There once was a teenaged boy who lived in a little town near Naples, Italy. He wrote poetry, painted and had a bohemian way of seeing life. He wanted to join the flower children portrayed in magazines from the Netherlands. He liked the music of Donovan, Joan Baez and Bob Dylan. He played guitar in a band that followed the British-American music of the time; Vanilla Fudge, Cream, Steppenwolf, and of course The Beatles and The Rolling Stones. With a shortwave radio he kept current with the music abroad. It was the ‘60s; a time when in England the Mods with their Vespas and Lambrettas were battling the Rockers with their Triumphs and Nortons. Like the Mods, this teenager wore fashionable tailor-fitted clothes. No leather or jeans like the Rockers.
Have you guessed who I’m describing?
This story may come as a surprise to friends who know me only as that older southern Italian man with a thick accent who likes to cook, eat, drink wine, and make salsicce and salumi. Perhaps I’ve evolved over time into the stereotypical Italian. But I can tell you that back in my youth in Italy, I did not fit the mold. And my life would not follow a straight line.
I consider myself an expert in change and reinvention, having found myself in the position of starting anew more often than most. Fortunately, there was one person whose influence has remained constant throughout my life; my mother. At a very young age in Friuli her parents sent her to Naples to be a housekeeper for a wealthy family that entertained important people. The rest of the family were all involved in some way in the village castle farm and wine production. My mom learned how to cook and serve gourmet meals. So, even though we were poor, we ate well. Her humble dedication to excellence in everything she did still inspires me.
As a teenager I remember being captivated by the celebrity chefs and sommeliers I saw on our one-channel, black and white TV. The Tastevin collar and the silver tasting spoon, the pompous sommelier and chef, fascinated me. I fantasized about having an extensive wine cellar and library, being a winemaker, an expert wine taster, and a chef; going into a cellar with walls lined with rare bottles and deciding which one would do for that night’s dinner.
Before my teenhood was over, a family situation brought me to Canada. This changed my life completely. In Canada, I experienced a different attitude towards wine; a reverence that spurred my desire for greater knowledge. And so, learning about wine became a serious hobby. I took just about every course of study available. Wine became a lifestyle, and eventually a profession. I travelled frequently to bolster my knowledge. Over the years, I managed to visit most of the major wine-producing regions. I studied them in fine detail; especially one particular area in Piedmont, Italy – Barolo. The ultimate. The best. The “king of wines”. I learned all about it, the location of each individual vineyard, the laws governing yield, etc. I became an expert on the wines of Piedmont. But, due to a variety of wrench-in-the-wheel situations, I never managed to visit the region.
I had accepted the fact that it just wasn’t meant to be until, well into my retirement and out of the blue last year, Karen and I received an offer to lead wine and food tours in Piedmont, concentrating on the Barolo wine area. Did I have a choice? I readily agreed. Karen, seeing my excitement, could not say no. We participated on last September’s tour as guests and truly loved it. To finally be there, actually on site, able to recognize and name the location of the vineyards by memory, right down to the rows of vines at different altitudes, and to meet the younger generation of the original local wine pioneers, was an exhilarating experience.
While we were away, the 2026 tour, featuring us as the tour leaders, sold out – it’s a go! So, with the excitement that I usually experience with new projects, I decided to spend the winter months that I typically spend in my birth town of Castellammare in the Piedmont region instead. In early February, we set off to explore Torino, Alba and La Morra. We travelled the Langhe area extensively, cruising along the winding hilly roads in a little rented car. Our mission was to revisit all the places, the people, areas, and restaurants on the tour. We explored and made some new friends and discovered some gems.
Torino is an understatement in exquisite elegance and subtle royalty. (Think Paris without the grand fare.) Alba, with the famous White Truffles; a beautiful and charming little medieval city. Barolo, historic heart of Italy’s prestigious Barolo wines, with its medieval castle surrounded by the Nebbiolo vineyards. Stunning La Morra, the little town perched atop the highest hill, the Terrace of the Langhe. The 360° view of the vineyards is phenomenal. The town has steep cobblestone streets, Baroque architecture, a medieval layout, and bell towers that have marked off the time here for centuries. Tourists shop the local wine boutiques and dine in fine restaurants while old locals gather to gossip inside the coffee bars. The old world is comfortable with the new one; ancient stone buildings sharing space with contemporary art. (We were amused to note that the primary school has continued the tradition of separate boys’ and girls’ entrances.) From the town centre you can walk to a truffle-studded forest! It delights the senses!
The whole Langhe and Monferrato area, with its UNESCO-listed vineyards, is culturally intertwined with France. I, being a Neapolitan at heart and truly devoted to the southern Mediterranean way of living, find this scenario fascinating. I realize that we have barely scratched the surface. We must go deeper! As I told Billy, you’ve opened a can of worms…
non e mai troppo tardi
Salve,
Angelo