Brindisi

This week's choice was made easy for me by a generous friend who, along with a small number of other friends, helped us to kick-off the New Year in a gentle and enjoyable way. Not for us the post-midnight revelries of earlier years, but the New Year's Day leftovers lunch and a game of cards. He made it easy by bringing along:

Week B (2022) Sette Muri Brindisi Reserva 2017.  ~£12.50 Various.

This is 100% Negroamaro, a grape I have enjoyed previously, and comes from the eponymous town, Brindisi, on the east coast of Puglia towards the heel of Italy. It's twelve years since we went to Puglia, but the fond memories linger. I must go down to the sea again, the lonely and sky, as they say. (Spike Milligan re-finished that poem with 'I left my vest and socks there, I wonder if they're dry?', which has stuck with me since the early 1970s when I read it in a little book titled 'The little pot boiler', kindly given to me by an Aunt.) I've done it again, Dad (Dick Emery, also 1970s), by which I mean I have digressed.

I have often commented that reading about the weekly wine: who made it, where it is made, etc., leads to at least mildly interesting places most of the time. This week I have learned that Sette Muri means 'seven walls' and refers to the paths around the walls of Brindisi's vineyards that are themselves between walls. Guess how many there are? Yup. I also learned that Brindisi is one terminus of the Appian Way, one of the earliest and most famous long Roman roads. I also read that the city of Brindisi has a name meaning 'a dear's head' because of the shape of the port, but I checked that last point with Google translate and am left with some suspicion that either a) Google translate doesn't work or b) there is some degree of folk legend influencing the bottle notes. Try it.

The Appian Way itself also warrants exploration. I have deskbound exploration in mind presently, but there's a seed of an idea there for a post-plague holiday, too. Wikipedia has an interesting page on the subject.

So, to the wine. Negroamaro still means 'bitter black' and still doesn't taste that way. It is quite deeply coloured, but more red than black, it is an easy, enjoyable glass of wine ideal for sampling alongside a plate of charcuterie, cheese and sourdough crackers, as I have recently proved. It is medium bodied, has flavours of cherries, plums and cranberries, perhaps a hint of vanilla, and doesn't feel at all heavy despite its 14% abv (labeled).

I read that the grapes were harvested in mid-October and the wine fermented for 20 days before ageing for six months in French oak. All of which has produced a wine I would happily buy again. Perhaps I should and then I could allow my generous friend to enjoy it with me.