Nero d’Avola

Finding a past in Sicilian wine

Of partial Sicilian decent, I’ve always been fascinated with the southernmost part of Italy’s boot. My grandfather, Don Pasquale, was born in America, but his father and family, the Marinos (yes, like the famous Italian ices), have their roots in Sicily. My grandfather’s extended family came to America, and while some moved down south, the rest remained in New York City—in the Bronx to be exact. My grandfather served in World War II, met my grandmother in England, and five children later, the rest is history.

Soon, I’ll be journeying to Sicilia and to the rest of Italy. In the meantime, I’m exploring Sicilia right here at home via the region’s most important red grape, and varietal wine: Nero d’Avola. Whenever I scan a wine list or find myself in an interesting wine shop, I look for Nero. Nero is fast becoming a wine that I know I’ll enjoy. Often compared to Shiraz, it’s dark and full of plums, peppers and silky tannins. Even more wonderful, it’s always modestly priced and it’s an easy fit with most dishes. Moreover, this varietal holds a special connection for me. I recently grabbed two glasses of Nero at nearby NYC wine bar, Bar Veloce, and tried one of IWM’s own Nero-Merlot blends, Buceci. It was delicious, and drinking it, I dreamed of Sicilia, the lands as I imagine them, and my ancestors.

My grandfather passed away in 1998, but his love of wine lingers. I feel fortunate that he took the time to infuse me with his love of wine; it’s something I’ve held onto until this day. My grandfather and I were close, so I feel lucky that there’s still some family in Sicilia, whom I never really got to know because I grew up in New York. One day soon I’ll search for my Marinos, sit down with them over some granitas, or other Sicilian dishes, and some glasses of smooth Nero d’Avola. We can drink, eat, and catch up. It’s been awhile.

I’m going to go on exploring more wines, but I’ll always make sure I throw Nero d’Avola in the mix, for grandpa. It reminds me of him and of my roots.

Memories of Liguria

A lesson in terroir

When I hear “Liguria,” I have a few images pop to mind: Pesto Genovese, Pigato, Cinque Terre and just-off-the-boat seafood. But what really comes to mind is the inextricable nature of all these images. With its beautiful landscapes, interesting wines and super-fresh cuisine, Liguria, a crescent-shaped coastal region in the northwest of Italy, demonstrates the epitome of the word “terroir.”

During my one-year stay in Italy, I learned about the wines of Liguria. I’d heard that Cinque Terre was a scenic place on the coast of Liguria, and I made it a point to go see the land, drink the wine, eat the food and talk with the people. Cinque Terre means “Five Lands,” and indeed there are five villages that make up the region: Corniglia, Vernazza, Monterosso al Mare, Manarola and Riomaggiore. Cinque Terre, the epicenter of Liguria, is best known by its coastal mountainous trail that can be several hundreds of meters high, and when walking, you’ve nothing but some wires to prevent you from falling to the rocky ocean bottom. This is why you must leave the wine drinking until after the hike.

Many vineyards in Liguria are literally chiseled out of the coastal mountains and rest precariously on terraces. Heat radiates off the rocks and adds extra ripeness to the grapes, something that would not normally be achievable in these higher climes. Not only are these vineyards on steep slopes that allow for good drainage, but they also benefit from cool sea breezes that provide air circulation, which keeps the grapes dry and prevents molds and other forms of rot from developing. The refreshing, cool nights near the coast help the grapes retain their natural acidity, and the proximity to the sea can impart a savory quality to the wines. The region’s dominant white grape varieties, Pigato and Vermentino, thrive in these conditions, and while they’re often considered the same variety, they do portray different flavor profiles.

July is a pretty hot time of year in Italy, and it was exceptionally hot when we decided to go to Liguria. The sun’s rays reflect off the rocks and radiate outward. The heat is good for the grapes, but it’s not that good for me. All I could think about was getting to the next town to sample some of the local food and wine. Thankfully, some clouds came rolling through and showered us with rejuvenating rain. This, however, made the rocky walking surface slippery and slightly more fun. I made it safely from the southernmost town, Riomaggiore, past the second town of Manarola and then into Corniglia. This is not as simple as it sounds as there were close to 400 hundred zigzagging steps needed to get into Corneglia. Still, I made it safely.

