The Drink of Princes

"The Accidental Connoisseur" is a lengthy piece by Lawrence Osborne about the richness and full-bodied story of wines in Italy, particularly the Antinori. Prepare yourself to sit with this article for a short while because it's 28 pages in length, but it's filled with cleverly descriptive phrases like, "Chianti, that uncrowned prince of the peninsula's nectars". The article is well-balanced, it does not come off as being overly positive, or entirely negative, he accomplishes this in several subtle ways. Early on in the story at one point he's trying on of his first "Super-Tuscan" wines and when Marchese asks him what he thinks about it he honestly admits that "it's not really for him". At another point in the article he goes to a restaurant where he tells us, "I had made a secret and horrified note of the prices of their Sassicaia, informing the reader to be prepared for steeply over-priced wines in many places. When talking about going to the Gates of Paradise he says, "The Gates of Paradise are one thing the foreigner in Florence never seems able to avoid, and which always proves disappointing because of the crowds". Towards the end of the piece he's discussing the wine estate of Eleanor Stucchi and bluntly describes it as being, "neither remote nor ascetic - in fact, it was not even remotely ascetic. Quite the contrary, the restaurant overlooking the wild ravines was filled with honeymooners from Brooklyn and large luridly clad contingent of amateur cyclists on tour from Missouri", it may not paint a pretty picture but it paints a truthfully, realistic one.

It is language like that, and poignant phrases like, "Wine summons ghosts out of the cupboards", which are emotionally written and highly descriptive that allows the reader to see things as he sees them, through Osbourne's eyes. He provides you with enough intimate details so that you're not bogged down by over-information but you can tell he spent an intimate amount of time at these places and with these people, he is reliable. It is this mix of reliability and honesty that make you feel like he genuinely wants to inform the reader in an honest, not fluffed-up piece, admitting tiny details even like at one point he becomes tipsy, "...soon I was flushed and light-headed. This was not very 'professional,' but my host seemed indulgent and merely asked if I was tipsy". He then responds by admitting that he is indeed tipsy. Ending the piece on another honest but beautifully descriptive phrase he admits, he has seen enough of Tuscany he think and he's ready for, "something more primitive and more chaotic: the sun, a whiff of the hysterical Dionysus".