Welcome back to Notable, where twice a month I report on the most interesting wines of recent tasting. Last week I participated in two online events with Italian producers: Argentiera, in Bolgheri, on the Tuscan coast; and Tenuta di Castellaro, on the tiny Aeolian Island of Lipari. Let’s dive in.
Argentiera, in Bolgheri
Bolgheri is famous not for Italian grapes but French. If you squint hard enough, the region’s gravelly coastal plain is vaguely reminiscent of Bordeaux, and in the mid twentieth century, a handful of enterprising Italians started tinkering with Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, and Cabernet Franc, aging blends in French oak barriques to yield polished, international-style wines that captured critics’ hearts. The varieties weren’t legally permitted in Tuscany, so the wines were labeled Vino da Tavola, but they swiftly reached escape velocity and by the end of the century, the wines had earned Bolgheri DOC status and an international reputation as so-called Super Tuscans.
There are now 76 members of the Bolgheri consorzio, including Argentiera. The estate, founded in 1990, lies at southern tip of the appellation and comprises 85 hectares spread across four vineyard sites, from the sandy lowlands to the coastal hills that offer a spectacular view of the Tyrrhenian Sea. Farming is organic but not certified.
Winemaker Nicolò Carrara, who has worked for Argentiera since 1999, led the virtual tasting of four of their wines: three red blends variously of Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, Cabernet Franc, and Petit Verdot; and a white wine made from Vermentino (a grape of the Mediterranean, not the Aquitaine).
I should confess my wariness of vinifying French grapes in Italy, and in a French style, to boot. The Italian peninsula bristles with grapes that have, over centuries, become intimately attuned to Italy’s variegated territorio, and these tend to be the wines I prize. Grapes do wander, of course, via trade routes and other cultural peregrinations; that’s partly how Italy historically earned so much vinous variety. But the direct importation of French cepages into Italian viticulture for the express purpose of producing French-like wines has always struck me as redundant at best and needlessly appropriative at worst. Plus, I’ve rarely tasted one (especially made from Merlot or Chardonnay, two French grapes widely planted in Italy) that felt truly Italian, by which I mean nervy, earthy, maybe bitter, definitely savory, even salty; in other words, true to place.
