Sicily is a thousand faces land, but there is a Sicily that I consider mine. It's made of roads, colors and smells that waft in the air. My Sicily is made up by countryside and rock, the one of the Iblei, maybe the least known part of the entire region. I love the spectacular beauty of the cavies that open suddenly in the orography of mountains, canyons, caverns; the fact that there are cemeteries and catacombs hidden among the vegetation. I love the road that runs along the plateau through forests of oaks and laurel of the Corrado Pendente and Selvaggi hills, and the view that sweeps up to the profiles of Bollarito and Patro. I am amazed every time by the modest beauty of the little dry stone walls. Little walls as oeuvres that give a Geometric grace to the mountains, in contrast with the temporary nature of the limestone of these areas. And in the same way, I continue to be astounded by its baroque beauty , as Palazzolo Acreide and the Val di Noto, which suddenly interrupt the harshness of mountains with their architectural splendour. Here there are oaks, olive and carob trees. Here the force of nature spreads everywhere, although the rock crumbles as "giuggiulena" (a pastry made of sesame seedsand sugar); there is the wind and the roughness of smells and flavours. All ingredients that "grow" in my wine. And furthermore there is the town of Vittoria.

Little walls as
oeuvres that give
Geometric grace to
the mountains

Founded only in 1607 at the center of the Boscopiano feud, near the ancient river valley of Cammarana, which overlooks a magnificent landscape. Founded by Vittoria Colonna (1558-1633), Vittoria is the town where my family has lived for xx years. And, as a sign of destiny, came specifically from wine. A wine that historians called black and that was produced until the nineteenth century, when the phylloxera infection wiped out the wine community. A wine that disappeared for a hundred years and then came back in the crops only in the 50s and that it was called Cerasuolo, a mixture of "calaurisi" and "rrappato" (Nero d'Avola and Frappato). My life is linked to this story. Not because I really knew it, but because is written in the land, in the countryside full of beams and millstones, and in this town of a few monuments (such as the Basilica of St. John the Baptist and the Church of Santa Maria delle Grazie). The town was founded to bring order to the country and to itself, which was created from country . Over the centuries it was inhabited by people coming from all over Sicily, Calabria, even from it is where, immediately the figure of the winemaker arose. As if the vine was something that people could breath in the air since ancient times. Oxygen, history, and any how in anyway, a new life.

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