The Gallo Nero

Pour a glass and pull up a chair! In our eager anticipation for the upcoming Grape Escape hosted by Cynthia at Muse Swings and Lavinia Ladyslipper at the Birdbath Chronicles, Blicky and I thought we'd crack open a nice bottle of Chianti and tell some stories we learned from Blicky's Italian friend, no he's not Joe Sixpack, he's Giovanni Damigiana. Not translating for you? Probably not, because most of the working class Joes I met in Tuscany were (*gasp*) socialists. Ruuuuunnn! Hide the children! Here's a damigiana:

 You lug it home (getting un ernia in the process) and bottle it yourself. It holds a few months worth of wine, or a month for the truly sodden and committed. After capping about thirty bottles, Giovanni Damigiana told us a wonderful tale about Chianti.

The story hearkens back to the medieval days when the Ghibellines (behind their swallow tail crenelations) warred with the Guelfs. Italy was not yet Italy, but an unruly conglomerate of city-states presided over by petulant and ostentatious dukes and lords. The Italian language had come into use only recently when Dante wrote the Divine Comedy, establishing the Florentine dialect as standard Italian.

The Florentines and the Sienese had been locked in a long, often bloody territorial struggle. It was finally decided that the dispute would be settled in the fairest way possible. A party of men would depart from each city at dawn when the cock crowed and the point at which they met would constitute the border between their territories. Now the Florentines, being an extraordinarily clever people, had a beautiful rooster ready to serve this most important task. They took this black bird and starved it half to death in the days leading up to the contest. When it was at last the appointed night the poor creature woke up in the middle of the night, screaming for food. The Florentines lost no time setting out. They met at Fonterutoli, which is only about 12 kilometers from Siena. All the area that they acquired through their ruse became known as the gallo nero region; some of the best wine growing land in Italy.

You can always tell a good Chianti from the black rooster, or gallo nero on the bottle. The red background indicates a good, solid Chianto Classico, and a gold background indicates the higher quality Riserva. In order to bear the gallo nero, vineyards must adhere to stringent standards. We here in the states often associate wine with privilege and culture, so I was surprise when Giovanni Damigiana just looked at the alcohol content to see whether the wine was good. "Oh 13, must be good." For those who really want to taste the best, the Brolio Ricasoli is the standard by which all the other Chianti wines are judged. But if you're like me, you'll just look for a high alcohol content and a black bird. Now for our toast: "Qui non beve in compania è un ladro o una spia." (He who doesn't drink in the company of others is either a thief or a spy.) Hey Blicky, why aren't you having any?