Monferrato, where old meets new

“Get IN! Get IN!” she shouted as she brought her tiny car to an abrupt halt. It was late afternoon in Casale, Monferrato and I was waiting in front of a deserted train station for Mario, the winemaker I would collaborate with for the next Nova Radix wine. I had only met him briefly at a wine tasting, but I was positive that the exuberant blonde curls behind the steering wheel were not his. “Okay, so I am Veronica, the wife of Fabrizio, Mario’s brother”, she explained while taking a call in her car: “Sì sì, sono con la importatrice in macchina”. “Mario is already at the Festa del Vino as we are all working there tonight, so he asked me to pick you up and drop you off at the B&B. Then I take you there. All the winemakers of the area are there and there will be some food too.”

I am not sure what I was expecting, but definitely not a full-blown large music festival-like site with thousands of people, 3 gigantic tents filled with tables, some 30,000 Italians and bottles of wine everywhere, about 50 food stalls preparing Piedmontese delicacies, fireworks, and singing and dancing. I found Mario at the Cinque Quinti stand, pouring glasses of his Arneis and Grignolino. He gave me a kiss,a glass and a quick overview of the situation.

Every year since 1924, over the span of two weekends, ten thousands Italians with roots in Monferrato descend on Casale to meet up with old friends, family and neighbors to celebrate the start of the harvest season. Food is cooked by Pro Locos, associations of volunteers from the little villages dotting the hills of Monferrato, who all pride themselves in making the best version of a Piedmontese dish with ties to their village (donkey stew, anyone?). Wine is poured by winemakers around Casale – and the music is provided by the crowd who bursts out in song every 10 minutes.

“I have to work tonight but Fabrizio will take you to the table where all my friends sit.”  I greeted Fabrizio, the eldest of the Arditis, and followed him through the crowds. In that moment, I did not realize that it would not be the last time Fabrizio would be in charge of taking me, “la importatrice”, around – without much context and without a shared language. “dov'è quel maledetto tavolo?!” Luckily, Marco, one of Mario’s friends, intercepted us and took me under his wings. “I am sorry I am a little bit distracted”, he said, “but I think I met the most perfect woman here yesterday night. Can I tell you about her?”.

And so it was that I found myself at the start of another '24 harvest talking about love with a stranger-soon-to-be-friend on a late summer evening in the heart of Monferrato, surrounded by an incredibly welcoming group of beautiful 25-year old Italian men and women, who had travelled back from Milan, Torino, Brussels, London, or Paris to join the festivities. We tasted donkey stew, we tasted risotto, we tasted agnolotti, we drank Arneis, we drank Barbera, we drank Grignolino, we sang songs, we danced on tables, we closed the tent and continued a Monferrato tradition born over a century ago.