Italian White Grapes – The Guide
The Vineria all’Amarone Grape Encyclopaedia Part One
Far back in ancient times, the citizens of the Roman republic (and subsequently the Roman empire) were absolutely devoted to their wine, even in the sense of literal devotion, believing as they did that the effects of alcohol were in fact divinely inspired. As was perfectly natural to them, the best wines were reserved for the great and the good, for emperors and senators and so on, and while popular imagination might generally show them quaffing reds in line with our instincts regarding wine and prestige, the reality is that these top dogs of the old world usually looked on sweet white wines as the best of the bunch.
Though this might surprise us, it reflects the reality of the viticultural technology the Romans had available to them, especially as pertains to preservation. A bit of residual sugar helps keep wine fresh (as we continue to see to this day, dessert wines staying better for longer once opened), always a challenge in the days before cork seals and glass bottles. Likewise, in a world where most wine was somewhat brown, starting out as a mix of red and white grapes before undergoing some sort of oxidation, wine that was only made by the use of white grapes was particularly rare and desirable.
Times change, however. Over the centuries wine has become drier and drier, and wine fashions have been the driver of this, from the 19th century introduction of the brut style of Champagne to today’s intensely sapid ‘natural’ wines. And amid these and other trends it must be said that Italy’s white wines suffered a bit of reputational damage, at least in comparison first to the country’s own famous reds, and second to the top style of white favoured around the world, namely the full and intensely oaked chardonnays of Burgundy’s Côte-d’Or. And it can’t be denied that some Italian winemakers didn’t help matters, with far too much unremarkable wine overshadowing those places where quality and tradition still predominated.
In the last few decades, however, this has changed, and changed so dramatically it’s difficult to imagine that it was ever any different. As ‘international style’ wines have waned in popularity, and a revived interest in autochthonous varietals has become a staple feature of the wine landscape, it’s no surprise that Italy, with over 500 different varieties planted – the most of any country on earth – is starting to reap the rewards of the attention paid by makers and drinkers alike to its native varietals.
And while we may be a long way from the heady days of the Falernian wine which, allegedly, would catch fire if touched by a naked flame, the white grapes of Italy have certainly set the minds alight of both casuals and connoisseurs.
And so here’s our guide to them, the new stars of the wine firmament. We’ve got them covered, from household names to local obscurities (and many of them you’ll find in our shop and bar as well!).
The North
Pinot grigio – Italy’s most famous white grape, which presents us with an interesting problem, given that most of that sentence is false. Firstly, pinot grigio isn’t originally from Italy at all, being a natural mutation of pinot noir that most likely was born in Burgundy, where it was called, naturally enough, pinot gris, before travelling north to Alsace, east through Switzerland to Austria (where it acquired the name Grauburgunder), and south via Ticino to Lombardy and the Veneto. Secondly, as the name rather gives away, it isn’t really a ‘white grape’ at all – yes, white wine is famously made from it, but the same goes for most Champagne, which doesn’t make either pinot noir or pinot meunier ‘white grapes’. Pinot grigio skins are a pinkish-grey colour, and if macerated with the grape must, the resulting wine looks takes the appearance of a pale rosé.
Pinot grigio is very versatile and expressive of terroir. In the Alsace, for instance, pinot gris is generally rather full, often off-dry, with a somewhat orchardish fruit profile. In the northeast of Italy however, most certainly its stronghold in the country, the tendency is much more towards the citrus, the zippy, the fully-dry. In Veneto and Friuli a lot of refreshing, good value pinot grigio can be found virtually anywhere, but in certain areas – Collio, for example – examples marvellously layered and perfumed are gaining a deserved international reputation.
And as for that rosé thing? Well, in Italy that style is traditionally called ramato (or ‘coppery’), and has become increasingly popular for so-called ‘natural’ winemakers, and is notable for its complex, grippy, metallic, even slightly bloody flavours.
Tldr: a staple that’s more and more revealing intriguing depths and variety.
Glera – Italy’s most-planted white grape variety is found almost exclusively in one area making the wine that bears its name: Prosecco.
Indeed, the grape itself used to be called ‘prosecco’, named after a village. A village in Treviso, the provincia of Veneto where the Prosecco DOCG is based? Why, no – Prosecco is a village near Trieste, in Friuli. Details are fuzzy, but it seems the Trevisan winemakers of yore (back when what they mainly produced was still) believed their grape to be the same as that of the winemakers of Prosecco – the village – even though, as it turns out, it isn’t. So the sparkling wine that came to be known as Prosecco was made from a grape called prosecco that was like the wine from Prosecco. But wasn’t. Crystal clear.
Thankfully in 2009 this characterful mess was sorted out – the grape was renamed ‘glera’, the region in Veneto ‘Prosecco’ (with the DOC enlarged to keep supply matching the ever-growing demand), and the village in Friuli forced to keep explaining why it has the same name as the world’s most popular sparkling wine.
And so the Prosecco-producing hills like Valdobbiadene and Asolo are planted with absolute masses of glera, almost all of which is destined to be put through the Charmat-Martinelli method for making sparkling wine and sold in every corner of the world. Glera as a grape is mostly rather neutral and acidic, an ideal canvas for frizzanti and spumanti, which traditionally were less fizzy, slightly lower in alcohol and slightly higher in sugar; increasingly however, they are being made in very firm and dry styles at a full-fizz level, so as to better justify their market role as value alternatives to Champagne.
The classic Prosecco is enticingly appleish, noticeable crisp and endlessly quaffable. This is changing though, as more and more serious producers are finding more and more serious wines are possible within this most democratic of styles. Some winemakers are even taking to vinifying glera as a still wine, with particularly interesting results coming out of the ‘natural’ wine communities.
Tldr: the Prosecco grape has a baffling history but is super-legible on the palate; certainly reliable but increasingly interesting.
Pinot bianco – another French-via-Germanic import, another child of pinot noir, produced as a result of a natural crossing with the mysterious gouais blanc, a venerable if not necessarily exciting French white variety that’s now all but vanished from vineyards. Pinot blanc is often considered something of a workhorse grape, shouldering a lot of the flavour and body load in blends and, in the Alsace especially, producing friendly, inexpensive, everyday wines, the kind of wine a farmer themselves would relax with after a long day in the field. It also does well, under the name Weissburgunder, in Germany and especially Austria.
But in Italy, where the name changes from blanc to bianco, the grape had always had a reputation rather like the one it has in the Alsace – a firm blender, for sure, a reliable ripener, and a favourite for the many friendly and quaffish Veneto whites that liven up aperitivo time across Venice (a versatile food-pairer, it can be an ideal partner to the variety and unpredictability of a cicchetti selection!). It’s also an important ingredient in many sparkling wines, especially in Franciacorta, where it effectively replaces pinot meunier in the classic assemblage champenois alongside pinot noir and chardonnay, and some serious efforts are being made with it even as far away as Tuscany.
But it is perhaps in the Friulian Dolomites where pinot bianco shines brightest, with producers like Jermann and Elena Walch producing examples with firmness, wafts of perfume and surprising heft as well as quick feet. This vine, a longtime favourite of cheerful 6pms across the north of Italy, could be about to take quite a leap.
Tldr: fruity quencher and blend roundener being taken increasingly seriously.
Garganega – the main grape of the Soave region in Veneto, as well as a variety of growing importance in Sicily where it is known as grecanico (or grecanico dorato). A late-ripener with a tendency perhaps to overproduce in fertile conditions, a firm hand in the vineyard can help it grow grapes with good but not overbearing acidity. The hallmark of wines made from the best of these grapes – Soave, neighbouring Gambellara, some Bianco di Custoza and (as grecanico) DOCs in the Trapani province – is a certain almondy character, as well as apples, lemons, white flowers, all that. Many Soaves these days are 100% garganega, and quality young Soave makes particularly nutty, citrussy, and clean summer drinking.
But garganega is gaining renown not only for its gleaming summer zappers. Increasingly it is the versatility of the grape that is turning heads, as a succession of winemakers are discovering that it responds well to a remarkable number of different terroirs and winemaking techniques. That it takes pleasingly to oak has been known for a while; but that it barrel-ferments, sparkles, ages in concrete vats or on its skins with equal flair and naturalness. The technique it’s best-known for responding to is the drying-out, appassimento as it’s known, used predominantly to make the beguiling burnt-honey-and-caramel dessert wines (also known as ‘straw wines’) known as Recioto di Soave and Recioto di Gambellara.
Tldr: famed grape of Soave, vinifiable in virtually every style, finally getting the respect it deserves.
Ribolla gialla – this very ancient vine, once listed by Boccaccio as a whole source of sin by itself, is essentially an Istrian affair. Istria, the old Roman name for the littoral region that runs between the modern countries of Slovenia and Greece, has an oenological history extremely intertwined with that of its neighbour across the Adriatic. This dates at least to the Roman days (and most likely much further), and in the millennium or so following the collapse of the western empire was entrenched by the growing influence of the Republic of Venice, whose maritime holdings (known as the stato da mar) began with their expansion along the Istrian coast.
As a result of this, there are many grapes that you will find on either side of the modern day border between the Italian region of Friuli-Venezia-Giulia and Slovenia, among which ribolla gialla is surely one of the most notable. The standard profile of wines made from this grape, which is known over the border as rebula, is a a high-acidity lemony freshness, full of ping and smack, and some are of such fineness that they can make an excellent alternative to a top unoaked chardonnay. More and more producers are finding that care and attention in the vineyard brings out more and more complexity from these vines, and it has become an especial favourite for making ‘orange wine’ (that is, white wine aged on the skins like a red wine), whose techniques provide balance and intrigue. It is also proving of great interest for particularly zappy sparkling wines.
Tldr: Slav-Italian zinger of greater-than-hitherto-thought complexity and interest, gaining fans fast.
Friulano – formerly known as tocai friulano before the good folk of Tokaji in Hungary invoked their privileges under EU designated point of origin laws, and elsewhere known as sauvignon vert, sauvignonasse and (completely mistakenly) sauvignon blanc, this trademark variety of Friuli is, naturally, originally from Veneto, from where it spread to Friuli, France, and beyond, most notably Chile (where the confusion with sauvignon blanc was committed).
The reason for such a messy nomenclaturial history depends on two characteristics the grape has in common with two grapes it is, in fact, completely unrelated to. Like sauvignon blanc, it combines remarkably high acidity with a certain aromatic profile, coloured in somewhat pungent greens; like furmint, the grape of the famed Hungarian Tokaji wine, it is capable of reaching quite remarkable levels of ripeness, which can make either for wines either considerably sweet or dry with considerable power (northwards of 14%). Due to a tendency for high yields, everyday friulano can be lean, clean, refreshing and gently steely – higher-level examples, however, show a more moderate acidity, complementing a deeper nuttiness and fruit profile, and which can lend itself to longevity in the bottle. Perhaps the best examples come from the Collio area, where in the eocene flysch soils of Cormons this vine reaches its maximum potential as a source of wines with remarkable mineral complexity.
Tldr: Friulian by name and Friulan by nature (sort of), a vine capable of everything from a tipple to interest and even greatness.
Turbiana – the Lugana DOC grape, whose name is a dialect version of the word trebbiano, but is in fact a very close sibling (though not identical twin) of verdicchio, slightly more distantly related than are, for instance, the sangiovese of Chianti and the brunello of Montalcino. Thanks to its distinctive profile and the unique characteristics of the Lugana viticultural zone, it combines the typical verdicchio almond-and-hazelnut with a very distinctive orange blossom and even cooked apple kind of profile, along with warm clove-like spice, with the best examples being smoky, golden wines that can age remarkably well.
Tldr: sui generis clone of verdicchio with extra Christmas.
Cortese – a grape planted across the north, from Veneto where it is a component of Bianco di Custoza, to the still and sparkling whites of Lombardy’s Oltrepò Pavese area, all the way to the Tyrrhenian coast, where Ligurian fisherman have long found it exceptionally palatable with the day’s catch. But it is in Piedmont where it has achieved its greatest fame and success, where Cuneo, Monferrat, the Colli Tortonesi produce renowned examples, and where in Gavi (sometimes, mindbreakingly, called ‘Gavi di Gavi’) it is most internationally respected. Cortese’s aromatic profile is overwhelmingly ‘green’ in character – depending on its level of richness it can be reminiscent of anything from lime and grass to reine-claude plums – aided by what is sometimes a genuinely bracing acidity level. More producers are trying to tame this with barrel fermentation, malolactic conversion and even more substantial oak-ageing, with some fascinating results.
Tldr: with gallons of green and verdant vroom, the Gavi grape has plenty to offer.
Nascetta – a Piedmontese specialty, also known historically as ‘nas-cëtta’ or ‘anascetta’, which, in spite of its having a stellar reputation for quality, was on the verge of vanishing into obscurity by the late 20th century. Essentially, this was for two reasons: first, that nascetta is an exceptionally tricky vine to cultivate, with uneven ripening common and yields varying wildly and unpredictably; the second, the popularity of Barolo, which led to much nascetta being uprooted in favour of nebbiolo vines (and imagine what it means if a vine is ripped up for the superior reliability of nebbiolo).
This is changing however. The 90s saw renewed interest in the autochthonous varieties of Italy and elsewhere, as the world began to feel a bit saturated by the oceans of wine made from the international varieties – and nascetta was one of the great early success stories of this movement, gaining a Langhe DOC status 2004 and its own dedicated DOC, Nascetta del Comune di Novello, in 2010.
Found pretty much only in the Langhe area of Piedmont, nascetta was in the past known particularly for sweet wines, and although most of the production these days goes towards making dry stuff it retains much of the honeyish and aromatic qualities which it backs up with an almost tropical fruit. It is also gaining recognition for its ability to take on oak character.
Tldr: once-moribund Piedmont jewel that’s now a posterchild comeback-kid, that’s big on the perfumes and aromas.
Timorasso – another Piedmontese variety which was rescued virtually from the brink of extinction, this time largely thanks to the belief of one man. Walter Massa, head honcho at Vigneti Massa, worked tirelessly throughout the 1990s to put this historic grape back on the map, and was in fact so successful that now the name of the town of Tortona in dialect – Derthona – has itself become synonymous with this variety to the many fans of this unique variety.
Pretty much only grown in the Colli Tortonesi, timorasso can be unpredictable in the vineyard, but is also remarkable for its retention of acidity despite its noted tendency towards fullness of body. Its thick, green skins not only make it hardy against adverse conditions, but also mean skin-maceration (so-called ‘orange’ wine techniques) yield particularly fascinating, structured results.
Tldr: another Piedmontese speciality resuscitated from near-extinction, and repaying that effort with intriguing, fruit-forward, golden-flavoured wines.
Arneis – another vine, another near-death event, another hero, another recrudescence, another Piedmont white wine story. Rounding out this trio of bouncebackers is perhaps the oddest of the three, the strange and elusive arneis, that was reduced to a rump of plantations that existed mainly to keep the birds off the nebbiolo, but which in the second half of the last century was right in the vanguard of The Revenge of the Autochthonous Varietals (we’ll think of a catchier title).
Perhaps arneis wasn’t an easy vine to love, ripening unevenly, prone to disease, not exactly yielding bountiful harvests and, perhaps most problematically, producing grapes unfashionably lacking in acidity. But one man did love it: Alfredo Currado of the storied Barolo titans Vietti, without whose efforts in the 60s and 70s the current status of arneis is hard to imagine.
