Dozza
Returning to Cosa Bolle, I recently visited Romagna at the invitation of Romagna Terra Del Sangiovese, an organization established to promote Romagna's Sangiovese, and though this sounds obvious it requires explanation: Sangiovese di Romagna is produced over a huge area that extends along the foothills of the Apennines, from San Pietro Terme in the province of Bologna all the way to Rimini, on the Adriatic coast -- a distance of about a hundred kilometers that spans several provinces.
As an appellation, from a promotional standpoint Sangiovese di Romagna is beset by two problems. First, its size: The promotion of an appellation is generally financed by the province that hosts it (for example, the Province of Prato contributes to the promotion of Carmignano). While the provinces where Sangiovese di Romagna is made are happy to promote the wines produced within their borders, they are much less enthusiastic about promoting wines made a province or two away, and therefore the "official" promotion of the appellation is fragmented. Second, Romagna was (and is) the land of wine cooperatives, and until recently the cooperatives paid a flat rate for grapes that encouraged farmers to pay much more attention to quantity than quality. The result was a tremendous volume of plonk labeled Sangiovese di Romagna, and this led those interested in serious Sangiovese to look elsewhere, e.g. Chianti.
Romagna Terre Del Sangiovese was founded by drawing from the four provincial Strade del Vino for the Romagna area to promote the entire Appellation, thus gaining strength from numbers, and also to promote quality wines. In other words, producers can apply, but have to meet a series of standards to be accepted. Thus those who visit the events the association organizes can be certain of enjoying good wines rather than the mass-produced stuff. In addition to promoting the wines, the association promotes other local foodstuffs, for example formaggio di fossa, grotto cheese, which merits another aside:
In the days before refrigeration cheesemaking was the only way to preserve milk, and thus store today's bounty to help survive tomorrow's famine. It was therefore an extremely valuable commodity, and if bandits came raiding, they would take it in addition to whatever other valuables they could find. Therefore the inhabitants of a number of Romagnan towns took to scooping chambers out of the tufo that was the bedrock and lining them with reeds; the families would gather all the cheeses they had made during the summer milking season, put them in burlap sacks (10-15 kilos per sack), fill the chamber with them, and cover the entrance so outsiders wouldn't find it. They'd wait until late fall to reopen the chambers, at which point the cheese would emerge transformed: under the anaerobic conditions it referments, giving off a great deal of oil in the process, becomes crumbly, and acquires a piquant sharpness that many find utterly addictive. What started out as a means for guaranteeing a supply of good cheese during the winter months has become one of Italy's most sought after gourmet cheeses.
And, returning to the reason I began talking about the Romagna Terre Del Sangiovese organization in the first place, it supports travel too.
The second day of our trip began with a visit to Dozza, a walled town in the foothills above Imola that's well worth a quick stop if you're exploring the region. The town, which dates to the time that the Pianura Padana was inhabited by the Gauls (before the arrival of the Romans), was fortified in the 11th century by Bologna because of its strategic position dominating the Via Emilia, and acquired a massive Rocca, or keep, while under the rule of Caterina Sforza (a woman of legendary beauty, courage, and brashness) in the late 1400s; the town subsequently became the fife of Bologna's Malvezzi-Campeggi family, which transformed the interior of the keep into a renaissance palace, while maintaining its ponderous outer structure.The Rocca is now host to Emilia Romagna's Enoteca Regionale, and boasts a wonderful selection of all the wines produced in the region, everything from Lambrusco through Albana Di Romagna and (of course) Sangiovese di Romagna; you can taste by the glass, and if you like something buy bottles at decidedly promotional prices.
The town is also fun; in 1960 Tommaso Seragnoli, a local artist, suggested they hold a fresco show, with artists painting on the walls, and the town council liked the idea. So did the public, so much that Dozza decided do it again, and since then the Biennale del Muro Dipinto (the Painted Wall Biennale) has become firmly established, with world renowned painters participating. You can see all sorts of things -- I noted Coppi and Bartoli, legendary cyclists of the 40s, riding on the clouds -- and frescos that are especially nice are pulled from the walls to free up space for the next time.A visit to Dozza will take 2-3 hours, and offers a fine change of pace if you're hiking or heading to the coast. To reach the town, exit the A 14 Autostrada at Castel San Pietro, turn right onto the SP 19, left onto SS 9, and right onto the Strada Provinciale Dozza Imolese (about 11 km from the highway).
A few links:
Dozza's site (in Italian) http://www.comune.dozza.bo.it/index.html
Muro Dipinto (the frescos and more) http://www.murodipinto.it/
Romagna Terra del Sangiovese (in Italian) http://www.romagnaterradelsangiovese.it/default.asp?id=1
Gianfranco Soldera and Case Basse: If he's right, where does that put me?
