Trilingual by nine, Barolo-obsessed by nineteen, the calmest person in any room with twelve drunk people in it.
Born in Palermo to a Sicilian mother and a Nigerian father. The family moved to Lagos when she was four, then Madrid when she was twelve. She learned to taste wine the way other kids learn to read music: at the dinner table, in three languages, while being told to slow down.
Sara can spot a fake Brunello by the weight of the foil capsule and the spacing of the lot number. She has flagged three on import lists in the last year. None of them made it to the floor.
“People are scared of Italian wine because the maps are messy and the names are long. The truth is, the maps are the fun part. Give me thirty minutes and a glass and I will prove it.”
Her father bought a bottle the day she was born and gave it to her at twenty-one. She has not opened it. She says she is waiting for a Tuesday that deserves it.