The common grape of the evening was frappato di Vittoria. To the uninitiated it may sound like a drink Starbucks created in honor of the British monarch, but it’s Sicilian — a minor Italian grape that originated in the commune of Vittoria in the province of Ragusa in southeastern Italy. It produces fresh, fruity wines intended to be drunk young, and is used to add fruit and freshness when blended with the more potent, versatile nero d’avola. Frappato di Vittoria is typically light-colored, cherry-scented, with high acidity.
We had hoped our guests would arrive all at once, in a sort of Magi-like flurry of excitement, but Neil came first, followed by two new acquaintances of ours, Brad and Dave. I already had arranged the five bottles of the evening at the end of the dining table, but we got started with a cocktail of Carpano Antica Formula, an Italian vermouth. It’s a delicious drink, by the way, with the deep flavor of bitters and an intense, lingering syrupyness. Keep it chilled—it’s better on ice—for when you’re alone playing Peggy Lee, and that fact is so depressing you need a cocktail.
Dinner, which was prepared by Aldo, was a pheasant cacciatore, a rich braised stew—the recipe came from a British Columbian cookbook, Heidi Noble’s Menus From an Orchard Table—served with a salad (peashoots, arugula, parsley) from New York’s Union Square greenmarket and lentils with mint (courtesy of a Patricia Wells recipe). Aldo had never prepared pheasant before, largely because he always associated it with the poor stupid pheasants that got shot and killed by the hunters in Bambi. (How many people don’t eat rabbit because of Thumper?)
On to the wines, ranging in price from about $22 to $39. The first three are pure frappatos and the last two blends:
COS Frappato 2007. Aldo and I both enjoyed this one immediately. It was lean, light and taut, with a subtle note of strawberry, it seemed like an excellent choice to help digest a gamey meal. It had superb structure. Our guests, though, were disappointed by the lack of obvious fruit flavor. Brad said he and Dave typically preferred bigger, more fruit-forward reds — not surprising. These guys come from the Pacific Coast with its powerful Oregon and Washington red wines. Aldo and Billy wondered whether they might be all headed for a rumble, but decided it wouldn’t be worth the risk of knocking over the glasses.
Valle dell’Acate 2008. “A world of difference,” said Neil with satisfaction when he tasted this wine. He liked its bigger body, its bolder fruit flavors. That became a self-mocking refrain for the evening—you’d exclaim, “A world of difference!” with just about every wine, anecdote or opinion. Neil also admitted more than once that he was still in love with the vermouth: It’s a drink that can have you smacking your lips for hours. (Note: A wine tasting shouldn’t have more than one dedicated cocktail drinker participating.) Brad and Dave agreed. Billy wasn’t sure he didn’t prefer the firm, lean COS, but in the Valle he found its hints of fennel and anise attractive.
Occhipinti Il Frappato 2007. Isn’t the name adorable? “Occhipinti” makes me think of a family of baby octupi waving from beneath the sea. Adorable name or no, in many ways this seemed to be met with the least enthusiasm overall. It had less fruit than the Valle dell’Acate, along with a smokiness and a taste of flint — a more complex wine, more bracing, with more acidity. Brad thought the wine a little “edgy.” Neil said he wouldn’t recommend it at all. “A world of difference!” In other words, in the wrong direction.
Occhipinti SP68. The name comes from a highway near the Occhipinti vineyard, which happens to belong to the niece of the man who produces the COS frappato. Our guests almost sighed with relief: blended with nero d’avola, this wine gave them real pleasure. On the nose, we detected rose petals and coffee. On the palate, said Dave, “the edge is gone.” Billy remarked none of these wines had edge. “Are you referring to tannins or acid, by the way?” That Billy can be a bit of a whippersnapper, can’t he? Overall the wine was heavier, more aromatic, with a lusher mouthfeel. Aldo still felt No. 1, the uncle’s frappato, was being underrated by the group. At the same time, he (happily) was distracted by the scene of the guests devouring the pheasant and walnut-mint lentil salad. Like all amateur cooks, Aldo sits in dread, wondering if the guests will push away their plates or simply stand up, stride to the window and fling the food down onto the street.
COS Cerasuola di Vittoria. The hit of the evening. The nose was a little funky, which was a surprise, but then came the velvety tannins and a soft, rich palate of dark fruit and autumnal flavors—blackberry, current, leaves, nutmeg. Billy confided to Aldo that he too preferred the first COS. Aldo, now that the apricot tart had been served and the dinner seemed to be a success, reflected that the COS frappato was like a peasant woman with a black shawl over her head and sensible black shoes. Sturdy but light, to the point, with no voluptuousness but the pleasure nonetheless of sun and air and soil.
By now, all five bottles were empty.