Gianfranco Soldera is a former insurance executive who likes wine. Very much, and in 1972 (long before he retired) he planted a 6 hectare vineyard not far from Montalcino. He based his decision of where to plant on two criteria: exposure, and soil, saying that vines need long hours of direct sunlight to give their best, and without them even the best land isn't fit for winemaking. One of the colleagues I was with asked about the Alto Adige: "With all those mountains providing shade?" He shrugged and shook his head.Assuming the exposure is good and provides sufficient light, there's the soil: It should be infertile, with deep natural drainage that allows the vines to send their roots down for many meters and draw up minerals from the rocks with what water they find. It takes nature millions of years to create the optimal cconditions, he says, adding that if one improves vineyard drainage by artificial means one ruins everything. Or, to be more succinct, "Some land is good for vines, and some is best suited to potatoes."
Backtracking slightly, the first Brunello Mr. Soldera released caused a tremendous stir, and he quickly attained a legendary status among wine lovers and critics. Some people revel in attention, while others would rather be left alone, and when I drove up to his door unannounced a number of years ago, he had no interest in seeing me. But he has since begun writing for Andrea Cappelli, a friend and colleague who plays a major role in a magazine called Il Chianti e le Terre del Vino, and invited a number of us to come visit.
It was quite interesting; and also a bit humbling; he doesn't think much of most wine, saying that of the billions of bottles produced every year there are about 50,000 he'd care to drink -- his own, some Barolo, a little bit of Champagne, and he didn't say what else. The appellation system that has governed European wine production is falling apart, he says (correctly, alas), thanks to EEU provisions that will open the appellations, allowing large scale industrial producers much more freedom in moving and bottling wines, and he feels that the buyers for mass market wine sales (supermarkets and so on) have driven wholesale prices -- what the wineries get -- down through the floor. For example, he quoted a major Brunello producer who said, at a meeting, that buyers won't pay more than 3 Euros for a bottle of Brunello. If you consider retail prices you realize there are terrific margins to be had in the wine trade, and with that much money to be made he says the possibility of shady dealing is quite real.
Nor does he much trust producer's associations (such as Appellations, which depend upon member wineries for their survival), because the people working in them end up becoming both enforcers and enforcees, and this is an invitation to mischief. He thinks pretty much the same thing about the wine press -- journalists depend upon wineries for samples, press trips, and often double as PR people, while magazines derive much of their advertising budget from the wine world, and this all leads to a group of people very unwilling to bite the hands that are feeding them. Actually, he went further, saying that much of wine journalism is fraudulent.
Nor does he supply samples; he says that for a tasting to be truly representative a journalist should buy three bottles of a given wine from three different stores, and compare them. Only then can one be certain of getting what the public gets. My reaction? He is of course correct, and though few speak publically about the matter, we all have heard stories about special casks being selected to provide samples from. If one can afford to do what Mr. Soldera advocates one sidesteps the problem, but I cannot. So I ask for samples, and if possible pick them at random from the winery's storage bins.
The other bone he has with the wine press is the influence wine writers exert on consumer tastes. Wine drinkers should, he says, buy wines, taste them, and decide what they like or don't. I definitely agree; a great many consumers are overly influenced by wine writers, and I recall a friend who owns a wine shop telling me about a client who had tried something new, liked it, and bought a case: The man returned a month later with the case less a bottle, saying he only drank 90-point wines and Parker had given this particular wine an 89. The guy was allowing the wine press to second-guess his own palate, and that's a shame. Alas, few consumers can taste the range of wines wine writers have access to, so I think Mr. Soldera's advice that one go it completely alone is impractical.
Having talked for a while, we toured Case Basse, which is also known for Mrs. Soldera's botanical garden; she's as devoted to horticulture as he is to wine, and it's one of the richest and most varied in central Italy, with plants from all over the world ("flowers with white blossoms" -- a large area of the garden -- "are important because they attract nocturnal pollinators").Cultivation at Case Basse, as one might expect, is completely organic -- the only chemicals they use are copper and sulfur -- and when you step from the garden to the vineyards, you'll note that the poles from which the wires supporting the vines are strung are dotted with bat and bird houses: More natural pest control.
The winery is a newly completed structure, made with stone and steel but no cement, because Mr. Soldera thinks cement is bad for wine. Once the grapes reach the winery he destems them, but doesn't press them -- "if you see a press in a winery, go elsewhere" -- rather, his staff picks through them to remove all imperfect grapes, and the whole grapes that pass muster go directly into fermentatori troncoconici, vertical oak fermentation tanks. Temperature control? None; he actually wants high temperatures, because he says that some aromas aren't released unless the must reaches 37 C (about 99 F). He does of course hope that the must won't overheat (one year it reached 38.8 C), but adds that those who don't take risks don't win. Lack of temperature control doesn't mean the must just sits; he pumps it over the cap three times a day for 90 minutes each time. And then racks the wine into botti (large casks, one per vintage), which are in a rock-lined chamber where the temperature ranges from 10-14 C and the humidity stays at 85%.
How long in cask? 5-6 years, until he, his wife, and Giulio Gambelli, the Grand Old Man of Tuscan winemaking, think it's ready. No filtration, no clarification, and the barest minimum of sulfites for stability. Capsules made from aluminum because he doesn't want lead near his wine, and indeed he said he only uses lead-free glassware because lead has an adverse effect upon the wine it comes in contact with.
"Tannins and alcohol preserve," he said, as he drew from the botte containing the 2007 vintage, "but they must be harmonious. If the tannins are rough, the grapes weren't good."
The 2007 was frankly impressive, though it was only a couple of months old. Freshly made wines are usually clearly babes going in many different directions at once, but Mr. Soldera's Brunello already displayed great harmony, balance, and finesse; though he does things nobody else does (e.g. the high temperatures in vertical wooden tanks) it clearly works.
The 2006 again displays beautiful balance and great finesse; it's very clean, and also very, very long. It will be spectacular.
The 2005 is a bit weaker than the 2006, and a bit more vegetal on the nose, with hints of balsam and tobacco as well. But nice structure and very fresh.
The 2004: Great richness coupled with fantastic berry fruit on the nose, with peppery notes from grapes. Spellbinding fruit on the palate too, and it will be very long lived.
"Never write it down. Remember it," he says as I take notes and he pours the 2003:
It's richer on the nose than the others, with jammy notes that came from the hot summer blended into the fruit, but they are balanced by minerality and don't distract. Palate full, rich, and with great finesse.
The 2002: He will have 6000 bottles when he decides to bottle it; it's lively ruby but paler than the previous years, and has a more greenish nose with vegetal accents, while the palate is elegant and lively with clean acidity and great finesse, and is by far the best 2002 Brunello I've tasted.
As we emerge from the cellar, we note that he uncovers the grafts between vine and rootstock (grape vines are almost always grafted onto American rootstock, which is resistant to the American phylloxera bug that wiped out European vineyards in the late 1800s) -- so the cold will kill parasites. Most people cover them up, and this is another example of how he does things differently.
At lunch we enjoyed his 2000 Brunello Riserva: Lively ruby, and with a very fresh nose that has berry fruit mingled with minerality and some floral accents -- beautiful balance and extraordinary harmony. On the palate it displays extraordinary finesse with rich mineral laced fruit supported by warm savory tannins, while lively acidity provides direction and it all flows into a clean savory finish. Harmony and finesse in a glass, an impressive display of depth and balance that is very pleasant to drink now despite its obvious youth, and that will age beautifully for decades.94
Taken as a group, Mr. Soldera's wines are harmonious, but also bright: They have a lively acidity to them that keeps them very much on their toes, rather like a ballet dancer who effortlessly makes steps that would be almost impossible for anyone else seem easy. If you're inclined to the seductive elegance of the International style, for example Ornellaia, you'll find Case Basse an eye-opening change of pace, with much more brash aggressiveness, but after the second sip you'll find yourself cocking an ear to what's in the glass, because it has many stories to tell.
Bottom line: I very much enjoyed Case Basse, and hope Mr. Soldera won't be too offended if I say they reminded me of the Barolo Bartolo Mascarello poured for us when I went to visit him with several other colleagues a few years ago: it was a 1982, and had the same brightness and depth.
Winding down, Lent comes early this year (Ash Wednesday is February 6), and it therefore is already time to begin celebrating Carnevale. These Turtlitt are treats from Romagna. To make enough for about 10 people, you'll need:
The Dough:
10 cups (1 k) flour
4 eggs
3/4 cup (150 g) sugar
1/2 cup (100 g) unsalted butter, reduced to bits
Abundant oil or lard for frying
The Filling:
4 ounces (100 g) amaretti (crunchy almond macaroons), finely crumbled
1 1/8 pound (500 g) mustarda, chopped into bits -- a jar, and see note below
A small glass of rum
1 tablespoon cocoa powder
Confectioner's sugar for dusting
Make a mound of the flour on your work surface, and scoop a well in the middle. Fill the well with the eggs, sugar, and bits of butter, and work the mixture until you have a smooth homogeneous dough.
In a bowl, combine the finely crumbled amaretti with the chopped mostarda, rum, and chocolate. Mix well, until you obtain a soft, but firm mixture.
Roll the dough out to a thickness of 3/4 inch (2 cm), and cut the sheet into strips about 2 fingers wide. Put a teaspoon of the filling about an inch from the end of each strip, and fold the ends over to cover the filling. Cut the filled bits free with a serrated pastry wheel, tamp them down to seal in the filling, and repeat the process until you have finished dough and filling. Fry the turtlitt in hot oil until golden, drain them well on absorbent paper, and dust them with confectioner's sugar.
The note about Mostarda: It's candied fruit in a syrup that gains considerable kick from mustard oil. You could substitute for it by stirring a couple of teaspoons of powdered mustard seed into a sweet syrup along the lines of corn syrup, filling a jar with chopped candied fruit, and adding flavored syrup to cover. Let the mixture sit for a few days before you use it.
This time's proverb is Romagnan: Un gòt e' fa ben, dù i n'fa mêl, u t' sagàta un buchêl.
A sip of wine does you good, and two do no harm, while a tankard will do you in.
Kyle Phillips
Editor, The Italian Wine Review
http://www.italianwinereview.com
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