That status is now set, as a source of genuinely unique varietal white wines mainly in the Langhe and the Roero zones. Lacking in acidity but generally not in body, the fruit profile tends towards the peach and the apricot, while the high notes are almost universally interpreted as almost inordinately nutty, with a pleasant almondy bitterness and a frequently rather soft texture.
Dorona – well, we couldn’t let Piedmont steal all the glory. It may surprise people to learn this today, but there was a time (several centuries ago) when Venetian wine was genuinely famous and celebrated. Surprised, because honestly when one thinks of good territory for viticulture – slopes, dry winters, somewhat underfertile soils without too much salt in them – one thinks, frankly, of the exact opposite of Venice. But of course this is precisely the reason Venetian wine was able to carve out a formidable reputation, as the necessity to overcome these challenges led to advances in winemaking techniques that its more comfortable rivals had no need of discovering.
The rest of the world would catch up, of course, but even after its heyday (roughly five hundred years ago) the wine of the lagoon continued serenely producing its unique stuff all the way into the 19th century, when a pair of crises hammered the vineyards of the archipelago. The first was the fall of the independent Venetian state, which had a catastrophic effect on Veneto agriculture more generally; the second was the arrival of phylloxera, the almost biblical plague of locusts that wiped out so much European vine stock. For more famous varieties, more broadly diffused – merlot, sangiovese etc – roots from the New World could be grafted onto those in the Old to rebirth the continent’s wine industry; but for Venice this was all-but-impossible, as its wine secret lay in a strange grape that virtually only grew on its islands, and a grape that was now lost – until, one day in 2004, it wasn’t, when Gianluca Bisol, a local winemaker and ampelographer, was doing some work in an old cloistered vineyard on the spooky, haunted island of Torcello and unearthed, much to his amazement, a few ancient, skeletal vines that he was convinced (and was proven correct about) were the ancient Venetian signature variety: dorona.
Nowadays, this strange, unique vine, offspring of the obscure bermestia bianca variety and of Soave superstar garganega, is producing a few choice, prized wines across the lagoon. The vine itself is hardy and resistant to salt and humidity, prerequisites for flourishing in these briny marshes. The grape ripens medium-early, making this a moderately acidic variety but with plenty of blowy perfume and rounded fruit, not to mention a distinctive hazelnut characteristic. Resuscitated not from the brink, but virtually revived from from the grave itself, dorona di Venezia has finally reclaimed its inimitable stake in the wine imagination.
Tldr: back-from-the-dead signature variety of the Venetian lagoon, ancient favourite of the doges, responsible for deep, rose-scented wines.
The Centre
Albana – the signature white grape of Emilia-Romagna was. as Albana di Romagna the unlikely recipient of Italy’s first award of DOCG status for a white wine (this has been the subject of some controversy). These days however the revamped Romagna Albana designation is growing its reputation for quality rather than crafty politicking, and the qualities of this unusual grape variety are finally being permitted to take centre stage.
Albana certainly has a long history, with mentions of it by name found as far back as ancient Rome, while in the 13th century it was noted for its remarkable power, its potential for high levels of what then had been recently identified as the chemical ‘alcohol’. This is partly due to its thick skins, which permit it a steady ripening, fattening out all its sugars without losing too much acidity. Remarkably for such a pachydermatous variety, however, it also takes on botrytis rather well, though given that this end-of-season fungal benificence isn’t something most growers in the Imola area can take for granted, many winemakers prefer to have their grapes dry out as they do in Valpolicella – indoors, in the dry, on wooden racks.
All of which is very useful, as (in line with Emilia-Romagna habits) albana is traditionally vinified to one of four sweetness levels – secco (dry), amabile (medium-sweet), dolce (sweet), and passito (dessert, made from dried grapes), as well as some sparkling. The dessert version is the most famous, the dried grapes offering a remarkably fresh and viscous golden wine of justifiably international reputation. The drys have, however, been accumulating fans, and the versatility they show – from squeaky and glassy palate-pricklers to almost alarmingly rich barrel-and-botrytis influenced wines whose tropical heft puts one in mind of the marsanne-roussane blends of southern Rhone – has proved especially intriguing.
