As a child of Italian immigrants, I often traveled back to the "old Country" to visit the family my parents had left behind. it was during these times that some of my fondest childhood memories were made. I recall walking hand in hand with my Nonno through the rows of grapes he had planted in his modest yard. As the sun would rise over the beautful Sicilian countryside, Nonno would pick the Zibibbo grapes, lay them with great care into his small wooden crate and lead me back to his garage cantina where the old art of traditional wine making would begin. As the sounds of tarantella played from his pocket radio, we would dance on teh freshly picked grapes sharing priceless laughter. When the work was done we would retuire to the porch where my Nonno would open a bottle of his Zibibbo for us to share.
It has been many years since those days on my grandfather's farm. Today the art of wine making has changed, but like those bottles of Zibibbo Nonno created, each bottle of wine has a story...this is ours.
we salute all of our italian ancestors who showed us the beauty of food, wine and family and taught us the joy each can bring to one's life. Salute!