Nothing gets you out of a writing slump faster than a curve ball challenge. This year’s Jancis Robinson’s wine writing competition threw out the rule book: pair wine with anything except food – think music, literature, moods, or memories. Here’s my take — all heart, no tasting grid.
I have always been a savory kind of girl. A little sweet, perhaps, but predominantly spice.
Naturally, my palate follows suit.
I can appreciate the craftsmanship of a well-made dessert wine, but my brain is hardwired to
seek salinity and high acidity. Give me Manzanilla Sherry, volcanic Inama, or aged Mosel
Riesling, any day.
But my latest obsession? Pecorino.
I realized that Pecorino is a bit like me: distinct, structural, and unapologetic. You either love it,
or you don’t. There is no middle ground.
The Pecorino Epiphany
My love affair with this grape didn’t start in a vineyard. It started in a classroom.
It began at a masterclass led by Ian D’Agata, the gatekeeper of native Italian varieties, where I
first tasted Cristiana Tiberio’s Pecorino. That single encounter ignited a curiosity that eventually
led me to Verona, where I enrolled in the Vinitaly International Academy to pursue the coveted
Italian Wine Ambassador certification.
That path opened doors to the complex tapestry of Italy: the crisp altitudes of FVG, the volcanic
soils of Sicily, Marche – where the Apennines meets the Adriatic Sea, to the misty hills of
Piedmont. And, my most recent immersion took me to ‘Europe’s Greenest Region’—Abruzzo.
There, I discovered the most scintillating, underappreciated whites and the vibrant expression
of Cerasuolo d’Abruzzo.
It wasn’t just a tasting. It was a technical revelation.
My husband, on the other hand, has the ultimate sweet tooth. Indeed, that is fitting. He’s easily the
sweetest person I know. I had been raving to him about the brilliance of Abruzzese whites,
waiting for the perfect moment to show him why this savory world matters.
I wasn’t just looking for a bottle. I was looking for a conversion.
The Convergence
When I began planning my trip to Abruzzo, my first call was to Cristiana Tiberio. I knew that for
a visit to Cugnoli to happen, the stars and the wine gods would have to align perfectly. Cristiana
was navigating the frantic aftermath of Vinitaly, back-to-back travel, and the unforgiving
demands of the winery. It felt like a long shot, but at the last possible moment, Cristiana
graciously squeezed us into her whirlwind schedule, and we found ourselves standing in the
heart of the Tiberio vineyards, framed by the breathtaking, snow-capped peaks of the Majella
and Gran Sasso.
In Cristiana’s masterclasses, you learn fast: she isn’t just a winemaker. She’s an explorer of the
vine. She doesn’t just make wine; she listens for the stories hidden in the glass. She champions
grapes that challenge the status quo. For her, diversity isn’t a buzzword. It’s wealth.
Take her ungrafted vines, for instance. They are nature’s ultimate answer to climate volatility.
By forcing their roots to push deeper into the earth for water & nutrients, these native, massal
selected vines don’t just survive the erratic shifts of our changing climate—they thrive.
In an industry often driven by spreadsheets and quarterly profit margins, Cristiana belongs to a
vanguard of brave souls who dare to put the landscape first. They prioritize the pulse of their
land, investing heavily in soil health, sustainable systems, and clonal preservation over the quick
convenience of the bottom line. For them, true richness isn’t measured in immediate ROI, but
in the long-term vitality of the ecosystem.
On that crisp, high-altitude morning, I understood: a great pairing has little to do with textbook
rules. A great pairing is when the architecture of the wine matches the frequency of the
moment.
The Energy of the Room
In Italy they say “what grows together, goes together.” Beautiful for the plate. But too narrow
for the glass.
If we respect moon cycles and bio dynamic rhythms in the vineyard, shouldn’t that philosophy
extend to tasting? A great pairing isn’t just protein and tannin. It’s landscape and people.
Wine is alive. It has good days and bad days, just like us. I’ve tasted the same bottle twice. Once
on its home soil, in quiet connection, where it felt electric. And once in a room loud with ego,
where I couldn’t hear the wine at all.
If wine has feelings, shouldn’t we pair it accordingly?
Pairing with the Soul, Not Just the Sauce
That day, Cristiana carried the weight of the season. Climate stress. Politics. Travel. She wasn’t
well.
Nevertheless, as we sat down together, the conversation began to drift effortlessly. We talked about
everything: soil composition, vine genetics, the future of the region, our pets, global culture,
massal selection, and the philosophy of sustainability. And as we tasted through those
magnificent whites, the tension visibly left her. The wine didn’t just provide flavor. It provided a
bridge. It reminded us that, at its core, wine is meant to heal and connect, not merely to be
evaluated.
We spend so much time memorizing tasting notes that we often forget to check our own vitals.
I’ve started pairing wine with my internal weather rather than just the ingredients on my stove.
When I’m feeling curious or rebellious: I crave the intellectual weight of a Brunello or a
Portuguese indigenous blend, white or red. When I’m happy: I want bubbles. Always.
The Verdict
The more time I spend with the growers of Portugal, Italy, and Spain, the more I realize that
wine is not an elitist pop quiz. It isn’t about identifying the grape, the sub-appellation, or the
percentage of new French oak just to impress a room.
It is about evocation. It is about what you feel in the moment of that first sip and how that
feeling evolves as the glass breathes and opens up.
I expected our meeting with Cristiana to be intellectually charged. A chemist and a physician
speak the same analytical shorthand, after all. But the day’s real revelation was the glint in my
husband’s eyes.
I’d seen that look once before, with Florencia Palmaz. It’s unmistakable — the “aha” moment.
For minds wired for chemical equations and fermentation curves, wine isn’t just something you
drink. It’s an unspoken love language.
To watch my husband, fall for the savory soul of Pecorino with that exact same intensity, as I
did, was the ultimate rhythmic match. The energy, the science, the human connection, and the
scenery were in total sync.
Could you really ask for a greater pairing than that?
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