A Visit to Lorenzo Accomasso

Levi Dalton

Levi Dalton
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Accomasso's Cantina is in La Morra, not far from Altare and next to Roberto Voerzio. Accomasso stands in contrast to those and other estates, however. Here is a man who does not get acclaim or high prices for his wines. Instead, his has been a life of hard work and often near poverty.

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Mr. Accomasso speaks of a difficult life, and of a mother who lived into her nineties and worked each day "as would a man." He speaks of astonishment at the prices now fetched for some Barolo, and alludes to an era when money and food were scarce. He speaks quietly, and it is often difficult to hear him over the clucking of the roosters and the hens outside his door. Mr. Accomasso's hands give him trouble as he tries to open the bottles for us.

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Mr. Accomasso, now in his 70s, with the first vintage of Barolo that was his, the 1958.
 
That is his sister. Neither married and together they have lived this life.

We spoke little of wine, more of life, as a sad soliloquy at times.

Some moments were uncomfortable, others obviously painful.

There are few Accomassos left.

Curiously these few photos left me sadder than our visit.
 
I'm sorry to hear about their hardship. With all the press the Rollands, Mondavis, and other jet-set winemakers get, I sometimes forget that the vast majority of winegrowers in the world live the lifestyle of simple farmers struggling to eke out an income year by year. Thanks for putting a spotlight on the Accomassos and I hope that they are at least a little bit more financially secure now than they were in the past.
 
Well said, Yule. It reminds me of the part of Charles Neal's "Armagnac" that stays with me the most: how the brandy really served as the farmers' old-age pensions. Every year they grow a few grapes, distill one barrel of brandy, and put it away. When they are too old to work the fields, then they sell the now-mature barrels off, a piece at a time.
 
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