Wines from Italy’s Piedmont: beyond Barolo and Barbaresco
For the last 30 years, the red wine spotlight in and around Italy’s Piedmont region has been dominated by its big guns, Barolo and Barbaresco. And rightly so: These majestic wines are some of the country’s noblest. But there is also an unsung retinue of alternative bottlings, both from the Langhe region (where the Barolo and Barbaresco growing areas are located) and from lesser-known areas beyond its borders. These areas are finally gaining a toehold in the U.S. market and proving just how diverse the region is.
Northwest Italy almost seems like a confluence of several great European red wine regions, possessing reds with the majesty of Bordeaux, suppleness of Burgundy, stature of Hermitage and charm of Beaujolais or the Côtes du Rhône. It’s why Nicolas Belfrage, in his book “Barolo to Valpolicella,” makes the case that northwest Italy is the most exciting wine zone in the world.
Geographically, of course, it is one of Europe’s most dramatic. To the north the Alps loom like a grand fortress of granite, glacier and ice. Their formation accounts for ancient glacial terrains, dramatic river valleys, an array of soils as well as every angle and hillside aspect a vine could ask for.
Throughout most of the region, the warmest, best-exposed hillsides and hilltops traditionally have been reserved for Nebbiolo, the noble grape variety in whose name lurks the Italian word for fog, nebbia (which hints at harvest weather conditions, in mid- to late fall).
Nebbiolo’s pinnacle of expression has long been the famed regions of the Langhe, but those are by no means the only place the grape is grown. Indeed, to the north a handful of cooler, higher-elevation areas — Ghemme, Gattinara, Lessona and Bramaterra — have been sources of Nebbiolo for generations.
All of these regions are closer to the Alps, where the soils are composed largely of alluvial and glacial residue rather than the clay and limestone of the Langhe. The soil composition and cooler climate render a lighter, more ethereal expression of the grape — and, thankfully, most of the producers in these regions haven’t yet embraced a riper, rounder “international” winemaking style, typically marked by the heavy toast of new barrels. In aroma, and especially mouth feel, the Nebbiolos of the region seem wonderfully delicate and authentic at once, classical in the best sense.
Certainly the wines from the vineyards around Lessona and Bramaterra, produced by the area’s oldest winery, Tenuta Sella (founded in 1671), reflect this authenticity. Their young winemaker, Cristiano Garella, makes these wines in a traditional manner. The native varieties Croatina and Vespolina add a softly bright fruit top note to these lean, well-structured reds redolent of rose petal, balsamic, red plum and black tea.
Just east of Lessona lie the better known areas of Ghemme and Gattinara. Both are traditional strongholds of the Nebbiolo grape — in fact, in the 19th century, the fame of Gattinara wines far exceeded those of its neighbors to the south. Both regions have seen marked improvement in quality in recent decades. These wines by and large are driven by acidity, rendering them fairly austere in cool vintages but especially nervy and powerful in a warm year.
Other varietals
Aside from the Nebbiolo grape, Piedmont is well known for its earlier-ripening grape varieties Barbera and Dolcetto, which usually occupy the slopes beneath the better-situated Nebbiolo vineyards. But a few other native varietals, most notably Freisa, Pelaverga and Ruché, are gaining traction in American restaurants.
Freisa can be made as an oddly frothy pink bubbly of limited availability in the U.S. But as a dry, lighter red, the wine has come into its own with a pleasingly spicy bouquet, bright berry flavors and plenty of structure. I’ve had terrific versions of this wine from traditional Barolo producers such as Brovia, G.D. Vajra and Giuseppi Mascarello.
Wine aficionados have traditionally referred to Dolcetto as the Beaujolais of Piedmont — an association as misleading as it is unmerited. If anything deserves the comparison, it’s Pelaverga, a thin-skinned, light, delightfully spicy red wine found principally in an area just north of Barolo called Verduno. Like Beaujolais, the wines give off a fine herbal scent and peppery, mildly earthy tones, supporting delicious, exuberant red-fruit flavors. As with Freisa, traditional producers have kept these wines current, such as G.B. Burlotto or the cooperative bottling from Castello di Verduno called “Basadone.”
Perhaps the most brooding of this alternative bunch is Ruché (or Rouchet), a traditional variety found in the Castagnole di Monferrato area and one of the rarest wines in all of Piedmont. This variety carries a distinctly floral, almost rosy scent, with an amaro-like bitterness so food-friendly that it practically induces hunger pangs with just a sip. Seek out bottlings from Cascina ‘Tavijn, or the smoky “Terra del Ruché” from Montalbera.
Valle d’Aosta wines
One of the most compellingly untrammeled wine regions in northwest Italy — certainly the tiniest and most obscure to find its way to market in recent years — is the mountainous Valle d’Aosta, tucked against the Alpine borders of France and Switzerland. It is so high that Mont Blanc, the Alps’ tallest peak, anchors the region’s western end. Composed largely of a single valley, the region contains some of the highest-planted vineyards in Europe, composed of imported Swiss and French varieties, as well as indigenous plantings found nowhere else.
Red grapes from the nearby Rhône Valley, such as Syrah and Grenache, as well as Pinot Noir, can be found growing on Valle d’Aosta’s terraced hillsides. Two of the indigenous red varieties set the region apart. Petit Rouge is a plummy, slightly herbal variety that is blended into wines from Torrette, in the heart of the valley. Fumin, as its name suggests, has a pronounced smoky scent along with dark fruit flavors and seems tailor-made for a late-season barbecue.
For decades, what few wines could be found from Valle d’Aosta were imported by Neal Rosenthal — notably the wonderful, exotic wines of Grosjean Frères, which, as the name implies, has a decidedly French accent on its portfolio. But that’s changed in recent years. A few of the other, better producers are now being imported — such as the remarkable wines of Les Crêtes, one of the larger noncooperative wineries that makes a Fumin and a Torrette, as well as Syrah, Chardonnay, Pinot Noir and other bottlings.
And Oakland importer Oliver McCrum is bringing in wines from a pair of even smaller producers — Cave di Barró in St.-Pierre and the remarkable Didier Gerbelle, whose Torrette Supérieur “Vigne Tsancognein,” made from Petit Rouge and Fumin, with two other indigenous varieties, is practically haunting with its exotic spice and focused, almost gentle elegance. They’re from a tiny corner of the world that has found a way to grab some of the spotlight from its more illustrious regional neighbors.