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8 wines from Angelo Gaja

A 500€ tasting

For several years, the Piedmontese star Angelo Gaja has held a trade tasting of his wines in Poland. On our ‘emerging’ market, it is still rare for prestigious producers to see such foresight.

For decades one of the renowned producers of Barbaresco with a large cellar bang in the middle of this tiny village, the Gaja operation has spread to three different zones in two Italian regions. Apart from the classic Barbaresco & Barolo wines (themselves undergoing redefinition: the cru bottlings have been declassified into simple DOC Langhe to allow an addition of Barbera to Nebbiolo), there is now the Pieve di Santa Restituta estate in Tuscany’s Montalcino, producing two Brunellos, and the more recent Ca’ Marcanda in the Tuscan Maremma, next door to Ornellaia, Sassicaia and a couple of other aias. The two Tuscan estates share one characteristic with the Piedmont headquarters – exorbitant prices – and a similar scale, but the vinification appears to be a bit more modern.

This was surely evident in the three Ca’ Marcanda bottlings: rich, fat, dense, low-acid, lavishly oaked wines with a fair bit of sensual excitement, but ultimately a bit boring. Surely the Toscana IGT Promis 2006 (Merlot dominating, with the balance Syrah and Sangiovese) is excessively alcoholic, macerated-fruity and soft-tannic; defined as an ‘everyday wine’ of this estate, it is in fact too big for that. So how to rate such an anonymous but qualitative wine? On to Toscana IGT Magari 2006 (Cabernet Sauvignon and Franc supporting Merlot): still alcoholic but more driven and elegant than the Promis, with better balance. In short, less Merlotish (or Shirazish). Finish is really long, and while hardly very complex or individual this is really showing top-drawer winemaking and fruit quality. The estate’s flagship Bolgheri Ca’ Marcanda 2004 (similar blend) is dense, sweet, fleshy, but less atractively fresh than the above. Little evolution; a very big, very modern wine.

I was excited to try the Brunello di Montalcino Rennina 2004 and Brunello Sugarille 2004, my first taste of bottled Brunello from this outstanding vintage. But more patience will be required: they showed really tight. In general, the Rennina disappointed: no architectural interest, medium length at best, and not terribly Sangiovese-typical. The Sugarille was in another league, on the riper side of ripe but balanced, improving with airing, with a clean essential core of good cherry fruit. The style is very modern (you know it is when Sangiovese smells of menthol) but I can’t really criticise it too much. Price is the only issue.

Contrarily to past years, when we tasted the entire Gaja range including the white wines, only three bottles from Piedmont were opened. I can’t really be bothered with the Barolo Dagromis 2003, a blend of Serralunga and La Morra vineyards (akin to mixing milk chocolate with ice, perhaps), a moderately modern but carefully unacidic wine with a floral, sweet, cherryish nose and soft palate (perhaps forgivable for a 2003). It would be a good middle-of-the-road Barolo from an unknown producer but we can expect more from Gaja. And he surely delivers with the Barbaresco 2004. This is the most traditional wine here – still blended from the original 14 vineyards selected by Giovanni Gaja in the 1970s – and has consistently been the most interesting of the range in recent years, while the expensive crus here have been increasingly massaged to soft-tannic oblivion. A ‘real’ expression of Nebbiolo, peppery and sturdy, unsimplistic, not too fruity, not too modern, concentrated, with a good finish, a certain semi-traditional elegance and silky texture. Young of course, I have faith it should move into the ‘outstanding’ category with five years, or ten. Finally the Langhe Nebbiolo Sperss 2000. Technically a Barolo from Serralunga d’Alba vineyards, but declassified into Langhe DOC since 1997; 6% Barbera is currently blended in (‘for more fruit brilliance’, a Gaja manager once explained; as if Nebbiolo didn’t have enough). Unevolved in colour but slowly constructing a more aged bouquet with notes of raw and stewed meat, a certain sweet cherry elegance, and decent breadth; a nicely balanced, very pleasing glassful on the palate with quite some tannic reserve to improve further. But shows a certain limitedness of 2000: just a little muffled and unvivid.

This tasting was consistent with my other recent encounters with Gaja wines. At the entry level they can be quite simple and a little heavy (especially those from Bolgheri), while the upper bottlings are undoubtedly classy, with balance, structure and potential to age well. And clearly Gaja is no more in the vanguard of iconoclastic modernism in Piedmont; other producers have pushed the frontier quite a bit farther. In fact, compared to the hyperoaky roto-fermented (and at times concentrator-aided) ‘Nebbiolos’ from Elio A. or Gianni V., Gaja is now looking like an old Italian gentleman, perhaps driving a tad fast in his sports car.

