Everyone in the province of Parma knows Achille Fereoli. In his pink period he was a brilliant and esteemed entrepreneur, a popular producer of fine cured meats, including the famous Felino salami (his is sweet, soft, balanced, just as the tradition of the Food Valley dictates), as well as the owner of one of the most popular restaurants in the Parma area, the historic Bread and salami.
As a reference personality of the happy and joyful territory between the municipalities of Felino and Sala Baganza (an area of excellent gastronomic deposits), Achille, in addition to covering the role of guarantor of the values of his land with self-denial, has never failed to generously support the many small communities scattered at the foot of the Apennines, making its resources unconditionally available in times of need. Many in these parts still remember a young Achilles personally involved in initiatives for the little one parish of Maiatico, alongside the illustrious priest exorcist and diviner, the late Don Miodini. It was easy to meet Achille with his father Attilio (liturgical cantor, reader and handyman) at the church of San Nicolò, intent on carrying out the daily chores of this elderly parish priest who had lost his faithful perpetual;
The story of Achille Fereoli
was a deeply religious man Achille Fereoli. Then, fifteen years ago, iThe good Lord decided to offer Achilles the most terrible test that a man may face: the tragic and violent loss of his young, beautiful and adored daughter Virginia. The cruel gift of unbearable pain, marked with stigmata that will never heal again. A pain so great that it began to spread like lava throughout the community. For a long time the streets of the town became blue, heavy, impassable. Those were days of mourning in which the very presence of sunlight seemed unnatural, disrespectful, out of place. Thus, Achille decided to walk his long sleepless nights until dawn for the lands of Barbiano, San Michele, San Michelino, Sant'Ilario Baganza; his breath, at first enclosed in an armor of immense constriction, resumed, little by little, to flow. Then it became rhythm. A new rhythm. Achilles began to feel the flow of the blood of the earth. He learned the secret of merging with nature and, from the faithful practitioner he had been, over the years, he turned into a spiritual man. His wounds learned to vibrate in unison with those of the earth, so as to enable him to dispense the right care to his plants and fruits. Thus it was that Achille began to recover abandoned vineyards along the Baganza valley. And to work them, alone, letting the pain, in the repetition of the harsh, exhausting gestures, typical of the works and the days of the farmer, turn into love, into healing.
The rebirth
Today, Achilles' relationship with his land is so deep that the land itself seems to offer itself to him, giving it a priestly role: those who meet him immediately perceive him, he has become its protector. Achilles has at first restored Brian's vineyard, in Sant'Ilario Baganza, a plot of about 35/40 years of age, then the vineyard of the Monte from which the Lambrusco di Attilio derives. Here, he found mainly Lambrusco Maestri plants, along with small percentages of Merlot and Trebbiano. This other vineyard is about 75 years old. The most beautiful sight is to see Achilles at dawn in these vineyards, while taking care of them. And then sit at the table with him and his wines. Brian's white is a pure Sauvignon, it goes without saying, of a completely natural vinification, without any chemistry.
Whether it is different vintages or the same vintage, the feeling is that of having to do with life. No bottle is alike, the content of each is organic and has its own unique character. The range of colors ranges from ocher to pale orange. The constant is the scent of the earth, the smell of healing. One bottle has a nose of fresh sage, lavender, verbena. Another, honey, tropical fruit, ripe pear. Still another, of crunchy brown sugar, grandmother's compote, berries. All of them, in the mouth, have a natural, spontaneous acidity, of surprising variability (seeing is believing: leave the glass there, motionless. Take it back after minutes, hours: something magical always happens). Alcohol is not felt, yet it is there: concrete proof of the immanence of spirituality. Then the red, more solid, robust, constant. The strong skins support a juice full of fruit but at the same time graceful, elegant, dry, with a not dense but refined structure, like a cashmere yarn. Here too, the alcohol is balanced, just what it takes to hold together the plots of this drink with an ancient, sacred, druidic magnetism. Achille has not yet put his wines on the market, this is not the aim. What he is looking for is the perfect harmony between man and earth. His are unique, ancestral products, without chemistry, whose realization in itself means revaluation of a territory as perhaps no one had done before in these areas. Many believe that the land needs human technological intelligence to give the best of itself, Achilles instead believes that man must give the best of himself so that nature can fully manifest itself. For those passing by Felino, a stop at Achille Fereoli is a must. You will discover a man, and a wine, as a real experience of connection with everything: something that will remain inside you forever.
