i make wine because, when I was nine years old, my father used to wake me up at dawn to accompany him to the vineyards.
i make wine because it wasn’t until I was fourteen – under the watchful eye of my father or senior staff – that I made my first prunings: and it was joyful, like presents on Christmas morning.
i make wine because I don’t know how to do anything else and I’m proud of it; when I’m amongst my vines, I feel at home, more so than when I’m actually there.
i make wine because my father raised me to do so: he – also a horse trader (because the value of the wine he sent to Austria was often paid for in horses) – knew that, out of both things, the former would have a future.
i make wine because “it’s easy to talk about”… but I prefer to keep quiet and let him talk, as he has always been solely responsible for a talkative sincerity.
I make wine for my father, who follows me like an angel from heaven and for my mother, who looked after me as I do my son Vittorio and my vines
i make wine because Mara – my partner and wife – believes in me.
i make wine because I recognise that being able to make it is a gift from heaven and being able to get to know it and try to improve it from year to year is a privilege I cannot give up.
i make wine for the ultimate purpose of being able to share it with the guests in my cellar and with those whom, by drinking it, even from afar, i open up a subtle and welcome dialogue.
i make wine because I love nature, I respect its rhythms and limits and i am grateful to it for always being so generous, despite all the respect that – despite myself – we fail to show it.
i make wine because, in the cellar, the only possible alchemy is that which the energies of heaven and earth bring about, and nothing more.