Barolo 2010: Coming up roses

The Collisioni festival, taking place all over the town of Barolo, provided the opening round of tastings and conversation about the 2010 vintage, which is coming on to the market now. It was a year of only moderate drama, cool and somewhat wet during the summer, but any anxiety eased with a sunny and warmer September, setting up a fine harvest. (The coolness probably offset some of the effects of global warming, providing the grapes with a better balance as they finished ripening.) The resulting wines are forceful without being overbearing, and the best of them are quite elegant (I want to say they're “without arrogance”—they’ll be quite gracious and approachable when they mature, which will begin about 2020/2025).

          My personal picks follow, based on those tasted in Barolo as well as several subsequent samplings in London, minus show-offy tasting notes (the wines will change so much over the years that intimations of exact flavors would be even more ridiculous than usual; also, please note that the rankings are somewhat tenuous for the same reason. That said, all the wines that follow are recommended, with considerable enthusiasm, surely to be joined by many more as other wines become available in the next few months.)

          The top tier at the moment are Vajra “Bricco delle Viole;” Chiarlo “Cerequio;” Pio Cesare “Ornato;” Luciano Sandrone “Cannubi Boschio;” Marchesi di Barolo “Sarmassa;” and Cordero di Montezemolo “Monfalleto.” A half-step behind are Damilano “Cannubi;” Giuseppe Rinaldi “Brunate;” Vietti “Lazzarito;” Paolo Scavino “Bricco Ambrogio,” and Ratti “Rocche dell’Annunziata.” Two others deserve mention: Pio Cesare’s Barolo, a blend of five vineyards that will be ready to drink in a few years, enjoyed with lunch one day, and Fletcher, also a blend, made by David Fletcher, an Australian who has made wine in several places there and in California, and for a few years in the Piedmont. His 2010 is available in small quantities in the US and UK, and is just fabulous. Another great choice from the Nebbiolo grape, deliciously ready right now, is the Vajra “Nebbiolo delle Langhe.”

Rambling in the Piedmont: Vajra, Gaja, and the market for manure

Back in the Piedmont for the second Collisioni Festival, Stephen Spurrier and I were whisked straight from Turin airport to the Vajra winery, for a welcoming reception with several of our colleagues and, in the best Italian tradition, several grandchildren running around the tasting room, extremely cute and happy to be indulged. We started with a new addition to the line, a dry, full-bodied, and minerally Riesling—a lovely and moderately serious wine that made its own esthetic statement, not resembling either Germanic nor Australian styles, but a firm, straightforward expression of Riesling character—and things got even better after that. (I don’t know of another winery that so consistently makes an array of wines as well as Vajra, from the relatively rare Freisa and somewhat unfashionable Dolcetto all the way up to splendid Barolo. One reason, surely: at harvest time, all the grapes are carefully sorted by hand before crushing, with busy crews swarming over tables laden with grapes, carefully culling. The winemaking is undoubtedly as meticulous.)
         As a sidebar to the events, panel discussions, seminars, and visits to winemakers, the organizers put together a fairly formal tasting of a range of Barolos from the 2010 vintage, which were just being released. It wasn’t definitive, but several subsequent tastings in London confirmed our first impression—2010 is a splendid vintage. (Details updated above.)
       Over lunch at Trattoria Antica Torre in Barbaresco, Angelo Gaja made several interesting points. Global warming was a benefit, “a big factor,” resulting in more good vintages; higher alcohol levels could be a worry, but the wines are more supple. And so-called “natural” wines aren’t a fad, he said; many Piedmontese, including him, are working hard to make cleaner, less manipulated wines—not labeling it as such, but simply getting on with getting along with nature. He showed me a picture of worms in soil—that’s what he wants, he said, dirt that’s alive, that can truly nurture grapevines. “I give you some investment advice,” he said with a laugh. “Cow shit! If you can get any, there’s a good market for it in the Piedmont!”