The “piano music” begins every morning at sunrise. Upholding the precepts of his father– a legacy that binds him to the land–this skilled musician leaves the modest stone house with his daughter Enrica. Followed by “Pippo,” one of five rescue dogs, they walk towards a long row of vines on his 180 hectares, Sicilian estate about 70 km east of Palerm. After stroking the Border Collie affectionately, Francesco Spadafora, 64, edges close to the grapes, and opens a grappolo (or bunch) to scrutinize the color of the seeds. Admittedly the “romantic able to listen to their unique music,” he hopes to determine whether they will produce the correct acidity and alcohol levels.
“I must respect the plants, listen to their stories, be their translator, then convey their special music,” explains Spadafora, the artisanal producer of 16 wines, including the award-winning, aromatic Grillo 2011 and deep purple red syrah, Siriki Rosso Bio 2015. “Like a piano player with sensitive hands, I must be very delicate when caressing these grapes. Be very attentive and precise. The grapes are very demanding.” So is his life. Along with tirelessly respecting his father’s wine-producing traditions, he’s also the innovator, constantly looking for experimental, environmentally-friendly ways to enhance production. That creative search never ceases. Especially not now that he feels “We’ve reached a terrible crisis point ecologically.
“My father Don Pietro, a man of very few words, who started to produce experimental grapes here in the 1950s, was all about hard work, devotion to the land and plants,” remembers Spadafora, whose scarred and sun-beaten hands mirror the fact that he never considers taking a vacation. “Wine growers are definitely prisoners of the land.” Smiling wryly, a clear hint that this filial relationship has a less benign side, he continues, “I must be close to the grapes (mainly Cabernet Sauvignon, Syrah and Grillo), always let the vines decide when it’s time for pruning. Everything I do is dedicated to plants. That was my father’s way. He followed what they say in good French vineyards, ‘one well-tended vine means one special bottle.’”
Pausing for a moment to converse with 25-year-old Enrica, he makes sure she’s translating his words correctl “Walking through the vineyard, smelling grapes, seeing if they will create sensations, aromas, that’s all part of the music. “To my father, all this was work, and I learned a lot from him, to push, push, push. Lessons like only taking a small portion of the grape from the plant, to cut a selection of bunches weeks before the harvest several times. He was tough, exacting. Yet he helped me discover that wine is fantasy, memories, valuable connections.
” Working the terroir, producing an intense, fruity Don Pietro Rosso Bio 2016 from Nero d’Avola, Cabernet Sauvignon, and Merlot grapes that has won praise internationally, does have its romantic allure It’s a noble, fulfilling pursuit: the satisfaction of appealing to knowledgeable connoisseurs. It’s also creative, the immersive joy of crafting fragrant fruits in a verdant, often fickle garden. Or when using “pipettes” (“wine thieves” syringes) to draw minute amounts of wine from tanks. Wine making, even if it means sweltering in a scorching sun for hours, bending and stretching over the vines, is bewitching. It gives life, turns plants into what Spadafora calls, “magical gifts.”
“It’s dynamic, an exhilarating art,” he muses, lighting a cigarette, visibly struggling to find a few English words to emphasize his feelings. Admitting his hands hurt from pruning, he adds, “Nature owns me, that’s okay. She tells me her secrets.” Ownership, however, while leading to rewarding harvests, entails uncertainty. Producing enough grapes with special flavors, tannins, and tough, resistant skins is always a mercurial process. At times, a heart breaking one. Bounteous crops, mixed with untold, better forgotten years of unsatisfying yields, have a long history in Sicily. While local wines are increasingly gaining currency among knowledgeable enthusiasts, sought after Catarratto and Grecanico wines are sorely impacted by blustery Sirocco winds, droughts and other extreme weather.
As the Spadafora family, its dukes and barons, discovered in the early 13th Century, farming was always at the mercy of the sun and unpredictable weather. They still managed to amass large swaths of land, and their estate was eventually passed on to Francesco’s uncle, and later to Don Pietro. Redeveloping grape production in the 1950s, he admittedly taught Francesco basics about pruning, fermentation, and steeled him to be disciplined, to find ways to cope with abrupt weather fluctuations. A survivor of a 1968 earthquake that severely damaged the estate, stoical Don Pietro was indefatigably resolute, relentlessly working the land, always looking for new opportunities to sell his grapes to nearby cellars. His zeal was clearly absorbed by Francesco.
