In New York’s Flatiron district, Via Emilia is dedicated to the cousine of Emilia-Romagna. “I’m the Lambrusco man,” says William Mattiello, the chef-owner of the restaurant, as soon as we meet. “When I started in the restaurant business here, I found I could do anything I wanted with food, but there were no Lambuscos,” he says. “So I went home and gathered what I could.” Now he has more than a dozen bottlings on his all-Emilia-Romagna list, and plans to add more.
“It’s just in our blood,” Mattiello says. It’s Emilia-Romagna; it’s pork. If you want beef, you go to Tuscany and you drink Chianti. Nothing wrong with that. But in Modena, it’s Lambrusco.” His point hits home when his lasagna comes out: Although the stack of paper-thin pasta and sauce is barely a half-inch high, it’s incredibly rich, the pancetta-laced filling begins for a red with high acidity to balance. “Fatty stuff, fried stuff – these are what Lambrusco is best.
“Lambrusco is a fun, happy wine,” he continues. “When I was little, every March there’d be parties: three or four families would get together, buy demijohns of wine from a farmer, and they’d bottle the wine; they’d be set for the year.” It’s never lost that festive feeling to him: “Every time we go with all the guys to eat. We pop a bottle. It’s a happy time.”
Mattiello will make room for an occasional Sangiovese in Romagna in his diet, but never at Christmas. “On the twenty-fifth,” he says, “it’s tortellini, zampone and Lambrusco, and there’s nothing you can do about it.” For those of us without Italian grandmothers to make pasta, he suggests serving salumi- especially with fried rounds of bean-studded polenta called calzagatti (“kick the cat”, a reference to how the beans ended up in the polenta) next to slices of coppa and A?Gorgonzola dolce.
By Tara Q. Thomas
Not so fast: Don’t Dismiss Lambrusco
Serious image problems abound for many things that were popular in the 70’s. Platform shoes and polyester shirts? I pray I’ve burned all the pictures. Gremlins and Pintos? How long does rust last, anyway? Lambrusco? Who knew Bartles & Jaymes came from italy?
Millions of cases of Riunite Lambrusco were sold annually in the United States in 1970s. This fizzy semisweet confection was aimed at sugar-craving Americans reared on soda pop, and it foreshadowed the wine-cooler craze that took hold a few years later. Even today a few million bottles of Riunite and other like Giacobazzi find their way down American gullets.
And so lambrusco became a joke among serious wine-lovers, who had little use for it other that comparing memories, as with Boone’s Farm or Lancer’s rose, of their introductions to the pleasures of hangovers.
The time has come to consign this unfortunate impression of Lambrusco to the same locked attic trunk that holds the 70s disco wear. This is the summer to experience the myriad pleasure of real Lambrusco, the chosen beverage of millions of Italians in the Emilia-Romagna section of Italy, which is becoming easier to find as importers turn more and more to the regional wines of Italy. (…)
“Modena people, they like Lambrusco more than anything else.” Said William Mattiello, the chef and owner of Via Emilia a restaurant in the Flatiron district of New York dedicated to the food and wines of Emilia.
Mr. Mattiello’s restaurant has become something of a destination to Lambrusco lovers. He currently offers 11 different Lambruscos on his wine list, including reds, roses, even an unusual Lambrusco refermented in the bottle like Champagne, which the restaurant sells for $42. (…)
At base, Lambrusco is a humble, everyday wine, joyous rather than complex. Historically, it was made by farmers, and even today a fair amount of Lambrusco in Emilia is purchased directly from farms rather than from commercial sources.
“All my friends in Modena, they go to the farmers, get three or four demijohns and put it in bottles themselves.” Mr. Mattiello said. (…)
Confusingly, three of the four official lambrusco zones share their names with the grape clones: Lambrusco di Sorbara, Lambrusco Grasparossa di Castelvetro and Salamino di Santa Croce (…). Typically, people will argue over which regions make the best Lambruscos. While true Lambrusco is becoming easier to find in good wine shops around New York, it probably still requires a trip to the homeland to get the true picture of the bevarage Emilians hold dear. (…).
While Italian Wine Merchants near Union Square sells a fine Lambrusco Grasparossa di Castelvetro from Tenuta Pederzana, amd Devino on the lower East side sells both an excellent lambrusco from Vittorio Graziano and a fine Lambrusco from Francesco Vezzelli, nobody in New York can match the selection at Via Emilia.
Some of them are highly unusual. While some bitterness is welcome and expected in a Lambrusco, a Lambrusco Zemian from Serramazzoni was overwhelmingly bitter. It seemed to take far more that it gave.
Both other bottles, like the Graziano or a Salamino di Santa Croce from Saetti, go brillianty with Via Emilia’s puffy gnocco fritto, light yet meaty lasagna or rich tortellini in cream sauce with pork and prosciutto. It made me want to taste Lambrusco with other rich or spicy cousines, which Mr. Mattiello allowed was beyond his axperience.
“Modena is not the kind of place where people say today we’ll have Indian food and tomorrow Chinese food,” he said. “It’s Italian food all the time.”
So confident is Mr. Mattiello in the future of Lambrusco that his wife, Tomoe Nakamura, has started an import company called, naturally, Lambrusco Import, which brings in wines solely from Emilia Romagna. Even so, it’s not always easy to count on getting a particular bottle because the best Lambruscos are exported in minute quantities.
For example, Ms. Nakamura could only get 25 cases of the Graziano Lambrusco. “He said, “This is what I can give you.” Mr. Mattiello recalled, “I don’t want to leave my neighbours without wine.”
Despite the bad name attached to the cloying Lambruscos, sweetness does have a place. Last year the wine writer Matt Kramer sent me a bottle that he was particularly enthusiastic about, a dolce from Villa di Corlo. Like most Lambruscos it was dark red bordering on purple and churning with froth. But though lightly sweet it had a welcome acidity that made it delightfully refreshing. In Modena, it no doubt goes well with cheese. In New York, it went great with cherries.
