Old Song, New Voice…
Still something to say!
Every generation is inspired by what came before, an inherited intelligence that helps build something new and fresh. It could be a song, a recipe, a farming practice, a grape variety, or a technique for making wine.
Some inheritances are polished so smooth that they have lost all character and no longer resemble the original. Some replicate the past so faithfully that they feel like an imitation, while others draw on the before times to create something unique.
As the world grows more abstract and technology-driven, a longing for something real has emerged. We find ourselves drawn to things that feel more tangible. A hand-built guitar. A loaf of naturally leavened bread. A cast-iron pan passed from one generation to the next. We seek connection to place, craft, and the accumulated wisdom of those who came before. Things crafted with heart, head, and hands.
We long for the connection to the land, the rhythms of nature, and the craftspeople who preceded us in “simpler” times, when they weren’t pulled in so many directions and could focus on and refine a craft, master a musical instrument, forge a knife, refine a dish, or spend years growing and making wine.
For centuries, farmers in northeastern Italy fermented Pinot Grigio on the skins. The grape, with its distinctive rusty hue, resulted in wines that glowed copper (ramato) in the glass. Without modern refrigeration or temperature-controlled fermentation, these wines relied on their rustic texture and gentle tannic structure to survive a slow journey to market, and because of their rustic nature, many needed to age before they could be enjoyed. At their best, they were savory, textured, and built to go with the region’s foods.
Technology changed. Hydraulic presses, temperature-controlled stainless-steel tanks, commercial yeasts, and refrigeration all became common. Then someone discovered that pressing Pinot Gris (Grigio) off the skins produced clear wines, free of grippy, potentially bitter tannins, and, most importantly, that they could be brought to market more quickly.
The copper hue faded from most bottles of Pinot Grigio, replaced by a cleaner, paler, more uniform style. That style was undoubtedly a commercial success, but over time it came to be viewed as a generic, soulless white wine.
Some ideas are worth resurrecting. Like young musicians who draw inspiration from traditional folk songs to shine a light on today’s events, Ramato Pinot Gris has found a new voice ready to tell its continuing story; not out of nostalgia, but as an act of relevance, because it still has something to say.
Rob Sinskey