But even if Don Pietro was a stark taskmaster, predictably demanding precision and perfection, he also left kinder impressions. A soft-spoken presence, appreciating the most modest of pleasures, Don Pietro didn’t only enjoy working in the fields, intently committed to improving production. He mingled with workers, sympathetically listening to their life’s stories, and eager to share joyous moments with them. Celebrating harvests with them was particularly memorable for Francesco. Once grapes were stored in steel and cement tanks, he’d patiently wait for growers to leave their houses. To start the merriment. Recalling these communal rites of passage, Spadafora says, “There was joy, so much freedom. It was like a carnival, 30 or so people, everyone just happy the work was done. There was dancing, drinking, togetherness.”
Watching these workers dedicate themselves to the land, to its sanctity, that too left indelible memories. Remembering their bruised hands, their long hours in the terroir, he appreciatively says, “I learned so much from them. Many people educated me.” Most notably, the fabled Giacomo Tachis. The intrepid wine maker who made Sassicaia an internationally-recognizable sensation, he was the devout purist. He felt producers had to respect the plants’ natural integrity, and should never impose flavors on the grapes’ characteristics. This legendary force first came to Sicily in 1990. Hoping to develop experimental wines in conjunction with local agencies, he met Spadafora, and quickly began working out of his cellar. Regularly drinking together, and discussing various viticulture techniques, the two opinionated men became close friends over the next 5 years .
Still feeling indebted to this titular force, Spadafora says, “Coming here, talking with growers, that was so important to me. He was my teacher, my school. His greatest lesson? Kindness. Treating the grapes with great tenderness. Tachis and others who influenced him were preservationists, keenly aware of their upholding a sacred trust–protecting and sustaining terroirs. Winning accolades for his wines earned Spadafora respect from these men. Wines such as apricot-evocative Amnesia, the Soli dei Padri 2009 Syrah with hints of berries, and the citrusy, full-bodied Schietto Chardonnay Bio 2015 have all been praised at international events like Vinitaly in Verona, Italy.
Plaudits are certainly important to Spadafora, and to his maintaining the estate’s reputation. That esteem rests, according to him, on his work ethic, and humility–the understanding that he’s totally dependent on the land’s rhythms. He must be guardian who doggedly protects the terroir and its fruits for future generations. Admitting “I suffer when the land suffers,” he hastily adds, “I have my doubts, I make mistakes. But everything I do is focused on protecting what was entrusted to me.” Many of those “mistakes” result from the gambles all wine makers must invariably take. The all-defining leap of faith that leads him to determining when to harvest grapes–and to predicting whether the yield will live up to expectations.
The intuitive “piano player,” Spadafora can hope, shrug off risks, and if necessary, rely on his viticulture expertise. Yet he realizes science and experience are always eclipsed by one salient truth–harvests are inexorably at the mercy of Nature’s caprices. Realizing one spate of rain, onerous winds, or extended cold spells could wreak financial upheaval (the Pandemic has severely impacted revenues), he chuckles, “I am an artist, scientist, I try to have a good relationship with the Earth, the atmosphere.” Extending a heavy, steel-forged forbici (cutting tool) to Enrica, he gives her a few pointers about pruning vines. “Guarda, riguarda capire quando si apriranno le gemme se hai potato nel modo giusto,” he suggests, gently (“Look, see when the buds will open if you have pruned the right way”).
Quickly satisfied that she’s displaying the appropriate deftness, he lights a cigarette and pets “Pippo. ”Passing the proverbial Torch is incumbent on him. But during these moments revolve around a message that goes far beyond advice about using different tools. “Delicacy with the earth, sustaining it,” exclaims Spadafora, who has long used only indigenous yeasts to convert sugars into alcohol during the fermentation process, “All the work here, everything, is done by hand! “I’m greatly concerned about Climate Change,” he continues, shaking his head ruefully. “Very worried about Enrica’s future….Wine is still her great opportunity…it’s filled with surprises, romance, memories. Yet the changes threaten everything. We must find sustainability.” A dog barks in another part of the vineyard. Once Bianca, a yellow labrador puppy, approaches Spadafora, his face brightens. He bends down to rub her ears, and says, “One winter there’s so much rain, the next so little. I can’t figure it out. I still see new plants every year. That newness, the rebirth, La Natura è maravigliosa.”
Written by Edward Kiersh
