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Sicily Redux

Castellucci Miano
Castellucci Miano

There was a moment after returning from our autumn journey when I found myself empathizing with Michael Corleone. Just when it seemed I’d had enough of Sicilian wine, they pulled me back in, courtesy of a Castellucci Miano tasting at Center City’s Vintage Wine Bar. Piero Buffa, the estate’s representative, was on hand to add insights and discuss drumming up interest in Sicilian wine in America. For those of us in the commonwealth, the wines are available in the system.

Castellucci Miano Catarratto 2012 ($19.99)
This grape accounts for about 10% of land under vine in Sicily. In fact, it is second only to Sangiovese in volume of acres planted. Light, savory, crisp – sounds like most Italian whites. “Miano” is exceptionally clean on the nose and in the mouth, with precisely etched aromas and flavors of apple, lemon, pear, pineapple and wild herbs. The moderately long, fruity finish stays balanced and refreshing.

Castellucci Miano Nero d’Avola 2009 ($17.39)
There’s a lot of fruit up front, but not in an opulent or showy way. Dark cherries, raspberry and plum are concentrated without being jammy or inducing a feeling of downing liquid compote. If you want to typecast this Nero it’s on the fuller, modern side compared to those from southeastern Sicily. This doesn’t make it unappealing, in fact, this version seems less dense and “damn the acidity, full fruit ahead” than many over the top Neros I’m trying to forget. (SLO, minimum order of six)

Castellucci Miano Perricone 2009 ($32.89)
An honest and unpolished example of yet another Italian varietal that you hear little mention of on the grapevine. It has some familiar Cab-like qualities – dry green spices, a rough herbal tang, even a brief hit of graphite – to go along with earthy dark cherries and currants. Perricone, even one as well made as this, isn’t an easy wine to grasp, so the price tag may scare some off. The adventurous and/or geeky will find something to mull over (SLO, minimum order of six)

WHITES

Anyone who has visited wine regions abroad knows the frustration of tracking down those bottles that dazzled you once you’re home. Aside from those I reviewed from my Sicilian winery visits, there were several others we enjoyed that a CIA operative would have difficulty locating. Fortunately, there are Sicilian wines that you may not find at your closest state store but which are not out of reach. Or you could just book a trip to Palermo.

First, a quartet of whites that highlight indigenous grapes.

occhipinti-sp68-biancoArianna Occhipinti SP 68 Bianco 2013 ($24.98)
While I agree with Mike that some of her red wines have not lived up to their hype, SP 68 is an intriguing mix of Albanello and Zibbibo (the Arabic for Moscato of Alexandria). It has some vague references of aroma and overall sensations to Riesling and Viognier, with a dash of Gewurzy spiciness. A tropically floral nose of melons, coriander, citrus and exotic herbs leads to smooth-edged flavors of peach and pear energized by brisk acidity. This is Sicily at its best, delivering the unexpected. Available at Wine Works, Marlton, NJ

COS Rami 2012 ($29.99)
If you are up for a challenge, this blend of equal parts Inzolia and Grecanico is eccentric in a good way. It doesn’t look like an orange wine but has the same depth of aroma, intensity of flavor, firm texture, and fullness in the mouth that comes from extended maceration. Salinity, minerals and a strange nutty element provide a vibrant lift to ripe lemons and oranges that offset an unusually moderate level of acidity for a Sicilian white. This wine is a mouthful of non sequiturs. Purchased at Wine Library, Springfield, NJ.

Firriato Le Sabbie del Etna Etna Bianco 2012 ($14.98)
Carricante is fast becoming my grape of choice to pair with most Sicilian seafood dishes. This one includes 40% Catarratto, whose fullness takes some of the nervous energy from its partner. The trade-off is increased ripeness and lushly concentrated flavors of lime, citrus, pear and peach that wrap themselves around a mildly nutty finish. Available at Wine Works.

Tasca d’Almerita Buonora 2012 ($16.98)
Here we have Carricante on its own, all flowers, citrus, native herbs – an interesting contrast to Firriato. The peaches and tropical melons may be just as ripe, but the lively and persistent acidity and savory minerality keep it refreshing and focused from first to last sip. It’s more straightforward than complex, and that approach places it a cut above others I’ve had. Available at Wine Works

ETNA REDS

Nero d’Avola may be Sicily’s favorite son, but red wines from Mt. Etna are earning a deserved place at the table. To paraphrase Johann Goethe, “To drink in Sicily without drinking Nerello Mascalese is not to have drank at all.” Hard to argue with that.

Alberto Graci Etna Rosso 2012 ($25.99)
There’s a reason why Graci has been getting high praise for his wines. His Nerello may have a Burgundian feel – high acidity, finely calibrated tannins, and a core of earthiness that adds to underlying complexity – but it also offers that spicy cherry and smoky essence on a crisp, effervescent entrance, which is pure Etna. Graci has achieved an admirable balance of muted rustic power and finesse. This is a lot of wine for the price. SLO, minimum six. Also available at Wine Library for $17.99.

