That’s why in recent years, I have increasingly favoured producers with a ‘light touch’, and especially those that use old large oak barrels instead of new French barriques. I won’t be making a huge discovery in saying that Sangiovese doesn’t take new oak very well. If the grapes are really concentrated and the ageing is done deftly, wines such as Percarlo,
Flaccianello or Fontalloro can be excellent, but there is a unique airiness and transparence in Sangiovese that only sees the tighter grain and cooling effect of traditional Italian botti. In a restaurant in Castelnuovo Berardenga last week, I picked up a bottle of Castell’in Villa. It is an estate that somehow I have never tasted before. A strange one at that. It is mysteriously absent from many Italian wine books (meaning, probably, that they just don’t send tasting samples), and there isn’t even that much opinion about it on the internet. Yet among Chianti cognoscenti, Castell’in Villa enjoys an enviable reputation, especially for its older, pre-1990 vintages that are said to be among the finest examples of the above-mentioned airy, perfumed, acid-driven style of Chianti.In recent years, this producer has introduced some small oak barrels in the ageing of its top wines, but this Chianti Classico 2005 only saw large botti. And it is a fantastic wine. Exactly the sort of unadulterated Sangiovese taste I was looking for. Colour is a bit darker than I anticipated for this traditional style: a transparent purple with not so much rim. Nose is delightfully fresh and fully announces what will happen on the palate: a solid core of the cleanest, juiciest crisp dark cherry. On the finish there is a moment of assertive, if unaggressive, perfectly pitched peppery tannins. The epitome of what a real Chianti Classico should be: clean, refreshing, driven, medium-bodied, serious, with good concentration. I honestly do not remember so much excitement in any other bottle of 2005 straight CC.
Castell’in Villa is located in Castelnuovo Berardenga,
on the southern outskirts of Chianti Classico.
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!
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.
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.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 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.
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.