Small Batches of Brunello
By Jordan Carrier
This is another
chapter of the Summer Reading series, in longer form. You do not want to miss
this selection of Brunellos, however, so if you’re time constrained, scroll
down to the bold type to get to the wines.
The seminar was
already bizarre. The kind, older Tuscan winemaker was full of wisdom but not of
English, so his comments had to be filtered through the agent who’d organized
the afternoon event, in the dusty upstairs of a downtown Italian restaurant. It
was evident from the beginning that this agent was an hobbyist translator at
best: we would ask a question, the agent would slowly translate it to the
winemaker, who eagerly responded with several flowing paragraphs using
gregarious hand gestures and at least 2 octaves of vocal tones, only to be
nervously refracted back to the attendees with one word translations like
“yes”, or “five”.
We adaptively began
to simplify our questions, and someone asked what percentage of Italian
vineyards were growing Sangiovese. We watched that question ping between the
agent and the winemaker until the answer came: “ten percent”. What? Italy’s
most famous grape accounts for only ten percent of plantings? It’s, like,
planted everywhere! My hand shot up.
“Is the gentleman
saying that only 10% of Italian vineyards are planted to Sangiovese? That seems
low”
Ping, ping, back
comes the answer: “I’m sorry, poor translation. The gentleman is saying that
10% of Italy is planted to Sangiovese”
Yes, he said ten
percent of the Italian landmass grows this legendary grape, a progeny of
Ciliegiolo, an ancient Tuscan grape, and Calabrese Montenuevo, an immigrant
from Calabria that is now effectively extinct. Sangiovese took hold in Chianti
500 years ago, big time: the grape was the boldest, most tannic variety with
the most longevity that the region had ever seen, and the wines became the
toast of Renaissance Florence, championed by its ruling family, the Medici.
The Medici expanded
Florentine influence all over Tuscany, eventually incorporating southern Sienna
and its holdings, notably a small, nearby hilltop town with an impressive
fortress: Montalcino. With the Medici came the Florentine grapes, and the
meager vineyards around the fortress were replanted to Sangiovese, mostly for
Sacrament, and then everything carried on pretty much as normal. The Medici
faded into memory. The Renaissance became the Enlightenment, which became the
Romantic era, which became Modernity. Since the town wasn’t a commercial
producing region like Chianti, centuries went by without anyone realizing what
was happening to the Sangiovese around Montalcino.
It was changing. It
evolved. Likely because of the altitude and increased solar influence,
Montalcino’s Sangiovese mutated into its own clone; one that was
thicker-skinned, darker and deeper than the Sangiovese Piccolo that Chianti
grew. Botanists called the clone Sangiovese Grosso (means “bigger” but the
berries are, in fact, the same size), but the residents of Montalcino have
always used their own distinctive term: Brunello.
Here are some
Brunellos that I’ve been collecting in (mostly) small batches for a while, now.
My girlfriend, 2010, is included here (the Riservas are trickling in), along
with some great older vintages. I’ve hoarded some of this for a while, just
until I had enough for an offering, but the quantities are low and we won’t see
these vintages again, so don’t hesitate to call me if you want any of these
(and you do). We start with the Riservas: