Corzano & Paterno: Fine Wine and Cheese Just Outside Florence.

Corzano has come a tremendous way since Aljoscia Goldschmidt's Uncle Wendelin and Marchese Niccolini drove up to the property one day in 1972. Though much attached to the farm, whose income had contributed to the dowries of Niccolini daughters for generations, the Marchese was planning to sell it -- the tenant farmers who had had formed the backbone of the rural economy were leaving for better paying factory jobs and it was simply uneconomical to continue without them. He even had a purchaser lined up, a merchant who was planning to divide the land into lots.

"Sell it to me," said Wendelin. "I can't give you as much, but I promise I'll keep it together." The Marquis nodded, and thus a Swiss architect found himself the owner of a rundown farm a few miles from Florence, just outside the Chianti Classico region. He asked an agronomist friend for help but things didn't work out, so he decided to make a go of it himself. In the meantime, Aljoscia's parents decided to leave Holland and settle in one of the houses on the property.

"Things were, well, archaic when we got here, in 1973," he recalls. "Several families of illiterate farmers, four oxen, and a bicycle. No tractors, no running water. And isolated -- the arrival of a foreigner was a newsworthy event (now as many foreigners as Italians live in the Tuscan countryside). It sounds desolate, but it was exhilarating -- we felt like pioneers." At the time non-Chianti Classico wine was worth nothing, so the vineyards were at the bottoms of the slopes, mixed with rows of grain, while olive groves occupied the better land up hill. The family hired contadini, farmers, to help them, and began to make a go of it on their own, though nobody knew much about agriculture. The contadini were great workers, but steeped in tradition and used to following instructions to the letter; though they'd talk about the innovations Uncle Wendelin was introducing among themselves they wouldn't warn him if they knew something wouldn't work -- the padrone was supposed to know what he was doing.

Thingswere still chaotic when Paterno, an adjoining farm with lots of pasture land, came on the market in 1975. "A farm without animals isn't a farm," said Wendelin, and though the rest of the family thought he was mad he bought it too. Then he went to Sardinia and bought fifty purebred milking sheep -- which nobody knew how to milk. Somehow they survived. And while Wendelin struggled to make things work, Aljoscia quit school. He spent several months working as a photographer, but then decided what he really wanted to do was make wine. So in 1979 he enrolled at the Wädenswil Experimental Institute, where he learned the fundamentals of the trade. "If you live in one wine-producing area it's important to go to school elsewhere," he says. "I spoke German so I went to Switzerland. Had I spoken French I might have gone to Bordeaux. But you do have to get out. Otherwise you become hidebound, convinced your wine is the best and the way things are done where you live is the only way to do them."

Between classes he worked the vineyards his uncle had planted, and began working full time in 1982. They now have 11 hectares under vine (of a total of 140) and Aljoscia plans to plant about 5 more, but it's difficult: -- though he has land that is perfectly suited for vineyards, because of EEU laws designed to restrict wine production he can only plant if he first buys planting rights from someone else in the area, who must in turn tear out his vineyard. "My uncle has a great sense of timing and bought when the buying was good," he says. "Now you can only sell. Buying is very expensive and takes time."

Since Corzano is just outside the Chianti Classico zone Aljoscia makes plain Chianti. He could further qualify the wine as Chianti Classico Colli Fiorentini, but he doesn't think the time is ripe yet, since many of the Colli Fiorentini producers favor volume over quality. Fermentation is mostly in steel, and the red wines go into wood -- all French Barriques, from a number of sources. A good barrique works wonders, he notes, adding, "but you have to trust your cooper, because he's the one who knows where the wood used to make the barrels really came from, how it was seasoned, and how it was processed. Overtoasting or a bad stave can ruin the wine. It's like buying a cat in a bag." He also has reservations about corks, noting that they're expensive and even the long ones that have now become popular fail all too often. "Problem is, consumers expect them," he says, adding that he'll gladly switch to synthetic corks if more influential producers, for example Antinori, will. Consumers should have no problem accepting his wines even if they do have synthetic corks.

Corzanello is a white wine, made from a mixture of Trebbiano and Malvasia with an addition of 30% Chardonnay. "It's not in the Galestro mold," he points out, and I'd have to agree -- Galestro was originally launched in the 80s to make use of the white grapes that could no longer go into Chianti thanks to changes in the rules governing how Chianti is made; it tends to be crisp, and rather neutral. The 1997 Corzanello, on the other hand, is a pale greenish gold with green highlights, and has an elegant floral bouquet with nicely interlaced notes of strawberry and heather that bring to mind a woodsy field on a hot day. Further swishing brings out hints of melon as well. On the palate the wine is round and pleasingly full with good fruit, mild acidity and good balance. The finish is clean with elegant hints of bitter almond, and moderately persistent. It will work nicely as an aperitif, and also go well with fish or vegetable-based dishes.

Terre di Corzano Chianti 1996 is also quite impressive. And it's the only Chianti for the year; the vintage was difficult and Aljoscia decided to forego making a riserva in favor of producing the best Chianti he could. A good decision on his part, I would say, because the wine is impressive, easily as good as many 1996 Chianti Classicos that I have tasted. It's a deep ruby red with a pale pink rim and has a complex, elegant bouquet heavily laced with durone cherries (a highly prized bittersweet variety). On the palate it still has the brashness of youth, with pronounced tannins that are however rounded and will certainly mellow with time. It has nice fruit, especially cherry, beautiful structure, and a clean finish with pleasing hints of walnut skins and bitter almonds. Though drinkable now (1988) it will be better in the year 2,000 and will continue to improve for a few years beyond then. It will be quite nice with red or white meat roasts, red meats, game, or aged cheeses.

