But the 67-year-old Gaja, decidedly dapper in his crisp blue suitcoat as we settle in for a breakfast chat at his hotel, is true to his word at this meal.
"Just coffee and orange juice for me," he says to the waiter.
Gaja had come to Philadelphia recently to present his wines (including classics from Barbaresco as well as his newer Tuscan estate, Ca' Marcanda) to the industry, press and consumers at in-store tastings. In addition, he has wanted to discuss with his American audience two of his pet concerns - the uncertain risk of global warming to the future of winemaking, and the increasing homogenization of flavors in international wines.
The issue of global warming, he says, has been a mixed blessing to Piedmont's wine industry so far, with hotter, drier seasons contributing to a freakish string of great, intensely flavored vintages. Rainy years, especially in the fall, could dilute and damage the fruit, and typically occurred three to five times a decade - until recently.
Piedmont's farmers began noticing a change in the mid-'90s, Gaja says. Since then, there has only been one down vintage (2002).
Still, the uncertainty of this sudden warming change, even with its current benefits, clearly unsettles a man who is tied to the tradition and rhythms of a family vineyard that was founded in 1859.
That land, tucked into the Langhe hills of northern Italy, is responsible for the unique properties (or terroir) of Gaja's precious nebbiolo grapes, which make subtly expressive wines that are highly coveted by connoisseurs, but often misunderstood, he said, by New World drinkers.
In the spectrum of red wines, nebbiolo is the closest Italy has to pinot noir, a complex and medium-bodied red that shows elegant berry fruit, but can also have an assertive personality bolstered with tannins and acidity. As a result, nebbiolo is ideal to match with food, but can be hard to approach solo on an empty stomach at a cocktail party.
Gaja explains nebbiolo's charm in movie-star metaphors.