A bottle of Sainsbury’s Rioja in late seventies England sparked an enthusiasm which turned into an obsession. Moving to Australia only made it worse. At least I know I’m not alone.
Author: cognitivebottletherapy
Everyday events struggle to share space with wine thoughts in an ever shrinking brain.
Entry level Rosso from Russo who is definitely on the list of must try when so close to the source. There’s a welcoming restaurant on the edge of Passopisciaro called Borgo Spirito Santo which was mercifully close to the village. Luckily only a stiff twenty minute walk uphill which meant a leisurely totter down in the Etna moonlight with a bit of help from the iPhone torch. As usual in Sicily, there was great cooking that doesn’t muck about too much with very local produce. Being locavore isn’t some fad, it’s still just an economical way of life on the island. The wine list was very local too, most bottles don’t seem to have travelled far, this one 1.70kms according to google maps. It looked very at home, bright, fresh and clean. After a by no means extensive sampling, the standard of wine making seems high around Etna these days. Careful but not overblown to hide what makes Etna so interesting. This felt just medium weight, sort of sensible Pinot extraction level. Once more there’s those red fruit cherry like flavours, spice that’s hard to pin down and the sweet earth mixed with white ash thing, as best as I can manage. Drinking and wondering a lot, the thought occurs that much of the pleasure in wine comes from textures as much as flavour. And it’s the pumice and fine mouthwatering acid feel of the Nerellos from Etna that sets them apart. Keen to try more.
14% alcohol. Can’t remember the original closure. €25 ish on the list. Italian wine lists are great value.
Another passionate and big investment in Etna’s vineyards, Graci are just a few minutes walk from Passopisciaro’s main street where the speed limit seems to be optional and the morning coffee choices are limited. Arriving at the same time as crates of just picked Carricante, those promising smells of a winery in vintage filled the noses of us lucky tasters.
As a nerdy aside, it’s maybe interesting to note a couple of choices when making white wine, starting as soon as grapes arrive. Here Graci choose to destem and crush rather than the whole bunch pressing of I Custodi. I’m pretty sure I can’t tell the difference when the juice is fermented and rested safely in a bottle. Both ways seem more about avoiding the flavour and texture of leaving the juice to suck up skin flavours. Fascinating, no.
All of Graci’s production seems to come from vineyards close to their home, even the whites are local to the north slopes rather than from the east favoured by some. They do have a joint venture with Gaja of Piemontese fame on the south west slope but the tasting concentrated on the home vineyards. Walking along the western edge of Arcuria on the way to taste, the vines looked in the best of health. 2024 is putting a smile on quite a few Etna faces. Speaking of which, the simpatico Riccardo led us through a broad and delicious line up.
The whites were maybe a bit rounder and softer than those from further east but had a purity and focus that showed some impressive definition as the two crus of Arcuria and Muganazzi were quite different in flavour and structure. The former riper, rounder and all yellow fruit, the latter really reduced, more linear with a higher line of ashy acidity. Interesting too how we all see different things in wine. Of seven tasters, I was the only one to prefer Arcuria, finding Muganazzi just a bit too sulphury.
On to the reds, noting that pink is for drinking not going on about, the cleanliness and purity were remarkable. But in no way diminishing the depth or sense of place. The 2021 Arcuria, Mascalese 100%, was hedonistic with rich perfumes of ripe wild strawberry juice, spice and fine white fireplace ash. A bottle would disappear as quickly as some drivers take the bends in the roads around Etna. From a special patch of Arcuria, Sopra il Pozzo, above the well, was well above many Etna Rossi in terms of rounded sweet autumn fruit, smoky with age, and a perfect wash of those volcanic tannins and acidity that leave no gaps. If we were tasting blind, I made the dubious comparison that I would have maybe thought it a mature 1er cru Burg with some austerity. Silly maybe but sometimes comparison is the easy option. Tasting such good things so close to where they grow is a privilege. Grazie, Graci and Riccardo indeed and the friendship that made it possible. Etna blew a smoke ring as a reminder of who’s in charge.
It’s been over thirty years since my first taste of a good wine from Italy, a Chianti I think from the great vintage of 1985. It was when proper Bordeaux became just about unaffordable for the eclectic palates who bought their wine from the much missed Richmond Hill Cellars in Melbourne. Thanks to that great shop, Italy fast became a source of well priced deliciously savoury wine. Those 1985 Tuscans did hit the spot, we could almost afford Sassicaia then. Many visits to the old boot later and still yet to set foot in Sicily. No better time really as Etna has tickled the radar in recent years, sometimes I’m not entirely sure why all the fuss but occasionally the odd bottle has definitely suggested a place like no other. There’s no better way to get there than the slow train from the coast north of Catania to Passopisciaro where the action is, or isn’t as John Coooper Clarke would say. Lots of investment in wine production, not a lot happening on the streets. A car would have made things a lot easier finding food, not to say driving would be a bit unnerving among the local Fangios. Careful google map planning, that never goes wrong does it, meant a nice hike through the vineyards to I Custodi.
