La Bottiglia di Barolo

The tasting is held in the historic cellar of a Piedmont estate, among oak barriques and soft light. In the center, a walnut table with six glasses and one bottle: Barolo DOCG 2016, reserve vintage. Marco, the sommelier, personally chose that bottle from the owner's private cellar. Among the guests is a gentleman about sixty, with suspicious eyes. He tastes, but never comments. Marco opens the bottle carefully. He pours, sniffs, tastes. And turns pale. The wine tastes corked. That note of damp mold, that olfactory closure that a Barolo should never have. The suspicious gentleman tastes and says: "Maybe it's normal. Maybe it's the terroir." Marco knows it's not true. Marco excuses himself and goes up to the cellar. He checks the other bottles of the same vintage. All perfect. Only that one is ruined. He returns to the room. The guests are discussing. The suspicious gentleman now defends the wine: "Maybe it's been open too long." Marco observes him. He understands: that man is not a skeptical client. He's a competing oenologist hired to discredit the winery. Marco takes another bottle. Same vintage, same provenance. He uncorks it in front of everyone. The wine flows into the glasses. The scent rises: cherry in alcohol, tobacco, leather, licorice. The gentleman falls silent. The terroir is felt in the velvety tannin, in the long persistence, in the finish that stays in the mouth. Marco looks at the man and says, in a low but clear voice: "The first bottle was opened before the tasting. Someone replaced it." The oenologist stands up, leaves his glass and walks out without a word. Marco pours the real Barolo. The tasting continues.