So what is the problem? Prices. The above bottles combined would have settled you no less than 500€. Gaja’s blended Barbaresco is 70€ per bottle retail in Italy; crus are north from 150€. The ‘everyday’ Promis is 20+€. There are legion equally good Barbarescos at half the price. But then, of course, Gaja has become a ‘global brand’.

Bricco Mondalino Grignolino 2008

Grey wine

Continuing my indigenous Piedmontese grape varieties series, here is Grignolino. This one is far less obscure than Quagliano or Nascetta. There is around 1,000 ha of Grignolino grown in Piedmont, and it considered one of the region’s traditional wines.

The grape’s written tradition is two centuries old, but the variety itself is most probably much older. The style of wines it produces, too, is somewhat antique. It is the exact opposite of the fashionable modern red: low alcohol, low fruit (the bouquet is most often herby, vegetal, sometimes spicy), high acids, zesty tannins, and most significantly, very little colour – the wine is often qualified as rosé, while to me, it is reminiscent of what is called vin gris in the Loire: a palish red verging on grey. An old Italian dictionary I have at home defines Grignolino as a vino da pasto, secco e leggermente amarognolo (food wine, dry and slightly bitterish); bitterness is, as we know, the modern consumer’s greatest enemy. Poor old chap, Grignolino. Apparently nobody cares anymore. It continues to be made in the region around Asti and Casale Monferrato, its two last strongholds, but mostly to cater for the dying race of Piedmontese pensioners to wash down a carne cruda or agnolotti pasta.

The problem is that Grignolino cannot really make a more ‘attractive’ wine. Its name is probably derived from grignole, dialectal for pips, meaning that if maceration is not kept very short, they release a large amount of very bitter tannins, making the wine undrinkable. But short vatting means less colour. Late ripening also results in little body and fruit intensity. Traditionally, Grignolino was used as a blending grape to lighten up some hefty Barberas (and Freisas, not much seen today) from Asti. It is rarely proposed as a bottled varietal wine. Two examples I have tasted regularly and can recommend are by Braida and Marchesi Alfieri.

Today’s wine, Grignolino del Monferrato Casalese Bricco Mondalino 2006, is a different animal. A super-premium Grignolino produced by the small estate of Bricco Mondalino, it comes from a small 400-hectare DOC specialised in the grape. It retains all of its typical characteristics, but magnifies them into a wine of excellent intensity and character. First of all, there is the inimitable, pale ruby-pink colour that will make a Shiraz lover shiver with horror:

Good nose, full of sweet fruit (strawberries, raspberries and cherries), also a bit flowery; fleshy and racy. Palate is juicy and very clean, less full perhaps than you would expect from the nose: outstandingly fresh and driven, and also bitingly tannic. Subdued, pink- and grey-fruity, this remains what Grignolino usually is, a light-bodied fruit-driven wine with not great structural or architectural pretensions. There is also plenty of alcohol for Grignolino (14%, instead of the grape’s usual 12%), but it is well integrated. This is such a useful style of wine, and unjustly neglected today.

If you’re interested with Grignolino’s various clones and technicalities, see here.

Elvio Cogno Anas-cëtta 2007 and 2004

Shellfish in the Langhe

Continuing my thread on rare Piedmontese grapes, I opened a pair of interesting whites from this red-wine region.

Historically Piedmont has always produced white wine, and names such as Gavi, Arneis and Moscato d’Asti enjoy some international notoriety. However, in the Langhe, Piedmont’s central and most famous wine-producing zone, red wines such as Barolo and Barbaresco are so successful that very few producers are willing to waste vineyard land on white grapes. When they do, it’s the export-oriented Chardonnay that usually takes the upper hand.

The town of Novello seen from the Cogno winery balcony.

One town within the limits of DOCG Barolo has a white speciality, though. Novello, located at the south-western outskirts of the appellation, has grown the Nascetta grape variety for at least a century. Until 15 years ago, it was on the verge of extinction, with less than 10 hectares left. Fortunately, two estates decide to give it a chance. Le Strette’s Anascetta is made partly from 60-year-old vines and only sees stainless steel; the 2007 is a deeply coloured, very mineral, almost salty wine. Distinctive and delicious. There are only 2,000 bottles and the wine costs a mere 8€ in Piedmont.

