What is it like, visiting the object of a brief but passionate love affair after a decade`s separation? I learned this spring.
During a stay in this unpretentious small city south of Turin in the Piedmont region in the fall of 1979, I became enchanted. I was charmed by the nearby countryside, which yields splendid wines named barbera, dolcetto, barbaresco and barolo, as well as fragrant white truffles, wild mushrooms, game and game birds. Earthy, sensual food; perfumed, flavorful wines.
Morning fogs over the rolling Langhe hills hinted at mysteries, then lifted to reveal them crowned by churches or castles dating to the Middle Ages. Coated in olive oil and speaking in the melodic Italian tongue, even the harshest voices seemed dulcet.
In the years that followed, bottles of wine from the Langhe and, less often, tastes of truffles kept the memories alive. I put the place on a pedestal with Burgundy`s Cote d`Or, Alsace and California`s Napa Valley.
And then, this year, came our reunion. The Langhe hills looked terrific in a lush green robe of spring, and the food tended to be green, too. There was a profusion of artichokes and asparagus and lettuces. Not so dramatic as the fare in fall, yet fresh and good and genuinely welcome in a country where seasonal foods remain important.
I found that, in 10 years, there had been no explosion of progress nor unseemly exploitation of the past. But the wines, and the people who make them, both have changed.
Significant changes
A series of tastings, visits to vineyards and a round-table discussion with representatives of a half-dozen important wineries established that these changes are significant, if not profound.
Despite the expanded role for white wines, red barolo remains the king of Piedmont`s wines and barbaresco the prince. Alba remains a provincial town and Piedmont still lacks an international airport, yet the world has come closer in terms of the commerce of wine. What is happening elsewhere, in terms of winemaking and consumer tastes, now matters here, and the people who count understand that.
So a decade later my inamorata is wiser, more worldly and wears-somewhat reluctantly-a veneer of sophistication.
For wine consumers, this means dolcetto and barbera, wines meant to be drunk young, are more reliably fresh and fruity and are reaching Chicago wine shops and restaurants more rapidly than they once did.
Barbaresco and barolo, too, are being held to stricter production standards and some, if not all, are likely to be ready to drink earlier than once they were. Are they still, then, wines worth being laid away by collectors?
As evidenced by tastings with the following producers, the answer to that question is an emphatic yes.
Alba`s great winemaking
No one embodies the duality and spirit of Alba and its great winemaking tradition more than Pio Boffa.
At age 34, he heads the 108-year-old firm founded by and named for his great-grandfather Pio Cesare. This is his 15th year in the business, but, in fact, he was born into it and grew up in the comfortable home, on an Alba side street, built over the cellars of the winery. Still, he knows the United States well (he made his first visit at age 16), has been to Asia and travels annually to at least half a dozen European countries; Pio Cesare does 60 percent of its business in exports.
His firm`s production is only 20,000 to 25,000 cases a year, about half of a typical Bordeaux chateau. The mainstay is barolo, made close to the old- fashioned way.
Yet in recent years, Pio Cesare has introduced a wine made from the French chardonnay grape; another, Il Nebbio, produced from the revered nebbiolo grape that Boffa frankly terms a wine for yuppies; and a third, Ornatio, that blends barolo with the lesser barbera to produce an early-maturing, easy-to-drink red.
The firm reacted to consumer demand for white wine by increasing production of its excellent Gavi. Experiments have extended even to the venerated barolo. Ten to 20 percent of the wine now is aged in small French oak barrels instead of the traditional large casks.
Demand for `invented` wines
Is Boffa a revolutionary? An opportunist? Hardly.
”Everything we do is intended to carry on our house style, even the changes,” he says earnestly, during a tour of the firm`s cellars. The fact that the space has been a winery for 1,000 years and that part of the cellar is a wall created by the Romans vividly underlines Boffa`s advocacy of tradition.
”We must react to changes in the outside world. Over the four generations of our firm, there have been changes in the weather, in the fertilizers we use, in technology, in our own knowledge, in customer attitudes. Today there is less demand for generic wines and more for fresh, fruity `invented` wines. In my opinion, that is not a problem for serious producers of wines such as barolo and barbaresco. But we must meet
expectations. Would our colleagues in France produce a `Mouton Lite?` ”
In the ”New Frank Schoonmaker Encyclopedia of Wine” (Morrow, $22.95), author Alexis Bespaloff writes of barolo, ”One of the finest red wines of Italy, full-bodied, richly textured, complex and long-lived, with a distinctive bouquet and taste often described as reminiscent of tar, truffles and faded roses.”
Boffa has no desire to change that description.
”Some say barolo is too big, too rough, too tannic, never ready to drink,” he acknowledges. ”It`s true at three or four years the wine is not drinkable, but there can be only one style of great barolo with different nuances for each producer. A great bordeaux is never an easy wine. Give our wines the same respect and drink them when they are ready to be drunk. We have the same problem here as in the U.S. Young people want everything now. They have no patience. But they can learn. It`s more difficult to educate producers that distinctiveness is the key to the success of our wines.
Region shapes wine
”The wine is shaped first by the region where the grapes grow,” he continues, ”then by the producer, so we write both barolo and Pio Cesare large on our label and strive to give the wine the maximum of depth, complexity, body, color, finesse and longevity and to integrate these qualities.
”I don`t believe you can achieve this with grapes from a single vineyard. A single vineyard wine can be great, but it can`t be a great barolo. Some characteristics will be lacking. Barolo is a region of microclimates, like Burgundy, and we take advantage of these differences to create our house style. We blend grapes, not wine, from our own vineyards in different locations, and ferment them together. It`s easier to blend the other way, but this is our way. We believe it makes a better integrated wine.
