& Their Broads
Two lovable Sicilian-American wine fanatics from the Bronx stumble through the sophisticated world of wine while staying aggressively loyal to their working-class roots, tracksuits, and terrible instincts.
A high-status world. Two low-status guys who refuse to act like they don't belong. And the two women who keep score from the leopard-print sidelines.
Comedy. Old-school sitcom energy with mockumentary confessionals stitched in.
Rapid-fire insults. Fish-out-of-water. Warm under the chaos. Loud, loyal, terrible at wine.
30-minute episodes. Self-contained capers tied to a season-long arc that ends in cheese.
Drop two guys with zero refinement into the most refined rooms on earth and let the room react. Wineries. Galas. Fancy restaurants. Tuscany. Manhattan parties. Always with the boxed wine.
Tony is wrong about everything. Vito is dry about everything. Maria and Gina are smarter than both of them combined. The audience gets to feel sophisticated and stupid at the same time.
Two guys who think they belong, two women who actually do, and a vineyard full of people learning to fear the sound of "Yo, pour it up baby!"
"That's how we do it. You know what I'm sayin'? Pour it up, baby!"
"I don't follow the rules. I just know the right ones to break."
"Tony, you're from the Bronx." / "Emotionally, Maria, I'm from Sicily."
"Vito thinks tannins are from sunbathing."
A deeper look at who they are when the cameras are off, the corks are pulled, and nobody is pretending to be anything but loud, loyal, and Sicilian.
Tony is the kind of guy who walks into a Michelin-starred dining room and asks if they have ranch. He genuinely believes he is the most sophisticated man in any room he enters. He is wrong about this and a thousand other things, and he says all of them at full volume. Underneath the velour and the gold chains is a sweet, slightly insecure guy from the Bronx who just wants respect, a good glass, and his crew at the same table.
Vito is what happens when a kid from Arthur Avenue gets a Gucci tracksuit and a sense of timing. He is calmer than Tony. He is sharper than Tony. He is also exactly as wrong as Tony, he just delivers it with a straight face and a sip. He plays the straight man because the world cast him in the role and the world is usually right. He has the loyalty of a soldier and the patience of a saint, and Tony tests both daily.
Maria is a leopard-print earthquake. She walks into rooms like she has already won an argument no one else knew was happening. She loves Tony with the focused intensity of someone who has personally chosen a project and intends to see it through. She is a sharper conversationalist than every sommelier the boys try to impress, and she does not let them forget it. She is the show's referee, its punchline machine, and its emotional ballast all at once.
Gina sees right through every act in the room. She is unbothered in a way that takes other people years of therapy to fake. She and Vito understand each other in glances. She does not raise her voice because she does not have to. She is the calm in the leopard storm, the second half of the double-date dynamic, and the sharpest observer at every table.
The show runs on two couples who keep showing up in the same restaurants, the same vineyards, and the same arguments.
Each episode drops the family into a new high-end environment they have no business being in. They survive. The room does not. Tap any episode to read the full scene.
Production-ready scene boards. Tap any panel to view full size.



The voice is loud, loyal, and three glasses deep at any given moment. Insults are affection. Wine words are weapons. Nobody apologizes for anything.
Burgundy velour against cream silk. Gold chains under Tuscan light. The Bronx and Napa, in the same frame, refusing to acknowledge they're different places.
A reference guide for everything Tony has ever confidently misexplained at a tasting.
Click the button. Get a random line from the family. Refresh the night.