Über uns

15 September 2016

Falstaff sbarca a Salina

15 September 2016


1 Februar 2015


13 April 2008

Mozia written by Alfonso Cevola

9 April 2008

A Taste of Sicily

7 Januar 2008

Great Values from Italy

5 November 2007
Wine Spectator

Tasting Highlights: Southern Italy

4 Juli 2007

Tasting Sizilien

1 Januar 2007
Der Feinschmecker

100 Lieblingsweine - 2003 Camastra

1 November 2006
The Dubliner Magazine

Regaleali Nero d'Avola is the Best of the Bunch

28 Juli 2005
Wine Enthusiast

21st-Century Sicily

Juli 2005
Spirito diVino

Il nuovo s’addice a Regaleali

13 März 2005
New York Times

In Sicily, a Winery Tour With Lunch Included

27 Oktober 2003
Corriere della Sera

Regaleali: l'aristocrazia del vino siciliano di oggi.

3 Oktober 2003
Il Sole 24 Ore

Vino, debutta il future di Tasca d'Almerita.

1 September 2003

Nuovi vini, antiche colline.

23 Januar 2003
@lfa Il Sole 24 Ore

Tasca d'Almerita: Quando la rete finisce in cantina.

15 November 2002
Wine Enthusiast

European Explosion

17 Oktober 2002
La Repubblica - ed. Palermo

L'antico piacere della Malvasia. (…)

Oktober 2002

La Siciliana.

Oktober 2002

E De Niro fa scorta di "muffa".

25 Juli 2002

La Marchesa è servita.

Juli 2002

Vini da premio

Juni 2002

Pane e vino di Bruno Vespa.

Mai 2002
Bon Appétit

Bottles Full of Sun.

Mai 2002

Regaleali è arte del vino.

27 April 2002
La Repubblica - ed. Palermo

Depardieu investe in Sicilia "Qui nascerà un grande vino".

13 Apr 2008

Mozia written by Alfonso Cevola

Mozia written by Alfonso Cevola

Quali volti nell’aria?

Pirati o mercanti, maghi o scienziati

con formule e amuleti scendono sulla riva?

Quale incantesimo ferma a Mozia

il fluire del tempo?

Forse un vento del Libano

senza memoria ridesta visioni

di un sogno d’Oriente.


Nel Tofet bruciano incenso e timo.

Tanit splende con vesti di porpora

e seni di lino.

Caste fanciulle danzano sulle brezze del mare.

Pan ha sepolto il passato con vigne, alberi e capre.

Nelle luci, nelle ombre tra vasi, anfore e steli

riaffiorano sempre canti orientali.


Oh tu,

feniceo o plebeo, che adagi i tuoi passi

nella piccola isola sospesa e sognante

in remoti millenni,

volgi il pensiero a Colei, fanciulla,

che forse bruciò per te in sacrificio a Tanit.

- Vittorio Cimiotta


“Don’t go to Mozia looking for answers,” my Sicilian friend advised, “You’ll only find more questions. But by all means, go.” Those were her parting comments to me as we hugged goodbye. It would be a world far from the hazy blur of Vinitaly. But it was a must see.


I am an island lover. So to go visit an island one can walk over the water to see, was like something out of an ancient fantasy. That they had vineyards there was lagniappe to me. It being light wine was even better.


Looking back now, the only lightness on this visit would be with the wine.


Flying over the country in the late afternoon, in a small plane, as one approaches the island, the handiwork of the Phoenicians is still evident. At the South gate was the Cothon, a small rectangular harbor with an outlet to the great sea. At the North gate, the ancient causeway over the water from Mozia to Sicily still remains.


On landing in Marsala, the way to Mozia was hindered by haze over a waxing moon. “Walk to Mozia,” was the suggestion. Fortunately the tide was low, this being the Mediterranean, which had long been banished of any emotional swells. The humans were in complete control of those urges.


“You will love this island,” she told me. “At one time over 40,000 people lived on it in ancient times.” The Phoenicians chiseled this little plot of 40 hectares with ten times the population, per square meter, of modern day New York City.


Now it is empty and solemn, an urn for the lives of those who struggled for their daily bread thousand of years ago.


As an island one can walk to, there is a sense of something once forbidden now available. Some of my married friends talk about this to me, often. In the wine sense, it is more of a surprise, in that this land, over-farmed for hundreds of years, is now once again fertile and capable of producing a delicate and sensual wine. The grape is Grillo, but not in a steely, nervous high pitched manner. This first release, the union of the Whitaker estate and the Tasca D’Almerita dynasty, is an oboe in a sea of piccolos.


Am I awake or still dreaming? So close to Sicily, actually protected in a harbor, but Mozia is a universe away from my daily concerns.


Yes, it is a dark jungle, but womblike. A sense of shelter, of safety, of illusion.


The rhythm between ancient and present is hard to grasp, this island has its own magnetism, drawn from a core other than the earth. Perhaps it is the collective energy of all those followers of Tanit. The wine takes its cues from these messengers. I go back to the wine; it grows deep in the glass. Music seems to emanate from the wine, along with dense fruit and a splash of salt. There is no intervention by the winemakers in this instance. None necessary, or possible. I am smitten by this wine; I am 20 years old once more, first time in Sicily, again. This wine is a time capsule and this island is another world.


Unlash me from the mast. I must probe the abyss.

Grillo Mozia  (JPG, 113 Kb) Grillo Mozia (JPG, 113 Kb)