The other day a friend asked “Scott, why do you love red wines?” He cringed when I replied “The reason begins in 1878.

1878 was the year Nazzareno Brunetti was born in the small town of Fossato di Vico, Italy.

In 1901 he emigrated from Italy to join a cousin on the Iron Range of northern Minnesota. Nazzareno, or Nick as he would Americanize his given name, made his home in the small, but tight knit, Italian community in the town of Virginia. Rather than head down into the mines to work, he and his wife, Serafina, opened an Italian grocery store.  That store became one of several hubs in this town of immigrants. Croats, Swedes, Finns, Slovenes, Poles, Norwegians, Irish, and Scots would join the Italians in this melting pot town drawn by the promise of fair paying jobs in the iron pits.

Shortly thereafter, in 1906, another Italian immigrant, Cesare, found himself in Virginia, Minnesota and early on made his way to the Brunetti grocery store. He would begin as a miner, but quickly worked, and partnered in that grocery store, while living across the street where he and his wife, Rosa, later owned a saloon/boarding house. The two families became fast friends as their young families prospered. As a matter of fact, when Serafina fell seriously ill, Rosa tended to Helen, her eldest, with Helen saying “raising me as if I was one of her own”. Their friendship became an enduring one.

The torch of this friendship would be shephered and passed through generations. From Nazzareno and Serafina to their daughter, Helen, and her husband, Mario. They in turn would pass it on to their daughter, Dolores, and her husband, Carlo. Likewise they passed it along to their daughter, Mary Kay, and her husband, me. Not many friendships last four generations!

Those first generation friends would move almost 2,000 miles apart. Cesare and Rosa would make California their home, while even after being asked to join them there, the Brunetti family remained in Minnesota. However, the friendship would endure, gifts and letters exchanged, and visits made, usually by the Minnesotans to the Californians during the winter months of course! One of those gifts was an annual shipment of California grapes back to Minnesota, where, in a rudimentary winery in a basement in Virginia, a delicious, dry, Italian-inspired red wine would be made and housed in wonderful oak casks until decanted.

Mary Kay would speak of this family friendship often and it was the source of the only pledge she asked me to make before her untimely death from brain cancer. During a quiet moment, while in home hospice, she took my hand and said “Scott, I have a favor to ask. Do you remember the wine you drank on your first visit to my grandparents?” I answered “Of course I do! Your Nonno had just given us his blessing to be married and we toasted with wine from a barrel downstairs” (red wine).  Smiling, she asked “Do you remember the wine we served at our groom’s dinner and wedding reception?” Again I answered “Of course I do! I helped your grandpa bring cases of his wine in from his car.  Your family lovingly called it Dago Red.” We both sat lost in some wonderful memories of our 41 years as a married couple. She added “Do you remember the stories I told, when we took our California vacation with the kids? The trip where I asked you to jump a fence and grab me a cluster of (red) grapes off a vine and you got chased out of the vineyard, but not before you got me those grapes?” Laughing, once more I responded “Of course I do. They damn near caught me and your stories were about your trips as a kid to Napa to stay with your friends who grew grapes there. The same folks who sent your Grandpa all the grapes for his wine.” Her eyes gave way to sadness when she said “We can’t be the end of that story. Will you promise me, after I’m gone you’ll travel to Napa, continue our story, and make it live on with our children?” Through tears I mumbled one more ‘of course’.  Mary Kay even handpicked Charles Krug 2012 Family Reserve Generations (a red of course) to be served at her Celebration of Life.

Months after Mary Kay passed I remembered her request and sent an email beginning with “I know you might think I’m crazy, but….” and explained our story. The response shocked me. It began “Oh my! This story has been related over family dinners for decades, but we didn’t know if it was true or a family myth. We’d love to see you.”

I went out a month later. It would take another year before I’d return with our daughter. I had to complete my pledge and connect up a new generation to this family friendship. We did it at Charles Krug and atop Pritchard Hill at Continuum. We toasted to Cesare and Rosa Mondavi and Nazzareno and Serafina Brunetti for what their early friendship in frozen northern Minnesota had brought that day to sunny California.

Five generations now. Not a bad run and it’s why I love red wine!”