Week nine of wine adventures in Piedmont

I just heard that my six year old son Patrick (left) made the correct call when asked to judge which Champagne should be served at his cousin’s wedding this summer – that’s my boy! The power of genetics!

Want to play? Fancy yourself as a bit of a buyer? I came across two quite different Barbareschi last week, producing markedly different results. Do you want to take a guess at who delivered the finest wine, and why?!

Producer A’s son took over the 10 hectares (75% Nebbiolo and Barbera, Dolcetto and some Arneis) in 1995 (though the estate first bottled in ’67), including some rented vineyards dotted around the region. His background is hotel and restaurants, so professes to know something about the consumer; a large share of their production is sold into Germany. His wife grew up among Barolo vines before moving to the town. They employ a recognised, if not minted, consultant to help make the wine. Vinification is in a new cantina in stainless steel tanks where the must is turned very slowly by paddles, extracting colour and flavours. Their entry Barbaresco is aged in newish looking Slavonian botte; the riserva in part new French barriques. The range comprises 10 wines/ 60,000 bottles.

Producer B is older, taking over the reins back in the ‘80s; has just over two hectares, virtually all Nebbiolo from just outside their back door. This is also a husband and wife operation (a hectare each), but as they have such a small concern there’s been little need to employ anyone to help; nothing seems to have changed since his father first started bottling in 1967. Vinification takes place under the house in a combination of stainless steel tanks and old wood, depending on the size of the harvest. Then into old Slavonian botte for extended ageing; only one Barbaresco is produced/9000 bottles, sold mostly to local trade and friends.

Easy eh?! The answer (assuming my palate wasn’t deceiving me, again you cry!) will accompany my Week 10 blog, but please let me have your thoughts in the meantime.

Incidentally Producer B moonlights as a white truffle/tartufo hunter. Recently he showed a local dignitary how it’s done; something which entailed setting out on an arctic winter’s night. Most importantly though was his comment that it has to take place during the last quarter of the moon’s cycle, for this was when the truffle is at its most potent, and hence most easily detectable (and delectable, non?)!

Further evidence of the moon’s influence on day-to-day Langhe life came to light during a socialist political party to welcome in the new mayor of Alba, Maurizio Marello, where I was seated next to Franco Sandrone, the butcher of Barolo. No really, he’s the ‘macellaio’ and a very good one he is too. His ‘carne cruda’ (female vitello) is rich, smooth and wonderfully fresh while his raw pork sausages have to be tasted to be believed! The secret, he tells me is to make sure you handle the pork in tandem with the lunar cycle; best four or five days after the new moon for top quality and freshness; particularly for salami which won’t keep if it’s put together at any other time – it’ll stink.  He went to say that the same applies for fruit preservation: if you want the best results then avoid the period when the moon is in transition – jar it all up with the new moon! Ditto grass and hair cutting…but then we know all that!

It was on that night, Saturday night in fact, as the strains of an old ‘partigiano’/partisan war song ‘Bella Ciao’ echoed across the valley, that I had my first glimpse of a ‘lucciola’, a firefly or glow-worm to you and me. A rare sight these days as the application of the chemical treatment against ‘flavecenza dorata’ (a viticultural equivalent of the Black Death) has been hitting insects hard and the ‘lucciola’ and ‘api’/bee notably so; a very worrying development. Luciano Sandrone (no relation – see the video below) suggests that a change in maize seed has also impacted on the local bee population who’ve now flown to the floral Alpine hills, along with the cows, who walked. While the authorities  know ‘flavecenza dorata’  stems from overcrowded Venetian nurseries, borne on the back of an influx of non-native varieties such as Chardonnay, they’re ignorant as to how to combat it effectively so until then everyone’s obliged to spray against all vectors; it’s reminiscent of the herd mentality immunisation strategy adopted by government in the face of MMR etc. Some are beginning to question its wisdom, refusing to spray so indiscriminately. Unfortunately this firefly’s neon light was tragically extinguished soon after, squished under the windscreen wiper triggered as I lurched clumsily toward the window to get a closer look.