Tldr: romagnol speciality, most known for thick pudding wines, but now flexing its biceps with the other courses.
Grechetto – an important variety that’s rarely the star but often an essential component in blends (most notably in the Orvieto DOC of Umbria) due to its fullness of body and remarkably taut acidity. As ‘pignoletto’ (another name for the clone grechetto gentile) it makes a tangy varietal wine in Emilia-Romagna, under the confusing label of Pignoletto DOC, equally well-known in its still or sparkling guises, while Grechetto di Todi and Grechetto di Spoleto are particularly celebrated sweet passito examples.
Tldr: useful, characterful, full and versatile staple.
Pecorino – another one of those indigenous Italian grape varieties nearly lost to history until the last few decades, where interest both from winemakers and wine drinkers has given it a successful second act and a secure future. Its ancient pedigree is assured, from Roman records to Renaissance registers, but was believed to have died out by the mid-20th century. It wasn’t until the 1980s that a local ampelography hero succeeded in tracking down the last remaining vines, and a star was reborn.
A pale, delicate, thin-skinned grape, pecorino isn’t easy to cultivate, and rewards patience and dedication. It tends to ripen magnificently however, and so is distinguished by this very central-Italian combo of pretty big alcohol and still-pretty-big acidity to balance. Its flavours are more elegant and perfumed however, with a distinct nuts-and-peaches character.
A permitted variety all over the centre, it is most noted for its performance in the Ascoli Piceno area of Le Marche (especially in the Offida DOC), and in Abruzzo, where the cooling altitudes and restraining limey soils really help it keep its freshness.
And no – it’s not a cheese. That’s pecorino. The cheese. Which does actually go very well with pecorino. That’s the wine.
Tldr: aromatic, stone-fruity variety that rewards the grower who doesn’t mind a bit of finickiness. Not a cheese.
Verdicchio – Le Marche’s signature grape, technically called verdicchio bianco, and also diffused in the Veneto area where it goes by different names such as trebbiano di Soave and turbiana (sort of). Or…wait no that’s the wrong way round, as verdicchio is in fact originally from the Veneto – with the proviso that by ‘originally’ we are in fact talking about roughly the days of Alaric the Goth (so 5th century or so). It only migrated to its ‘new’ home in around the 15th century, which by Italian standards makes it practically a parvenu.
But there’s no doubt where it has found its greatest success. There’s excellent wine made from this grape in a number of regions such as Umbria, but really the names of two places are etched on verdicchio’s heart – and both Matelica and Castelli dei Jesi are marchigiani.
Of these two the Castelli dei Jesi is the most famous, being the larger producer and exporter. Its trademark amphora-shaped bottle, which you might be forgiven for taking as some sort of ancient traditional design, actually dates to a design competition in the 1950s. The name, however, is deeply ancient, referring to the tribe of the Jesi and their 12 ‘castelli’ (not castles really but village strongholds) who were recorded in this part of the world since before the Romans. Their territory consists of an incredibly diverse range of slopes and soils, producing wine that ranges from tangy and slightly-bitter-lemony to fuller, fatter expressions that reward time in the bottle. Matelica is a totally different beast, located in the Esino valley that runs, parallel to the sea, along the eponymous river. The topography of the valley is such that it is regarded as a continental microclimate, with cooling breezes and very dry summers. The proximity to the sea gives it a marked salinity, the long hours of sun exposure give it full ripeness, the cooling down at night gives it precocious acidity. Unique stuff.
It’s here that we see perhaps verdicchio’s most interesting characteristic – its capacity for expressing terroir. Wherever it goes it conjures up something new and often unexpected. Not all of that will produce world class, ageworthy wine, but enough of it does to make verdicchio worthy of considerable prestige and attention.
Tldr: (imported) jewel of Le Marche, immensely terroir expressive and capable of age and refinement.