A more ambitious version of the grape is made by the Novello estate of Elvio Cogno, which also produces some of my favourite Barolo (Ravera and Vigna Elena). Called Anas-cëtta for trademark reasons (in fact, this is the most accurate transliteration of the grape’s dialectal name), it comes from two contrasting vineyards and the grapes are picked in September. Fermented 30% in used oak, it sees no malolactic fermention to preserve the wine’s freshness. Valter Fissore of the Cogno winery is a great believer in the potential of Nascetta, and has gradually increased the production to the current 15,000 bottles. Apparently, other estates are following in his trail: the variety has been planted by Ettore Germano, Fontanafredda, and Sartirano. It can be hoped that Nascetta will survive.

Cogno’s Langhe Anas-cëtta 2007 is an excellent wine. Less coloured than in previous vintages, it shows very good control of winemaking. We get the typical bouquet of the variety: unfruity (a bit of apple perhaps), mineral, saline, almost maritime, there is also a whiff of oniony reduction, and citrus. Quite crisp, structured and powerful, completely oak-free, it is a very assertive wine with an engaging minerality and a core of juicy, crystalline green fruit. It is clearly hinting at the sea, and Valter says recent ampelographic studies have indicated a genetic relationship between Nascetta and Vermentino. Now wonder it screams for oysters or other shellfish.

Valter Fissore says his wine can age quite well, and judging by the structure of the 2007, I can agree. So I was delighted to spot a bottle of the 2004 at the excellent Enoteca Divinis in Bologna. Slightly yellow-coloured, this wine proved to be anything but mature. Not a very intense or distinctive nose, with a bit of apple and minerality, mild honey, and a ghost of varnishy oak in the background. Medium structure, some length. The most surprising thing is how unevolved this is, staying fresh and mineral, but it hasn’t built much complexity or breadth. Perhaps I expected more. But I think the 2006 and 2007 are far superior, and I will put some bottles in the cellar to taste in a few years’ time. By then I might have the largest vertical collection of Nascetta in the world!

Old and new in the cellar of Elvio Cogno.

Revisiting Accademia dei Racemi

A political bottle

A busy day today, tasting 50 wines for the WINO Magazine here in Warsaw. We continue tomorrow with what should prove an interesting panel: wines from the Dolomites (Alto Adige and Trentino). Today, we had a mixed bag of market debuts.

There were 5 bottles from Accademia dei Racemi, a leading producer in the Italian region of Apulia. Since the late 1990s, it has operated as a club (or super-coop, if you like) of several smallish estates in Manduria, the hometown of Apulia’s leading export grape variety – Primitivo. Bush vines growing at low altitudes on rocky soils, in an extremely hot climate, give birth to very powerful, supremely fruity wines. With more than a hint of affinity with New World red wines, reinvented Primitivos scored a roaring success among the younger Italian public, and abroad. But this success had a price: too many examples were aping Shiraz and Zinfandel, losing their regional identity, and southern Apulia quickly became the playground of large industrial producers from the north of Italy.

Accademia’s outspoken boss Gregory Perrucci, fully aware of the huge potential of Manduria’s vineyards (with many old, naturally low-yielding bush vines, called alberello – a key term here), created this small group of independent estates, allowing them to get their message across more easily. The style of the wines was deliberately kept more traditional and elemental: bursting with ripe fruit flavours, but juicier and fresher than many other Primitivos, wines such as Felline Primitivo di Manduria or Sinfarosa Zinfandel were quickly established as new regional classics. With time, Perrucci has extended the portfolio with other appellations and grape varieties: Negroamaro and Malvasia Nera (from the Casale Bevagna estate), and the extremely rare Ottavianello and Sussumaniello from Torre Guaceto.

I first became acquainted with these wines in 2002, and for several years was absolutely hooked on Sum, the 100% Sussumaniello wine. It is a weird wine, chocolatey, bitter-spicy, narcotic, with an amazing freshness for the hot climate of this part of Apulia. As proudly ‘regional’ as the entire Accademia project. But on our panel tasting today, the Sum 2005 didn’t shine. The show was stolen by Dèdalo 2005, 100% Ottavianello. This obscure grape, on the verge of extinction until very recently, is believed to be derived from France’s Cinsault. This is another freakish wine, transparent, airy, crisp, young and evolved at the same time, with again a freshness that makes the stereotyped ‘Pinot Noir of the Mediterranean’ comparison sound spot-on.
Accademia dei Racemi also produces an entry-level wine, a blend of various grapes and origins that is sold for the price of a take-away pizza: Anarkos. I absolutely adore this wine for its back label, which is an angry manifesto of regional pride and empowerment. It pretty much sums up my opinions about the modern winemaking in Apulia, and tells you why I so much like the whole Accademia project.