Pietro Caciorgna Thalia Etna Rosso ($22.99)
Though a modern take on Etna, complete with sweet vanillin from barreling, there’s no mistaking the smokiness and grainy minerals of volcanic soil. Young and still evolving, it’s somewhat closed and restrained, with sharp edges that are blunted by gentle tannins. There’s something buried here that begs for cellaring another year or two. Purchased at Garnet Wines, NYC

Calabretta Cala Cala NV ($16.99)
Want to turn heads and palates at the next dinner party? This is what to bring, a Nerello with attitude to spare that doesn’t need rhapsodizing or nattering on about its details. Enjoy it for what it is, a natural expression of Etna, a rugged blast of macchia – wild flora, volcanic minerals, and a smattering of aromatic green herbs – that lingers on the warm, satisfying finish. Purchased at Flatiron Wines, NYC

Finding Nero (Part II)

Corrado-Valeria-Gurrieri-tenuta-la-favola
Corrado and Valeria Gurrieri (image via tenutalafavola.it)

This is Part II of Frank’s report on his recent trip to Sicily. Read Part I here.

RIOFAVARA

Tucked away off a roundabout outside Ispica, Riofavara is a relative newcomer even though its vineyards are almost a hundred years old. It wasn’t until 1994 that Massimo Padova and his sister Marianta began the process of redirecting their forty or so acres throughout the Val do Noto to winemaking. The past two decades have produced admirable results.

We arrived at their cantina as a busload of American wine professionals finished up their tour and tasting, fortuitous in that we received Massimo’s uninterrupted hospitality. This is a limited production winery, a mere 6000 cases a year dedicated to native grapes that make wine indicative of its place of origin, the first to produce Nero d’Avola with indigenous yeasts. As evidence of their commitment to sound agricultural practices, Riofavara opted to go beyond the usual standards for organic winemaking by meeting the stricter qualifications of ASCA (Agricultural Services Certified Organic) to attain certification.

All of which speaks to the goal of Massimo and his wife to leave something of value for their family, an inheritance made possible by a guiding philosophy of preservation of the land. He tells us, “For me, that is the first thing, my family. Then to make wine that is true, that is real and typical of here. These things are important and always together.”

As he pours it is obvious he is not a salesman, even though the wines can be purchased on site. Massimo will talk about them, but not push them or make observations as we sniff and sip. He is genuinely interested in our comments about what we are experiencing. As he puts it, “My job is done when the cork is put in the bottle, after that…” followed by a shrug. He admits that the business end pays the bills, but it is not what he is comfortable with, nor what drives him. The accolades and awards his wine receives is validation that Riofavara is on the path he chose.

The wines are excellent and, like those of Francesca Curto, make a statement for the ability of the Eloro DOC to provide the natural material for Nero d’Avola worthy of recognition. The Spaccaforno 2011 (the ancient name of Ispica) has that faint oceany scent that has me wondering if this is common for this region. That’s followed by intense and fruity aromas of cherry and red plums. It is lively in the mouth, the fruit flavors pop with the help of acidity spiked with minerals and an ongoing freshness that picks up a spicy, rustic edge. This is a wine whose elements are in sync, a harmonious introduction to unfiltered Nero d’Avola made with minimal intervention.

riofavara-notissimoNamed in honor of Massimo’s grandfather, Sciave 2010 is richer and has a finer texture, a wine from older vines that undergoes longer and more involved aging. The nose gives off waves of anise, red berries and Mediterranean herbs. It takes a while to discover its secondary sensations, but when they arrive it’s as if feral fruit has been naturally tamed by a seamless texture and the firmness and structure of unobtrusive tannins. Like the Spaccaforno, the whole has integrated so that the sum surpasses the parts. This is some serious Nero. A couple of weeks later, at a dinner with wine savvy friends, one made the comment that it was as if he was tasting Nero for the first time.

The revelation of the day is the Notissimo Moscato di Noto 2013, of which only 300 cases are made – the reason two bottles flew home in my luggage. It causes a head tilting, eye-rolling Andrew Zimmern reaction. This is unadorned, clean and refreshing Moscato, unlike the thicker Sicilian dessert wines from Lipari and Pantelleria.  In some years, 10% of the grapes will be sun dried in boxes – about as old school as it gets. Scents of citrus, oranges, fresh stone fruit drift from the glass. It is sweetly mouth filling without being dense. The juicy acidity is mildly spicy and keeps it lively through a warm, lingering finish.

Both Riofavara Nero d’Avola bottles are available in PA: Spaccaforno 2010 for $16.99 (#43301); Sciave 2010 for $27.99 (#43300).

TENUTA LA FAVOLA

To say that Corrado Gurrieri devotes his life to maintaining a connection to land that has been in his family for over 200 years is an understatement. He is foremost a farmer, but one who has undertaken projects whose importance transcends the boundaries of his vineyards. He was responsible for helping develop and codify the specifications for the Eloro DOC; he teams with universities and laboratories to promote agricultural research and, through his vineyards, to monitor the needs of the land; as a teacher, he hosts students at the winery in order to share ideas and methods.

That Corrado speaks no English was not a problem since it is his wife, Valeria, with whom I’ve arranged our visit. We first met at a dinner in Philadelphia in the spring of 2013. Valeria readily admits that coming from Palermo, “I was a city girl, I knew nothing of this type of life or how a farm worked.” She has adapted well, which became evident as she guided us around Casa di Natale, the winery named for Corrado’s grandfather. It occupies the crest known as Buonivini (good wines), the most prominent hillside between Ispica and the sea, bequeathed to Corrado in 1990.

Valeria walks us through the original palmento, and we step back into the early 20th century. Stone cubicles once used in the winemaking process contain religious and agricultural artifacts – a portable altar and candlestick holder for the visiting priest; straw covered demijohns; a peasant’s table and chair- each display reminiscent of a schoolchild’s diorama. She informs us that the daily ration for a worker was “…a half loaf of bread, a slice of cheese, a half- liter of wine, and one sardine,” and that pregnant workers would toil almost to the moment of delivery. She adds that Corrado’s grandparents were well known for caring and providing more for their workers’ welfare than was common.

Strolling among vines whose work is done for this harvest, Valeria points out dry vegetation between every other row and explains that Corrado has invented a device that flattens rather than cuts the growth. He is, she says with obvious pride, “…always looking to do more, to help the land, to understand the land.” Some would describe it as a passion, but it is more like a calling that has been answered by making wine that respects the natural order, resulting in La Favola earning organic certification.

Over the course of three hours we will be treated to hospitality that makes us feel more like old friends than visitors. Sitting under a canopy of century old trees on stumps surrounding a rough- hewn table, the three of us while away an early afternoon chatting about a variety of subjects and family matters that have nothing to do with wine. Valeria coats slices of bread with the farm’s olive oil as a prelude to a tasting that will soon be moved indoors by a light shower. We start with the Sicilia Bianco IGT 2013, a 70/30 Catarratto-Grillo blend that is refreshing, very much a crisp coastal white wine with scents of land and sea, local herbs and flowers and the citrus found in many Sicilian whites. It is savory, with lively acidity that never wavers, a perfect match for any number of seafood preparations.

We move on to La Favola Eloro DOC, their basic Nero d’Avola. The nose is clean and ripe with something spicy I can’t quite define. A rounded mouth and smooth tannins provide a platform for dark berries and fennel. Full of flavor, this is pleasant and easygoing, and has the acidity to complement a variety of dishes. Next, La Favolosa, also a Nero, more refined and aromatically complex with berries and the cocoa-like essence of carobs. Fuller bodied and just a bit more tannic, it has the same berry-fennel profile and stays focused from start to finish. Next Valeria pours Syna, a 65/35 mix of Nero and Syrah with aromas that appear to be common for this terroir – spices, herbs, flowers – but no hint of the salinity or ocean water I noticed on the Curto and Riofavara wines. It is full bodied and fills the mouth, the Syrah adding some depth and weight. Again, a wine which could be paired with a range of food from grilled fish to pasta with a meat based ragu.

Corrado drives up as we are preparing to leave. He proposes a toast with his Refosa Moscato di Noto 2012. The texture is midway between those of Curto and Riofavara. Aromas come in waves of peach, apricot, and fresh figs wrapped in a blanket of honey, all of that segueing to the palate along with a touch of roasted nuts. The aftertaste is spectacular.

Corrado regards this hillside as his and Valeria’s own slice of heaven, and once said that the goal was not to make the best wine in the world, but to make the best wine he could in their little corner of it. There is no better way to describe what they do.

Several of Tenuta La Favola’s wines are available via SLO in Pennsylvania.

Stay tuned for a final installment, where Frank recaps some Sicilian wines he’s tried since his return to the states.

Finding Nero (Part I)

sicily-goats

On our last venture to Sicily four years ago, my wife and I had an interesting discussion with Chiara Planeta at the family’s Ulmo winery. At the time Sicily was being touted as the “new California”, which in my opinion was damning it with erroneous praise. That the island was shedding its history of being a source of massive quantities of fermented juice was undeniable. Chiara felt that Sicily was entering an exciting and crucial period from which it could move forward with vision and concerted effort or revert to the inertia of business as usual. There was no mistaking which path she would prefer, or that comparisons to the Golden State were unwarranted and unwanted. Sicily would become a “new Sicily” on its own terms.

Driving the meandering and often sign-less roads of southeastern Sicily requires patience and an innate sense of direction to fill in the gaps when the robotic voice of technology informs you it is “recalculating”. A sense of humor is also good to pack. I was reminded of Yogi Berra’s observation – “When you come to the fork in the road, take it”- as we sat deciding which divergent goat path would take us reasonably close to where we wanted to go. The reward for intrepid navigation was spending time with three small scale winemakers in the Eloro-Pachino region, an area of low rolling hills and coastal plains that fan out from the Baroque city of Noto to the sea.

If there is a birthplace of Nero d’Avola, it is here in the Val di Noto, south of the town that gave the “black grape” its name. It was singled out for selection by farmers centuries ago, long before increasing demand spread it across the island. If any parallel can be drawn to California it would be that Nero has become Sicily’s signature varietal, easily recognizable and readily available – like Cabernet. You can find Nero d’Avola juice bottled in Trentino. The grape’s inherent characteristics have, quite frankly, been diminished by too many sub-standard bottles.

The winemakers we met share a commitment to preserving their territorial heritage in order to make Nero d’Avola and other wines that truly represent their place of origin. They are caretakers who understand that they must give to the land in order to receive from it the prime material they need. For Francesca Curto, Massimo Padova, and Corrado and Valeria Gurrieri there’s a well- marked road to quality and authenticity.

AZIENDA CURTO

Francesca Curto (image via curto.it)
Francesca Curto (image via curto.it)

With a welcoming wave and a smile, Francesca Curto bounds down the worn stone steps of Tenuta Sulla to greet us. Her family has farmed this soil since 1670. Their story is that of countless Sicilian vignaoli – wine was made as a matter of course but not considered commercially viable until the 1990s. The azienda’s hillside between Ispica and Rosolini provides a panoramic scope of the rugged, sparse beauty of this less traveled corner of the island.

I’d become aware of Francesca through Robert Camuto’s excellent Palmento: A Sicilian Wine Odyssey, and mentally bookmarked her as someone to contact if I ever returned to Sicily. She proved to be amiable, passionate, and resolutely Sicilian. One of the things I wanted to ask Francesca was her position as a female winemaker in a traditionally patriarchal society, whether anything had changed since Camuto wrote about her five years ago. She pauses before answering, “For women of my generation I think it has become easier, a little. When I started I was not certain that what I said would be accepted. Now maybe people look at me as a winemaker, not just some woman who makes wine.”

She leads us through buildings fragrant with the must of fermentation that have been repurposed to house the necessities of a modern winery. As we stroll, Francesca greets her workers with the casual politeness common to Sicilians and makes sure to introduce them to us, unspoken recognition of their importance to the farm’s operation.

We enter the tasting room and Francesca guides us to a table set with plates of focaccia, bread, and her mother’s black olives coated with the farm’s oil. She apologizes for her inadequate use of English, yet in the next sentence tells us, “Sicilians are naturally diffident because of our history…it takes time for us to open up, to trust.” We assure her that the Sicilians we’ve encountered have been anything but, and that her use of a word most Americans don’t drop into a conversation requires no apology. I ask if her wines are diffident and she replies “We’ll see.”

Our tasting glosses over the technical points of winemaking, which Francesca says are kept simple in order to present the wine as it should be, to allow it to tell its story. She asks what the Nero d’Avola Eloro DOC 2013 is telling me. My reply that it smells briny, like sea water, draws a quizzical look, so I try to peg it more specifically as salinity, to which she nods. For what is a basic, uncomplicated wine it is clean and pleasantly fruity, no added frills from cellar manipulation.  Next Francesca pours the single vineyard Fontanelle 2009, a Nero from the Pachino area. It’s not opening up to her satisfaction, and with time growing short she re-corks the bottle and tells me to take it, try it later, and let her know what we think. Before we depart she wants us to sample Dulce Natum 2013, a Moscato di Noto dessert wine that is marginally sweet, with a honeyed texture and bracing acidity that gives it a refreshing lift similar to the passito wines from the island of Pantelleria. A perfect finish, literally and figuratively. Hours have flown by, and Francesca has graciously accommodated us during a routinely busy day. We exchange arrividercis and drive down a bumpy service road to our next stop.

Later that evening we revisit the Fontanelle. The passing hours have brought out darker fruit aromas and flavors, and it has developed suave elegance, with noticeable structure and a sense that there’s more to come with time. The finish is warm and complex but maintains its focus and vigor. The lady really does know her wine.

Unfortunately the wines of Azienda Curto are very hard to find stateside. For some Nero-based wines that are available in PA, see Mike’s recent article on Sicilian wine.

Stay tuned for Part II of Frank’s journey.

Gli Arancini di Madaio

arancini
photo by stuart spivack

This summer, I devoured the snack-sized detective novels featuring Salvo Montalbano, an irascible Sicilian inspector who always gets his man, but not before he finds time for a leisurely but surely gluttonous meal of local cuisine. I first discovered Montalbano when I was researching arancini, a Sicilian delicacy I’ve been enjoying my entire life but have only in recent years come into the mainstream. For the unfamiliar – which is hard to believe, since they’re pretty much on the menu of every trattoria remotely associated with the Mediterranean – arancini, or rice balls, are fritters of risotto, shaped in a ball (or sometimes a cone), stuffed with ragu and deep fried. Montalbano is actually given some credit – at least according to Wikipedia, which is always right, right? – for popularizing the treats outside of Italy.

When I was a kid, arancini was the first thing that made me connect to my Italian heritage through food in a powerful, almost indescribable way. I can still vividly remember an international fair we had in elementary school, where everyone was asked to share something from the cultural background. My mom and I made arancini. This was long, long before you could buy them in food trucks, remember, so it was mind-blowing for me to observe the reaction of both kids and adults as they first experienced them. Utter astonishment and joy. Everyone coming up to me, unprompted, wanting, needing to tell me how great they were. I was a shy kid, an introvert, so this was a big deal, to find a way to connect with so many people, through food, through history and culture.

Funnily enough, my mom’s maiden name does not end in a vowel. But she’s the gourmet, the cook, the one who taught me in the kitchen, so when she learned to cook arancini from her new husband’s Italian mother, she realized that using Uncle Ben’s rice with some egg to make it stick didn’t seem right. It was resourceful, these Italians in Brooklyn, not having access to arborio rice, but she set out to find the right way to do it. (Before the internet.) I wish I could tell you that the Madaio family recipe for arancini is some age-old one passed down from generation to generation, in the oral tradition, but you want to use real risotto, don’t you? So here’s the way my mom taught me.

There’s one book of Montalbano short stories called Gli Arancini di Montalbano, which is in a way a play on words, because arancini (which in a literal translation means “little oranges”) themselves are often snacks or appetizers, so it’s clever for author Andrea Camilleri to call the book of stories “arancini”. On the other hand, there is an actual story called “Gli Arancini di Montalbano” in which – from what I understand, because it’s not actually translated into English – our lovable inspector attempts to get out of a romantic New Year’s Eve getaway to Paris with his girlfriend in order to attend dinner at his housekeeper’s house, where she is serving her special arancini. This, in a tight little bow, sums up Montalbano’s ethos.

In addition to following the fictional machinations of La Cosa Nostra, I’ve been drinking quite a bit of Sicilian wine lately, especially as I lazily enjoy the latest of Montalbano’s antics and dream of an island getaway. Once plagued as a warm climate optimal for churning out bulk wine for the masses (in a way, Italy’s answer to France’s Languedoc), more recently Sicily has begun to emerge as a serious wine region, with the elegant, volcanic wines of Etna drawing comparison to Burgundy and the friendly Nero D’Avola establishing itself as a flagship grape.

One of the fascinating things about the island is that, like Italy as a whole, Sicily cannot be defined by one grape or one wine style. Though Nero certainly is the most widely planted dry variety, one must also consider the aforementioned Etnas, the light, friendly Frappato, a wide variety of indigenous whites including Grillo, an increasing amount of international grapes, and of course Marsala. A detailed study of these micro-regions, however, will have to be saved for another time. (Fear not, terroir-geeks, as we’ll be dispatching a correspondent in the not-too-distant future.)

As for now, I give you instead my little notes, a.k.a. Gli Arancini di Madaio. Pair any or all with arancini.

Whites

Tasca D’Almerita Regaleali Bianco 2011 ($12.99)
A nice, easygoing white that features just a touch of sweetness up front to counterbalance the bitter citrus and minerality of the finish. Easy to keep sipping, so perhaps good that it is 12%. Perfect for antipasto.

Firriato Quater Bianco 2011 ($11.99)
A blend of four indigenous grapes, this is easily one of the oddest white wines I have ever tasted. Initially, the nose is so insanely funky, laced with burning rubber, smoke, tar and even dish soap, it could easily pass for a red (and might even rate higher as such). There’s fruit there too, but it’s tough to find. The palate is austere, with some tropical fruit, and a crisp finish. After a day of air, the funky nose blew off, and some fruit (peach?) emerged on the nose, but the palate held its austerity, leaving me wondering how Wine Advocate could have possibly come with the description “truly beautiful”. Though this is certainly not for everyone, those into unique and different discoveries may want to give it a try.