Vernaccia – or more properly, vernaccia di San Gimignano, as there are several different grapes with the same name, some of which are actually red (‘vernaccia’ is a dialect garble of an old Latin word simply meaning ‘local’). None of them, however, are anything like as famous as the vernaccia associated with the small Tuscan town – really not much more than a village – of San Gimignano, in the province of Siena.
There’s no doubt that this is Italy’s most venerable grape to carry the name of vernaccia, but it might even be its most venerable white full-stop. Mentions of it go back as far as the 13th century, while in 1966 it was the first of the country’s whites to achieve the then-new DOC designation (it is now a DOCG, despite having this time been beaten to the punch by Albana di Romagna). Surrounded as it is by red wine powerhouses like Chianti and Montalcino, and even among whites outgrown in Tuscany by the ubiquitous trebbiano toscano variety, vernaccia di San Gimignano has needed to stand out to survive.
And boy does it stand out! Although lesser examples are generally inoffensive lemon biscuit offerings, the remarkable thing about vernaccia is its capacity higher up the scale for making deep, golden, medium-acidity wines of characterful flavours ranging from nuts to cooked apples.
Tldr: San Gimignano’s claim to fame, and the most distinctive white in Tuscany.
The South and the Islands
Carricante – not merely a vine of the island of Sicily, but overwhelmingly associated with one area, known sometimes as the island within the island – Etna. The soil compositions and microclimatic conditions are so different on this famed volcano that it constitutes a completely different viticultural zone from the rest of Sicily, a wine region all of its own.
In common with many varieties found in the south, a historical advantage of carricante is now seen as a disadvantage – namely its capacity for high yields. In the past this made it a reliable crop, a source of income for a farmer to lean on each year, but to the modern eye looks like a sign of unseriousness, quantity over quality (high yields generally mean pretty flavourless wine – if you imagine each vine as having a certain amount of flavour in it, the more grapes produced the more diffused, the more diluted that flavour will be among the berries). However, if a vigorous vine can be tamed, if its output can be controlled, then one can reach a best-of-both-worlds situation – a grape you don’t have to worry will ripen, producing fiercely limited amounts of very good fruit.
Such is the nature of volcanic terroir that this is more achievable there than in many places. You want vines to struggle, to an extent, in order to persuade them to produce grapes, especially good grapes. Volcanic soils are rich in exactly the sort of minerals that don’t help vines flourish and grow, but do help wines taste interesting – an ideal combination.
Etna Bianco DOC must be at least 60% carricante, and the Superiore at least 80% (as well as hailing only from the subregion of Milo). In practice, however, many are varietal wines, 100% carricante expressions which tend towards the lean, the citrus, the zingy, and the flinty, helped no doubt by the vine’s igneous crib. They can respond well to barrel ageing and even barrel fermentation into the bargain. One of Italy’s most felicitous marriages of soil and varietal, the Etna Bianchi made from carricante are surely a breakout star in the offing.
Tldr: Etna specialty largely responsible for the mountain’s white DOC, zesty and sparky wines with a very bright future.
Cataratto – the second of Sicily’s big four indigenous varieties (we’ll get to grillo and inzolia later…), the most planted and in some ways the most confusing. This confusion begins, as it does so often in Italy, with the name – ‘Lucido’ is an accepted word to put on the label of a wholly-or-mostly cataratto wine as of a 2003 Italian law, though ‘lucido’ also appears to be the name of only one of the grape’s subtypes (the other being ‘comune’). Furthermore, it is sometimes known as ‘carricante’, except where the actual grape carricante is grown (i.e. Etna). However, you can’t legally call it ‘carricante’ on a label – that’s just what a farmer might call it to you on a vineyard tour. So, if you see the word carricante, it’s likely carricante, though you probably won’t see it because it’ll most likely say ‘Etna Bianco’ which may or may not be carricante…
Anyway, if it says ‘cataratto’ it will be cataratto, a very useful name to know. Though it has at times lived up to its name (meaning ‘cataract’ in the old-school meaning of ‘waterfall’) in producing cascading tides of indifferent wine, it’s now harder to find something like that which a producer has bothered to bottle and market than it is to find wine of remarkable qualities, medium-acidity offerings of reasonable alcohol whose overwhelming impression is that of peaches, peach stones, peach blossom, candied peaches, and hazelnuts (apricots are another fruit note associated with the grape, as well as a jaunty minerality). A grape that has for much of its recent existence been something of a worker drone is now stepping out onto the stage, and is very worth looking out for.
