FROM LINDSAY:

It's one of the most frequently asked questions I get and usually the most difficult to answer:

'Which is your favorite wine?'

Until 2 years ago, I had no concrete answer because I taste far too many from which to choose. Then I remember Gaetano bringing back two of Marco Falcone's Cesanese wines for us to try for the wine club and I was immediately astounded.  

A Cesanese approaching the elegance of Burgundy? This was an anomaly. Some from the region think he's crazy fermenting in amphorae because they say his wines are 'different' from the others. And they are right, and that is precisely why we love them! The majority of Cesanese is rough and rustic, destined for carafes in local trattorias, made with little thought towards quality.  

Marco was only producing 700 cases of wine per year until he saw how great Giarrocco went over with us, so he's now buried four new amphorae because we can't keep it on our shelves (now look who's laughing 😉)  

We love it all - from him farming biodynamically, working completely naturally and maintaining his garagiste winemaking style while still finding elegance and quality in all he does.  

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FROM ALESSANDRO:

What were a New York writer living in Florence, a sommelier from Detroit living in Rome, and a Milanese restaurateur living in New York doing in Neoneli? And more importantly, what is Neoneli, and where is it?

Neoneli is a small village in Sardinia, hidden in the green mountains of Barigadu. There are no historical monuments, no medieval center, no souvenir shops, Romanesque churches, or frescoes by Lorenzetti. It’s far from everything. So why were we there? Why did Emilie Miller, whom I barely knew, eagerly agree to come back with me to Neoneli to draft a book? Why did Lindsay, my ex-partner with plenty of reasons to avoid me, fly out to join us? And why, from cities like Greenwich Village, Campo de' Fiori, and Florence—places others dream of living—did we feel compelled to return to this remote village?

For seven days, we asked ourselves this question while tasting wine, pecorino, and immersing ourselves in the community. We reflected on what’s missing in cities—a sense of belonging, rooted in history and tradition. Neoneli may lack grand monuments, but its vineyards, ancient menhirs, ziggurats, and a unique wine produced in 150 garages for 600 inhabitants offer a deep connection to the past. Wine and cheese became symbols of a communal bond, something cities often lack—where people value connection and origins over ambition and success.

Despite our reflections, the why remained unanswered. We wandered, nomads of our own lives, healing old wounds, apologizing—especially Lindsay and I—while Emilie observed with curiosity. Neoneli, with its soothing wine, simple stories, and even its extreme pecorino with worms (well done, Emilie!), became our remedy.

The rest are stories we’ll continue to tell. Maybe we’ll turn them into grand narratives, but at the heart of it, we are our stories, our connections, and it’s through sharing them that we find our humanity. And in Neoneli, with its wine and people, we were able to experience that.

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FROM ALESSANDRO:

Max Brondolo is a seed terrorist. I know that using the word “terrorist” today is not only in bad taste but also dangerous. But bear with me. Max is a Lambrusco producer from Modena, but he does much more. Together with other farmers, he has created a group of artisans dedicated to defending and preserving biodiversity and the land. He revives endangered vines and is repopulating the area with precious bees and hives. He organizes dinners, forums, and debates on how to revive local culture and biodiversity.

Together, we make a wine called Lambrusco Dreaming, a blend of two vats of wine in collaboration with Luca Pezzetti. We produce 2,500 bottles of this unique and unrepeatable wine. But more than that, Max is a member of the seed guerrilla. This means he drives around in his pick-up truck, throwing seed bombs onto abandoned land. It may sound rhetorical, but I find it a beautiful thing. Launching seed bombs to repopulate the earth with biodiversity—isn't that wonderful? Exploding life in the neutral, polluted, sterile, and abandoned spaces of our everyday landscape.

Once, it was said to put flowers in cannons. It didn’t really work. Perhaps it’s because flowers are cut—they’re dead plant material. Maybe seeds are the solution. Because, as Giovanni Battista Columbu said: in the worst-case scenario, as a farmer, I’m producing oxygen, and you should thank me for that.

And we, with our Wine Club, in the worst-case scenario, create communities and preserve biodiversity. And Lambrusco is the perfect thread to weave that together.

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If you've made it to end of this post you must have enjoyed our stories! There's plenty more where these came from; every bottle in our wine club comes from a producer doing something special. Find out how to join our wine club here: