Terre di Zia Lina Prosecco Millesimato

After quite a long and morose inner process I have decided to give up teaching and I will soon embrace a new step professionally by working at the wine section of an Italian importer in Hamburg. 

I have to confess that the temptation of working with wine has always been there and became stronger in these last months leading me to this final decision. 

Being so, I have already started fighting my gaps of knowledge about certain regions and styles and the ones reading this blog will probably start being bombed with extensive reviews of Italian wines in the following posts as this one may well be an example.

One of the wines I miss more tasting information is about sparkling wines. After a quick check I have just realized that I have only written one single review about a sparkling wine in this blog. 

Being so, it was for me quite obvious where to start when approaching the  topic on an Italian point of view: Prosecco.

With its name deriving from the village of Prosecco and not really being a reference to its dry character it is one of the most sold kind of wine around the world. 

I have decided to start my sparkling experience with this Terre di Zia which has impressed me with its rather strong pear taste allied with a straightforward and clear melon dew reinforced by the intensive carbon from the sparkling.

It was quite a perfect match for the rather warm days which have invaded Hamburg due to its lightness. Something I would definitely recommend for these warm summer days we have ahead of us.


 

 

Slow Waker by Thom Gunn

I look at the nephew,
eighteen, across the breakfast.
He had to be called and called.
He smiles, but without
conviction. He will not
have tea, oh OK,
if it’s no trouble,
he will have tea.

His adult face is brand-new.
Once the newness
clears up and it has got
an expression or two
besides bewilderment
he could be a handsome
devil. He could be
a carpenter, a poet, it’s
all possible…
impossible. The future
is not a word in his mouth.

That, for him, is the trouble:
he lay in bed caught deep
in the mire between
sleep and awake, neither
alert nor resting,
between the flow of night,
ceaselessly braiding itself,
and the gravelly beach
that our soles have thickened on.
Nobody has ever told him
he is good-looking,
just that his feet smell.

He paces through alien London
all day. Everything
is important and unimportant.
He feeds only by osmosis.
He stares at the glint
and blunt thrust of traffic. He
wants to withdraw.

He wants to withdraw into
a small space, like
the cupboard under the stairs
where the vacuum cleaner is kept,
so he can wait, and doze,
and get in nobody’s way.

 

 

16
/20
Country: Italy
Region: Prosecco
Grapes: Glera
11,5%
Winemaker: n/a
Website: www.reguta.com

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