My least favourite question is one that I’m frequently asked: “So, what’s your favourite wine?” I once made a chap at a party quite cross by my inability to pin it down to a single answer. It’s like being asked to choose between your children. Burgundy for temple moments. Bordeaux for purring confidence. Champagne for uplift. Australian for exuberance. But if forced, under some terrible threat, to pick one wine to save in all the world, I would choose Barolo. It has been compared with the great reds of Bordeaux. But this intriguing, sometimes misunderstood Italian is only really like itself. (Or possibly Barbaresco. But that's another story.)
Like Bordeaux, Barolo is substantial. This full-bodied, long-lived wine is serious but, unlike its hedonistic Tuscan cousins, not showy. Despite its firm tannins and full body, I think Barolo has more in common with Burgundy than Bordeaux. Like Burgundy, Barolo is the expression of a single grape variety: Nebbiolo. This Italian vine variety is as demanding of site and unstable of genes as Burgundy’s Pinot Noir. Nebbiolo, noble but neurotic, keeps its growers on a knife edge. But like Pinot Noir, Nebbiolo’s frustration is also its reward: a mercurial interaction with the nuances of environment. Great Burgundy and Barolo have haunting aromatic precision.
Nebbiolo is grown across north-western Italy, but flourishes in the Langhe, in the north-western region of Piedmont. Like Bordeaux, the Langhe is a watery kingdom, criss-crossed by rivers and tributaries. Unlike Bordeaux, it has a ravishing topography of high, twisted hill ranges. As in Burgundy, the twisty-turny orientation of slopes determines the best vineyards, and the best sites hug the sweet spot half way up the slopes. The south and south-west facing vineyards are reserved for contrary Nebbiolo, which needs Piedmont’s relative cool for aromatics’ sake, but her sunniest slopes if there is to be any hope of full ripening.
Barolo’s reputation belies its size: it has fewer than 2,000 hectares. There are five major communes, each with a singular personality. In the west, soils of sandy lime-rich clay give the Baroli from La Morra and Barolo their celebrated, scented seductivity. In the east, harder sandstones give firmness, heady alcohol and density to the wines of Monforte d’Alba and Serralunga d’Alba. In the middle, with the most complex soils, is my favourite commune - refined and mineral Castiglione Falletto.
In another Burgundian echo, the best single vineyards are increasingly bottled as ‘Cru’ wines. These are some of Italy’s greatest wines. And yet a relatively small number of Barolo Crus are well-known, even among the most ardent wine households. Those that are – Brunate, Cannubi – tend to be in the western and better-known communes of Barolo and La Morra. These crus are ancient, their reputation laid down by centuries of local lore and observation, but their status is not legally defined, nor is the use of their names controlled. The reputation of the producer is therefore hugely important.
Just a decade or so ago the “Barolo Wars” dominated this region and perception of the wines. This rather caricatured debate centred on the adoption, or not, of new oak. I spent most of 2006 researching Barolo for my Master of Wine dissertation, driving through medieval towns and terrifyingly beautiful hills in a tiny car on hairpin bends, en route to meetings with helpful, earnest Langaroli. The style of Barolo has settled. Stubborn obduracy is no longer a defining characteristic. Producers look for riper tannins and more expressive wines. Those that use new oak successfully, of which there are many, use a light hand. The best Barolo combine power and fullness, with nuance and a sense of profound aromatic delicacy. Barolo is not a bruiser. I love this wine for its effortless paradox, its combination of nuance and power, and for some of my sweetest memories. An old Langhe wives' tale is that an expectant mother should drink a tiny glass of mineral rich Barolo every day for strength. I was pregnant for the last half of my research, and tasting a lot of Barolo. I didn’t swallow. But a little must have slipped down - my baby emerged a strapping lad. He is, even today, the biggest boy in his class. POST SCRIPT: I wrote and published this post on the day before I learned (via this lovely article on jancisrobinson.com) of the death of the inspiring and visionary Aldo Conterno.
Barolo in stock at BWI:
Castiglione Falletto
This celebrated cru in Barolo’s most refined commune has Scavino’s trademark intensity, sleek elegance and delicate oak, as well as the irresistibly sweet fruit of 2007.
Serralunga d’Alba
These high, stony slopes form one of the most dramatic landscapes of the Langhe. Serralunga wines quiver with energy and density, and are usually the most long-lived of Barolo. 2004 is a nuanced, supple vintage of delicate fruit and sophisticated textures. I love Serralunga in 2004: the commune’s fundamental gravitas is retained, but made more accessible. Giacosa’s wines are dense but subtle. They reward the patient with nuanced, scented and unforgettable drinking experiences.
For some reason the excellent, family-run estate of Giovannia is slightly off the critical radar. They are one of my favourite Barolo producers, bringing a light touch and lovely, un-oaked, pure elegance to trademark Serralunga intensity.
2004 Barolo Falletto, Bruno Giacosa (magnum)
2004 Barolo Rocche Del Falletto Ris, Bruno Giacosa (double magnum)
2007 Barolo Cerreta, Giovanni Rosso
Monforte d’Alba
Barolo from Monforte has a weighty volume and mouth-filling fruit; they are scented and generous, with a bit more heft than the western communes. Three great Crus are represented here, from three excellent producers and 2 outstanding vintages. Colonello borders the Barolo commune, and is one of the most elegant Crus of Monforte. Cicala (a stunningly beautiful Cru) is one of the most sheltered of Monforte, and has celebrated richness, structure and headily exotic fruit. Ginestra is a large Cru, almost an entire valley, on the eastern side of Monforte, bordering Serralunga and giving unsurprisingly structured, muscular Baroli. Clerico’s dense, concentrated Pajana is a sub-Cru of Ginestra and showcases the intensity and well-balanced new oak of this celebrated and innovative producer.
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