Hi everyone! 

Welcome to the second episode of our startup diary. So, where did Feral really come from? Magazine articles? Trend reports? Strategic visions with business plans?
Not really.

It came from a crisis. The infamous thirty-something crisis. Mine came at 32.

Quick recap of my life until then: 

• Wonderful childhood in the mountains, ice skating included
• Uni in Milan, then Vancouver, Barcelona, Paris
• First job: business consulting. Annoying buzzwords like “Big picture” and “So what?” PowerPoints at 2 a.m., “Sorry I can’t come to your birthday, I have to save the world with my Excel spreadsheet.” Still, if it doesn’t drive you completely mad, it’s an unbeatable learning experience.
• Then a change → I move to Alpro, in Flanders. You know, cyclists, trappist beer, chocolate. Beautiful country. But it rains all the time, dinner with friends needs to be booked months in advance like a surgical procedure, and they’re obsessed with the rule that lunch is cold and dinner is hot. Seriously, what kind of rule is that? (If you’re Belgian, I swear I love you.) 

Then boom. The dreaded 30s. And the question hits, blunt and graceless: “If I take away my CV, who am I?” (Cue existential void.)

So take a summer break from work and head to a mountain hut for two months. Trentino. In charge of goats and medicinal herbs.

The goats? They ate my clothes.

The herbs? They bewitched me. Because out there, surrounded by herbs, thunderstorms, and silence, something strange happens: I get bored. And in this age of hyper-productivity, getting bored feels like being in another planet. That’s when I realize: the wildflowers — the ones that grow despite it all: cold, heat, hail, goats — are the true philosophers. They don’t live long. But they live intensely.

So I tell myself: if we’re only on this planet for five minutes, I want those five to be intense, intentional, fully lived.

And that right there — is my Feral moment. The one where you leave the smooth asphalt road to take a path. A bit crooked. A bit slippery. But yours.

Oh, and for those looking for the business plan:

• Yes, I made one.
• Yes, there was a market opportunity.
• But no, that’s not why it started. 

Startups need a lot of things. But before all else: heart. Fire. Grit. Otherwise, you give up. Spoiler: we didn’t give up ;)

try here our grit

The insight: What if the ritual of wine, beer, the friendly toast… could exist without alcohol? (Also useful for me — I’m 5 feet tall, and after two glasses of wine I start dancing the CUMBIA.)

But I’m not talking about pear juice or sugary umbrella cocktails.
No.
Something really good. Botanical. Sophisticated. That slows you down, opens your nose, lights up your brain.

And so begins the wild and desperate research:

• Sommelier course
• A trip to Copenhagen, fermentation capital (they were already on Mars in 2021)
• Fermentation workshop with Flavio Sacco in Bologna. A guru. 

And there, front row, sits him. Who’s he? I’ll tell you next time. Otherwise, this gets too long 😄

P.S. That’s where the name Feral was born. It’s an adjective for an animal or plant that was born in captivity but returned to the wild. That’s what Feral is: a gentle rebellion against the idea that the straight, mapped-out path is always the best one. A celebration of exploration beyond the norm, where the map gets drawn as you go. A tribute to what grows on the margins—without permission, with courage.

See you next time! 
La Madda