Nestled upon the idyllic hills above the ancient city of Verona, with the first light of dawn playing upon the verdant vineyards, the Agriturismo San Mattia offered more than rest; it promised a day of vinous exploration and serendipitous encounters. It was here, after a decade, that we found ourselves returning to the heart of Valpolicella, a pilgrimage to the cherished winery of Roberto Mazzi e figlia—a symbol of tradition’s endurance and innovation’s courage.
A Decade Later: The Mazzi Revisit
Stepping onto the sacred soils of the Mazzi winery, we were greeted by the familiar yet evolving landscape. Each vine spoke of history, each barrel whispered of the future. The winery had transformed, yet its soul remained unaltered—dedicated to crafting wines that honored the legacy of Valpolicella while embracing the winds of change.
As we delved into the depths of the wine cellar, the air thick with the scent of oak and fermenting grape, it was akin to stepping into a living canvas, each stroke of the winemaker’s craft a fusion of hues from the palettes of Botticelli and Da Vinci, immortalizing the spirit of Italy with every bottle.
Encounters of the Heart
Amid the barrels full of the promise of new wine, under the arched cellar ceiling, we encountered camaraderie in the form of kindred spirits—two Italian couples, their laughter a symphony, their presence a reminder of Fellini’s joyous cinematography. With them, we shared tales and glasses, each sip an unspoken dialogue, each glance an exchange of silent poetry, reminiscent of the tender verses born of the Renaissance.
Our narrative was further enriched as young American service members, stationed in nearby Vicenze and seeking respite in the arms of Valpolicella, joined our ensemble. Their stories, vibrant and bold as the wines we tasted, were ballads of their own, echoing the adventurous prose of Ernest Hemingway and the raw and vulnerable melodies of Bruce Springsteen, all the while in the hallowed halls of the winery, where the past meets the present.
A Bardolino Interlude
With the sun at its zenith, we bade our new friends farewell, promised Antonio Mazzi we’d see him again in no more than another ten years, and continued our journey to Bardolino.
Here, by the serene expanse of Lake Garda, we indulged in a luncheon in a pizzeria by the shore, our table graced with the earthy delight of artisanal pizzas, each slice a testament to the culinary artistry of Italy, and served by a young Italian man whose last words as we left were “Don’t mess with Texas!” Yet, as clouds gathered, we retreated not with disappointment but with a crescendo of anticipation, for the wine library of San Mattia awaited our return—a bibliotheca of bottled tales, a sanctuary of shared histories.
San Mattia’s Wine Library: An Ode to Evenings Past
Within the hushed walls of San Mattia’s wine library, surrounded by tomes of vintages past, our day’s journey wove its final threads. Here, we engaged in dialogues that danced across topics of art, music, and literature, children, grandchildren and the joys of family and life, finding parallels between the nuances of a well-aged Amarone and the complex layers of a Dostoevsky novel, between the vibrant acidity of a Valpolicella Superiore and the sharp wit of Shakespearean comedy.
As the patter of rain played a rhythmic backdrop, our conversations deepened, touching upon the strokes of Van Gogh’s ‘Starry Night,’ finding solace in the universal themes of life and love and drawing from the deep wells of the region’s poetic wisdom. Each reference, a celebration of the human condition, each sip, a communion with history.
Reflections and Revelations
The day had transcended the mere act of wine tasting; it had become an exposition of life’s finest offerings—good company, great wine, and the exchange of culture. We discovered that the true essence of our experiences lay not in the destinations visited, nor the wines tasted, but in the delicate tapestry of relationships woven along the way.
As the evening drew to a close, with the storm’s whisper against the windows of San Mattia, we reflected upon the day. We had traversed not just the geography of Italy, but the landscapes of human connection. We had shared not just bottles, but pieces of our soul. In Valpolicella, we found that the vineyards yielded far more than grapes—they bore fruit to friendships, to memories, and to stories yet to be told.
And as I pen these final words, I realize that every glass of wine is not just a glass of wine; it’s a glass filled with art, with music, with literature, and most importantly, with shared humanity. For as long as there are vineyards in Valpolicella and hearts willing to explore them, the journey will never truly end. It will live on, in the notes of our memories and the resonance of our stories.