"In 1983 I asked the journalist Sheldon Wasserman not to publish scores for my wine. Not only did he not publish the scores in his book “Italian Noble Wines” he also wrote that I had asked not to be in the “classificatios” in which a comparison becomes a divise numerical term rather than expressing shared human toil. I have not changed my mind: my tiny farm producing 20,000 bottles of wine a year interests only a small number of customerfriends. I believe in freedom of information, even if the judgement is negative. I think of my hills as an anarchical arena, with no inquisitors or opposing faction's, whose inner richness is stimulated by severe, thoughtful critics; I strive for a community that can still express solidarity with whoever has not been so wellrewarded by Mother nature.
Wishful thinking? Allow me to dream.
“One has to be a bit crazy to choose to spend their life gazing up to the skies”, as my father used to say hinting at the preoccupations caused by bad weather, which mark the fate of a farmer... actually though, at the bottom of this sentence rightly lies a good dose of romanticism. I am ‒ unfortunately ‒ a romantic like my father and ‒ just like him ‒ I am no doubt a bit crazy.
His passing was an incredible loss and sufferance for all of us and the company. Few were willing to bet that there was a future for us. As it turned out, the sleepless nights mourning on an irrecoverable loss have been my and our strength. We stood still, and we have changed a lot. We brought order to the creative chaos of the genius Baldo; we have systematised, restructured, perfected things. Like my father, I believe that respect and protection of nature and environment make a fundamental difference. I am not compromising on quality when it comes to interventions in the vines or in the cellar, and I consider myself lucky to be able to combine the farmer’s wisdom and the technical and scientific knowledge of organic growing practices. This does not hinder, I believe, the honesty and organoleptic quality: for my challenge is to guide nature, to let nature express herself. I also believe that people always make a difference, that relations have to be cultivated and given proper value. This is a commitment which I owe it to my happiness, to the memory of my father, and to the people around me. Cantina Cappellano is what it is today thanks to my ancestors, and to my father. But also thanks to my friend winemakers who were by my side and supported me when I lost my father. Thanks to my mother who has always been and still is a pillar of the company. Thanks to each and every one of my older and more recent collaborators who believe in and love the philosophy which animates the Cantina Cappellano.
And today, while I grind the spices with the very same tools my great-uncle used, I can call myself proud to hold in my own hands the synthesis of a century and a half of my family’s history."