So I’ll leave you to decipher this brilliant piece of Socialist prose, while adding that for its agenda, the wine itself (vintage 2007) tastes perhaps a little too fruity and ‘international’ to be really credible (there is some residual sugar, notably). Or perhaps it was just my palate. The biodynamic calendar wasn’t looking too good today.

In Chianti (3)

Isole e Olena: lightness, juiciness, naturalness

Our stay in Chianti is slowly drawing to an end. But it’s been immensely rewarding. Today we spent an entire afternoon at Isole e Olena.

The name of the estate comes from two tiny hamlets, Isole and Olena, which are located in the middle of nowhere and nearly totally abandoned. Like the various poderi at Fèlsina, these used to house a large number of sharecropping peasants, but since the mid-1960s have been left to ruin. The entire estate together with the two villages was purchased by the father of the current owner, and now some buildings are being renovated but the place still feels desolated and incredibly remote, despite being only 5 km from the Florence–Siena motorway.

Paolo de Marchi, owner of Isole e Olena.

Paolo De Marchi’s family comes from northern Piedmont, the land of Nebbiolo, so it is no wonder he brought with him quite a different wine sensitivity. His Sangiovese is among the palest-coloured, crispest, and most elegant in Chianti. We spent a lot of time in the vineyards, talking about the impressive vineyard replanting and clonal selection work that has been done here since 1976, when Paolo joined the estate. Replanting was necessary because all the vineyards planted after the massive migration were of insufficient quality. As heroic as the effort was for the owners in the 1960s to build their operations from scratch, vineyards were planted with vigorous high-yielding clones, at low density so as to allow mechanisation, etc. It took a good decade to experiment and select the best old genotypes of Sangiovese, and another to re-establish them in the vineyards. Meanwhile, white grapes were eliminated, French varieties introduced, plantings densified, cellars modernised. Modern Chianti is only now coming out of this painful adolescence.

The hamlet of Olena.

We tasted very good Chardonnay, Syrah and Cabernet Sauvignon but the Sangiovese wines shone above all else. I really like the Isole e Olena Chianti Classico for how unextracted and ‘unambitious’ it is. This is a wine not about power or concentration but zest and invigoration: precisely what Chianti should be in my book. Not a winemaker’s Chianti – even less so than Fèlsina’s – but a restaurant-goer’s. Buy as much of the 2006 as you can find. For Isole’s top Sangiovese, Cepparello (still bottled as an IGT, not a Chianti), we tasted the 2005 and 2006 (the latter unreleased). Back in October, the 2005 was tight as a fist, like a crouching tiger in the dark jungle of which you only see the glowing eyes. Now it has opened into a gem of floral, cherry-scented juiciness.

Sunset over Isole.

This long visit ended with a delightful dinner at the Michelin-1* restaurant Albergaccio in Castellina. The rather traditional food there paired well with older wines from Isole. Cepparello 1995 showed a little inert but the 1991, from an underrated vintage, was excellent, fresh and pitched. There was also a light but elegant Chianti 1988 and a more complex, satisfying 1982 Riserva, but the surprise of the night was the 1995 Chardonnay, saline and stony like a good Chablis!

The essence of terroir: a wall of galestro in Isole’s cellar.

In Chianti (2)

Fontodi: density

Today’s visit was to Fontodi, another standard-bearing estate of the Chianti region.

Actually Fontodi shares several characteristics with Fèlsina (see yesterday’s post). Both estates were revitalised in the late 1970s in what is now viewed as the first wave of quality revolution for this Tuscan appellation. At that time, 100% Sangiovese wines were introduced (bottled as vini da tavola – table wines – because white grapes were a compulsory ingredient in the blend under DOC requirements), and new French barrique barrels of 225 liters were used for ageing (instead of the traditional Tuscan barrels of 1000 liters and more). Since those early days, the consultant winemaker for both Fontodi and Fèlsina has been Franco Bernabei. The style of the wines is also somewhat similar: structured, deep, serious, ageworthy.

Panzano in Chianti in the January grey.

One major difference is the terroir. While Fèlsina is located on the southern outskirts of Chianti, and its soils are predominantly limestone, gradually receding into sand, Fontodi lies at the very center of the Chianti Classico zone, 2 minutes’ drive from the town of Panzano. Here the soil is predominantly galestro, a mixture of brown volcanic slate and compressed clay, giving concentrated and deep-coloured wines with a lot of backbone.

