The hand grips the neck of the Montepulciano bottle with a gentle strength and raises it to the sky almost like a flagpole: “There’s still a full glass in here,” urges Emidio Pepe in the sly frenzy of the meal. A gesture so touching that it can encapsulate my experience at Casa Pepe. I’ve only extracted a few exchanges with him, to be honest: during our visit, he was about to blow out 90 candles. “In recent times, Dad speaks less and his memory struggles a bit as is normal, but don’t touch his birthday dance. I’ve already rented the accordion for the occasion,” says Daniela, one of his three daughters, and a key figure in the administration and public image of the company. Time slips by fast for sure, yet the aura that Emidio casts over the entire dining table doesn’t lose an ounce of its intensity. A moment, that of the shared meal together, which is a daily ritual, essential for breaking away from our respective tasks and coming together to talk, plan, learn from each other, and question systems that often elude the majority. All accompanied by bursts of jokes, smiles, and cutlery busy serving the homemade delicacies (often prepared by Rosa, Emidio’s wife) that cover the table. So, amidst a plate of spaghetti alla chitarra with meatballs; a bite of fried cheese, and succulent “mazzarelle” (rolls of traditional Teramana lamb offal), I delve into the threads of a familiar story, one that demands to be retold endlessly: for its incomparable impact on the wine universe and its ever-changing nature.

We are in Torano Nuovo, in the province of Teramo, and in this small village Emidio Pepe has been producing that nectar of Bacchus since 1964 which has completely overturned the identity and perception of the Abruzzo wine in Italy and around the world. His roots, like those of the vines, have always remained firmly planted here.