Touched by God: Why Italy's vintages grow better than the rest
By Eric J. Lyman On
my first trip to Bordeaux in the early 1990s, I visited the venerable
estate of Prieure Lichine and had what turned out to be an extremely
memorable chat with a local wine merchant. I was tasting the very good
1986 vintage; the merchant stopped by on business when he decided to
lecture me for several minutes in flowery and heavy accented English on
why the wines of France were the only truly great wines in the world. A week
before, his speech would have been unnecessary; I was a dedicated
Francophile. But I’d just come from Milan where I’d tasted
my fist -- and still only, to be honest -- Barbaresco from Angelo Gaja.
Days later, the taste still seemed to linger on my tongue. When the
merchant finally stopped to take a breath, I offered meekly, "But I've
had some pretty good wine from Italy--." That set him
off. "Italy! Italy! Italy!" he interrupted, nostrils flaring. "For
Italy it is easy! A monkey could make great wine in Italy!" That may stretch the point. But
the exchange did pique my curiosity about Italian wines, and that
interest has grown ever since. Perhaps it wouldn't be a stretch to say
that I might not have moved to Italy years later if it hadn't been for
the chain of events started by that conversation. But does
Italy really have it that good? Good enough to make even the merchant
in Bordeaux, the Promised Land of the wine world, jealous? In a word, yes.
The
ancient Greeks called Italy "Oenotria," or Wineland, because of its
natural gifts. But for much of its history the gift was wasted: Italy
produced large quantities of very forgettable wines. It is easy to
forget now that until the 1980s, most peoples' opinions of Italian wine
was dominated by the old-fashioned straw-basket Chianti, a squat bottle
of simple and often pungent wine that was once ubiquitous in pizzerias
around the world. Not that the
country didn't have a tradition of great wines. Some say Italy’s
first legendary wine was the 1928 Bertani “Acinatico”
Amarone. Other great wines followed every few years: the 1947 Giacomo
Borgogno Barolo, for example, the 1955 Biondi-Santi Brunello di
Montalcino, and the 1961 vintage of the same Gaja Barbaresco that
helped convert me into the Italian wine fan I am now. But great
Italian wines of past generations were, as one old Tuscan winemaker
told me once, "touched by God" -- blessed by perfect weather and
circumstances so ideal that it hardly mattered that the technology used
to craft them was crude. But
constantly producing fine wine is more challenging. Starting in the
1970s and gaining steam in the 1980s, Italian producers
invested in winemaking technology, grape selection methods. And the
effort paid off. "Twenty or
thirty years ago, the French used to joke that the Italians weren't
producers of wine, just grapes -- and that some of the grapes are used
to make something that vaguely resembled wine " chuckles Simione
Zanobini, co-owner of the wonderful Fratello Zanobini Enoteca in
Florence. "Nobody makes that joke any more." Claudio
Rizzoli, who heads Mezza Corona, the leading grower of Pinot Grigio,
Italy's top-selling wine, agrees. "Italy has
some wonderful natural gifts in terms of geography and tradition, but
in the past, we relied too much on these gifts; we didn't work at it,"
he says. "Only in the last 20 years have we really worked at it."
Rizzoli recounts that until the early 1970s, Mezza Corona didn't even
own a tractor: tons of grapes were hauled to the winery by horse, an
era that now sounds like quaint and ancient history in comparison to
today's modern methods. "Using
computer analysis on everything from fermentation temperatures and
grape selection, and ageing in small oak barrels rather than cement
casks may run counter to the view of a wine maker as an artisan,"
explains Claudio Nicolini, a Verona-based wine making consultant who
has worked with two dozen wine makers in Italy and abroad. "It is not
nearly as romantic as the idea of the ancient Greeks venturing across
the Adriatic Sea in old wooden boats filled with vines to be replanted.
But the two kinds of development [technical and artisan] are equally
important. Without the investments of the 30 years, people would still
be talking about Italy's potential. Now they only talk about her
world-class wines."