Apologies to Giovanni Manetti for not coming up with a better picture…

Owner Giovanni Manetti showed us around the estate, whose impressive 70 ha are now farmed fully organic. Fontodi is moving towards self-efficiency: apart from 7,000 olive trees there are now also 22 cows. For manure, but also for meat, so that the estate can supply their own bistecca to provide a classic match with Sangiovese. While I enjoy a good T-bone, visiting these Chianina cows made me feel a bit guilty. This is a fantastically noble breed of cows going back to Roman times.

Fontodi cows.

We tasted a dozen wines. The highlight, apart from a lovely bottle of 1992 Pinot Nero, was the mini-vertical of Flaccianello della Pieve, Fontodi’s flagship wine (100% Sangiovese). Giovanni Manetti says the 2006 is the biggest wine ever produced here, and it is surely a heavyweight with a beetroot-like inky intensity. 2005 is lighter (as befits this challenging, rainy vintage) but needs another 2–3 years to open up. I was disappointed with the 2004 on release and also now: it is oddly vegetal and a little aggressive; perhaps time will help. For a slowly maturing Flaccianello, try the 1999, which is acquiring that tell-tale oily, almondy touch of aged Sangiovese, but still has plenty of power to improve. We also got an interesting comparison with Fontodi’s other top Sangiovese wine, Chianti Classico Riserva Vigna del Sorbo. Coming from oldish vines (35 years) with less new oak but 10% Cabernet Sauvignon blended in, it is a slightly less dense, more flowery interpretation of the grape that I often prefer to Flaccianello. Surely the 2004 is superlative: concentrated but very elegant. The 1999 is also very good.

Tasting several vintages here confirmed my recent impressions that since 2003, Fontodi is really at the top of the game. The wines are now denser, more textured and expressive. In the late 1990s, I found some wines a little overtannic and drying; today, they overwhelm with a sense of balance and harmony. Asked why, Giovanni Manetti answered that it is a matter of slow gradual improvement. He quoted the increasing age of the vines as a factor. I think the exclusive use of indigenous yeast since 2000 really makes a difference. I came away impressed.

In Chianti (1)

Fèlsina: hospitality, verticality, profundity

It is our second day in Chianti. I am here with two of my colleagues from WINO Magazine to research material for a special edition on this part of Tuscany. It is a bespoke three-day tour of the best wineries, organised for us by the Consorzio del Chianti Classico. They did a great job. We try, too (although today’s 2-hour delay for our appointment at Querciabella was the most embarassing I ever suffered).

This morning we visited Fattoria di Fèlsina. My favourite estate in Tuscany, Italy, and perhaps the world. I have a weakness for their wines – especially the two top labels, Rancia and Fontalloro – that is almost physical and erotic. And incidentally, it was the very first winery I ever visited, in summer 1999 on a vacation to Tuscany before I got into wine writing.

The Fèlsina estate’s main bulding.

We first drove with owner Giuseppe Mazzocolin through portions of this large estate, looking at the vineyards for Fontalloro, Maestro Raro (Fèlsina’s varietal Cabernet), and finally Rancia.

Giuseppe Mazzocolin.

The fattoria itself (this words denote an self-sufficient agricultural estate that produces its own wine, olive oil, grain, livestock etc.) consists of 11 separate poderi (farmhouses), which are now all abandoned. While most Western tourists see the Chianti hills as a sort of modern paradise, with romantic-looking vineyards and olive groves, this area still suffers from a massive social change in the 1950s and 1960s, when the age-old system of sharecropping (mezzadria) collapsed, and most of the rural population emigrated to the cities. A farmhouse like Rancia used to be home to 5 or 6 families, with perhaps 50 people living in the buildings and caring for the adjacent land. Today, these structures are totally empty, and often derelict.

The Rancia farmhouse seen from the east.

Rancia itself even hosted a small monastery, and its imposing outer walls suggest it was a fortified granary, too (name perhaps coming from grancia / grangia).

The name Rancia probably comes from grancia, a fortified granary.

Perhaps fittingly, the 6-ha Rancia vineyard gives birth to one of the most mightily structured and ageworthy wines in the whole of Chianti. Giuseppe Mazzocolin treated us to a rare vertical, from the recently bottled (unreleased) 2005 back to 1983, the first vintage.

