Short Story

In Vino Veritas

Nancy's Notes 🖊️🎶

Written for The Unicorn Challenge
where we are encouraged to write a
story in 250 words or less using this
photo as inspiration. Here is my story.

© Ayr/Gray

In 1919 Brooklyn, New York, in what is now known as Flatbush, the DeStefano Family had cultivated a legacy steeped in tradition. Domenico DeStefano, a proud Sicilian immigrant, had arrived in America with dreams of a better life. But his heart remained tethered to the sun-drenched vineyards of his homeland. Each autumn, as the leaves turned gold, he and his two cousins, Tomasso and Antonio, came together to work on the fine art of winemaking.

The old wine press, a relic left behind by Domenico’s uncle, stood in the backyard, weathered yet sturdy. Every year, the men would work at harvesting the grapes from their small plot. Domenico remembered what his father taught him, not just the techniques of crushing and fermenting, but the stories behind each grape, each vintage.

“This”, his father would proudly say, “is not just wine; it is our story, our heritage.”

As they pressed the grapes, the sweet aroma of fermentation enveloped them, a scent that became synonymous with family  gatherings and memorable times. After a couple of years in Brooklyn, Domenico decided to leave for better work opportunities in Manhattan.

Domenico DeStefano was my grandfather, my mother’s father. Years after moving to Manhattan, my parents met and were married in 1939. Even after relocating to The Bronx in 1953, that old wine press was still in fine condition. My father took over making the wine; watching him at that old press and tasting my first sip of homemade wine are among my sweetest memories.

NAR©2025
250 Words

This is “Red, Red Wine” by Neil Diamond

The Unicorn Challenge-23/05/25

All text, graphics and videos are copyright for Nancy’s Notes 🖊️🎶, The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk, The Rhythm Section, et al., and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.

44 thoughts on “In Vino Veritas”

  1. Nice! The Sycilian Storyteller soothes us yet again with sweet family history. Please, Nancy (stretches out her hand, with her emptied Mason jar), may I have some more? 🥰

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  6. Thanks for sharing that wonderful family memory! 🙂 My husband (who is also Italian – Barese) had an uncle who made excellent wine. We enjoyed many bottles over the years. Saluti! 🍷

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    1. When the first wine of the season was ready, it was cause for celebration. My father had a tradition. He’d remove the skin from a peach and cut it into thin wedges, toss them into a tall glass and cover the wedges with homemade wine. During dinner, the peaches marinated in the wine and the wine took on the essence of peach. When our meal was over and the wine in the glass was gone, my dad and I would share the peaches for dessert. As a young child, that was my first taste of wine and the beginning of my appreciation for it.
      Thank you, Jenne. I’m happy to know you enjoyed my stroll down memory lane.

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  13. I can smell the crushed grapes. My fathers side of the family didn’t make wine, but were artisans known for their cheap homemade hooch during the prohibition years. His uncle made a batch of moonshine that darn near killed the whole bunch. Wine would have been better. After the blindness and zombie-ness wore off, they switched to brewing beer.

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