Otherwise not much seems to have changed during my two week ‘break’ in the UK. Well, okay, so the vines now resemble hedgerows; sporadic bunches of grapes hang where flowers once blossomed (‘sporadic’ due to a cold snap post 2008 flowering) and bird song has been replaced with the endless fizzz of cicadas. In the market, oranges have now lost out to apricots, though the local crop from across the river in Roero were peppered with hail a week before last along with some vineyards. So I opted for the paler, yellow, and finer variety as supplied by my friend Giuliana, a smallholder in nearby Magliano (see also the photo of the beautiful pomodoror). Best of all are the ‘fagiolini’ or green string bean: not from Egypt but all the way from Montelupo Albese, five minutes across the valley.

Next Week: Answer to the ‘Who wants to be a Buyer’ Quiz!; Clash of the Titans: Ceretto, Gaja, and Fontanafredda ‘slug’ it out; and further treats jostling with treats!

Take a look at the case here – it is made up of four different wines, including whites from Burgundy and reds from Montirius in the Rhône (who will be interviewed on Wine Matters very soon).

As a little ‘green’ bonus, it also comes with a free Berrys’ Bag for Life which, aside from being ethically and environmentally friendly, also includes handy compartments to keep your cheese and wine separate.  Bring on the picnics!

OK, The land of concrete and dust is finally come. Fittingly, I flew in on an Emirates A380, the largest plane in the world. It is an astonishing bit of kit… apparently there is a spa with showers in first class, where they will shortly be pouring our wine (first, that is, not in the shower!)… typical that the wine travels better than I do! I have to ‘make do’ with business, no shabby choice with large beds, and a very roomy bar to lounge in. The thing is just ridiculously big; I think they have to keep the upper deck pressurised even when the plane is on the ground, it is so tall.

So… one flies in on the world’s biggest plane, then drives past the world’s tallest building (and believe me, it is TALL), to spend a couple of days in the world’s largest building site.

I take a trip to the world’s largest mall (naturally) and the first thing I see on walking in is the truly aqueous sight of the world’s largest fish tank (left). This thing is not so much a fish tank, more an indoor ocean and they haven’t been stingy with the cod when it has come to filling it; the place is heaving with countless species of squamous exoticism. The world’s largest mall also seems to have the world’s largest number of empty square metres of shop space per shopper as well. Strangest of all, it also has the world’s only branch of Waitrose (outside the UK, that is).

I’m a bit jealous, if truth be told. Blair is doing the Asian sales trip; as I head west he’s just leaving Seoul for Taipei, and since I’m not much of a mall junkie, I’d probably be rather hitting the dim sum, or whatever. There is something pretty perverse about having a place that is this hot and dusty when… for the vast majority… a beer is illegal.

The scary part comes when one looks out of the 35th story window of my hotel at the mayhem that stretches way out over the horizon and thinks two words: carbon footprint. My hotel must use a year’s worth of our electricity bill every time they open their 6 metre high glass doors to let somebody walk out into the blast furnace that is outside. We talk in New Zealand about how we can move from having 80% carbon neutral electric supply to 100% (at the cost of two or three magnificent trout rivers and a few hill ranges lost to windfarms) while these guys blow a thousand times that amount building another ridiculous shaped island off the coast to sell to a bored Premier League footballer. Unfortunately, that little scam has now gone rather sour. There is a ludicrous example of this hubris in a structure called “The World”: an archipelago of artificial islands that mimics: well, the name says it. To date only one building has been built within the entire planet. Apparently the poor bugger that bought Ireland recently committed suicide over the whole project, which is now slowly eroding back into the ocean.

What I want to know is who… on earth… when offered the choice of the whole planet, would choose to buy Ireland? He must have been well dodgy before it all went wrong.

And here lies the rub: we talk high moral ideals, tick all the politically correct boxes, yet our wines sell mostly into an earnings group where carbon footprint largely equates to how wide the back tyres on the new Porsche are going to be. So are we simply hypocrites?

I don’t think so; not sure about this one, but I’d lean towards: ”not guilty, M’lud”.

Ultimately we aren’t in business to reform others, we just take responsibility for our own doings. And anyway, if they spend enough on our wine, then maybe they can’t afford the engine upgrade on the Gulfstream and we’ll force a tiny cut that way.

I go to the tasting, a little unsure as to what wine buyers in Dubai will be like. I shouldn’t have worried: I now know where all the European A-list sommeliers go when they are bored of another gig with Gordon Ramsay. It was nice to catch up and have a gossip about who was doing what around the world eating scene. We sat in the cool of a beachside restaurant and watched a few holidaymakers lie on the beach: they weren’t so much being sunburned as steamed like a Chinese duck in the merciless oppression of a Gulf summer.

The trade’s insight into the local economic scene was interesting. Things are getting hard here, but they have a secret weapon up their sleeve. As one manager at what is certainly one of the world’s most exclusive hotels put it: “We’ve started to let the Russians come in.”

What I wanted to know most about Dubai, but nobody could tell me was: why? The whole of Dubai seems to shriek the word to me. Who on earth sold in the idea that every one of us will want to come here, holiday here, shop here, buy a house on a palm shaped island here?

“It’s beautiful in the evenings.” said one guy, hopefully. Yeah, like when the temperature drops to below the melting point of lead.

So, is this a monument to man’s irrepressible and limitless ambition, or an exercise in folly on a galactic scale? I’m not really certain.

I’ve decided to give the world’s probably largest and certainly most ludicrous indoor skiing resort a miss and will head off in the morning to Europe. Thanks Dubai, it’s been… well… huge.

So whoosh! up went the thermometer and with it went the vines; particularly Nebbiolo, Italy’s most well-endowed in the foliage department after Sangiovese, scaling two metres high come the end of May. Two theories abound as to what to do next. Option A: slice off their punti/tops to focus the plants energy into triggering flowering early or B, bind the tips over to form a lofty hedge. Talking of which, guess who suddenly became Signor Popolare…had I found my vocation in life? Not after spending the best part of a day sweating buckets and being bitten to hell as I trimmed Sandrone’s Valmaggiore vineyard, a sandy amphitheatric cauldron of a site, located north of the River Tanaro in the Roero.
So here flowering was a full week ahead of their Langhe cousins, ultimately giving a succulent, strawberry-infused wine; a baby Cannubi Boschis if you like! To be fair I spread my talent across the region. Unexpectantly in the case of Elio Altare: a straightforward visit metamorphosed quickly into knocking off a few rows while the sun glowed on our backs. Davide Rosso concurred later on: Elio’s vineyards are a model. I had indeed felt the positive energy rising up among the lush rows.

A similar vibe was sensed as I helped in Bartolo Mascarello’s Rocche di Torriglione vineyard, where Maria-Teresa chooses to bind them back into the canopy…
Alsace’s Olivier Humbrecht MW would be proud, as I recall him retaining these tendrils as antennae to the stars.



And it’s not just among the vines (guyot trained now you’re asking) that evidence of France’s imprint on Piemontese life is etched. It goes back to the 18th century and the Royal House of Savoia, whose kingdom also incorporated the stretch of land from Nice to Chambery in the Alps; little surprise then that it forms part of their dialect (the Piemontese for cherry is ‘ciresa‘) – see photo.

And it was King Carlo Alberto di Savoia who hired French enologist Louis Oudart to cross the Alps and create modern day, dry Barolo in 1840; and now they’re even classifying their vineyards as ‘Crus’! So if your Barolo reminds you of Vosne-Romanee, consider that Nebbiolo, like Pinot Noir, is a pernickety grape, hates heat, prefers the morning sun; produces its finest fruit on ancient Jurassic sea-beds rich in fossilised shellfish and limestone; to be vinified increasingly by small winegrowing family estates who have ‘plenty to taste if even less to sell’! Gastronomically their cucina is as good (finer, did you say?) than their Burgundian ‘neighbours’; the cow/sheep/goat cheeses as varied and smelly; their noses just as noble.

