by Cookie Curci
As we raised our glasses high, grandpa's words sang out over the dining
table, "Salute' per chinto anno," his deep, rich voice as hardy and pure as
the red wine he held in his glass.
"Good luck, for a hundred years," his dinner guests echoed back.
I remember how my grandfather's face beamed with pride at these joyous
occasions and how our meal never began until each family member had repeated
the traditional dinner toast and sipped from our small glasses of red wine.
Wine was always a part of our family's holiday meal. And, like most
Italian-American kids, I was introduced to its flavor, as well as its
medicinal benefits, at an early age. As each family milestone
occurred--baptisms, first holy communions, confirmations, birthdays,
graduations and marriages--another bottle of my grandpa's homemade red wine
was uncorked. Bottles were also poured on Sundays, holy days of obligation
and all national holidays--there was always cause for celebration in my
grandfather's house.
Grandpa believed that wine, in moderation, was a good thing. His opinion was
later confirmed by a scientific study published in the U.S. Journal of
Biological Chemistry on Aug. 21, 1998. In the report, a team of researchers
from Cornell University suggested that trans-reservatrol, a natural substance found in high concentration in red wine,
could reduce the pain of arthritis by thwarting the activation of the gene
cyclozygenase-2 (cox-2), which is suspected of creating the inflammation that
causes arthritis pain.
But this is only one of the benefits of red wine. It was a Sunday night in
November 1991 that most TV viewers and wine drinkers learned of the benefits
of red wine. The event was the airing of "The French Paradox" segment on 60
Minutes, which examined the French lifestyle. While many French people eat
incredible amounts of heart-stopping, artery-clogging, saturated fats, and
smoke cigarettes and don't exercise, they have a very low heart attack rate.
It is their moderate and daily consumption of red wine that gives the most
likely reason for this phenomenon, which was coined the French Paradox.
When this news came out, it unleashed a red wine mania and the sales of red
wine shot up by 40 percent. The Gallo wine company saw the sales of "hearty
burgundy" soar 39 percent. Americans had discovered the benefits of a glass
of red wine.
But this revelation was not news to me or to my grandparents, who lived by
the rule: "A glass a day keeps the doctor away."
Grandmother often put the benefits of red wine to good use as a medicinal
cure. It was administered in moderation as a remedy for arthritis and to
purify the blood, cure anemia, alleviate stomach cramps and prevent
infection. During World War II, when cases of trench mouth and whooping cough
reached epidemic levels in the United States, Grandmother administered the
rich red wine to each grandchild as a preventative mouthwash and gargle. Wine
was also used as a remedy for cold sores or skin infections. Grandmother
poured a little wine into a saucer and let it stand covered over night. In
the morning, she dabbed the wine on the sore. The reservatrol in red wine has
been found to help block DNA syntheses, a process that must occur for the
herpes virus to replicate itself. However, it has been discovered that a much
greater concentration of reservatrol than that found in red wine is needed to
cure the stubborn virus.
As a teenager, I recall the looks of astonishment on the faces of my
non-Italian friends as they watched Father fill my dinner glass with wine. To
those who objected, father would simply say, "Wine is served in church at the
communion rail, is it not? And it was served at the Last Supper." End of
discussion.
Father's house was a peaceful one and a place where he felt happiest. He eliminated the extraneous and engaged in living a simple and satisfying
lifestyle. His home was well-balanced, filled with the practical things he
needed and the people he loved. He had his own quiet corner, to which he
retreated after a robust meal. It was his belief that the soul sighs after
eating a large, traditional dinner and that one should spend time in
contemplation and reflection. Father reflected at least an hour after every
meal--the sound of his contented snore vibrated though the house.
October has always been my favorite time of the year, when the air is brisk
and leaves turn a vibrant rainbow of colors. Father looked forward to this
autumn month, too, but for a different reason. October is the traditional
time of year for winemaking. It's the transition month between summer and
fall, a time when father gathered his paraphernalia and ingredients for the
making of his hearty red wine.
Winemakers on the East Coast had to wait for good winemaking grapes like
Malaga and Zinfandel to come in by rail car from California. But Santa Clara
Valley winemakers, like Father, were lucky enough to have the plentiful
grapes of the Napa and Almaden valleys practically in their backyards. They
only had to drive in their pickups to local vineyards to buy boxes of the
finest grapes. Some old-timers nurtured their own tiny grape vineyards for
the express purpose of making their own red wine.
Devoted winemakers, like Father, usually owned their own grape-crushers,
while others rented or borrowed one each fall. After the crush was finished,
the juice was poured by funnel into the huge oak barrels, which had been
cured with sulfur smoke.
Here's where the talent for good winemaking would come in. One mistake and
the winemaker's barrels would be filled with vinegar instead of wine. But,
like Father, most winemakers had inherited their skills from the Old Country
and rarely made a bad batch.
My favorite memory of winemaking was how the family gathered together at the
ranch house to help father make the wine. The hub of activity was usually in
Grandmother's kitchen, where the ladies were hard at work making pastas,
sausages, raviolis and hot tomato ketchup, in preparation for a grand October
feast. The aroma of roasted bell peppers wafted through the air from
Grandmother's hot oven, filling our nostrils with their wonderful pungent smell. In the fall,
the men in the family gathered in the cellar to cure the wine barrels and to
help father set up his winepress. Some of the men helped father haul in the
grapes; others set up the grape-crusher and some others cured the oak
barrels.
As a child, I remember hearing Papa and Nonna speak of the renowned
vineyards of Brolio Castle, the baronial estate of the Ricasoli family, an
area famed for its Chianti wine. It is said that wine has been made in this
region of Italy since 1000 C.E. It was this revered standard of Chianti that
father tried his best to clone.
"Drink no longer water, but use a little wine for thy stomach's sake,"
advised Paul in the Bible. Wine has been around for thousands of years. Its
benefits have been passed down from generation to generation.
But only recently, thanks to modern medicine, we now have scientific proof
that wine can aid digestion and wipe out bacteria better than bismuth
salicylate (Pepto Bismol).
But all of this wouldn't be any news to Grandma Isolina and Grandpa
Antonio, who lived well into their 90s, enjoying a daily glass of homemade
red wine.
For over 14 years, Cookie Curci wrote a popular nostalgia column for The Willow Glen
Resident. (The Silicon Valley Metro Newspapers...San Jose califonia)
www.metroactive.com. She's currently writing a column called "Looking Back" that
appears monthly in FRA NOI - a Chicago based newspaper. In additon she writes for
"Mature Living" in Toledo, Ohio, "Senior News" in West Virginia and THE WILLOW GLEN TIMES in San Jose. If you would like to comment on an article, Cookie can be reached at Cookiecurci@aol.com. More about Cookie is at On Writing a Nostalgia Column....
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