It looked a healthy vintage. Happy vines and clean bunches. The winery is obviously a large investment in time and money but happily it looks more practical than architecturally extravagant. It must be close to self sufficient in energy use too and even incorporates an updated version of the old Arabic evaporation cooling system via the chimney on the right. It works well to suck cool air through the cellar below.
Thanks to the simpatico Maurizio, a sommelier of great knowledge and experience in the wine business, we got a great tour of vineyard and winery.
There’s a new plot of Nerello Cappuccio next to the winery. I Custodi are keen on the colour, freshness and structure it can add but not so much perhaps on its fickle nature. The single chestnut stake for each vine is the labour intensive way it’s been traditionally done. A trudge through the older Mascalese vineyard was like walking on a fine black sand and pebble beach of such softness, its black dust got through shoes and socks to leave sweaty feet blackened. Remarkably there’s some centenarian ancient vines which have survived phylloxera, gnarled and beautiful. Enough of the outside, inside to taste.
Ten bottles all in row, what a great sight. It was just about every example of their production. The whites in particular were extremely good. From vineyards on the eastern slopes of the volcano which produce finer Carricante perhaps? Pressed in whole bunches and stainless steel fermented and matured, there’s a purity and freshness but aroma and weight too. The real stars of the tasting were the two Ante and the Imbris. All three had that extra depth of aroma and richness, acacia or wattle as we smell in Australia, flower honey, nuts and white chocolate. Profound. The sort of thing found in great White Burgundy maybe? But cut with a breeze of indelible ashy acidity. The Imbris, I think, comes from a the prized slopes around Milo as it’s allowed superiore. From the rains the name suggests. The reds include about 20% stalks and 20% Cappuccio and a bit of older larger oak finishing. Nicely balanced between upright stainless only versions and the lift and nuttiness of more traditional ways. Except of course the Cappuccio, in purezza, as the Italians say which was deliciously bright, tense and reminded Maurizio of a good Morgon, well said. Maybe you can taste igneous rocks in a glass?
We ambled our way back to the village in warm sun thinking we knew a lot more about Etna. Big thanks to mates in the business in Melbourne for organising a such a treat.
Terre Nere are reckoned to be a founder member of the Etna Rosso brigade. The owner seems to have spent most of a working life consulting and exporting Italian wine to the world. He then chose Etna for his own vineyard or as their website puts it, perhaps Etna chose him, such is the magnetism of the place. The website also suggests the Etna Rosso is “fresh, fragrant, beautifully slender with a fine grip.” That sums it up really. The site goes on to add that with ageing, “it is a wine for gentlemen. It is an aristocratically liberal wine.” Well, that may rule out a bolshy blogger. Luckily it didn’t stop a good wine shop in Acireale selling me a bottle. In the glass, it is indeed a classy mouthful. All the rocky red fruit of Etna and that nexus of pumice like tannin and a fine tingle of acidity. Medium weight and just so for its level below what must be some astoundingly good crus from their various contrada holdings. Think there may be an indulgence if the holiday budget holds up. May have to buy a cravat.
The custodians of the vines of Etna to translate the full name of this producer who has obviously invested a lot of everything into their place under the north slope of the volcano. One of five producers supervised by the Etna legend, Salvo Foti. A visit is a memorable thing both in visuals and flavour, I’ll try and post something more about the experience. This stood out from the reds tasted, so I bought a bottle for dinner. Though I must say it was the Ante Etna Bianchi that in hindsight were the most startling. Anyway, at the table with a plate of incredibly good fresh ricotta ravioli in pistachio pesto this was as rich and seamless as it tasted closer to the mountain. The usual Etna cherry and dark brown spices with a backing track of roasting nuts and the deep boom of the sweet damp organic soil whence it comes, fanciful maybe but….in short, deep red fruit cut with fine ashy tannin and ripe acidity. Etna Rosso’s fine chiselled fruit and its austere rocky texture perhaps aren’t the most alluring and easy to appreciate but once you get the taste, only more will do. The care and resources invested in these vines is more than apparent in the glass.
