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Cantalupo Ghemme Collis Breclemae 1998

A trustworthy wolf

Time for another wine from Piedmont. In all honesty it doesn’t exactly fall into the ‘rare grapes’ category, being made from the region’s prime variety, Nebbiolo. But it is a particular kind of Nebbiolo called Spanna. A speciality of the Alpine vineyards in the northern part of the region, it is to be found in such classic appellations as Boca, Lessona, Gattinara and Ghemme. These are zones with a very long tradition of winemaking, producing prestigious ageworthy wines that rose to European fame in the 19th century. Compared to Nebbiolo from Barolo and Barbaresco in southern Piedmont, Spanna yields wines that are lighter in colour and body but higher in acidity and with some quite sturdy tannins that need a long, long time in bottle to settle: wines from the 1950s and 1960s are often in very good shape (and affordable). The bouquets are often less fruity and floral, tending towards the herby, meaty and mineral; ‘austerity’ is a good overall descriptor, but ‘finesse’ is too.

All these appellations are quite small: Gattinara today is down to only 95 hectares (historically it was perhaps four times that), Ghemme has 50 registered hectares. In the past wines were produced either by medium-sized aristocratic estates – sort of châteaux – or, more often, blended by small local négociants that offered a couple of labels from each zone. Yields are low, vineyard work costs very high, the wines were often aged in wood and bottle for 6–7 years: a big investment that was often beyond the means of the small farmers. Today négociants are less important, and the best wines are made by medium-sized private estates such as Travaglini and Nervi (in Gattinara), Le Piane (Boca), the new Proprietà Sperino (Lessona), and Antichi Vigneti di Cantalupo in Ghemme.

Cantalupo is a veteran of the Upper Piedmont, having been making good wines since at least the 1960s. Apart from the flagship Ghemme there is a number of interesting labels, including Il Mimo, a rosé Nebbiolo that’s one of Italy’s most exciting, the good white Carolus (which includes a splash of the ultra-rare Greco di Ghemme grape), and Villa Horta, a rare 100% Vespolina (a light, perfumed red grape added to soften harsh Nebbiolo tannins).

At the top of the pyramid we have three crus of Ghemme: Carellae, Breclemae and Signore di Bayard (the only wine here to see small oak, whose is generally discouraged in this district). I have cellared the Ghemme Collis Breclemae 1998 since release, and expected it to be maturing now. But it isn’t – courtesy of the cool 1998 vintage perhaps, but also of the excellent mineral structure of this wine. Colour is a Nebbiolo lightish ruby but no signs of tiring. Nose at first reticent, needs at least 30 minutes’ airing time in glass. A core of clean semi-aged strawberry fruit, melting into an almost chocolatey richness (from maturity, not oak). Not very complex at first but there is not a hint of tertiary character. Palate is really very good, long, fresh and tasty but not particularly acidic. Tannins on finish are firm, and increasingly so with airing time. This wine has poise and stature; it is not austere, but doesn’t give itself away in modernist flatter; it is fresh, authentic, linear and engaging. Overall an excellent bottle, and can / should still wait.

Fondo Antico Grillo Parlante 2007

Long underdeveloped, Sicilian wines are gathering momentum. But few of the whites are exciting. Here’s the best of them all, made from the local Grillo grape.

Fougeray de Beauclair Picpoul 2007

Burgundy heads south

Got a nice package of samples from France earlier this week. Domaine Fougeray de Beauclair sent four of their burgundies from the northern Côte de Nuits (I will review these soon), but also three wines of their recent offspring to the Languedoc.

One of them is Picpoul de Pinet. It is safe to say that Languedoc as a region specialises in red wines; it takes a special terroir (usually upper than lower in the valleys) and, crucially, a careful selection of grape varieties to make a distinctive white. There surely are some good Chardonnays, Viogniers, Marsanne / Roussanne blends, and a growing number of exciting wines from Grenache Blanc, but also a large amount of pretty bland vins de pays.