I did attend a Fèlsina vertical back in 2001 (see also here and here for some early notes, including a 1997 Fontalloro that remains a legend of my tasting career). But this tasting was the most extensive, and the one where the bottles (surely due to their provenance from the estate’s cellar) showed the youngest. Honestly, none of the wines was over the hill, and even underrated vintages such as 1994 seemed to have the guts for another decade in bottle. It was also interesting to observe the subtle differences from vintage to vintage, and the consistent stylistic thread running through all 11: minerality, austerity, acidity, backwardness, coupled with stupendous elegance and freshness.

The deep unevolved purples of 1990 and 1988 Rancia.

I hope to publish an extensive winery profile with full tasting notes from all these years on my main site soon. Summarizing, I can say that 2005, 2004 and 2001 are the greatest of the latest (with the former especially impressive), while 2000, 1997 and 1994 are all nicely round and balsamic, less tannic, drinking well now, but in no danger of declining any soon. I have had better bottles of the 1990 and the 1988 was a touch muted, but 1985 and 1983 were spectacular: driven, upright, intense, powerful, not even so tertiary, and so full of life! They were further enhanced by the fantastic home cooking of Mrs. Valeria. And then there is Fèlsina’s range of spellbinding olive oils – more on these soon.

Caparzo La Caduta 1999

Tuning for Sangiovese

Later today I head off for Chianti, on a long-awaited tour of one of my very favourite wine regions. Three and a half days of drinking little else than Sangiovese.

Usually before such regime, I like to tune my palate to a given grape variety or wine style, and open a few bottles from my cellar to get the ‘feel’. Instead of a Chianti, though, I opted for a wine from Montalcino.

It is not a Brunello though, but a rare animal – a Rosso di Montalcino Riserva. (Well in all truth, the latter word doesn’t appear on the label). Rosso is often a Montalcino winery’s simplest red, produced from grapes that don’t make it into Brunello: either the vineyards are in an inferior position, the vines too young, or the quality just isn’t there in a particular vintage. But this wine comes from the single vineyard of La Caduta. (Single crus are usually used to make Brunello, but this one is an exception). The wine is aged like a Rosso, with 12 months in wood, although instead of large 6000-liter Slavonian oak casks, medium-sized barrels of 2000 l were used.

Caparzo has long played in the top league of Brunello. I remember that in my early days of tasting this appellation – when vintages such as 1993, 1994, 1995 and 1996 were on the market – it was one of the most reliable and good value Brunellos. And their cru, La Casa, is certainly among the very best. A hugely concentrated, tannic, brooding wine, it is best opened after at least a decade. Both 1999 and 2000 are excellent, and I recently tasted the 1995 which should still wait. As for the Brunello normale, latest vintages have been a mixed batch. 2001 and 2002 I found puzzling, 2003 is back on track. Caparzo changed hands a few years ago, and recently they have taken over their neighbour and former rival, Altesino. Perhaps this period of ownership change and reinvestment caused a certain drop in quality.

Anyhow, I cellared this Rosso di Montalcino Vigna La Caduta 1999 since release, and it is now drinking delightfully well. Served at cellar temperature and poured without decanting, it instantly charms me with a sweet, sensual bouquet which is mature à point. Typically of Montalcino it shows a rather fat, sweet-balsamic profile. It has no great depth or dimension (especially for 1999, which a stellar vintage, unsurpassed by any until at least 2005), and after 9 years of ageing the difference in structure with a Brunello is evident. There is even the merest hint of greenness on the finish, although the acidity is ripe and integrated. But while intellectually it is criticisable, sensually it shows the best characteristics of Sangiovese: intense perfume, sweet fruit, freshness, texture, length and class. A good promise for the next three days.

Perfect stemware for Barolo

A new glass chez Bonkowski

For almost seven years now, I have almost exclusively been tasting in just one kind of glass. The One For All Magnum, designed by Peter Steger and distributed by Schott Zwiesel. I first tested this glass at the Mondavi stand (don’t quote me) at the ProWein fair in Germany, and was immediately hooked. Later I had the chance of comparing it with 30 other models in a blind (in fact, literally blind-folded) tasting for the Polish WINO Magazine. It came out my 1st choice for red wine and 2nd for white. Since then, I tasted thousands of wines from this glass, white, red, rosé, sparkling, sweet, fortified, and even used it on the rare occasions I taste spirits. It was the only glass I used at home, and I carried it on all my wine travels from Lisbon to Georgia. (There was the notable exception of Gianfranco Soldera in Montalcino who forbade me entering his cellar with this glass).

Why this glass? In short, it is a fantastic all-rounder. It works well with a wide range of wine styles from the lightest Riesling Kabinett to full-bodied red wines like Bordeaux, Brunello etc. It is a brilliant analytic tool: its narrow chimney-like rim concentrates and focuses aromas. (For this reason, I am less enthusiastic about using it as a table glass, when wines are meant to accompany food and conversation rather than delivering flashy 10-second presentations). The difference in aromatic intensity of the same wine tasted from this glass and a standard large Bordeaux model is stunning. Often at panel tastings, I can elaborate freely on a given wine’s bouquet while my colleagues who are using standard Bordeaux bowls only get a vague red-winey profile. Importantly for me, this glass is also very resistant (no comparison with fancy models from more famous glassmakers; while my breakage rate of R*** glasses was close to 5 per week, it really takes a heavy fall to destroy the One For All) and also rather inexpensive: it costs me around 4 € apiece here in Poland.

But this glass has a serious shortage. There is one type of wine it doesn’t really work well with: lighter-coloured, high-acidity, aromatic reds. Basically this is not a good Pinot Noir glass. And while I drink almost no Burgundy at home and wouldn’t really bother, it also does no favour to a grape I cherish: Nebbiolo. Since well around 50% of my ‘festive’ drinking is Barolo or Barbaresco, I finally decided it was time to get a box of dedicated Nebbiolo glasses.

So I phoned the local distributor of Schott-Zwiesel (I decided to stick to this glassmaker because of the extra resistance of their patented glass, and the affordable price), and asked to try several of their Pinot Noir models with a glass of Barbaresco (in this case, I opened a Giuseppe Cortese Rabajà 2001, a wine I know well). Here is a short summary of my impressions:

From left to right, Schott’s Cru Classic 140, Top Ten 125, Enoteca 150.

Cru Classic #140
Nose dominated by mint and vegetality, a bit of pepper. Some sweetness but also alcohol due to the huge bowl. Palate is again simple, reasonably fresh, tannic, a little fruitless. Acidity clearly dominating. Decent length. Simple and underwhelming wine. While I like the looks of this, it is clearly giving an inferior result.

Top Ten #125
Fruity and mineral, overall this is showing vastly more Nebbiolo-typical than the Cru 140. Less alcohol, although wine seeming perhaps more mature / integrated. Palate along the lines of the nose with some evolution, a rounder, peppery expression, less inert than the Cru Classic above. Really changing in time (even though the airing surface doesn’t seem so huge). A nice compromise between the two below glasses but I can’t resist an impression of alcohol and bake.

Enoteca #150
Lovely nose, remarkable elegance. A little greenness. Rather integrated but less advanced than the Top Ten above. On the palate this glass tends to simplify a bit, no rough edges here but a little short? Very good freshness, the cleanest taste of all 4 glasses. Later picks up more length and the wine becomes more complete.

One For All Magnum
I brought this one to compare the new glasses with one I know well. On the nose this gives the wine good freshness and directness of expression, but diminishes the complexity. Seems a little coarse (alcohol is a bit emphasised). A good choice when this is your standard, although clearly a little at odds with this wine style. Tasting simplest and least typical of the 4 glasses, this makes the rather traditional Cortese taste like a modern barrique-aged Nebbiolo! While on the nose this glass makes a statement, the palate is quite underwhelming: an impression of lower acidity brings a duller, as if suffocated expression.

I ended up ordering 6 pcs. of the Enoteca 150. Several bottles of Barolo opened since Christmas have confirmed this was an excellent choice. This glass is particularly adapted to the more complex bouquets of older (10+ years) traditional-aged Nebbiolo.

On the same occasion, I also experimented with some glasses for Champagne and spirits. For those interested, my tastings notes appear below:

Champagne glass comparison with Deutz Brut Classic :

Top Ten #77
Apple and yeastiness on nose, with good emphasis on minerality. Best nose together with One For All below. Palate is a little dressed up but well assembled between elements. Nuttier, more complete than the Fine 77. Interesting how well this integrates (at the same time slightly emphasising) residual sugar. Longer lived bubbles here. Best of 4.

Fine #77
Sweeter, headier, plus the narrow rim is a little fastidious. Wine becomes less aromatic, analytic, chalky. Impression on palate is better, with more softness and elegance, less hard and dry than above. Surely fuller than the Fine 155 below. Not too long.

Fine #155
Unexciting, this is closing the wine instead of allowing it to open. A chewy palate is not bad but simple. Wine stays dry but fruity. Medium+ length. Worst of 4.