Reds

Mazzei Zisola 2011 ($14.99)
A pure, clean and beautiful expression of the Nero grape, Zisola has become a yearly go-to. The nose features lovely floral notes of violet and plum fruit, as well as a fresh note that might even be described as swimming pool. On the palate, dark cherries mingle with plums, and a touch of tobacco integrates with chocolate on the long finish. I recently tried a 2008 bottling of the Zisola, as well as the winery’s Doppiozeta 2008, a mix of Nero, Syrah and Cab Franc, and though both were still enjoyable, I found myself missing the explosive freshness offered by the younger wine in both cases. In other words, drink up!

Tasca D’Almerita Nero d’Avola Lamuri 2011 ($15.99)
Another versatile, friendly version of Nero that will marry well with a variety of foods, especially barbecue, kabobs and burgers. For best results, give this baby at least 90 minutes in the decanter, which will bring out much more complexity on both the aroma, including tar and tobacco, and the fresh, welcoming palate, which features cherry, anise, cola and of course cocoa (in this case tootsie roll). Excellent QPR.

Firriato Altavilla Red 2011 ($11.99)
A mix of Nero and Cabernet, this wine features a surprisingly soft mouthfeel for its age, but still offers vitality on the finish. A touch of smoke on the nose mingles with green pepper, while the palate features berries, spice, violets and chocolate. This offers plenty of value and pairs nicely with casual Italian fare.

Firriato Santagostino Rosso 2011 ($15.99)
My favorite of the three Firriato wines I tried – a lovely blend of Nero and Syrah that’s mostly modern in style but isn’t afraid to hint at its rustic, gamy side, especially on the nose. On the palate, the dance of modern-meets-rustic continues – though it is mostly red fruits and warm spices, just a touch of tar slips in. It’s sweet but tart, with good balance of acid and tannin.

Tenuta Delle Terre Nere Enta Rosso 2012 ($20.99)
TdTN is an up and coming Etna estate, quickly expanding availability in the US. The entry level Etna Rosso is subtle and elegant, but shows considerable nuance when given the chance. After some time in the decanter (2 hours), the nose offers hints of earth, tobacco, and violet. The palate is light in flavor, but smooth, featuring floral notes, purple fruit and anise. It is not a wine that will knock your socks off, but is an excellent red for lighter foods.

This estate offers several single vineyard Cru wines as well (including Calderara Sottana, Feudo di Mezzo, Santo Spirito, $39.99 each), which should excite collectors, especially those with a taste for Pinot Noir and a distaste for Burgundy prices. (This is not Pinot, but it has similar characteristics.) These wines are drinkable now with a 2+ hour decant (and some hearty food), showing more dark cherry & balsamic concentration, furry tannins and power than the entry-level Etna, but are better suited for careful storage for at least 5 years, and will provide enjoyment for 15-20.

Arianna Occhipinti SP68 Rosso 2012 ($33.09)
Blend of the lighter Frappato and Nero D’Avola (similar to Cerasuolo di Vittoria). In a way it is a shame that wine writer Robert Camuto, in his excellent book Palmiento, as well as in articles for La Cucina Italiana, Wine Spectator and others, has done such an amazing job painting a portrait of Sicilian winemaker Arianna Occhipinti and her wines as engaging, interesting and complex. Because here in the US, at my home, while his stories have consistently dazzled, her wines have seemed pedestrian in comparison. There is nothing wrong with this one in particular; it’s just simple. Bright and fresh, but simple. Were it a $10 or $12 bottle, I might say grab a case and break it out every Friday with pizza, but at $25 or more, it is difficult to recommend. (In classic PA LCB fashion — the government run liquor board of my home state — this is listed as ‘Special 1968’ in the system, when in fact the wine is named SP68 after the road that runs past the vineyard.)

Forza Friuli!

perusini-ribolla-gialla
image via Perusini Facebook page

In no other region of Italy, with the possible exception of Alto-Adige, can be found, across the board, white wines of the quality and complexity as those produced in Friuli. Operating in the cultural crossroads that are a constant reminder of Italy’s past, Friuli’s winemakers were among the first to combine generations of farming wisdom with the innovative technologies and practices of the 1970s, establishing a template for producers throughout the peninsula. Whether their wines came from international favorites such as Sauvignon Blanc and Chardonnay or indigenous vines of Friulano, Verduzzo, Picolit, or Ribolla Gialla, there was a common thread evolving – crisp and vivacious, pure expressions of each grape’s true characteristics.

The good news for consumers is the number and variety of Friulian wine showing up stateside, as more Italian producers are forced by necessity to increase their export share to offset a dramatic decline in domestic consumption over the last five years or so. It’s not uncommon to come across bottles from Friuli in wine stores or on restaurant lists, such as the two we’re focusing on.