Of course,
people would have ever talked so much about Italy's potential if the
country didn't have so much of it. Because of
geography and topography, there is hardly a combination of weather,
soil type, and latitude that is favorable for wine and which doesn't
exist in Italy. Almost all
of the world's great wine growing regions are in a band between around
30 degrees and 50 degrees latitude, either north or south of the
equator. There are a
few slight variations due to localized factors. In the Mediterranean
region, for example, the influence of the warm-water Mediterranean Sea
shrinks the band a little on the southern side, meaning it starts at
around 35 degrees north and still stretches to 50 degrees north. But,
in general, these two bands cover every serious wine growing area in
the world. The southern band includes New Zealand, Australia, South
Africa, Argentina, and Chile. In the band to the north, we find
California, New York, Portugal, Spain, France, Southern Germany,
Hungary, Romania, and, of course, Italy. But Italy's
border do not just fall within the band, it nearly spans the whole
thing. From the southern Italian island of Lampedusa, which is
practically a stone's throw from Tunisia, to Alto Adige, bordering
Austria high in the Alps in the north, Italy stretches from around 36
degrees north latitude to almost 48 degrees north. Italy isn't
as large in terms of square miles as France, or Germany, but it is very
long: the northwestern Italian city of Turin is about as close to
Manchester, Madrid, or Copenhagen as it is to Palermo on the island of
Sicily. That
diversity of latitudes means Italy is one of a small handful of
countries in the world that can grow temperamental cool-weather grapes
like Riesling and Pinot Noir and also grapes that thrive in the sun and
heat like Nero d'Avola and Primitivo. Italy's land
mass stretches generally from north to south and is surrounded by the
sea, which means most rivers wind in east or west from the mountains to
the seaside, creating thousands of south-facing slopes on the northern
banks for those rivers -- again, ideal circumstances for high-quality
grapes, which will be able to bathe in the sun every second between
sunrise and sunset. A rolling topography, localized conditions ranging
from desert to borderline tropical, and a variety of altitudes hosting
grape growing areas are also important. Much of he
Italian peninsula was created by volcanic activity, leaving behind the
kind of volcanic ash, limestone, or tufa. Non-volcanic parts of the
country are often blessed with generally rocky or gravely soil, and
even clay -- all soil types that wine maker love because the encourage
drainage and in some cases the light color of the rocks or pebbles
below can reflect the sun's rays back at the grape plants from below. Italy
includes around 1 million different vineyards, and more than 1,000
unique grape varieties are cultivated, by far more than any other
country. Many, such
as Mezza Corona CEO Rizzoli, say the best way for the country to move
to the next level is for the larger wineries to acquire smaller
attractive smaller producer until a certain critical mass of land and
production allow for investments in the latest technologies. "It's no
surprise that Italy's development as a top wine country followed the
country's overall development after the war, because there was more
money for investments," Rizzoli said. "But these small producers you
see everywhere are less interested in change, and if they wanted it,
they could not afford it." But many
others, such as Enrico Maccario, owner of the Enoteca Gradi Vini in
Alba, my favorite source for Piedmontese wines, thinks small producers
have an advantage over their larger cousins. "It is true
that small growers can be very resistant to change," Maccario says.
"But in small producers you also see that the natural idiosyncrasies
and individualism of the Italian character shine through. "Italy has
an advantage to have so many small producers, because they can make
great artisan levels wines that sell, " Maccario went on. "They will
never make a mark on the market because production is low. But for the
wine producer that's fine. He sells everything he can make. And a few
lucky customers find a real diamond." For now,
Italy offers the best of both worlds. Major producers furnish excellent
wines, including Gaja in Piedmont and Antinori in Tuscany and Umbria.
Scores of smaller winemakers, meanwhile, conjure up gems that few have
heard of. A personal
example: the best wine I've drunk this year is probably a Brunate
Ceretto I bought six bottles of at he suggestion of Maccario, the
Piedmontese wine merchant. I thought that the heady flavor and round
complexity of the wine would make it a hit in the U.S. market, a
notion that amused Maccario. "They only made 650 cases of this wine,"
he laughed. "You bought one case, I have a few others here and some
other distributors have the same I have. The producer holds on to a
few. What is left to send to New York?"