In contrast, and in no particular order, the streets are blissfully free of mopeds and turds; the coffee’s better; some might suggest that the locals are politer, interested and more helpful; and that bolshiness doesn’t translate. And in the kitchen, show-stopping restaurant sauces are the exception not the rule, while McDonald’s doesn’t have a presence let alone a signpost. Sure, Silvio lacks a beautiful singer-songwriter wife but he’s ticked plenty of other boxes, including the one promoting the national drink.

Which led me finally to Timorasso and Gavi. I say ‘finally’ because since arriving folk have been extolling the mythical white wine of Timorasso; while a visit to Gavi was way overdue.

Timorasso did indeed live up to the billing: located 90 minutes east of Alba on the edge of Lombardia and the Po Valley, the Colli Tortonesi reminded me of central northern France; the white wines hewn from the autochthonous grape Timorasso on Tortonian marl soils, bready, beeswaxy, sometimes orange blossom like with botrytis yet taut with thrilling acidity bore more than a passing resemblance to Savennieres or even Chassagne-Montrachet.

Walter Massa began to replant this ancient grape in the late 1980s after the combined efforts of phylloxera and mass plantings of Barbera post war had all but wiped it out. Now the total hectarage stands at a jaw-dropping 60ha, but Walter’s lead has inspired others to have another go. There’s still a polycultural, forgotten feel to the region but the sense of purpose among the few could well deliver a white wine on a par with Piedmont’s reds in the years to come; accompanied by some stunning cucina!

But surely Gavi’s that wine?? One look at Roberto Sarotto’s limestone white single-vineyard Bric Sassi, and seeing the plethora of fossilised shellfish littering the soils (photo) would make you think as much.





Indeed Roberto’s and those of the likes of La Caplana, his neighbour, are among the finest, most floral and ethereal around. Yet sadly not all Gavi is blessed with such soil, and Cortese ain’t Timorasso. Many of the ‘Commune del Gavi di Gavi’ DOCG villages, all 11 of them, enjoy a preponderance of heavy, iron-rich clay and sand soils giving structured, four-square wines; while yields of 70/80 hl/ha from valley floor vineyards vinified by hobbyist winegrowers are not conducive to real quality either. Still, the region’s history, its former allegiance to Liguria, as evidenced by the architecture and colours, along with a fine fort make it a great place to visit. And to show how much respect they hold for their Tortonesi neighbours: one Gavi property, Morghassi Superiore first began planting Timorasso in 1992!

Next week: Fontanafredda opens its doors; an interview with Luciano Sandrone ancora di piu!

The successful event was held at the tasting table in the shop, with Berrys’ staff at hand to educate customers on the principles of biodynamics and guide them through the tasting table, which included delights from Montirius, Zind Humbrecht and Chapoutier.

Wine Matters: What is the WSTA’s official line on biodynamic wine production?
Gavin Partington: The increasing popularity of biodynamic wine production stems in large part from the growing interest in methods of organic food production.  The EU Commission is currently considering a regulation for organic wine production.  However we shouldn’t exaggerate the impact of the current fashion on the industry as a whole. Our view is that biodynamic and organic methods of wine production will, overall, make a minor contribution to influencing production methods of the category as a whole.
   
WM: And does the WSTA educate or encourage producers to practice biodynamic?
GP: No. The WSTA lobbies on behalf of its members with Governments at home and abroad on various policy issues but it does not advocate particular methods of production.  Nevertheless we expect to see increasing pressure on suppliers and transporters to meet political and consumer demand for greener products and supply chains.

WM: Does the WSTA educate wine lovers to understand what biodynamic wine is?
GP: The WSTA seeks to keep members informed about all the latest major developments in the industry. Our website features a wide range of information about sustainability issues.  We will update members as necessary on European Commission plans to introduce standards for Organic Wine Production.

WM: Do you think more wine producers will adopt biodynamic farming methods in the near future?
GP: Based on current trends it seems likely that interest in biodynamic wines will increase slightly.  Whether or not that translates to increased adoption of biodynamic farming methods will depend on levels of consumer demand.