14% alcohol. Cork and a bit of a squelchy one. €32 at the winery.
The distance from the vineyard of Arcuria bordered by that CircumEtnea railway line on the edge of Passopisciaro to the Calcagno winery isn’t far. Lucky to share the bottle a few metres further up the hill watching the last daylight fade on Etna‘s northern slope. Think I may have got a bit throat lumpy but still managed a swallow. Ah, wine and place. Fine tart essence of raspberry juice with a lot of cherry and a bit of strawberry sweet fruit. If you concentrate on the passing trail of flavour, there seems to be a swell of something like that smell when you empty a fire grate of its fine white wood ash. Auto volcano suggestion? There is something sulphury going on but it’s not the bitterness of bad H2S wine making. Odd thoughts do seem to infest a wine lover’s brain. Anyway, another beautifully made, delicious bottle of Etna Rosso. Just ripe, intense red fruit with a sweep of austere dryness leads straight to the table.
14% alcohol but no heat. Diam. Bargain, see the Calcagno Bianco post.
There’s a train that winds its slow way up the volcano from near Catania to the wine nut’s destination of Passopisciaro nestling under its northern slope. So rich is the volcanic soil the line was originally built to carry the mountain’s products down to the coast. Now it carries school kids and wine hunters both back and forth. It’s an amazing contrast to go from the dry limestone of the baroque south east of Sicily to the green jungle of Etna’s sea facing rise. Due east from the train’s starting terminus at Riposto is the village of Milo at the refreshing altitude of about 800 metres above sea level. It’s where the rich from Catania would spend their summers and where Carricante finds a place to happily ripen. So much so Italian wine law says you can add Superiore to Etna Bianco. Don’t think this producer could be bothered. They did bother to break from vintage work to sell two thirsty travellers a couple of bottles when all in Passopisciaro was shuttered and closed. Would have been a terrible prospect, an evening looking at Etna and no wine. There’s a fine elegance, for want of a better word, to good Etna Bianco. Rich citrus, mint and a hint of white chocolate in floral honey all carried on a vapour trail of the most mouthwatering and pumice fine acidity. Just got more interesting as its reserve melted. On repeat, it always tastes better close to the vines.
13.5% alcohol. Diam. Seems like I got a bargain as this and a bottle of their Arcuria Rosso were €32 for both. Maybe got a discount for looking so desperate.
Think I’ve only tried a COS bottle once before sometime in the early 2000s. A Pithos maybe. Memories of some lovely crisp fruit and a less than sanitary visit to the farm shed. Subsequent reviews I’ve searched have veered from the spectacular to the worst of down the sink candidates. Hoping for something more the former, a splash of euros on a very recent vintage of a favourite Sicilian grape. Here goes. Opened with a reductive and a yeasty natty edge, not in the sartorial sense. Settled down brilliantly overnight to a sparkling blast of pomegranate, raspberry and waft of the sweetest herbs. So fine a chisel has sculpted bright acidity and such fine tannin, you can’t see the gaps. Perfume and flavour float. When what’s called natural wine these days is this good, it’s like the difference between a live performance and making do with a YouTube version. A bottle of supermarket Cerasuolo looked contrived and sulphur leaden by comparison. Beautiful grapes, simple.
Maybe there’s a case for mixing Nero d’Avola with Frappato to make something greater than the sum of its bits? The wise regulators of Italian wine must think so, as it’s Sicily’s only DOCG. Personally in person as Montalbano’s bumbling Catarella would say, I really like the blend. Bit of chiaroscuro. This large producer’s version took a while to shed some stinky reduction. Eventually some sweet pomegranate, strawberry and raspberry, from Frappato maybe, and dark cherry bass notes, all medium of body and a swell of grainy Italian tannin and acidity bring some focus. Nice balance, grapes as good friends. Warm and friendly. Just like Sicily.
From a fairly recent DOC I think up in the western hills of Sicily comes another native of the island. Castelluccimiano’s website has more information about the vineyard at an altitude of above 700m and some great photos of a rebirth of some old farming territory. In times of a changing climate you can only hope they’re surviving the drought afflicting much of central Sicily. This had a succulent depth of savoury citrus fruit with a bit of maybe local prickly pear. Having just tried some from a local market, maybe it’s valid. The local slang for the fruit is big bastard, great. Good sweep of dried herb and chamomile too. A pleasing chunk of ripe acid makes a plate of Sicilian sea creatures a good idea. I thought I knew a bit about the island’s wine but there’s so much more to discover. Doing my best.
Cognitive Bottle Therapy 