4 Ways with Italian Bubbles!

FML France is the founder of the bubblies, and Champagne remains the mother of the harem of crémants, but sheesh, their Italian sister-wives are doing fine work.

I can make all those analogies ’cause I’m a women;)

Also, I’m not covering every sparkling made in Italy in this, just this quartet (for some reason, I wanted to call it a quatrude, but spellcheck was like, nah, think again, bish). This is not exhaustive, but it is a set of higher-quality sparklers that reminded me that Italy does serious effervecent business.

To wit:

Wowwwww wowow 2019 Enrico Serafino “Oudeis” Alta Langhe DOCG Brut! I adore learning a new denomination. I’m well-acquainted with some of Italy’s other traditional method, Champagne grape-led sparkling wines, Trentodoc and Franciacorta being the big names, but I had not acquainted myself with the Alta Langhe DOCG. It’s in the Piedmont, famed home to wines like Barolo and Barbaresco. Still, heretofore, the only bubbly I was aware of out of the region was the single-fermentation sweet treat Moscato, and this wine is lightning years away from that. The secondary, in-bottle fermentation is aged at least three years, just like vintage Champagne. It is made of Pinot Noir (85%) and Chardonnay (15%) and gives fig compote and lemon curd on white melba toast on the nose. The palate brings significant minerality on top of brioche and cherry preserves. The bubbles are fine and long-lasting, the better to savor slowly, my pretty! Super dry but with a ripeness of fruit that keeps it from being searing. Truly a standard bearer, I can’t wait to taste more Alta Langhe.

The 2022 Adami Vigneto Giardino Valdobbiadene DOCG Rive di Colbertaldo Asciutto has some history behind it! Vigneto Giardino (“garden vineyard”) was the first single-vineyard Prosecco ever, first made in 1933. This bottling spends a few months on its lees prior to the second fermentation, giving more texture and complexity to this than your standard tank-method bubbly. It smells of honeydew melon, white roses and slightly of sourdough. The palate reveals itself to be barely off-dry, reading not sweet, more like tea you’ve added a little honey too. The bubbles are fleeting, the wine a little more palate coating, bringing in yes, honey, honeysuckle, and honeydew. And then a bit of wonder bread (in the best way). To be more specific, it is delicious and easygoing but nuanced.

I found the Garofoli ‘Piccole Bollicine’ Vino Frizzante lots of fun. The name Piccole Bollicine means “little bubbles,” seeing as a frizzante wine is just lightly bubbly (as opposed to Spumante). Made of 90% Verdicchio and 10% Passerina from the Marche, it is fresh and friendly. It gives a little citrus, a little orange blossom, and a whiff of pear. On the palate, the bubbles are ever so lightly prickly and drying, soaking up ripe lemon meringue and even a touch of anise. It is so much fun, it would be great on its own or perhaps in addition to a vermouth (PS I probably only mentioned that as I am writing an article on vermouth and currently in vermouth limbo with many open bottles crying out for experimentation).

Lastly but not leastly, I have a wine I conceived of saving for a Lambrusco-naysayer I was getting to know on the apps, as one does, but they ditched me last minute for a Friday date, which I took as a sign to open it asap (ps modern single life is trash, I’m deleting the dating apps asap). Ahem, anyway, the Cleto Chiarle de Noir Brut Vino Spumante is made of Lambrusco Grasparossa, augmented with 15% Pinot Nero (rather novel!) and is not labeled as Lambrusco. Hence, I guess my drinking it isn’t as rebellious as I surmised, but whatevs, his loss. Also, rather novel, rather than being made with a secondary fermentation to create the bubs, this is a single fermentation in an autoclave. The result is a spritely sparkler, filled with red fruit and a hint of dairy and salinity, subtle but effective tannins from the brief skin-contact puckering and begging for another sip.

Good Causes…

Breast Cancer Awareness Month is over, and I meant to get this post out earlier, but, oh, shoot, sometimes it takes a while for a wine to reach a writer, so here we are.

I’ve been a fan of J. Lohr for some time–in fact, I even interviewed their white wine winemaker, (I nearly wrote that as “white winemaker,” which she appears to be, but I don’t know for certain. Anyway she makes the white wines) Kristen Barnhisel, on my podcast! This time, I’m talking red, though, and the opposite of red flags is a red wine for the good of women’s health. I caught wind that their Carol’s Vineyard Cabernet Sauvignon honors Carol Waldorf Lohr, the late wife of founder Jerry Lohr, who sadly succumbed to breast cancer. It honors her in name and action, with 3 dollars per bottle sold going to the National Breast Cancer Foundation, where it has funded over 8,000 mammograms!

The 2021 Carol’s Vineyard is textbook Napa Cab, oozing with red and black currant compote and friendly vanilla likely borne of the new oak treatment (54% new French for 18 months) ballasting it. The texture is just and well-textured, playing off striking acid. The tannins are assertive yet domestic, happy to make dinner for their spouse (male or female) and kids. The palate echos the nose, bringing in even more spice and dark fruit. It. Is. Soooooo good. And for a good cause!

Get yourself a bottle, feel good about where your money is going, and most of all, enjoy the wine. Why are we on earth if not to connect with other humans and share joy?

Shoulda Coulda Woulda

I don’t mind a little sass with my wine! Of course, I enjoy if I can be the one offering it, but I’ll take it from the label too. And this wine is not afraid to break boundaries.

In fact, Pasqua actually won Innovator of the Year from Wine Enthusiast…even the website is a bit of an experience. In fact, I love this wine a lot.

I’m speaking of Pasqua “Hey French You Could Have Made This But You Didn’t” Edizione III, a surprising blend of both vintages (2016-2020) and grapes–mostly Garganega with a touch of Pinot Bianco and Sauvignon Blanc, grown in the Soave region, a subregion of the Veneto. Go team northern Italy!

More specifically, this vixen comes from the Monte Calvarina vineyard, with its basalt soils (that come from VOLCANOES, babyyyy) lending a trademark structure to the bottle.

It is a gorgeous golden yellow. It smells of dried apricot, mango, daisies and just a hint of resin. The palate is medium weight, but the bit of skin contact it got (ten hours) lends a tannic grip that is not unwelcome. It tastes of candied pineapple, more dried apricot, a broom of nettle, and a lick of cream (I checked; there was partial malolactic fermentation so that accounts for that!). The flowers come back for a lengthy swan song on the finish. Actually, the finish goes on ad infinitum. I sit here two minutes after my last swallow and still taste apricots and cream. Friggin’ stellar and exciting.

I’d date this wine.

Family Feudo

Okay, there’s no feud here. Feudo Montoni (feudo = a large expanse of land) is a few generations in, keeping it in the family, keeping it real, keeping it tasty.

Keeping it Sicilian!

Located in the middle of Sicily, wine was first made there in 1469. Those roots are deep, figuratively and literally, as is evidenced in some of their pre-phylloxera vines, which they continue to propagate using the layering effect in the Vrucara vineyard, grafting in others.

We met with Melissa Muller, an accomplished cookbook author in her own right, who is originally from New York but is now also a partner in winemaking crime with her husband, Fabio Sireci. The funny thing is people didn’t immediately “trust” the Feudo Montodi Nero d’Avola bottlings, proclaiming them too light. Still, renowned oenologist Giacomo Tachis advised them to stick with it, and wouldn’t you know it? In recent years, the wine world has increasingly realized that reds don’t have to knock you over with alcohol and tannin to be high-quality.

I had the pleasure of tasting through 6 of their offerings and was honestly enchanted with every bottle I opened. I may or may not

The 2023 Grillo “Timpa” has a fun etymology. It is named for the cru, with Timpa being a Sicilian term for a steep slope—some of the vineyards’ hills climb over 70%! It is ripe with a good deal of florals and minerality. It is tropical, juicy, velvety, sensuous even, but fresh.

The 2022 Nerello Mascalese “Terre di Elio” Terre Siciliane (named for Fabio’s father, Elio!) is utterly both gulpable and savorable. Translucent ruby, light in tannins, big in herbals, giving off anise almost as if Gamay, but more herbal. As time passes, fleeting smoke and earth winds fly through and dissipate. Utterly a joy.  

As for the 2022 Perricone “Core” Terre Siciliane…another day, another Italian grape I didn’t know! Perricone is known as “the grape of the farmer.” It matures late and is disease-resistant. It has a heartiness, a ripeness, even verging into lightly dried fruit territory while staying relatively on tippy-toes in terms of body. There’s a touch of iodine on the nose and a bit of anise. Spicy, ripe, ready to play.

The 2023 Catarratto “del Masso” Terre Siciliane plays out like a whole flank of salted melon on a slab of slate, flecked with herbs, textured and vibing and playful, but with a mineral undercore that says “I’m not just a weekend fling.” It has acid and a certain zing and heft of body, and I want to re-emphasize “texture” but I used that word before but also am realizing the English language lacks words that mean precisely what texture does so…on the finish, floral flourishes flare making a lengthy tsunami flavor.