The tale of Ribolla Gialla is similar to that of many of Italy’s “native’ grapes, related to or DNA descendants from somewhere else, in Ribolla’s case, Robola from Cephalonia in Greece. References to it date from the 13th century, when Friuli was part of the Venetian Republic, the pre-eminent Mediterranean traders of that era. In its adopted homeland the grape thrived in the well ventilated Colli Orientali, the eastern hills on the Slovenian border where cool northern air currents interact with the warmth of the Adriatic to foster conditions in which grapes ripen slowly and achieve a more natural balance.

The Perusini estate in Gramogliano is modest compared to its neighbors but is credited with reviving Picolit, the region’s passito style wine. It is Ribolla, however, that is their premier offering. Teresa Perusini has likened their unoaked Perusini Ronchi Gramogliano Ribolla Gialla Colli Orientali del Friuli 2011 ($21.99) to Audrey Hepburn, noting its lean profile and reticence. I don’t know about that, but it is neither bold nor flashy, and does take a while to reveal its inherent nature. It’s a white with an obvious but downplayed structure that supports a surprisingly rich and fleshy body (Sophia Loren, maybe?).

dilenardo-tohThere’s a slender strain of acidity and minerals that keep it lively and on point. From a muted, slowly evolving nose of pears and just a whiff of mint to the pleasantly savory finish you find a persistent saline sensation – fairly common for Friuli. My thought is that a second bottle might allow for the discovery of even more nuances and complexity. Perusini’s version would go well with mildly flavored vegetables or fish, but for me it would be a simple plate of lardo and prosciutto di San Daniele.

Di Lenardo Toh! Friulano 2013 ($10.98 @ WineWorks, Marlton, NJ) plays on the fact that it was formerly known as Tocai Friulano. Even though it’s a dry wine, and is not the grape in Hungarian Tokaj, the confusion was sufficient to persuade the European Union to order Friuli’s winemakers to drop any reference to Tocai. The region’s signature white grape is most closely linked Sauvignonasse, a French cultivar and the name by which it is most widely known outside Italy.

Di Lenardo’s state-of-the-art cellar is in the Grave DOC close to Veneto. In contrast to Perusini, the estate churns out 650,000 bottles a year, 70% of which is exported. “Toh!” stays on its lees until bottled, accounting for the creamy texture and ripeness of flavor. The fact that it never sees wood brings out precisely defined aromas and sensations. Saltiness blends with citrus and almonds on the nose, along with a thinly disguised vegetal quality that has the sharpness of Sauvignon Blanc. It loses nothing from start to finish, the package holds together throughout. This is a white wine that is drinkable year round, as comfortable with bean based soups or roasted white meats as it would be with prosciutto and melon.

Complimenting Carbonara

carbonara
photo by jeffreyw

I discovered the majesty of spaghetti alla carbonara much later than I should have, sadly, because I was under the impression, for many years, that it should include cream. Romans, I eventually and thankfully learned, would never dream of adding cream to an already rich, hearty dish such as this. (Come to think of it, why on earth would anyone?)

Finding the real carbonara, then, sans cream, peas, and any other junk Americans have tried to adulterate it with over the years, reminded me of how amazingly complex and delicious simple, well-prepared food can be. Not including the water, salt & pepper, it only requires four ingredients: pasta, eggs, cheese and pork. Individually, humble, but together, grand. A peasant dish, for sure, but as a whole, something far greater than its parts. Something that can deliver one of the truly sublime bites of one’s lifetime.

I still remember my first taste of transcendent carbonara. It was in a tiny apartment in Rome, an appropriately meager, yet timeless setting. I’ll never forget how the dish came together perfectly, how the first bite coated my tongue. The rich, luscious sauce. The silky fat. The salty, crunchy pork. The punchy peppercorn. How each element contributed to something above itself, how the moment froze, an enduring taste in the eternal city.

I’m a guanciale man when it comes to Roman pasta. That’s cured pork jowl, for the unfamiliar, which is arguably the most traditional choice used in both this and pasta all’Amatriciana (pancetta can also be used). Although bacon is easier to find, neither of these Italian salumi is smoked, so there’s a different flavor profile. Guanciale is also much fattier, giving it a richer, deeper essence. And even if one might learn to prefer a smoky flavor with their eggs in carbonara, for me there’s something to be said for knowing where a dish comes from before messing with it.

(If you’re interested in how I make carbonara, view my recipe here. Otherwise read on.)

Wine Pairings

When it comes to pairing wine with Carbonara, there’s rarely consensus. On one hand, an egg-based sauce might suggest aromatic and white. On the other, pork fat. It’s tricky for sure. Before writing this, I did a lot of online research and found suggestions all over the spectrum (even more so than usual), people enthusiastically and determinedly recommending everything from Prosecco to northern Italian whites, southern Italian reds and everything in between. One person even suggested a well-aged Barolo.

