In the arty Right Bank of Bordeaux area of France—a land dotted with castles—there’s a tiny wine region known as Pomerol. On an eastern plateau, you’ll find the exclusive 28.5-acre Petrus vineyard with its blue clay soils and low yields. Grapes bottled there in 2008 and marketed under the “Grand Vin” label go for a few thousand dollars to as much as $56,000. Out of 100 points, Decanter rated it a 96, Wine Advocate a 97, and Jeff Leve a 97.
A bottle that ended up in the hands of Michele Bevilacqua, the proprietor of Los Gatos wine bar VinoVero, recently served to not only mark the Venetian’s successful achievement of United States citizenship, but also as a fitting farewell for his good friend, Mark Ginanni, who inspired him to apply for the passport—and is sadly losing his battle with a terminal illness.
Cruise your four-wheeled gondola down North Santa Cruz Avenue to VinoVero and you’ll find so much more than a wine bar. There’s an immaculate compact kitchen in the rear. There’s farm-fresh produce in the store room. Campbell Soup can lamps illuminate the space.
Bevilacqua greets you warmly and happily educates you with his vast knowledge of reds and whites. There’s a huge map of Italy that he keeps at the ready to point towards when instructing about various vineyards. Listeners are transported to a timeless place. You realize wine is so much more than fermented grapes. It’s a substance that can take you to a land of memory, help you bond with friends. And wine can help you say a sad, “Goodbye.”
I was first introduced to Bevilacqua by Mark Senigo at VinoVero regular. He mentioned Bevilacqua had just been granted citizenship, and I thought it might be worth covering. But Bevilacqua offered a better story, a tale of how to say goodbye to someone as close as kin.
“I am Venetian—my family goes back 1,500 years,” he said. “My last name means drinking water. Growing up on the weekends, I helped out a friend—without pay—making pizzas. This was my first employer. It was during high school, you know, to make a little extra money. I did this for two years and I fell in love with this bus boy job. This was the start of my culinary journey 37 years ago. After knowing this is what I want to do, I then went to culinary school in Venice. I learned that I had a passion about cooking. This is when I fell in love with cooking and hospitality. On a bet with a friend, I came to America. And now I won that bet.”
Work visa in-hand, he got a job at Cafe Venetia in Palo Alto.
(Dinah Cotton / Los Gatan)
“This cafe is where I met Mark Ginanni, a regular patron there,” he said. “Ginanni and a group of close friends and I spent many evenings discussing life and wines. We all shared our love of wine and shared life stories. Ginanni invited me into his home and introduced me to his family. I found Giannini to be like a father to me. He was so helpful to me and encouraged me to become an American that I call him my ‘American father.’”
Ginanni may have been a decade-and-a-half-or-so older, but the two wine-lovers became good friends, bonding over their love of grape-based beverages, and more.
Eventually, Ginanni convinced Bevilacqua to go ahead and apply for citizenship. Thanks to this encouragement, Bevilacqua embarked upon a process that would cost around $50,000. Just days ago, he finally crossed the finish line.
“I did receive my citizenship—just over three weeks ago,” Bevilacqua said.
It was just over ten days ago that Bevilacqua learned from a member of the Cafe Venetia group that Ginanni was ill. Very ill. It was so serious he would not be getting out any more.
These regulars at Cafe Venetia had grown close over the years. Bevilacqua wanted to do something special for Ginanni. And the group agreed. He thought, How about taking him a meal from VinoVero with a special bottle of wine? What about a Petrus?
It’s a vintage rated by retired American wine critic Robert M. Parker, Jr. as a 98. “The 2008 is destined to be one of the greatest Petrus’s ever made, ranking alongside the 1989, 1990, 1998, and 2000, and even eclipsing the 2005,” was his pronouncement, as immortalized on a K&L Wines website page. “An inky/red/purple color accompanies an unevolved, but promising nose of sweet red and black fruits intermixed with hints of earth, spice box, and caramel. It possesses a formidable personality of great intensity, awesome texture, amazingly well-integrated sweet tannin, and a freshness and precision that are hallmarks of this vintage. Given the tiny production, there will not be much of this sensational wine. Like most recent Petrus vintages, a decade of patience will be required despite the sweetness of the tannin. It should evolve for at least 50 years.”
Ginanni didn’t have another half-century. As co-owner of VinoVero, Bevilacqua had the resources to acquire the $7,000 (2008) Petrus. And while some bottles bring back fond memories, this one would help to create an enduring memory. This wine would be a celebration of friendship, a tool to honor a new citizen—and an appropriate way to say farewell.
“It’s always worth taking time out of your busy life to savor the moment,” Bevilacqua said. “It is not the money, it is not just the food and wine. You might meet a lifelong friend.”
Bevilacqua turned away. Tears filled his eyes.
“Mark deserves this kind of wine,” he said. “He gave me a lot of love and friendship. I will miss him.”
And so, a couple weeks ago, Bevilacqua packed up the best eating selections from VinoVero—along with the Petrus wine—and took it like a picnic to his American father’s home. He was joined by a group of about 10 of Ginanni’s friends. And together they savored every last drop of the bittersweet moment.