And now for a tale of two vintages! I got to sample the 2009 and 2019 Vrucara Terre Siciliane, both made of the Nero d’Avola grape–this is the vineyard I was telling you about before with the pre-phylloxera vines! Vertical tasting is a practice I always find, if not instructive, at least good for the imagination. I love imagining where I was in 2009 (shooting a feature and in a relationship that was not good for me) and then in 2019 (traveling to Portugal in a different doomed relationship). And here I am now, both acting in a feature and traveling, happily single but with cat. Whoo!

Alright, the wines, though. Vrucara is the name of the vineyard, which is named for “vruca,” a bush that smells of menthol and incense. The 2009 was so potent and inky on the nose that I was scared to take a sip for ten minutes. Such was its power–licorice, tar, blackcurrants and yes, a little menthol on the nose. The palate brings in dusty cocoa, slight rosewater tinges and well-integrated sandy tannins. Savory, yet with a juiciness that makes it drinkable alone AND perfect with food. It shows its age in good ways, with bits and bobs of leather coming through with time.

The 2019 Vrucara is a touch subtler, a touch more fruit forward, giving lush red and black currant on the nose along with sage and violets. The tannins read just slightly more than sandy but still neatly integrated, the acid mellow. More red fruit dominant on the palate with roses and spearmint popping up in the background, finishing with a hint of cedar. So satisfying!

And there you have it. The more I taste of Sicily the more enamored I am. I feel like Italian wines somehow taste inevitably Italian to me but I’ve had my fair share of Sicilian wines recently and think I’m grasping their nuances. They keep calling me…

Bellissima

Wow, I didn’t entirely mean to look so witchy in this picture, but I’m not mad at it either–it contrasts the stark white label of the Bella Sirena 2023 Falanghina, a playful but sophisticated wine from Campania, a southern Italian region known for volcanic soils (thank you-ish Mount Vesuvius).

Honestly, it’s a good summer-to-fall pick. It’s full of freshness but could stand up to a slight chill in the air.

Bella Sirena was founded by Jacqueline Marcus after her first trip to the Amalfi Coast–she wanted to bring a taste of Italy to the States, and you know what? She did a good job.

What of the wine? It is seashell and citrus, apple blossom and chalk on the nose. The palate veers into lemon and lime with a peep of mango and linen textures, with bright acid keeping the whole shebang vibing. Floral and mineral vibes pop off throughout. Quaffable, even poundable if that was your angle, but an elegant sip all the same.

Tannat or Not Tannat

Tannat or not Tannat? Have I made that joke before? Welp, I don’t care I’m making it again. And the answer is To. Not, to not. So to.

To try Tannat.

Part of my intrigue came from my experience with French Tannat, most frequently known as Madiran, the denomination where it is grown in Southwest France. It can be tannic and bold, a big wine.

My interest in Tannat from Uruguay grew threefold, particularly given what I’d learned of the country’s progressive stances: gay marriage, abortion and cannabis are all legal there.

Politics aside, indeed, it is a place I ache to visit. It lies on the same parallel (latitude yay) as neighbors Mendoza (Argentina) and Santiago (Chile), as well as Capetown (South Africa), Adelaide (Australia) and Auckland (New Zealand). Its soils sport some of the most ancient rocks close to the surface and, to use SAT analogies, old soils are to wine as vintage clothes are to fashion, which is to say covetable and forever reborn.

Oh, and Uruguay has FREE HEALTHCARE. I loved these wines enough to want to visit, but maybe I should move there, too.

Also, voting is compulsory. I haven’t researched this one, but in theory, I think it’s good to get everyone’s opinion.

Anyway, I was so jazzed to taste before the seminar and even more so after. They showed a lot of sides, but all bowed to the dark fruit and robust tannins typical of the variety. Oh, and I apologize that I am not including the notes to the rosé vermouth in the picture—that will be in a Delectable article soon enough!

2021 Garzon Reserva Tannat is a friendly and luscious wine without tipping into laviscious–quite the opposite! On top of ripe blackcurrant and sandalwood runs a certain herbaceousness, with felt-like tannins toe-ing a line I can only describe as rustic luxury.

2020 Pisano RPF Tannat, originally the RPF (personal family reserve), was just that for the family but now stands for their peak wines. This is a gorgeous charmer–at first whiff, it is almost overwhelming, but after just ten minutes in the glass and a few swirls, it becomes elegant. Potent red plums, blackberries and baking spices (thank you, French oak aging?) tempt the nose. These scents are echoed on the palate, augmented by a touch of not-sweet caramel and iodine, finishing with a lick of wine vinegar–all the acid-balancing potent fruit.

2020 Cerro del Toro Tannat, oooh, it is ripe, also juicy. Dark-fruited, almost raisiny, but like, just some raisins marinated in wine-y wine. Dark plums/prunes, blackberries, a hint of earth and brown sugar on the nose–the same on the palate made less plush by tannic tension–balancing plush with power. Very yummy yum yum, but also give her a swirl or two-three. Time will bring out more and more.

2018 Alto de la Ballena Tannat Viognier Oh WOW, literally so elegant and balanced but with ripeness and spirit. If blind-tasted, I’d…well, I wouldn’t guess the SRP was 26 bucks. Way more. 15% Viognier, definitely adding floral vibes, the rest muscular Tannat tannins scrimmaging with lively red plums and juicy AF blackberries. Spices and vanilla oak influence, well, influence, but politely so. Wow, it’s good and retains a certain genuineness–it is not overly polished but enchants perhaps all the more for that.

They Make WHAT in Napa?

Bouchaine, wild n crazy kids, down in Carneros, the southernmost (yet counter-intuitively one of the coolest) Napa appellations. Sure, they make some Carneros standards (I have enjoyed the Pinot!), but I was enchanted to find out they also make Riesling and Gewurtztraminer, more known for coming out of France’s Alsace, or Germany.

It’s those fun bay breezes, um, breezing through the San Francisco Bay, keeping it cool, chill, maybe even demure, and making the region amenable to grapes that thrive in cooler climes.

I feel like this climate is like comedy for actresses in Hollywood who shouldn’t thrive given the climate that favors the hot ones, but we make it through cause, at least recently, being funny is cool.

Too many metaphors? Probably. Here’s the wine!

2022 Bouchaine Gewurztraminer, Estate Selection, spending six months in stainless with a little in amphora and neutral oak, whoaaaa. It is a sweet spot between lychee and rosewater floating in a sweet grapefruit sea, definitely dry. And there’s a touch of brininess, too, bringing savory to the floral. So, this is so good.

2022 Bouchaine Estate Selection Riesling is so, so fresh, utterly dry, with just that undercurrent of bitter marmalade born a lil’ bit of botrytis. It is SUPER citrus-forward, like all of them–lime especially, though, and there is the je ne sais quoi of flint to it, too. Superb, balanced, refreshing, and ultimately both sippable and pluggable.

Getting to Know Sicily: Rosato Edition!!!

I’ve been on a pink wine kick, I know. Call it my trip to see Barbie at the Hollywood Bowl accompanied by the Sinfonietta, an all-women chorus, all of Los Angeles dressed in pink in attendance. Call it that. I just rewatched some of the lovey-dovey episodes of Glee, and there were lots of hearts and pink and…

OKAY, I LIKE PINK! It’s the highest form of goth. But also, it is rosé, so forgive me, but this is one more in the line of rosés you’ll see in this blog in this blessed summer of 2024.

I’ve written on Etna Rosso here LINK, Etna Bianco HERE, tis time for the rest! By which I mean Rosato! This particular bottle is made of the stalwart grape Nerello Mascalese, known for its red fruit and earth. Oh, and Etna, you ask? It’s on the eastern side of Sicily, an Italian island lying a wave or so away from the toe of Italy’s “boot.” And yes, the rumors are true! Etna is still an active volcano. The bravery of winemakers, though, is truly extraordinary.

So let’s get into one of their rosatos. Tasty, tasty juice it is.

The 2021 Tornatore Etna Rosato gives white pepper, ripe, like dripping down your arm, ripe yellow peach, raspberry and a little salinity on the nose. The palate is all that, plus a slight sappiness and earthiness. Nicely balanced between rich ripeness and prickling minerality. I need to taste morrrrrre of these beauties.

PS if you follow my articles on Delectable, please get excited for my September Back to School 201, where I outline the grapes/styles to know to get you to the next level of wine knowledge–I think Sicily is gonna make a showing. Do you want to be a youngling, Jedi? Or do you want to be at least a Padawan? And of course if you want to be a knight, keep tasting. May the force be with you.

