Tipicitá e Innovazione
Thirty years ago, things were going poorly for Chianti producers: The Disciplinare required that they put white grapes in their red wine whether they wanted to or not, and many were having a very hard time selling it. Cantine Antinori got sick of the situation and turned much of their attention to a Sangiovese-Cabernet blend aged in barriques, which are small (225 liter » 55 gallon) oak barrels that contribute significantly to the bouquet and complexity of the wine. What emerged was Tignanello, something unlike anything Tuscany had ever produced, and the fact that they were forced to sell it as table wine (because it didn't meet the requirements set forth by the Disciplinare for Chianti) certainly didn't harm sales. Quite the contrary, it probably helped, as wine-lovers spread the word about the new marvel from San Casciano.
Within the space of 5 years almost every quality producer in Tuscany was experimenting with some sort of table wine, either a pure Sangiovese or a blend whose percentages differed from those set forth in the Disciplinare. Producers also began to apply barriques to their normal Chiantis (especially the Riserve), which emerged with hitherto unknown toasted vanilla and spicy notes on the nose, and new tastes (in particular much lusher fruit) as well. Many producers also began to add Cabernet, Merlot, or other extra-Tuscan grapes to give their Chianti a more international flavor. In 1984 a new Disciplinare legalized what was already widespread practice, and the Disciplinare approved in 1996 gave producers even more latitude.
Producers in other parts of Italy certainly haven't watched these changes take place from the sidelines. In Piemonte, Barolo was traditionally fermented for weeks to extract color and substance from the grapes; in the process all the tannins were extracted from the skins, as well as most of those from the seeds, producing tremendously tannic wines that required years in botti (huge wood casks) followed by more years in bottles to mellow. Now almost everyone has significantly reduced fermentation times (while pumping the must over the cap or pushing the cap into the must to extract color from the skins), and many have begun to use horizontal macerators, drums that lie on their sides and slowly spin, moving the skins continuously through the must to extract as much color and flavor as possible in a short time (the seeds drop into a slot and surrender few tannins to the wine). To increase the extraction even more, the must in the drum is kept warm, at about 34 °C; the newly fermented wine is then transferred to barriques to fix the color (barriques are not necessary with more traditional lower-temperature fermentation methods). The Piemontese have also begun to experiment with table wine blends, for example Barbera and Nebbiolo (the former for liveliness and acidity, and the latter for tannins and structure), or Nebbiolo and Merlot or Cabernet.
Barriques have also been adopted in other parts of Italy: In Valpolicella, for example, tannins were once added to the Valpolicella Superiore by having the wine spend a certain amount of time on the lees left over from the fermentation of Reiciotto. The tannins acquired through this technique, which is called ripassa, are distinctive, with slightly green notes to them, and have a pleasant licoricey heat. Now more innovative producers are also using barriques, to add wood tannins and vanilla & spice notes to their Valpolicelle – the resulting wines are good, but that distinctive something from the ripassa is overshadowed.
In terms of taste, what does this all mean? Taken as a whole, the wines of the innovators tend to be lush, with well developed color, lots of ripe fruit on nose and palate, spice and vanilla on the nose, and smooth, well rounded tannins on the palate. The inclusion of Cabernet or Merlot (where it's allowed, for example Chianti Classico) also adds an international dimension to the wines, which come to resemble the better French or Californian equivalents.
The wines of the traditionalists vary considerably more from region to region: Color is present if the grapes give it (Dolcetto does, whereas Nebbiolo does not); on the nose there are floral and fruit notes, and in some cases spice, but little vanilla from wood, or leafy underbrush from Cabernet (except where Cabernet is traditionally used, for example Carmignano and Pomino); the tannins are again those of the grapes – Chianti's Sangiovese, for example, has pronounced, somewhat angular tannins, whereas the grapes that go into Valpolicella are relatively tannin-free (hence the ripassa technique). The wines are usually not lush – some are austere or elegant, while others are brassy or muscular.
The wines of the innovators are, frankly, easier to approach than those of the traditionalists if one is totally unfamiliar with Italian wines. Last week when I was at Castello di Brolio a TWA Getaway tour bus pulled up; I took advantage of the occasion to sample Castelferro, their Vino da Tavola, and their Chianti Classico Riserva.
- Castelferro (1994)
is quite innovative, a pure Sangiovese whose deep pigeon blood ruby color and
strong vanilla and spicy notes come directly from the barrique. The bouquet
also has fruit from the Sangiovese, but it's somewhat overshadowed (at least
for me). On the palate the wine is quite full, smooth and well rounded, with
lots of cherry fruit, and has a clean finish.
- The Brolio Chianti Classico Riserva (1993) is traditional, with stewed cherries and large wood (i.e. botte – not vanilla, but more a sensation of warmth) on the nose, something that is quite typical of Chianti. On the palate the wine is full, with good fruit (especially cherries); the tannins have a slight burr to them that is again typical of Chianti. The finish is clean and persistent.
I preferred the Riserva, because though the Castelferro was good, it was not distinctive – I've had similar heavily barriqued wines from California, France and Piemonte. Some of the people on the tour, on the other hand, nodded at the Riserva, then began to ooh and ah as they sniffed the bouquet of the Castelferro – obviously, it more closely resembled what they drank at home.
You might think, given this example, that wineries should follow the innovative path to increase sales and market share. Well, yes and no. Good innovative wines tend to get positive reviews from the international press, and this can help a winery gain recognition. However, the innovative wines are also much more similar wines from elsewhere than are traditional wines. And here economics rears its ugly head, because the innovative Italian wines must compete against not just France and California, but also Australia, South America, and Africa, where production costs are much lower. Is a 40$ innovative Italian wine twice as good as an award winning Chilean wine that sells for 20$? Perhaps, but perhaps not. In a similar vein, Californians are now experimenting with Sangiovese and Nebbiolo; what I have tasted so far hasn't been that good, but they will eventually begin to make superb wines from the new grapes that will likely resemble innovative Italian wines.
The one thing Italians have that cannot be imitated, and cannot be produced at a lower cost elsewhere is terroir: While others may succeed in making good wines with Nebbiolo, nobody will be able to duplicate a Barolo from a sorí (Piemontese for a vineyard oriented so it faces the sun all day long) in Serralunga d'Alba. Innovative wines helped Italian wineries break into the international markets during the 70s and 80s, and continue to stun and delight. However, with the emergence of new regions such as South America, Italian wineries must concentrate on producing things that are superb, yes, but also uniquely Italian if they are to survive and prosper. It all comes down to tipicitá.
Good food &
Drink,
Kyle