Terre di Corzano Chianti Riserva 1995 is a deep pigeon blood ruby and has an elegant bouquet with a pleasing mixture of bitter cherries, woodberry jam, fruit and vanilla from wood; swirling and sniffing is an extremely pleasant experience. On the palate it is full, with nice fruit and smooth silky tannins that have a dusty burr to them. The Sangiovese is well balanced by wood, especially on the finish, which has a pleasing tart cherry warmth to it. Though nice now this wine again needs time, and is certainly worth buying and setting aside for a few years, at which point it will go quite nicely with roasts, stewed beef or game, or cheese. Or with friends, around a fire on a winter evening.

Aljoscia's final wine is Il Corzano, a Vino da Tavola made from 50% Sangiovese, 40% Cabernet and 10% Merlot. I'm looking forward to tasting it again in the future because the bottle we sampled was in what's known as a stupid phase -- when it draws into itself and closes down.

Plans for the future? Aljoscia would like to soften his reds just a little, and is still thinking about what to do with his barrel fermented Chardonnay, which he isn't satisfied by. The family is also going to rebuild the cellars to make racking and other activities easier and more rational. Where to find the wines? Throughout Europe. In the US, on the other hand, they're imported to Pennsylvania, Delaware and New Jersey by the Petit Pois Corporation.

What, you wonder, became of the 50 sheep? They've bred to more than 500 and graze the farm's meadows under the watchful eye of a Sardinian shepherd, while Aljoscia and his cousin Tillo manage the stables, and Tillo handles the business end of things. For the first few years they sold the milk and did rather well. However, milk prices froze in the late 80s and by the early 90s keeping the herd was no longer economical. Rather than sell it they decided to try their hand at cheese making, bought the necessary equipment used from a cheeser in Umbria, and enlisted the aid of a consultant.

The sheep produce milk year round (except October, when they are lambing) that gets carted to the cheesery every few days, where it gets filtered and centrifuged to remove impurities. Then, depending upon what Toni, Aljoscia's wife, decides what to do with it, the milk is either briefly pasteurized to 70 degrees C or not; though some object to this step they have seen that a light pasteurization and inoculation with selected yeasts gives good, consistent results. Then the rennet is added, and once the curds have formed they are carefully broken up, then turned out into the form board (for want of a better term) where they settle into cheese-shaped depressions while the whey drains off to a cauldron where it becomes ricotta. In the meantime the cheeses are moved to another tank where they are kept warm for several hours while the yeasts do their job, then they are cooled and salted for 12-24 hours. They then go into the refrigeration cell to mature. It's careful, painstaking work; the cheese maker has to be able to sense what each lot of milk is best suited for, and then know how to work the curds once they have formed.

To begin with they made pecorino, the sheep's milk cheese common throughout Tuscany that is creamy and mild when fresh, becoming crumbly and blessed with a complex sharpness with age (Tuscan pecorino is similar to what's made in Sardegna, and not nearly as sharp or as salty as pecorino romano). Theirs was quite good and they were happy with it. Then one day when the consultant wasn't there somebody made a mistake. The cheeses looked funny and smelled worse, but they couldn't bear parting with them so they put them off in a corner. By the end of the week the skins had become warty, rather like a toad's, but the cheese inside had assumed delicate characteristics reminiscent of Taleggio. Buccia di Rospo, toad skin, is now eagerly sought out by gourmands and elegant restaurants (Harrod's will begin selling it in January 1999). Since then they have introduced other cheeses as well, including some that resemble goat's milk cheeses and a blue produced using the same mold that gives Gorgonzola its character. "We like to do things one step at a time," Aljoscia says, and one certainly cannot argue with their results.

One of the nicest things about Corzano e Paterno is that it's only a half hour's drive from downtown Florence, and visitors are welcome provided they call ahead. To get there take the Autopalio highway towards Siena and exit at Bargino. Drive through the town and turn right at the sign for Castello di Pergolato. You'll go under an underpass and then climb to the top of the ridge, at which point you'll want to turn right. In a short while you'll reach a dirt road; turn right onto it and continue for a couple of miles, past a deconsecrated church and several pretty olive groves. Corzano is a large, elegant farmhouse on the left with flowers planted everywhere (drive around back for parking. You'll likely be greeted by a dog (there are many, including a number of very handsome white pastori maremmani). The fermentation tanks are in the tinaia (from tino, tank), while the barriques are in the old frantoio, or olive press, which is still there -- an elegant stone trough with an upright millstone that was turned by an ox to crush the olives and make the oil. The sight's worth the trip by itself. The cheesery is in a beautiful fortified farm complex across the valley, but unless you have a Land Rover you may want to go back to the main road and circle round. Watching the transformation from milk to cheese is fascinating. A final reason to visit: The views are beautiful, it's very peaceful, and you can stay -- there are a number of buildings, and the family rents out those that they're not living in or using. It's an excellent base from which to explore Tuscany. To get in touch, either call on 055 8248179, fax on 055 8248178, or send them an email to corzpaterno@ftbcc.it.

"When we got here agriculture was a good way to starve," says Aljoscia as he looks down into the valley below. "Nobody was interested in buying oil or wine. We've made our way a step at a time, planning as we go. It was an adventurous beginning, but one learns from one's mistakes."

They have, and well.

Good Food & Drink,
Kyle Phillips

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Text © Kyle Phillips, photos of Corzano & Paterno kindly provided by Aljoscia Goldschmidt.