One For All Magnum
Cool, mineral, appley, showing a nice autolytic character, this is not bad. Fruitier and more open than Top Ten above. Attack on palate somewhat broad, cool and mineral with little sweetness, good length.

Spirits comparison with:
Marolo Grappa Dedicata al Padre (60% no less)
Bowmore 15 y.o. Single Malt Whisky ‘Mariner’

Enoteca #155
Grappa: Sweet, noble, grapey, really fruity, only end of nose is a little vegetal. Alcohol seems really attenuated. Compared to the similarly shaped Top Ten this smells a little more chemical.
Whisky: Mostly peaty, saline, really unalcoholic, soft, elegant, very good. This is giving this whisky’s lightest and whitest expression, also on palate. Very interesting.

Top Ten #155
Grappa: Less fruity than Enoteca, and alcohol is felt. But let rest and sum of elements seems more than Enoteca which is a little too grapey. Always a certain appley sweetness here. Despite a certain sweaty warmth this is the best impression. Tastewise this is also making a big impression with an explosion of flavour.
Whisky: More opaque than the Enoteca. Far less intense and precise. Taste is not bad with some more oaky honey and decent length but I think worst of 4 with this whisky.

Fine #155
Grappa: Looking at the organ pipe shape, no wonder alcohol is emphasised, together with generic grappa character. Unswirled this shows a nice sweet appliness. Main effect is simplification. But I like the outcome nevertheless: sweet, round, almost sugary.
Whisky: Quite direct, unalcoholic, fruity, sweet, good. Overall a little chewy and green however. Palate is good if a little simple.

One For All Magnum
Grappa: Fruit is good, similar to Fine but with such high alcohol this chimney bowl is really a major problem. On the positive side you really get a very direct and complex smell. Palate impression is not bad really.
Whisky: Clearly this is giving the most complex nose with even the lightest, most volatile aormas shown crystal-clear (e.g. a minor peach note), and alcohol far less of a problem than the 60% grappa.

Comments: the One For All is hardly a typical spirit glass, yet is has some obvious advantages over the smaller models: bouquets are far more intense and complex. A tricky glass with cask strength spirits, it is really a discovery with the whisky. As for the latter, normally with wood-aged spirits you are supposed to use a different, more open shape than with white spirits, but my consumption of both being marginal, it only makes sense for me to have one glass for both styles, hence my decision to taste whisky in these.

My first ever Quagliano

You are most likely familiar with Moscato d’Asti, that delightful frothy sweet 5%-alcohol speciality from Piedmont, probably the fruitiest and most refreshing ‘wine’ in the world. And you might even have heard about or tasted Brachetto, which is Moscato’s (far less widespread) red lookalike.

But Piedmont somehow specialises in such quirky wines. There is also the rare Malvasia di Castelnuovo Don Bosco and Malvasia di Casorzo d’Asti, both similar to Brachetto, as well as Freisa di Chieri, which is a little more ‘serious’ – deeper in colour and fizzy but often dry (or semi-dry).

Today I am drinking the rarest of all – Quagliano. This grape is only grown in an area north of the city of Cuneo, in a small DOC called Colline Saluzzesi, which wine-wise is in the middle of absolute nowhere. Quagliano, which is documented since the 17th century, is in the serious danger of extinction: there are only around 10 hectares left. The Colline Saluzzesi itself apparently is only 3.90 ha, and Quagliano needs to share these with another indigenous rarity, Pelaverga.

On a recent trip to Italy, I visited the Enoteca Regionale located at the imposing castle of Grinzane Cavour close to Alba. If you’re hunting after some barrique-aged Barbaresco you will find little of interest there, but it is a fantastic source of lesser-known Piedmontese wines. I ended up with bottles of Nascetta, Erbaluce, Ruché and Arneis, paying less than 50 € for 6 bottles. And then I grabbed this bottle of Quagliano – my first ever taste of this grape (and the first time I saw a bottle of it on sale).

Made by Ambrogio Chiotti (see their website here; interestingly, apart from bottled wines they also sell a 10-12% red in huge glass demi-johns; there is also a small museum dedicated to Quagliano), this wine packs in a bit more substance than Brachetto. It has a deeper purple colour, and shows a different aromatic register: bitter cherries instead of Brachetto’s raspberries and strawberries. Sweetness is moderate, and there is quite some cherry kick on the finish with a bit of tannins and good acidity. Not too frothy (juding from the bottling code I think this is a 2006, which would explain), but fresh as a springtime tulip. 7% alcohol and a lot of enjoyment. Let’s hope Quagliano can endure.