Bullock

Pojer e Sandri Traminer Grappa (Trentino) – Sweaty and fetid, but in a “good” way that’s actually more or less expected from this grape, I think. Very rough-and-tumble, rolling earthy aromatics and decaying flowers around in a constant swirl, and so forceful in this motion that a sense of the grappa’s alcoholic heat is nearly absent. (11/10)

Pecorino

Romano Levi Grappa (Piedmont) – A “little girl” label on this one. I think most would call this fruity, but I’m not sure that’s it…the “fruit” is somewhat impressionistic, or perhaps even abstract. Not cubist. It roils with tactile complexity, as much textural as aromatic, and despite the typically cauldronesque warmth of grappa, there’s so much to both the texture and the aromatics that the heat goes almost unnoticed. Until later, at least. Definitely on the richer, more luxuriant side of Levi grappas, yet what’s most surprising is that this isn’t expressed alongside concomitant gravity, but instead with delicious weightlessness. Succulent and, reviewed in summary, majestic. (5/10)

Nardini's escape

Nardini “Bassano” Grappa (Veneto) – Dominated by its floral/fruity/nutty notes rather than its heat or gasaholic stridency, which is welcome and unfortunately not common enough with grappa. (5/10)

When the Levi breaks

Romano Levi Grappa (Piedmont) – For every cherished experience, there is a transformative moment. Sometimes, it’s sought…but other times, it strikes as unexpectedly as lightning from a clear blue sky. This is an example of the latter.

Until this experience, I can say that I’ve found grappa interesting. Interesting…but not good. It has been something to be explored for its variety and source-specificity, for its place in an Italian life, and for its convivial role. But this grappa changes everything. I am enraptured. Instantly, and without reserve. This is like nothing I’ve ever experienced.

My notes, as scribbled into my journal at the moment of encounter, initially identify what I’m drinking as “incomprehensible label, producer in Nieve.” It’s only after I smell, and taste, that I apply myself to the work of deciphering the hand-drawn labels for which this producer is famous. I have never tasted a grappa like this, either in form or in quality. It is so superior to anything I’ve previously encountered that it might as well be its own category. Supple yet full-flavored, drawing both fruit and mineral into a distillation of floral complexity, then lingering in a gentle decrescendo that slowly exposes both that minerality and the memory of a faded bouquet of the palest white roses. This is the best. The absolute best. I’m floored. Stunned. Moved. So much of all three that the returning sommelier, noticing my bliss and knowing its source, pours a generous second helping in my glass. (10/07)

Ralph Maschio

Bonaventura Maschio “Prime Uve” Acquavite d’Uva (Veneto) – Harsh flowers. Coats, clears, then burns the nasal passages. Not fun. (10/07)

Joan Wilderer? Joan Wilderer?

Wilderer Pinotage Grappa (Paarl) – Like wines made from the grape, a giant explosion of fruit. Kind of a doofus spirit, or perhaps it could more charitably be termed a beginner’s grappa, and yet it ends up being appealing despite its simplicity. (11/08)

Nonino, Nanette

Nonino Friuli Sauvignon Blanc Grappa (Friuli-Venezia Giulia) – Obvious, boisterous fruit, good balance, and nice to drink. But it’s far less interesting than grappa from many other grapes, at least from this producer. A parallel to many wines made from the same grape? Maybe. (10/07)

Pantelleria raid

Giovi Grappa Moscato di Pantelleria (Sicily) – Perfumed and stinging (in a good way), then softens and broadens, before narrowing to a more focused finish. (2/07)

Bon Giovi

Giovi Grappa all’Ortica e Limone (Sicily) – Bitter, sour, sweet, and sweaty. Really complex, and yet harsh at the same time. It wants to be loved, but actual love is problematic. (2/07)

Etna, I'm glad I met ya

Giovi Acquavite di Fichidindia dell’Etna (Sicily) – Gorgeous, sweet honeysuckle and spiced pear over oatmeal. Good balance. (2/07)

Centenary island

Aquileia “Centenario” Grappa “Gran Riserva” (Friuli-Venezia Giulia) – Oak-aged, and thus light brown, with enticing crushed flowers and a very elegant aroma. The wood smoothes things over to such an extent that I realize I prefer the more raw but more exciting clear form of this spirit. (10/07)

Angelo of mercy

Gaja Grappa di Barbaresco (Piedmont) – Extremely elegant and smooth, which is (to my mind) a dangerous thing for a grappa; complexity must be there in force when the edges of this otherwise fiery elixir are shorn. There’s a surplus of floral and spice aromas but a general absence of a definitive foundation, to the extent that it’s highly reminiscent of some of the more internationalized Langhe blends from this house. In the end, elegance remains its primary quality.