Possibly without intending to, Mazzei had captured Tuscany’s zeitgeist. Emanating from Florence, home of the Renaissance, and roughly triangular from the northern point of the Tyrrhenian Sea to the central Apennines, it is arguably the world’s most romantically-sculpted wine region. However, whilst winemaking dates to the Etruscans, today’s producers appear prepared to thoughtfully modernise.
In the solid company of Ben Smith of specialist importers, ‘Enotria‘, ‘Harpers Wine and Spirit‘ Editor, Richard Siddle and broadcaster Olly Smith, I had come to drink-in the wines of luminaries – Mazzei, Cecchi, Poliziano and Fattoria dei Barbi. I wondered how a land which survived 14 consecutive days of wartime bombing had, more recently, surmounted the enduring caricature of the wicker fiascho corset…
It was calming to take refuge from the last summer rays 15-metres underground. Breaking a modern partition, Agnese carved ‘windows’ onto sheer rock. Glistening with the weekend’s rainfall – 22mm of an annual 600mm – these provide natural climate control. Whilst the deluge quenched the grapes, it also meant delays to harvest, which is ‘a kind of roulette’ according to Felippo. He quoted ’95 as almost perilously drawn-out, which turned-out to be ‘the vintage of the decade.’
Amidst a gentle hum upstairs, 120 separately-vinified fermenters catalogued five different terroirs. These parcels of land are naturally-farmed, although not according to ‘the cult’ of biodynamism. Whilst climate change ‘is hard to quantify’, Felippo assures, ‘we’re all more careful with our farming now. We’ve learnt how clay absorbs pesticides, which will still be there 25-years on. We have our name on the bottle and our grapes in the wine – we won’t take risks with pesticides.’
Aside from nuance of vintage, the architecture of the wine mirrored that of the winery, which allows gentler handling of the ‘easily bruised’ Sangiovese followed by the softening influence of a gentle stream of air through the wine known as ‘micro-oxygenation’.
…seeing the harvest and tasting the juice from open top fermenters with contents like summer pudding and a giddy audience of fruit flies had been undeniably romantic…
Asbo for Crowing Cockerel?
After a night in Fonterutoli’s converted hunting lodge broken by the crow of a cockerel – a noisy nod to the Gallo Nero symbol of the forward-thinking protectionist Chianti Classico Consortium of 1924, we found ourselves overlooking a ploughed field. Cecchi’s estate manager, Giuseppe Mezzedemi announced this ‘sea of mud’, so-called because of the water-table below, as the ‘the ninth vineyard’.
Further uphill, in the shade of 1,001 olive trees representing the year Cecchi’s Villa Cerna mansion was built, we tasted two bunches of grapes, laid-out on a table. Although both Sangiovese, one ‘clone’ had small, tightly clustered, bitter berries whilst the others were larger, sparse and richer. The superior strain was isolated in 2003 by research scientists gifted one hectare of land – part of a 15-year project endorsed by the ministry of agriculture. Considering viticulture started here in 1083, one could argue that this represents more progress in six years than almost 1,000.
Unfortunately Miria’s wines were inaccessible – too slim, with mean profiles. To my astonishment, this even included the top ‘Coevo’, a Super-Tuscan (made to a recipe including Italian-sewn, French varieties) ‘made with no rules’ and ‘different every year’. At opposite ends of a glass-topped table, brothers Cesare and Andrea clearly hoped this could elevate their image as a supplier of simple supermarket wines. Sadly, neither its immense (and immensely ugly) bespoke vial, nor accompanying film redeemed it.
Designer Footwear, Ancient Soils
As we stood amongst ripe Prugnolo Gentile, a strain of Sangiovese particular to Montepulciano (as opposed to Montepulciano d’Abruzzo), believed to date from 700AD, I became mesmerised by Federico’s translator’s Gucci loafers, which had disturbed an ants’ nest. Qualifying his passion for producing long-lived wines which often blend French varieties, Federico described his vinous epiphany. ‘As younger men, enologist Maurizio Castelli and I visited Grand Cru St. Émilion producer, Château Figeac in ’83. Blind-tasting, we mistook a ’70 as just five months-old. That evening changed the way I made wine – now they’re built to last.’ On French varieties, he spoke forthrightly. ‘There is a trend for journalists to look for ‘true’ wines and Super-Tuscans have become true wines, although some journalists don’t understand that.’
Over a quarter of a century on at 50, Federico says he will never change his philosophy – ‘my blends have become brands.’ However, he is clearly interested in experimentation, most recently planting Niellucio, a relative of Sangiovese thriving on Corsica, in the Maremma. Unfortunately, ‘whilst the leaves and grapes looked perfect, the wine is bitter.’
Because he is jaded by Michelin-starred temples to gastronomy, we ate the sensuous local dish of black truffle-crusted steak within the walls of Montepulciano – a tribute, perhaps to the Chianina of Azienda Poliziano’s origins. Outside our window, one of the town’s most exciting festivals occurs on the last Sunday of August – the barrel-rolling race to the top of the town. ‘I’m too old to do that now, although I heard that the best time ever was nine minutes’, said Federico. Arguably the most dedicated of gastronomes, Brillat-Savarin once wrote: ‘the truffle makes women more tender and men more amiable’ – but no more athletic. After the extravagant supper, I doubted my ability to make it up the hill, even without a barrel to push.
Chianti Classicism
Westwards to Montalcino, things become more slick. An archery tournament replaces barrel-rolling. Standing in Fattoria dei Barbi’s curiously domesticated cellars, featuring silk flowers, an old pool table and family pictures, export manager, Raffaella Guidi Federzoni lamented the recent new-wave of prospectors. ‘Some of the people who came from the mid-’90’s have a ‘here was jungle’ mentality.’ Whilst I understood such sentiments, I couldn’t help but think back to Federico, who might also be considered a modern intrusion in Montepulciano.
Meaning ‘small dove’, the ‘Colombino’ family who own Barbi have experienced a lengthy wine-making timeline, interrupted only by 14th century banker, Giovanni, canonised for giving-up his fortune during a ‘mid-life crisis’. Rafaella mentioned, ‘it took two generations to build land back up!’
Over lunch of estate reared cured pig and wild boar charcuterie from livestock ‘allowed to rest over the weekend before slaughter’, Raffaella proved the only producer to speak severely on climate change. ‘Stefano’s birthday falls on 26th October, which used to signal the harvest. Now it occurs a full month before.’ Regardless of coming from a heat-wave, the ’03 Riserva appeared to have resisted heat’s ravages, thankfully. Whilst barely in puberty, the young, contoured, iron fist in a velvet glove gave me goose-bumps.
Message in the Tannic Dregs?
Over three days roaming this intriguing, independent-minded region (which is not, incidentally, a Berlusconi stronghold) I had drunk-in the philosophies of four very different producers. Seeing the harvest and tasting the juice from open top fermenters with contents like summer pudding and a giddy audience of fruit flies had been undeniably romantic. However producers still need to work to sell their wines. Unlike what might be considered ‘cash-cow’ first growth Bordeaux estates, even the cream of Tuscan wine is not yet a favourite of markets like Asia. Thoughtful modernisation whilst living with the best of the past is, it seems the key to clean, bright and complex wines. And aside from climate change there is another concern, as Federico Carletti expressed. ‘Today’s younger generation are more interested in I-Pods than anything Bacchus can produce.’
Modernity, it seems, might have a drawback…