, some chatting in clusters. The worries of the day evaporate and friends meet for a drink or two. Busy under the stony vaults of one of the many wine bars, Lu Pieru, pouring pitch-black wine for his customers comes in handy to start the evening on a redolent note. Lu Pieru, my very best friend!
Cu menzu quinto me sentu già mbrillu,
cu menzu litru su nu cardillu.
Strong, they can be strong. Wines from the South Italian regions can really go steep on alcohol. Years ago, you would see the grape harvest take the route to the North. It was sold for cutting other wines, to strengthen better known Chianti, Barolo, Bordeaux, you name them. I believe it still happens today, to a lesser extent.
In the Messapian area, Primitivo can go as high as 16%; in Sicily, Nero d'Avola gets to 17%, sometimes 18%. In Salento, Negramaro remains comfortably between 12-14%. You just need an extra glass, call it mezzo litro, to make you sing like a goldfinch3.
Quanti bicchieri de mieru me biu
Tanti pinzieri de capu me lleu.
Tumbler, Flute, Burgundy or Bordeaux glass, Coupe, Paris goblet, Chianti Glass, ISO glass.
The seventies were a fabulous and fabled age for wine bars, usually a popular hangout for locals, where you could meet friends, eat meatballs in fresh tomato sauce, moscardini4 in olive oil and, need I say it?, drink the local products from earthenware carafes. At that time, wine glasses were small and humble. Sometimes they were sturdy, faceted tumblers, decisively staining wooden plank tables. They were never wider than your palm. When you got your mezzo litro in, you could still hold the glass firmly in your hands, with ease. Since then, wine glasses have changed to let you have the fullest of the wine experience: oxygenation, swirling, fragrance and colour. Tables have become smaller and glasses are sometimes oversized, fragile goblets. Aged wine needs some theatre: off with a larger goblet, a larger decanter. Everybody's a connoisseur! Try the swirling experience as you are gaily reaching out to your second mezzo litro.
Mieru pe' tie me vinnu la camisa,
no' mme ne curu ca vau nudu a casa.
L'Appia dei vini, they call it. Appia is an ancient road connecting Rome to Brindisi. Right and left of the road, abundant vineyards speckle its landscape. As you get close to Salento, the landscape darkens to a matt red and vineyards coexist with olive groves.
Sussumaniello, Primitivo, Negramaro, Malvasia bianca e nera are the grapes you come across, although more recently you can also find Sangiovese, Chardonnay, Sauvignon.
In ancient times, wines from this region were very well regarded. They travelled far. Herod the Great, reportedly, drank wine produced in Salento.
Se la fatica se chiama cucuzza,
Mamma ce puzza, mamma ce puzza.
Se la fatica se chiama cicora,
picca me 'ndora, picca me 'ndora.
Much of the proverbial laziness of people from Salento is also connected to their autochtonous drink. What do I care? is a very typical local expression, often repeated obsessively.
Nineteenth-century travel accounts amass observations of an enchanting landscape, baroque churches, tempting, transparent seas, but they also report of a strikingly idle population. Not surprisingly, in the Southern Italian dialects, the first few hours of the afternoon have they own word: "controra": the negative hour, the hour against... During lunch, before the controra strikes with its heat and a white, unsustainable light, wine drinking was made bearable by means of inserting celery or fennel leaves in bottles of red wine. Wine was sipped through the leaves. Such technique is known as "sparacina". It sent people to a good afternoon sleep under the shadow of an olive tree, lulled by invisible cicadas and their wall of sound.
Sai ce m'ha dittu na vecchia masciara,
lu focu de la paja picca dura.
Then we came out in the night air, shirtless, carefree. We felt we belonged to the night. Lu Pieru, still looking after us, was pouring more of his black wine into enormous goblets. There is something profoundly pagan in those nights in July. Every village have got their own festival; every festival their own music. Barefoot, a towering young woman sways her white skirt as she dances to a frenzy. She holds a laced handkerchief. As the pizzica5 accelerates, we get dizzy in keeping up with it. She drops the lace. An old hag mumbles incessantly "the sting, the spider". I was the one who picked the lace and held it in front of her. And then we danced like dingledodies, and I shambled after her6.
Se quanno moriu ieu vau 'n Paradisu,
Se non c'è mieru bonu non ci trasu.
Traces of the Greek civilization are common in Salento. 10 or 15 Km south from Lecce, there is a vast area where a variation of Greek is still spoken. The area is known as Grecia Salentina and the local language is called "Griko".
Calimera, Copertino, Castrignano, Martano, Melpignano, Sternatia, Zollino are some of the names you meet, but many more villages are part of this special linguistic enclave. The word for wine is "krasì".
Ce pìnnamo rìssopu 'e mmas chorèane a gònata. Quai tòssonna, dopu ìmaston gomai krasì, pìamo n'o kuturìsome mpi stin aglisia, sto mmereo atti pporteddha, ka 'ci io' ppleo skotinò. (We drank until our legs started to dance, and then, full of wine, we went for a wee behind the church, by the side door, where it's dark.)7 Negramaro, is a synthesis of two cultures: the Latin and the Greek as they met in Salento. The first half of the word derives from a Latin word: niger (black). The second half comes from the ancient Greek word for black: μαúρο. You get the idea: extra black!
Mieru mieru mieru la là
Senza lu mieru, senza lu mieru.
Mieru mieru mieru la là
Senza lu mieru no pozzu campà.
Mieru mieru mieru la là
Quanti culuri,quanti culuri.
Mieru mieru mieru la là
Quanti culuri me faci cangià.
Shirtless under the stars. Lu Pieru looks at my blackened lips. What's this questioning me? Did we dance away to the gates of Paradise?8 Yes, I saw her tucking away that lace and then she was revived, exhausted but reborn. The old hag repeating monotonously: "Straw is no good to make a lasting fire". The spider dismembered in a final convulsion. Ha! Look at your cheeks, those fast changing colours. Here! some more leaves for this bottle. Here! to the side door. Lu Pieru, sit now, where did you get this wine from, so round and ripe? You won't taste the like of it: moonstone. Lu Pieru, my best friend. Who was that got ashore on the coast of Salento?9 That was the beginning of it all. No, not the Spiders from Mars, come on! But what do you care, tonight? Maybe tomorrow.
Notes
1I bought a bottle of Negramaro not long ago. It cost 4 or 5 euros: Torreguaceto "Pietraluna" 2005, I.G.T. Negramaro del Salento. It was an excellent and unforgettable choice. I got to know later that the wine has made it into a book on best Italian wines in 2007. For a description of the wine, click here.
The wine maker advertises the wine here.
You can probably order it directly from the wine maker. Alternatively an ebay merchant sells it too - click here to buy.
We have not tested the reliability of these sites, so you buy at your own risk.
2The song is often sung to accompany (heavy) wine drinking during local festivals or parties. An amateur version can be heard on youtube. The movie shows a relatively common real-life situation. I do not know the authors or the actors of the video though.
3You can hear the sound of a goldfinch by clicking here.
4Baby octopus.
5It is a traditional dance from Salento, akin to tarantella and connected the myth of Arakne. Pizzica was danced as a cure for the bite of the spider.
6"But then they danced down the streets like dingledodies, and I shambled after as I've been doing all my life after people who interest me, because the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes 'Awww!'"
Jack Kerouac, On The Road
7www.greciasalentina.org/L_Html/vino.htm
8Paradiso is a peripheric area in Brindisi, very close to, if not in, the Negramaro area.
9Aeneas is said by Virgil to have arrived in Porto Badisco, a small cove south of Otranto.
