pringle's blog

Our wine story started with three good friends -- two doctors and one international business consultant -- with a mutual passion for the vine. Jay, a guru in the pulp and paper industry, was based in London and roaming Europe like a nomad with a jet for a camel. Jay is a whirling dervish with an electric smile; he makes things happen. So it’s no surprise that, while working in Spain and Portugal, Jay fell in with native winemakers and offered to import their spicy, red wines to the United States.

Did I mention that Jay is pretty audacious? Here he goes, offering to import wine when he has zero experience in the field. But Jay’s a former Army Ranger and West Point grad, the kind of guy who sees every snow-capped peak as the opportunity to plant a flag.

Jay seizes the moment, creates a business plan, and volleys the idea to his two doctor friends, Sam and Brett, who live in Charleston, S.C. The three of them start dreaming: Is this possible? Could we really pull this together?

Of course, no one would quit his day job. Buying containers of wine requires working capital; for these guys, creating capital requires working.

Weeks fly by without any decision; the daily grind holds them in a headlock. Sam and Brett keep putting on white lab coats, checking pulses, admitting patients, fielding 3 a.m. calls. Jay keeps flying around the globe to troubleshoot for his pulp and paper clients. These guys have wives and children to support; they have credit card bills to pay.

Importing wine seems like a misty dream -- until fate steps in and gives them a push.

Enter Lorenzo, tall, dark, and handsome, into the upstairs lounge of a 747 where Jay is flying from Europe to Miami. The two travelers pass time together over drinks. Lorenzo speaks lovely English with a lilting Italian accent. He tells Jay his tale of woe: Lorenzo makes magnificent Sangiovese wines on his ancient family estate in Umbria. He’s peddling his wines with some success in various parts of the world. But he can’t find an American importer willing to gamble on his newly-upgraded winery and help him break into the U.S. market.

Hey! Jay flashed his trademark Cheshire cat grin. Let me show you the business plan that’s sitting right here on my laptop.

Was it the birth of Venus? Not exactly. But it was the birth of Dedicato de Patris, our importing business. You’re probably wondering, “What’s with that name?”

The Latin words confuse people; they aren’t sure what Dedicato de Patris means, and when they find out what we do, they wonder if we sell communion wine to the Catholic Church. (Guess again.)

The name means, “dedicated to the Father.” It expresses the Christian faith shared by the three founders, and their desire to give back to their communities. The Latin verbiage also creates a distinctive old-world aura. Hey, it’s better than “Three Guys Shlepping Around Wine”, isn’t it?

Besides, Dedicato de Patris sounds serious, and these wines are seriously good. They’re getting high marks from famous wine critics, and they’re selling in high-end wine shops and restaurants along the east coast. But don’t take my word for it. We’ve hauled these beauties out of those ancients caves and shipped them across the Atlantic.

All you’ve got to do is pull out the cork.