Expensive aftershave threatening to drown subtle wine aromas. Cool dudes making love to their mobiles. Espressos knocked back at a hazardous rate to sustain the tempo of non-stop talking, tasting, talking. All this in a fairground big enough to make the RDS look titchy - spreading well over 100,000 people across nine or 10 pavilions like a light dusting of Parmesan on your average lunchtime pasta. My first visit to Vinitaly, the monster annual wine fair in Verona.
"How is it compared to other years?" I asked Sarah Kemp, the publishing director of Decanter magazine. She shrugged and smiled. "Oh, you know, the usual. Chaos and confusion and enormous fun. It's Italy!" Indeed. After a preliminary amble around some feeble fraction of the total of 2,700 stands, I felt a sudden urge to flee - overwhelmed by the scale of the show and the routine required at the most worthwhile booths to get past the bouncers to an inner sanctum of opened bottles.
Some survival strategy was called for. Some focus. Mine was to use the 33rd Vinitaly as a way of learning as much as possible about the wines of northern Italy, the fair's base. Some other year, some other places. This time it was a matter of zeroing in on the Veneto, the area around Verona, with occasional excursions out to other not-too-distant regions such as Friuli-Venezia-Giulia, Trintino-Alto Adige, Lombardy and Piedmont. Overall, the wines were superb. And their makers? Charming, passionate, articulate, interested in Ireland's booming wine market - and in many cases, it has to be said, bafflingly young. There was no sign of publicity-shy Quintarelli, the Veneto's most brilliantly talented star. But a Christmas present of a sensational bottle of his Valpolicella Classico Superiore 1991 from my wine-obsessed brother-in-law was inspiration enough to go hunting for further proof that this wine, which we so often dismiss as lightweight junk, can be a memorable treat. In the hands of a good maker, even basic Valpolicella Classico is a lipsmacking, cherry-and-herb-flavoured mouthful - the sort of appetite-inducing drink that makes you happy to reach for a few slices of salami with a lump of cheese and call it a meal. When the grapes are left to dry for three months or so after harvesting, so that their flavours concentrate, the result is rich, entrancing Amarone - now gaining fashion status at a furious rate. Half-way between (in terms of price and complexity) is Ripasso - made by refermenting Valpolicella on the lees that Amarone leaves behind.
Allegrini, Zenato and Masi emerged as impressive masters of these three wine styles. Franco Allegrini's approach is probably the most modern - favouring French oak and, for his Amarone, total control of the grape-drying process in a temperature and humidity controlled environment. (This discourages rot - both the undesirable grey mould and the "noble rot", botrytis, which some more traditional producers feel adds fleshiness to the wines.) Although I'm a bit of a traditionalist at heart, there's no doubt Allegrini's wines are very well crafted - and I loved the single vineyard Valpolicella La Grola (see below).
A first tasting of the full range from Zenato confirmed that this is an exciting name on the horizon, offering a delicious white Lugana and three reds - a Valpolicella Classico, a Valpolicella Ripassa and an Amarone - that sent my spirits soaring at the end of a hard day. The good news is that they'll all be available here soon, through Searsons.
Masi, meanwhile, continues to offer quality all through a wide and still-expanding portfolio. Look out for a new thrill, Osar - a big brother to Toar (see below), this time made entirely from the rescued old grape variety, Oseleta. Other Veneto names to note? Pieropan for Soave, Maculan for Breganze - especially the sweet white wonder, Torcolato.
The next region to fascinate was Piedmont, an area I've tended to neglect, deterred by high prices and bad memories of tough-asboots Barolos. What a revelation! Just as Amarone is being fashioned in a rounder style for earlier drinking, Piedmont's starturns, Barolo and Barbaresco, are these days making the noble but notoriously tough grape Nebbiolo come across as user-friendly. The wines of top producers such as Aldo Conterno and Pio Cesare - following a relatively traditional path - still need time (buy the 1995's to drink in five to six years' time) but are already revealing their magnificence. More modern in their approachability are those of Angelo Gaja (three bouncers on his door) and Elio Altare, a man inspired by Burgundy to make sensual, pleasurable wines. Pure genius.
In Lombary I particularly enjoyed Ca' dei Frati, familiar from Findlaters (see below), and Ca' del Bosco, familiar from glowing reviews in wine magazines. Proprietor and winemaker Maurizio Zanella may have set out to make spumante as good as champagne, but to me his Terre de Franciacorta red is the winner - a juicy, warm blend of Cabernet, Merlot, Barbera and Nebbiolo.
A quick plunge into Friuli, where the Collavini wines we know and love in Ireland stood up well, alongside new discoveries such as the accomplished whites of both Livio and Marco Felluga. Then to Trentino-Alto Adige, where the red of San Leonardo - a Bordeaux blend, but distinctively Italian - was the sort of wine that would make you rush off to Italy for a holiday of enoteca-hunting. So little is made, that would probably be the easiest way to capture it.
Too little space here, too little time there. And more digging is required, over the next few weeks, to see if some of the best Vinitaly treats can be located in Ireland. In the meantime, here's a sampling of northern Italians which definitely are here, to whet your appetite.