After the climb, it was definitely time for food and wine. I found a restaurant with a good view and a nice wine list. I ordered some crudo that consisted of raw local fishes. I don’t remember the types of fish, but they were awesome with the house white. The light, refreshing and crisp character of the wine was a perfect complement to the delicate flavors of the crudo. Next I had Pesto Genovese; Genova is the Capital of Liguria and this basil infused dish is everywhere. I paired this dish with a Pigato from one of the local producers. The wine’s savory, fresh character and aromatic profile played up both the freshness and the aromas of the pesto. This Pigato also paired well with the main course, an assortment of seafood that included mussels, clams, calamari and prawns lightly poached in a simple garlic and parsley broth.

After a white-wine-and-seafood fest I needed something sweet. Fortunately, Liguria makes a dessert wine that is unheard of—unless you’ve been to Liguria and have tasted it. This beloved artisanal wine is called Sciacchetrà, and it’s both rare and expensive. This sweet wine from Cinque Terre is composed of several indigenous white varieties that include Bosco, Vermentino and Albaroa. The grapes are hand-harvested and left to dry in cool ventilated area until the proper dehydration level is reached. Then, the grapes are de-stemmed and crushed. The must is fermented until the wine contains about 14 percent alcohol, leaving residual sugar and a refreshing vein of acidity. Not cloying sweet like many dessert wines, this wine retains its acidic backbone due to the region’s bracing terroir.

After walking three towns and eating a big dinner, I decided that the best route out of Cinque Terre and back to Florence was by train. I didn’t have the energy to hike another two towns, but my mission was accomplished, and I was more than satisfied. Visiting the region, I learned that the wines, the food, and the land of Liguria are not to be missed. The heat, the light, the ocean breezes all converge to create Liguria, and my memory of the place remains tied to the region’s exceptional wines.

The Serendipity of Brunello di Montalcino

From its sporadic start to today’s boom

Brunello di Montalcino has recently received a bevy of media attention, in addition to some unprecedented recognition from the wine world. In part, this media frenzy has circulated around the scandal known as “Brunellogate,” the use of unauthorized grapes by some unscrupulous producers. But it also stems from the reviews that the ’04, ’05 and ’06 Brunellos have received, which are stellar.

Given Brunello’s recent spate of press, I thought it might be a good time to look at this wine a little more closely. Sangiovese Grosso, a superior clone of Sangiovese, produces Brunello di Montalcino, one of Italy’s most lovely and prestigious red wines. The towns of Montalcino enjoy warmer, drier air than other regions of Chianti, and the open, surrounding countryside offers both ideal ventilation and cool nights. And these characteristics allow Brunello, or in English the “little dark one” because of the grape’s brown hue, to fully ripen and produce the wine’s fuller, richer taste.

Brunello has a serendipitous, even scattershot history. Though Ferruccio Biondi-Santi produced the first Brunello vintage in 1888, the wine really had a halting, sporadic start. There were only four vintages—1888, 1891, 1925, and 1945—declared in the first 57 years of production, and by 1960, there were only eleven total producers. So by the time the region had its boom of vineyard restoration in the 1970s and 1980s, the wine’s rarity had led to both higher prices and a veil of mystery and prestige.

But Brunello’s more recent history is what might spark slightly heated discussions around a wine lover’s table. As production has increased over the last few decades, Brunello’s traditional winemaking process has changed quite a bit. Traditionally, and as late as 1989, Brunello had a minimum cask ageing of 42 months, in addition to bottle ageing. But the cask ageing regulations have been almost halved in the last decade and now stand at 24 months. This lower ageing minimum mixed with Brunello’s popularity has fed an increase in the use of barriques (small oak barrels), which results in the more standardized, uniform taste that traditionalists frown upon.

So where does this leave all of us, in terms of selecting a bottle of Brunello? A wine, we should remember, can be modern in its ageing process and still retain its traditional sense of place, or the characteristics it draws from its particular soil and climate. You can take the wine out of Montalcino, but you can’t take the Montalcino out of the wine.

With over 230 Brunello producers today, the region requires that you need to know not only the region, but also the producer. Whatever your preferred style may be, without question you have options, and they’re worth exploring. However, I tend to the traditionalists, so some of my favorite producers still remain unchanged. I’ll try other Brunellos, but my heart will always belong to Biondi-Santi and Soldera.

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