WM: Is there likely to be an EU code of practice for biodynamic wine production?
GP: A regulation for organic wine production is now being considered by the European Commission.  Its objective is to provide a standard for the definition and development of organic wine, but neither a code of practice nor a regulation is being considered for biodynamic wine production.

To find out more about the WSTA, or to become a member, please visit the website at www.wsta.co.uk

It was as if someone had yanked up the thermostat overnight, gazumping spring in favour of summer. For since May 1st the temperature has risen dramatically to 30-35 degrees celsius by day and 23 by night, forcing all but mad dogs and Englishmen to hibernate in the middle of the day. Yet being perched high up on the Serralunga ridge at 450 metres there’s always a refreshing breeze to ventilate vines and minds.

Liberal amounts of spice and Barolo Monfortino is what Roberto Conterno of Giacomo Conterno selected as his weapons of choice to open the pores. In a scene out of Celebrity Chef (or was it Hell’s Kitchen?), Roberto joined Serralunga’s Centro Storico team to dish out the hottest pasta piatti to date, complete with fetching pinafore…(see left).

Less welcome, the heat though has triggered the onset of peronospera (downey mildew) as humidity is unlocked from the soil after weeks of rain, rising up into the canopy above. Here the prescribed fungicide is Copper Sulphate solution, with separate doses of Copper where necessary; unfortunately the evil mancozeb is also used in extreme cases. Later on oidium (powdery mildew) is the worry, with sulphur the antidote. Or as Olivier Humbrecht MW, of Zind-Humbrecht and President of DEMETER the international biodynamic certification body put it: low vine vigour is the best preventative measure of all! Logical really: overly vigorous vines (foliage and fruit) – too much fertiliser or inappropriate soils – leaves the plant vulnerable to diseases, necessitating treatments that in turn spawn a another set of new problems to be ‘cured’; just like us in fact. And so it was in post-war European viticulture as production soared. Time to stop the rot.  Here is Davide Rosso explaining how he treats pests in his vineyard:

Environmentalists among you will be relieved to hear that the local birdlife is thriving; just as Manuel Marchetti of Barolo Marcarini remarked during a recent visit to London. And true enough the warm thermals have lured a whole host of brightly-coloured friends to the Langhe hills. Rusty-tailed Nightingales lurk low down among the thickets, breaking cover as you pass and singing imperceptibly by day and angelically by night. More recently the heat has brought on a rash of Turtle Doves, purring pussy-like deep among the copses. Lime-slate coloured Serins trill as they shuttle between vineyards and rooftops, chattering as they go. As do the flocks of Bee-eaters, il gruccione, (see right), babbling away to each other, drifting high above. Terracotta crested Hoopoes ‘hoooh-poooh’ from any suitable vantage point, while Redstarts prefer tiled roofs from which to deliver their sizzling notes. And to cap it all, high, high above are the alba-trosses of the air: white-bellied Alpine Swifts, fixed winged ‘falcons’ soaring majestically above the flotsam below.

Another who treasures a rich ecosystem is young Ferdinando Principiano (see photo) of Monforte d’Alba, whose vineyards are located mostly within Serralunga. Aspirations early on to be the next Clerico/Scavino/Rivetti etc. fortunately came to nothing as he struggled to make the wines work, let alone enjoy them. It was at this time, in 2004 or thereabouts, that coincidentally many of these (in)famous impact Barolo wines began falling over, failing to live up to their billing; sent back in anger by Albese restaurateurs. And so, after some soul-searching he chose a path midway between Voerzio and Conterno; turning his back on nasty chemicals in the vineyard. The result: cleaner, brighter fruit that effectively turns itself into fine wine without intervention, pure and simple. So no need for the consultant’s friend, the rotofermentor; the viticultural equivalent of the ‘pressure cooker’, whose multiplier effect builds bigger, richer, more alcoholic wines that, funnily enough, tend to…topple over.