Pretty in (Rhone) Pink

Funny thing is, you couldn’t have a paint named “Rhone Pink” because they come in a variety of colors! Though you probably COULD have a “Tavel Tint” or even a “Provence Pink” paint…or nail polish! Could someone please make me a Tavel nail polish? It would prove my point that pink is the ultimate in goth.

Which is neither here nor there–I’m just here to say that you want to drink Rhône rosé.

And good on you! Seriously, Provence gets so much glory (deserved) but also THE spotlight (not undeserved, but they could share the podium). The Rhône deserves a glass at the table. These two wines I’m showcasing show the main Rhône genres I’ve crossed paths with: Tavel and Côtes du Rhône. Tavel is Dark Pink (like Darth Plagues but not evil). The Côtes du Rhône typically not SO dark but also not Provence pale (also a potential nail polish name, OPI call me).

That is enough waxing poetic on the color. Let’s get to tasting!

2023 Domaine de la Mordorée Tavel, the deeply colored vixen, was more fruit-forward than I expected, though not in a bad way. I actually took it to a WSET Diploma alumni blind-tasting party (we wine people are CRAZY) with a chilled-reds-or-deep-rosés theme. A lot of people thought it was a New World wine. Although not in a bad way. If you know the wine side of my personality, you might know what a Tavel obsessive I am. It is an AOC in the Southern Rhône that ONLY makes rosé. And it must be a deeply hued one!

2023 Chateau La Canorgue Luberon Rosé is a lighter pink, with accents of coral creeping in. It is on the mineral-driven, more earthy side, lilts of floral white pepper and sweet citrus sneaking like rivelets of rain through the rock. It is from Luberon, which is in Provence. This is nearly equal parts Grenache/Syrah/Mourvèdre, juicy, earthy, a little spicy, and healfully acidic but silky. Yum. Finishes red-fruit and florals forward, a bit of juicy fruit and also some Juicy Fruit. Punches above its weight, price-wise.

I would drink Tavel like water if I could but that could be hazardous so I alternate with other Rhône rosés. Jk I also drink water but I am a fan of this genre. DOOOOOO IT!

Explosive!!!

The biggest turn-on on earth for me is making someone laugh. Oddly enough, I don’t care if they make me laugh. It’s all about can I get a guffaw. Other turn-ons? Height and volcanoes.

I jest not (I’ll explain height later); let’s unpack volcanoes before they blow the gasket.

The risk, the lore, the oozing magma, caressing the hillsides and annihilating innocents…why are volcanoes so goddamn sexy? There are a million metaphors we could make! But we can’t look past the sexy side effect of volcanoes; they impact the grapevines sprouting from their slopes.

Some cite the soils–typically higher in iron and potassium–dare I say I sometimes detect something blood-adjacent in the wines? As certain savory vibe? Categorized as igneous, soil type examples include granite, basalt, and tuff.

I love me some volcano wines.

So here’s a few, each from their own volcano-y soil spot. Tune in. Sip it up.

Tasca d’Almerita Tenuta Tascante 2022 Buonora Etna DOC Etna is an active volcano–there are different categories of eruptions, but there was notable action as late as 2023 from Mt Etna, which lies in east Sicily. Carricante is probably the best-known of Sicilian white grapes, and this wine brings ripe, sweet citrus, peaches and red plums and a sparkle of minerality. Fresh and, at the same time, quasi-palate-coating with a floral lilt. Super textured but light on its toes–it’s a tap dancer.

2022 Tasca d’Almerita Tenuta Capofaro Didyme Salina IGT hails from the island of Salina, part of the Lipari (Aeolian) Islands north of Sicily. “Didyme” refers to the two (now dormant) volcanoes that birthed it. Malvasia di Lipari is the variety. It is light, refreshing and juicy AF, bringing all sorts of citrus (lime, lemon, tangerine, white grapefruit) and stone fruit (apricot, white nectarine, yellow peach) to the party to play. Dappled with minerals and cane sugar simple syrup (without being sweet). Lively and alive, backed by a gentle, suave, soothing, without veering into total syrupy texture. Every sip gives more.

2021 Inama Carmenère Più Veneto Rosso IGT woooeeee, okay, let’s discuss how volcanoes feature here! In this case, it is the dormant volcano Mount Foscarino in northern Italy. This yields a chocolatey yet smoky vibe, vacillating between bright red but rich fruit, green peppercorn, and cocoa and coffee beans. It is rather gorgeous yet humble, not showy, but it has a lot to show.