”To produce a special barolo, you need time, respect for the wine, rapport with the growers who supply you with grapes, careful handling and money. Not just the money to age the wine (we try to keep the wine until it`s ready to drink), but to be able to afford to reduce production. That, for me, is the key to continuity.”
As for the whites, Boffa pointed out that while nearby Asti is a center of production for sparkling wine and sweet wines are made in Piedmont as well, there is a tradition of making dry whites-called gavi or cortese di gavi-from the cortese grape.
”When we decided to increase production,” he said, ”we decided the wines must be part of the overall house style. This meant we would not produce a high acid quaffing wine. Our gavi had to have character-body, a long finish, some life span. It would be a wine you think about as you drink it. So we changed the way we made the wine. We use hillside grapes and pick later for roundness and complexity and ferment on the lees for six weeks at low temperature for long aftertaste and finish.
”As for chardonnay, there`s no tradition here in Piedmont. We make it for love, passion, for our pleasure. Elsewhere in Italy they make chardonnays that are fruity and easy, merely a cool, fresh glass of wine. Here, if we grow chardonnay in this soil, it must make a white with the same complexity and style of a great red. I think we have done that, but we make only 400 to 600 cases a year. It is not a wine we count on for profit.”
Hobby became profitable
The profit motive comes up again the next day as I move from the cellar and discussions of barolo to a hill high enough to be called Monte Aribaldo. My companion is Alberto di Gresy, whose castle-like family villa sits atop the hill, affording a magnificent view over some of the prize vineyards of Barbaresco.
A stylish young aristocrat, the Marchesi (a royalist title still spoken with respect) is a man of spontaneous and infectious enthusiasm. ”My family has come here (from Turin and now from Milan) every summer since the beginning of the century,” he explains.
”We owned land, but were not involved in winemaking. I did my degree at university in economics and was working in business. Wine was a hobby that gradually won my full attention. In 1973, I talked the family into forming a company and bought more vineyard land. I wanted to make wine, not just grow grapes to sell, but told myself unless the wines are among the best, I will not continue. It turned out I had chosen the right thing. Wine became my passion and my hobby became a profitable business.”
From vineyards surrounding the villa, di Gresy produces dolcetto d`Alba. Other vineyard holdings contribute moscato d`Asti and barbera del Monferrato. But there clearly is a favored child among his vineyards and he points it out on a dramatically sloped hillside only a couple of miles away before jumping into his car and careening down narrow back roads toward it.
Railroad tracks stop us, allowing a Cinemascope view of his vines and the antique fac ade of his winery.
”Martinenga,” he says reverently. Thirty acres in all, with beneficial southern exposure and soil of chalk and tufa (a porous stone), it is considered perhaps the best of all the Barbaresco vineyards, along with Angelo Gaja`s Sori Tildin and the Ceretto`s brothers` Bricco Asilione.
Prefers thinking small
As we wait for a Toonerville trolly-like, two-car train to pass, he points out two subdivisions of the property, Camp Gros and Gaiun. They are awarded separate labels in special vintages. The 1985 editions of these wines were awarded 92 and 95 points respectively out of 100 in a tasting reported in The Wine Spectator. The `85 Martinenga scored 90. (Prices, it should be noted, are equally high. In Chicago wine shops, the Martinenga will cost about $38, the Gaiun $52 and the Camp Gros $58.)
Describing barbaresco in the Schoonmaker encyclopedia, Alexis Bespaloff writes, ”though similar to barolo, produced only a few miles away, barbaresco is generally more elegant and not as long-lived.”
”Barbaresco has less structure than barolo, but it is more pleasant to drink,” di Gresy adds. ”The moment when a barolo is necessary is when you are seeking an appropriate wine to follow a barbaresco.”
Unlike Boffa, he believes in single vineyard designations. Indeed, his sales pitch hinges on the fame and distinction of his vineyards. He began production at Martinenga in 1973, made the first Camp Gros in 1978 and introduced Gaiun with the 1982.
”I prefer to think small,” he says. ”I like the image of the small producer who sells his own wine out of his own cellar. Thanks to the vineyard, my wine is different. The soil of Martinenga is very chalky. Water soaks in when it rains and nourishes the vines in the heat of summer. It`s light in color, but the grapes produce wines that are very dark and rich-colored.”
Even with his diverse holdings, he anticipates total annual production reaching no more than 18,000 cases, which, in California, would classify his winery as a true ”boutique.” Experimental plantings of chardonnay and cabernet sauvignon yield only about 400 cases of wine of each type.
Innovative concepts
These last indicate, once again, that innovative concepts and ambition for world-wide recognition are flowering in this secluded, seemingly timeless setting. Close up, the old winery is a building in transition. Storage facilities have been enlarged. Sophisticated office equipment is in place. New machinery provides pinpoint temperature control. Small, French-oak barrels are used to age the Gaiun and some of the chardonnay.
”We have remained within the barbaresco tradition, but we have changed some things,” di Gresy says. ”In the vineyard, with our system, it now takes twice as many vines for half the yield we used to get. The rows are trained so each individual vine works less but may give us grapes that produce wines of more intensity. In the winery, we have cut down the length of time of skin contact during fermentation to help make the wines more drinkable, then extended the aging time in bottle so they retain the traditional complexity.” After tasting the Marchesi di Gresy`s superb wines, I came away thinking that another rendezvous with Alba, its winemakers and their vineyards is in order. But this time I don`t think I`ll wait a decade. –