Next week: my! how we’ve grown; Piedmont vs. Burgundy, spot the difference; news from Timorasso and Gavi

It’s about minus 1 outside, snow well down on the mountains and the vintage, though only about five weeks ended, seems an eternity away. This is a time of year when there is a stark contrast between our vineyards and those of our neighbours who farm conventionally: perhaps more difference now than any other time of year.
For the “conventional” growers (actually, of course, they are anything but: we are the farmers who work most closely to the conventions of the past thousand years of modern viticulture) there is not a lot to do. Nets are being wound onto huge reels (we net for bird protection in most vineyards in Central Otago), and pruning is starting to happen: the damp bare ground looks sullen and unloved.

By comparison, all is action at Felton Road: The rows are being tilled: cover-crops are turned in, new winter or spring crops are being drilled between the vines, our last year’s compost is being worked into the soil and a couple of hundred tonnes of new compost is being made to make to replace it. There is the smell of the earth everywhere: the excitement that the growing season never stops, it simply changes pace and character. Food is getting scarce between the vines for the chickens, but tilling the soil pulls up a good meal of worms and grubs. We have our eyes on a couple of goats up the hill: we’ll need some meat for casseroles soon. Also a time when I start to browse the seed catalogues: what shall we plant in the vege patches for spring? There’s even talk of a couple of Highland steers, which we could pop into the nut orchard, before moving them up to the back-country with the goats. One can’t help but look over the fence and think how boring it would be to do it another way.

Organic growing is a no brainer. Round here it is anyway. You can argue the case as much as you like but the evidence is simple: how many wineries have you heard of who went organic, found they didn’t like it, and switched back? Bio-dynamics is a trickier option to justify, but that is really only because there is a small amount of (high profile, I admit) gobbledigook that gets in the way of the other 95% of pretty uncontroversial practice. It’s always the Harry Potter factor that attracts attention: hanging stag’s bladders full of Yarrow flowers in trees does encourage that, I suppose, but let’s just leave that aside for a while.

I always had something of a problem with the calling card of straight organic farming. It dates from my time working as a creative director within the car industry. So many people were obsessed with Quality Control. QC was the buzzword on everybody’s lips, along with its dumb brother Zero Defects. QC was OK, I suppose, but ZD really got on my nerves.  The problem with ZD (and his big brother did nothing to help) was everybody equated quality with Zero Defects. Get rid of the defects and you had something that was going to have quality. I suspected that, in most cases, if you got rid of the defects all you were left with was perfect rubbish. The formula for QC turned everybody’s attention from the real quest: what are the qualities that make something special, something magical?  Incidentally, that looking the wrong way thing is something I often witness with New World winemakers. You sit in a tasting with a group, going through a few wines… “I don’t believe the VA on that! That’s just shocking” sneers one. One sometimes is left thinking ‘yeah, there’s some VA but it tastes a hell of a lot more interesting than most of your wines’.

Anyway, I digress, we can play that game another time. Organics headlines with a series of commandments: stone tablets each neatly engraved with “though shalt not…” and then the dreaded words: chemical fertilisers, pesticides, herbicides (note they forgot the one with fungicides on: organics is pretty much impossible without the use of chemical fungicides, so some of them are allowed, but nobody talks about that in polite company).
So war is declared on chemicals. But so little is decreed on how one brings qualities into organic farming. Of course, most good organic farmers know exactly how to do that, they don’t need a set of rules, but the intrinsic negativity, that looking the wrong way thing in the rules, grates my sensibilities.

Steiner, by contrast, (and let us not forget that he predates the entire organic movement) leads with a heady mix of concepts for tapping into the positive qualities one seeks. Yes, a fair amount is pretty wacky (though on closer analysis most is not as wacky as you might initially think) and certainly one may be forgiven for thinking that he either had a very iffy translator or had a few sheep loose in the top paddock at times, but at least the guy had a shot at it.

Anyway, we’ll pick this up later. Out of the snows now and off to Dubai. (I wonder what they think about BD there? If there’s a good story in it I’ll tell you next time).