Auto-generated transcript. (Please excuse errors.) In Venezuela, we say "tengoratón". In Veneto, we say "gola simia dosor". In Slovenia, yes, sometimes, when you speak for the first time, you speak more. But if you speak for the first time, you speak more. "Garía nantantioso". "Venezuela, I have a mouse." "Veneto, Italy. I have a monkey now. Slovenia. I have a cat or I have a tiger. The last clip is from Piemonte in northern Italy and it means I am carrying a donkey. Here's one in English. The hair of the dog. Have you ever noticed that sayings about hangovers from all over the world seem to involve animals? Welcome back to Season 2 of Modo di Bere, the podcast about local drinks and local saves. I'm your host, Rose Thomas Bannister. As a sommelier instructor with over 12 years in the drinks industry, I've learned to find balance and mostly avoid these animal states. I've realized that what draws me to wine is that I love to learn about the world. We've got a beautiful season ahead, full of adventure stories and interviews about local drinks and local language. We'll hear from winemakers, drinkers, and thinkers from Taiwan to Texas, and from Venezuela to Veneto. I wanted to start by telling you a little bit about how moto di bere, which means "way of drinking," a pun on the Italian word for a saying, came to be. How did a girl from Nebraska end up with a podcast inspired by Italian wines and dialects? I'm a singer -songwriter, so I've been performing in bars for 20 years, but I never expected to fall in love with the art of the cocktail. Then I met a poker -faced bartender in Lincoln, Nebraska, whose drinks were like poems made out of bitters and history. I was obsessed. I got my first bartending gig at a farmer bar in an Amish town in rural Minnesota. The regulars had names like horse and rub. I learned mixology from mail -ordered books and convinced horse to try drinks from a girly glass. When I moved to New York City, I tended bar at an Italian restaurant. My friends there taught me hilarious sayings in their local dialects and introduced me to wines from their hometowns. The exuberant variety of Italian local culture swept me off my feet. I went to wine school and learned Italian. I put in seven years of work in the wine industry before I had the chance to see Italy in person. In 2019, I finally made a pilgrimage to Mount Etna and watched the sunset pour down the volcano like sauce. For me, selling wine was always about making friends and telling stories. At home in Brooklyn and wherever I go, I talk to strangers and ask them to teach me their local drinks and local sayings. The stories they tell are too fun to keep to myself. In the spring of 2023, I launched the Moto di Beri podcast, social media blog, and YouTube channel. Not all the drinks I cover are alcohol, and not all the stories I share are Italian, but Italy will always be at the heart of my fascination with local culture. The version of this podcast for Italian speakers and Italian learners is called Modo di Berre Italiano, and you can find it wherever you listen to podcasts. Do you know what drinking is saying involving an animal? Send me a DM on Instagram at Modo di Berre, or send me an email through my website, mododberre .com, where you can also sign up for my newsletter. I also share a lot of unique content from my travels on my YouTube channel, so I encourage you to give that a subscribe. I'll put the link in the show notes for this episode. Thank you so much for tuning in to Season 2 of the Moto D 'Berry podcast. I have so much to tell you. Wherever you go and whatever you like to drink, always remember to enjoy your life and to never stop learning. Music for the podcast was composed by Arcilia Prosperi and performed by the band O. Except for the song about birds. That's me. You can hear more at RosetomasBannister .com.
“It's like March Madness, but for wine documentaries"—from the rolling hills of Alba and Asti in Piemonte to the Dolomite mountains of Trentino-Alto Adige.
Local languages from Texas German to cowboys shooting the sh*t, from traditional fishermen to Calabrian speakers of Arbëreshë, an ancient dialect of Albanian.
"That drew me to wine and coffee, this sort of visceral pleasure..Like when when I would listen to certain pieces of music and be moved to having shivers."
The Triana neighborhood of Sevilla is known for its participation in El Rocío, a yearly event when pilgrims from all over Andalucía travel by foot and oxen-drawn carts to
"In these days, we are my parents and my three sisters. My older sister runs a farm that provide us with vegetables, fruits, jams and so on. The other sisters working together here in the restaurant."
"At that point, whether you know or understand any of these chemical factors, that's when you slow down and be like, 'This wine doesn't taste like I expected.'"
“Aha!” said Fabio. “But in Venice, we drink Spritz all day! And not with Aperol, with Select!” He paused and looked at me seriously: “Never more than five.”
Never wear new shoes to a wine fair. Thank goodness it was Kachi Izukanne’s first Vinitaly. If the pinch of his new white sneakers hadn’t driven him to find a chair...
“Aha!” said Fabio. “But in Venice, we drink Spritz all day! And not with Aperol, with Select!” He paused and looked at me seriously: “Never more than five.”
Never wear new shoes to a wine fair. Thank goodness it was Kachi Izukanne’s first Vinitaly. If the pinch of his new white sneakers hadn’t driven him to find a chair...
Why are we obsessed with drinks and dialect? Modo di Bere connects biodiversity and linguistic variety, in Italy and beyond, through local drinks and local sayings.
"In these days, we are my parents and my three sisters. My older sister runs a farm that provide us with vegetables, fruits, jams and so on. The other sisters working together here in the restaurant."
The Triana neighborhood of Sevilla is known for its participation in El Rocío, a yearly event when pilgrims from all over Andalucía travel by foot and oxen-drawn carts to
Why are we obsessed with drinks and dialect? Modo di Bere connects biodiversity and linguistic variety, in Italy and beyond, through local drinks and local sayings.
"In these days, we are my parents and my three sisters. My older sister runs a farm that provide us with vegetables, fruits, jams and so on. The other sisters working together here in the restaurant."
Looking back on the tapas, sherries and cocktails from my favorite bars in Sevilla filled me with a sensation I gradually realized was not hunger, but love.
“Aha!” said Fabio. “But in Venice, we drink Spritz all day! And not with Aperol, with Select!” He paused and looked at me seriously: “Never more than five.”
