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The story of Martellotto (which means big hammer in Italian) begins in Alberobello in Puglia, Italy. My grandfather left the old country in 1918 to find a new, better life for himself and us. Given that my nonno produced wine in his basement for the local Italian community in the Bronx during Prohibition, it’s possible that my destiny in wine is genetically encoded.
This wasn’t my initial career trajectory; I intended to become a doctor. However, the allure and enticements of the vine were too strong to resist.
Balanced alcohol, oak tannins, and zippy acidity that make my lips smack are qualities of wines I find appealing. I believe great wine complements life. Wine is shared at peak moments and becomes a tool to make memories and experiences more vibrant. Wine is art and science, romantic and intimate, and it’s also fermented grapes.
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