Picpoul de Pinet is an oddity, in that is has a long tradition. Unlike the above mentioned grapes that have been imported from other parts of France in the 19th and 20th century, Picpoul (or Piquepoul, as it is often spelled) goes back many centuries and is considered one of the oldest varieties to be still cultivated in the Languedoc. It has a red-skinned version, Piquepoul Noir, that is theoretically permitted in the AOC Châteauneuf-du-Pape, and can be found in a few vineyards in Languedoc’s Minervois (see Clos Centeilles, for example). More common is the white Piquepoul Blanc, of which there is around 1,400 hectares, chiefly in the specialist AOC Coteaux du Languedoc Picpoul de Pinet. Located west of the ancient port of Sète on the gentle hills leading to the Étang de Thau, it yields an interesting white wine that is a perfect partner for the local seafood.

Fougeray de Beauclair’s Picpoul de Pinet Val Grieux 2007 is a good example of this rewarding appellation. Not a very aromatic white but there is a good amount of iodine-laden terroir scents. On palate this shows good balance and Picpoul typicity, with medium-highish acidity, some mid-palate textural density (almost hinting at honey), and medium body. Distinctly maritime but not overtly crisp, this is an unfruity but interestingly textured wine that is made for food. On the picture below, my choice of pairing for today’s lunch: saffron moules à la crème. The delightfully affordable Spanish saffron from La Mancha allows to generously flavour this sauce without too much of a financial headache.

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.

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.

Clos Capitoro 2000

A remarkable red from Corsica

I got a bottle of this Corsican red (essentially as a gift after a copious dinner there) from François Briclot, the patron of the Rouge-Gorge in Paris’ rue Saint-Paul (he has since quit this lovely wine bar, which is a real shame).

Corsica has been steadily gaining ground in recent years with its white wines based on Vermentino, but I have a soft spot for the reds. Granite and limestone together with high altitudes and a windy (if warm) can deliver wines with wonderful finesse. And then there are the two native Corsican varieties. Niellucciu (believed to be a sibling of Sangiovese, but as always such kinship has more to do with DNA than any similarities in character) is the more common of the two, giving wines of compelling texture and ageworthiness. It is pretty easy to find – the best examples are probably those of Antoine Aréna and Yves Leccia, but my favourite by far is Domaine de Torraccia Cuvée Oriu. The 1991 (incidentally tasted at the very same Rouge-Gorge in 1997) was one of the first great terroir wines of my life, and I have loved every vintage since – especially the 1998, 2001 and 2004.

Corsica’s other indigenous grape variety, Sciaccarellu, is much harder to find in pure form. Apparently it is difficult to grow – and certainly to drink. The colour of its wines is very pale and unstable:

and the aromatic spectrum can be challenging (there is a Pinot-like stink that Corsicans like to compare to wild hare fur…). To those open-minded, though, Sciaccarellu can offer a fantastic Old-World finesse and a unique profile.

The last few remaining 100% Sciaccarellu wines are to be found in the Ajaccio AOC in the south-west of Corsica. I tasted some good bottles from Comte Peraldi and Clos d’Alzeto, but this Ajaccio Cuvée Réservée 2000 from Clos Capitoro was in a different league altogether (and note this producer makes a more expensive version of the grape, named Cuvée Jean Bianchetti). It boasts a fantastic faded ruby-orange colour that is even lighter than an orthodox Nebbiolo (see photo above). The bouquet is surely that of an aged wine, with aromas of almonds, herbs and olive oil, followed by a palate that is tertiary and meaty (Sciaccarellu always is anyway) with little fruit but good presence and length, and finishing with those powdery Corsican tannins that the producer so aptly describes as petits tanins au léger granuleux dus au sciaccarello. Alcohol is moderate (13%). The most surprising thing about this wine is its reserve: it started evolved and sedate but continued to gain life and zest over two days. The last sips were deliciously clean, stylish, traditional, refreshing and individual.

This wine is about as far as you can get from modern-vinified reds full of fruit, oak and extract. It is a glimpse of how red wines were made in the Mediterranean in the 18th or 19th century. A truly memorable bottle.