Labeling is another area of ambiguity. New World
wines -- from the U.S., South Africa, Australia, among others -- are
rarely confusing, with the names of the producer and the grape variety
in large type. Finding the Chardonnay you are looking for could not be
easier. It's a
little more complicated in France, where the same Chardonnay lover must
remember that Chablis is made from the great grape, and from that point
on he or she simply looks for Chablis. Forty years
ago there was little confusion in Italy: most Italian wines were
bottled by consortia that bought the grapes from members, and the
bottles carried simple labels identifying simple wines, like "Chianti
1965" or "Vino Bianco Italiano." But nowadays, Italian wine labeling is
about as organized as the mass exit from Rome's Stadio Olimpico after a
scoreless tie nobody wanted. In some
cases, Italian wines carry the name of the grape, like Barbera, which
is native to Piedmote but is also grown in Friuli, Liguria, Lombardy,
and Umbria, among others. But wherever you see it, it's still made
using the Barbera grape, with the name of the region it was produced in
afterwards. To wit: Barbera d'Alba. Then there
is the classic Tuscan grape Sangiovesse. Sometimes you'll see a bottle
labeled "Sangiovesse," but it's usually found under the name Chianti or
Chianti Classico. The same grape is also used under the names of
different clones in Morellino di Scansano, from near the Tuscan coast,
and in the world-class reds of southern Tuscany: Brunello di Montalcino
and Vino Nobile di Montepulciano. And all these wines can be very
different.
Confused yet? Try this: there is a well-known grape named after the
city where Vino Nobile di Montepulciano and its lesser brother Vino
Rosso di Montepulciano come from but the grape isn't used there
(remember, they both use a version of Sangiovesse). Instead, that wine
is made to the southeast of the village of Montepulciano and called
Montepulciano d'Abruzzo, an accessible and food friendly wine used as
the house red in many Roman restaurants and something that could hardly
be more different than the similarly named cousins in Tuscany. "It's true
that someone has to understand quite a bit about Italian wine before
feeling like you understand anything at all," says Nicolini, the
consultant. "Most people just find the name of a red and a white
that they like and they stick to that. But I think the confusing
terrain makes it interesting to try new things."
Italy got a
late start in the race to make quality wines. What we now call Italy
was just a bunch of warring kingdoms in 1855, when the French drew up
their famous classification system in Bordeaux. Something similar
(though much less rigid) appeared in Italy more than a century later,
in 1963, with the creation of the DOC (denominazione di origine
controllata) system that included the first guidelines for wines that
carry the DOC seal on the label. But why did
this shift toward quality in Italy take place when it did? Like most
things in the country, it's difficult to explain. But it is no doubt
related to the fact that as the country became wealthier there was more
money to invest in the wine business. And Italian palates began to
involve as locals traveled more and tasted the best wines in other
countries. There was also a string of exceptional vintages in the 1980s
that meant an immediate payoff for those who made the investments.
Nineteen-ninety was the first year it all came together, the year most
point to as the year Italy really joined the big leagues. By the time I
stood in Bordeaux wondering if I knew what I was talking about by
mentioning Italian wines to the French wine merchant, the wine
renaissance in Italy was already well underway. And how far
will it go? Most people would say that Italy is now at (or nearly at)
the level of France among the world's greatest producers in terms of
quality, quantity, and consistency. In my mind, that it true without a
doubt; it in only in terms of tradition and history that France still
stands out. To some, the future will depend on blending the future and the past. "Italy has
so much in terms of natural resources and tradition that it can do
everything," Nicolini said. "Italy can make great traditional wines and
make wonderful new world-style wines. The future is very, very bright
for the best wines in this country." But Florence's Zanobini cautions against too much change. "Modernity
is fine, but Italy cannot forget its past, " he says. "Creativity and
innovation are important, but a wine must stay close to its history as
well. You cannot go to Egypt, and say, 'well, the pyramids are nice but
they would be improved with a few changes …' Maybe the example
is silly, but you see the point. If you start using unusual grape
combinations and techniques you could make amazing wines, but then
these wines will not be Italian wines."
-- Eric J. Lyman is The American’s food and wine columnist. His email address is ejlyman@theamericanmag.com
