Alessandra Quarta dedicated the last decade to the development of Claudio Quarta Vignaiolo – the business her dad started in 2005.
I’d never ventured this North of the Ionian coast before. Lizzano was unexplored land for us. The thrill of getting to find out about the nuances of the dialect, the composition of the land, people’s habits. Even though it’s only 1hr drive from Lecce, I’m aware Salento changes customs and traditions within just a few miles.
A quick detour to pick Edoardo up, he introduced me to Alessandra. The sun is low, orange, drowsy. These country-side roads empty. We drive past an old man on his bike, with a strapped wooden box of freshly picked figs.
It’s 6.45am.
I’m curious about what’s going to happen. We parked at Tenute Eméra, I get access to the kitchen where I meet some ladies who are baking cakes, cutting bread, and making coffee. Can I have a cup please? Of course, son.
Alessandra comes out in the courtyard, Edoardo runs towards her, we introduce each other for the first time. People start to come around, and she presents the project. Lu Capucanali 2019 – Festa della Vendemmia.
Lu Capucanali is originally an old word from Salentino dialect that indicates the big lunch where all the workers gather together to celebrate the end of a big, often exhausting job. In the old days, it was used by the builders for when they’d finished a house, or equally by the peasants who were working in tobacco fields. Or by the women who worked in the vineyards for the Vendemmia.
“Our plan for the day is to make wine like the old times, and these ladies will teach us how to do it” she says while she introduces the same ladies from the kitchen. Rosaria, Cosimina, Annamaria, Pina, Cristina, Maria Michela, Maria.
People from all parts of the world at Tenute Eméra, coming together to experience wine making. We are instructed to get the cars and drive about ten minutes north, towards the old Casino Nitti, the estate where some of Claudio’s vineyards are, alongside the Masseria where we find the Palmenti, large stone basins from the 16th century used for wine pressing.
“Hurry up everyone, we’re late and the sun won’t be graceful to us. If you keep fiddling about, you’ll regret it in an hour or so!” says Rosaria.
It’s 8am and you feel the dry sun rays making their way amongst the rows of vine leaves. Grape jam, coffee, fruit, croissants, crostata, there’s breakfast for everyone. All made and sourced locally by them.
Claudio, the owner, is here with us. He goes through the details of the wine making process and explains the features of the Syrah grapes we’ll be picking this morning.
It’s all set and off we go. The ladies help along, and watching them is mesmerising, as the speed they work at is nothing short of incredible compared to us attendants.
It’s silent, no wind. The sun is getting harder as it goes up. We can only hear scissors whacking through the vine wings. A few minutes after we start, while everyone is focused on carefully chopping the grapes from the branches, a rasping but melodic sound rises. One of the ladies, Cristina, has started to sing. No music. The other ladies, too, do not linger, and their voices fill the yards’ rows with old ballads, mostly made of forgotten words that only dialect-fluent people could fully understand.
The lyrics are about the struggle of people who work hard and love harder.
Songs for and from the countryside. As Taranta lovers, we were amazed at listening to the original versions, in the original set up, of what has now become commercialised and sold under the flag of ‘pizzica’. We recorded it, a memory of this extraordinary moments.
It lasted for about two hours, under the sun with our hands dirty and our foreheads wet. Not only travellers and local adults were fascinated by this work, kids and their parents had a phenomenal time too. We formed a work-gang that picked 3,500 kilos of grapes, ready to be pressed.
We then rested nearby with some fresh water, shade and berries straight from the bushes.
It is 10am and from the distance we see some backlit silhouettes approaching us from the dusty trail. The sound of a tambourine with an accordion overtakes the cicadas and the birds, and we see the people from Abatematteo who introduce us to the second part of the ritual. The celebration starts to relieve our fatigue and please the workers to the ancient notes of pizzica.
Alessandra introduces them to the crowd and jovially some of us sing along and dance around. Marta, the daughter of Salvatore Abatematteo, leads the crowd to Casino Nitti in amongst colourful jokes and songs.
The old building is from the 16th century, originally built as the lodge owned by the first President of Italy following World War I, Francesco Saverio Nitti, in 1919-20. A red carpet was laid down from the stone sinks towards the inner rooms, where the ancient millstones, dating to the early ‘900s, have been restored and are now used by guests to relive the excitement of the traditional grape crush, done by foot.
Abatematteo perform Taranta to encourage people to crush the grapes frantically and not get tired during the pressing. I was reading Desmond Seward and Susan Mountgarret’s Old Puglia back then, and there was a passage saying: “One should not confuse the colourful dancing displays for tourists with the real thing”. It stuck with me, and I felt Marta knows the real thing.
It’s about midday and the work is done for today. We can finally cut loose with the excellent Rosè Negroamaro del Salento by Claudio Quarta Vignaiolo.
“Let’s go see our outdoor lab, we have over 500 types of grapes we’re experimenting with, in collaboration with the University of Milan. They’re planted near here.” says Alessandra.
It’s a land their family business has preserved for their innovative methods of experimenting with grapes. We taste and ask questions. Claudio and her daughter answer, to our limited wine connaissance benefit.
Early wake plus work made us hungry and Alessandra instructs us to go back to Tenute Eméra, for name of the event to make sense. Lu Capucanali is an old tradition of consuming lunch to be thankful for a rich crop.
While dozens of people eat and drink, Alessandra welcomes poets and musicians. Abatematteo plays and recites some more Taranta. Roberta Garibaldi says a few words about Puglia and the importance of events such as this one for the Italian cultural heritage. Unbeknowsnt to me, Ale invites me to say a few words about House of Deda, for which I was hugely unprepared.
I leave Lu Capucanali 2019 with a heart filled with the typical joy and immediate nostalgia that only kicks in right after a special moment you wish it’d never end.
We all bathed in the late summer sun in some of the greatest vineyards of the South of Italy. We experienced the ancient ritual of Vendemmia with talented and enthusiastic people. Amongst them, the capacity for grinding hard work that results in excellence and righteousness.
A natural order we are part of, a connection with nature that elevates our quality of life. In times like our own, where everything is consumable and tagged with an expiration date, the enduring strength of traditions comes as a godsend helping hand.
A huge thank you to all the formidable people behind the event that keep alive one of the most ancient tradition that make Salento a wonderful place.
And a special thanks Edoardo, Alessandra and Claudio who invited me to document all this.