I have not yet developed that ability to give a wine its “name and surname” at the very first sip.
Perhaps that is why, when I drink — alone or in company and not during a technical tasting — I tend to let my senses run free, looking for unusual details but above all for emotions, the kind that truly leave a mark.
It doesn’t happen often. Or rather, it is rare that a pleasant sensation strikes you so deeply that it generates real enthusiasm. But when it does happen, well, I feel the urge to express it.
I should make an important premise. For me, wine is not a business. I don’t know whether it will become one someday, but for now it isn’t. That means I can talk about a wine exactly the way I want to: with respect for everyone, but also with the freedom to express my judgment and — when appropriate — my enthusiasm.
I recently drank this wine twice.
The first time at lunch, the second time blind, during the tasting sessions for the Basilicata Wine Guide together with my friends from vinodabere.it.
I didn’t realize it was the same wine.
What I did recognize, however, was the same feeling of enthusiasm.
“Huston, we have a problem…” — and what a beautiful problem it is.
But what exactly is in the glass?
And above all, who decided to make me so happy during this scorching Roman summer?
And again: what menu could I prepare to truly enjoy this wine — as we would say in Rome, to spizzarmelo properly?
I’m talking about Accamilla, one of the wines from Camerlengo.
Camerlengo = Antonio Cascarano = a true force of nature.
To spend some time with Antonio you need time, appetite and a good memory, because he will tell you a thousand stories. Exactly — a real flood of energy and words.
Accamilla is dedicated to his Bulldog.
Orange color. A label that is barely readable.
Unusual — at least for me — the grape varieties used: Santa Sofia and Cinguli, along with Malvasia di Rapolla.
You look at it and see an orange hue with a mesmerizing brightness.
You bring the glass to your nose and it immediately captivates you, declaring that it is anything but an ordinary wine.
Then you taste it, and it wins you over. Notes of orange, vegetal hints, freshness and minerality, always lively.
The sensation is that of having a living wine in the glass, one that constantly asks to be drunk again.
At least for me, to the point of making me forget everything else that might be on the table.
We are in the Vulture area.
Accamilla is made from overripe grapes, followed by 15 days of skin maceration in chestnut vats, then oak tonneaux, and finally aging in glass. All the care needed to ensure that I experienced the same sensations both when I saw the bottle and when I tasted it blind alongside dozens of other wines.
A wine that reflects Antonio’s character, one I would happily bathe in — but that puts me in trouble when I have to decide what to cook for lunch to pair with it properly. I would pour it over everything, from pizza and mortadella onward, so I find myself a bit disoriented.
In the end, I paired it with a sumptuous tonnarello Lagano, cooked in a fish fumet and finished with cherry tomatoes, baby squid, mantis shrimp and pink prawns. A lunch that was decidedly luxurious 🙂
I know this article may sound overly celebratory, but I owe Antonio nothing — except a thank you for making me enjoy myself this much.
And not just once, but twice. Actually… three times.
