On our first visit to Frank Cornelissen´s estate, I had the sense that I was going to meet a celebrity. I asked myself: should I gush like a schoolgirl or try to play it cool?

It turns out that I never had the chance to answer that question. From the very first instant of the meeting, we were instantly swept up in a stream of fast and furious conversation, peppered with charming anecdotes, warm gestures and the simultaneous eruption and resolution of small operational obstacles (Will we all fit in this tiny Italian car? Cram in, everyone!).

Frank and his right hand man Giacamo took us to the vineyards, pointing out the subtleties and nuances of the various contrade. Similar to Burgundy´s crus, Mount Etna long ago developed a system of delineating small parcels (each known as a contrada) based on the unique characteristics of the terroir. As we continued along our journey, we learned how Frank had acquired various contrade over the course of many years, painstakingly researching, identifying and negotiating the purchase of very old vineyards (some with vines over a century old) throughout Mount Etna. It was a cold day. As we listened to Frank, our eyes took in the steep slope of Mount Etna, low clouds and black earth. Of course each parcel of this singular place was unique. How could it be any other way?

Frank´s stories and our tour continued until we reached the highest altitude vineyard: contrada Barbabecchi. With a broad smile we were informed that here in this vineyard, strewn with stones, wildflowers and industriously buzzing bees, were harvested the grapes for Magma, Frank´s grand vin.

After our tour of the vineyards, we repaired to a rustic local tavern that looked as if it had been transported from a wintry tale: thick stone walls, low ceilings, ancient wooden beams, roughly hewn wood plank tables. Replete with bottles, photographs and yellowing awards, it was clear that this homey den was the prime gathering place for the local wine producers. With great gusto, we pounced upon plates of simple yet sublime pasta. Throughout lunch, Frank opened bottle after bottle (with a few magnums thrown in for good measure) of wine. We left the table with our bellies full and souls warmed, thoroughly enamored of the man behind the wines.

Now recalling that first visit, I don´t think of Frank at all as a celebrity. I remember him as a charming mix of a farmer committed to his land and a laid-back globetrotter. Frank´s wines have a similar dichotomy; they are undeniably Sicilian and yet expansive and universal. The calligraphy on the bottles is drawn by his Japanese wife´s hand. The wine inside comes from the grapes of ancient vines covering a few square meters of vineyards, completely unique and with very much to say, should we choose to listen.