So I took to Twitter, asking some of our food & wine expert friends to see what they’d have to say on the matter. As expected, the disagreement persisted.

Catherine Fanelli (@CatFanelli), sommelier at the Moorestown, New Jersey outpost of Mark Vetri’s Osteria, initially suggested an elegant Pinot Grigio to match the creamy sauce. Moore Brothers’ Susan Crawshaw (@susancrawshaw) also leaned white, nodding towards the regionally appropriate Frascati, before admitting to having recently enjoyed a Chiaretto – a Rosato from Northeast Italy – with the dish. (And perhaps Rose is the great equalizer here – especially one with some tannic bite – that’ll bridge the gap between the eggs and salty, rich meat.)

On the red team, Caroline Matys (@Caroomat), sommelier at Pittsburgh’s Legume Bistro, made the savvy recommendation of a Chianti Classico from the area of Greve, specifically noting that the Greve soil produces elegant reds that won’t overpower the dish. Fanelli echoed this sentiment, suggesting that an appropriate red would be light-to-medium bodied with high acid.

Joe Cicala (@Joe_Cicala), chef at Philadelphia’s Le Virtu, on the other hand, pointed out that the dish is particularly high in fat, and thus could benefit from a wine that is high in tannin. In particular, he called out Cesanese del Piglio, an indigenous red to Lazio (Rome’s region), bringing up the famous phrase “if it grows together, it goes together”.

This would be a good time to mention, however, that carbonara’s history is quite the mystery. Where did it come from? Is it really Roman? Nobody knows for sure. One urban legend suggests it is a relatively new dish, a product of American GIs bringing eggs and bacon to the area during World War II – though this story is generally dismissed by most food historians. I won’t go into all the other theories here (there are plenty online), but there are those that suggest carbonara might actually hail from Abruzzo or Campania. Wherever its true origins lie, if it isn’t Roman, can we even invoke grows together/goes together? It certainly becomes a trickier sell than say, pici & wild boar with something Tuscan.

Not to mention that we haven’t definitively answered the red / white question. Personally I’ve always been a red man, perhaps because on that aforementioned Roman evening, we drank cheap Montepulciano d’Abruzzo, ubiquitous punch that neither inspired nor marred the dish; in many ways its peasant ways an appropriate mate (which would jive with the Abruzzo myths). In the days since, I’ve leaned on medium-bodied, high-acid reds like Sangiovese and Barbera, food-friendly bedfellows that never do poorly when coupled with pork or aged pecorino (and let’s not forget how much cheese there actually is in this sauce.) But I don’t think I’ve ever tried it with a white.

Well, for you, dear readers, I, dedicated scribe, have decided to sacrifice myself. If someone must eat carbonara and drink wine, I suppose I will take the proverbial bullet. To procure guanciale and super-fresh farm eggs, I emailed my friends over at Wyebrook Farm in Chester County, PA. They are a sustainable, 100% grassfed farm that raises all their own pigs, chickens and cows, and cures their own salumi on site. (If I must force myself through this draconian trial, only the best will do.) If you have the means, I highly suggest checking them out.

I pulled out La Scolca Gavi Oro 2013, a crisp, aromatic white from the Piedmont, which seemed to fit the bill and also happened to have recently come out on Chairman’s Selection at the time of this writing. I also had a bottle of Corte dei Papi Cesanese del Piglio Colle Ticchio 2011 that I picked up during this summer’s PLCB wine club closeout sale that I was especially interested in trying with carbonara due to the aforementioned grows together/goes together discussion.

colle-ticchio-cesanese-del-The Gavi was lovely, floral on the nose, heavily perfumed, with fruity notes of apricot and peach on the palate, and plenty of acidity on the finish, but was not at all a match for the dish. Though the concept of a crisp white to clean away heavy, rich flavors certainly makes sense – similar to how an off-dry Riesling goes so well with spicy Asian fare – this style of white wine simply does not have the stuffing to stand up to carbonara. The Gavi, of course, was just one wine, but it is clear that any white attempting to take on this challenge would require much more power – maybe a big-bodied wine from Southern Italy – or some other factor like sweetness or bubbles.

The red, however, was an excellent match. Smoky, earthy qualities played nicely off the guanciale and cheese and the tannins stood up to the fat. This particular Cesanese was loaded with bretty barnyard on the nose – as stinky a wine as I’ve ever tasted, which I loved, but is certainly not for everyone – that added to the rustic charm. With a good dose of air, the aroma resolved to more of a scorched earth vibe, and a sweet cherry note took over the palate. If anything, the rich fruits and assertive tannins may have been slightly heavy, but it was still a solid pairing.

My exploration, of course, is limited by my own willpower and GI tract capabilities, but I assure you it will continue… just as soon as I recover from the last one.

What do you pair with carbonara? What has worked, and what hasn’t?