Tldr: former mass bulker and blender that, with a bit of love, is turning into an exceptional asset for Sicily.
Coda di volpe – of all the animal-related names grapes get in Italy, ‘fox tail’ is surely among the most specific and most opaque. This is in contradiction to the wine it makes, however, which at its best is a lucid, limpid, easy-to-love drink, almost exclusively found in Campania and particularly associated with (and responsible for) one of the absolute best-named appellations in the whole wine world – the Lacryma Christi del Vesuvio DOC.
Coda di volpe is always present in the Lacryma Christi Bianco, accounting by law for at least 35%, but such is the affinity this grape has for the strange, sulphurous, haunted soils of the world’s most famous volcano, which it can attain levels of freshness and acidity it perhaps isn’t naturally disposed to. The rewards for the winemaker investing the time into producing a monovarietal Lacryma Christi Bianco are copious, wines of almost unreasonable spice and aroma, peppery kickers with a lick of salt. From outside the volcano’s orbit, coda di volpe can be a bit fruitier, but maybe lacking in the extended notes of interest on the nose.
Tldr: Lacryma Christi hero, yesterday regarded as a bit rough and rustic, today considered a rising star of Campania gastronomy.
Falanghina – impossibly ancient variety from the hills of Campania, almost certainly of Greek origins (as the name rather nebulously seems to suggest, despite most likely deriving in fact from Latin), and one of the three most noble white grapes of the region.
Unsurprisingly, to thrive in Campania, a grape needs to do well in volcanic soils, which pose particular challenges to vines (principally the presence of sulphur), but which provide particular opportunities as well (principally the soils’ hostility to pests and disease). Tufo, the limestone-rich white stone which makes up so much of the earth in so much of the region, is especially notable for its drainage and airiness, helps push these grapes towards ripeness but – rather crucially – doesn’t retain heat at night, meaning that their occasional propensity to flabbiness is restrained.
The berries falanghina or not delicate things, hardy pachyderms that don’t welcome disease incursion particularly fondly. They don’t ripen easily, taking full advantage of the sole meridionale and those blowy soils to blow up to full size, and in these conditions are capable of sometimes intimidating alcoholic structure (though they generally tend towards the medium-bodied). In fact, to get very technical, there are two subtypes of falanghina, falanghina flegrea and falanghina benevantana, but the differences between them are so slight that they’re often grown, harvested and vinified together with minimal discernible impact.
There are two DOCs mainly associated with falanghina. Falenghina del Sannio comes from the inland province of Benevento, ancient home of the Samnian tribes for whom the modern DOC takes its name, while the Falerno del Massico from near the town of Caserta is considered wildly antique as a winemaking zone, thought to be the same area responsible for the almost mythical Falernian (‘falernum’) wine so beloved by ancient Romans such as Pliny the Elder. It’s grown elsewhere in the region too, as well as cropping up in small amounts in other southern regions such as Puglia and Calabria. Especially from its two historic regions, falanghina makes a deep, gold, slightly bitter wine, redolent of almonds and pear flowers, often relatively strong in alcohol. In general slightly less ageworthy than other Campania whites, certain very fine examples can nonetheless last for a good decade in bottle, especially those made with a certain amount of barrel fermentation.
Tldr: impossibly ancient vine of Greek origins, making stout and sometimes heady wines with a distinct nuttiness.
Vermentino – perhaps it would make more sense to describe vermentino as a ‘western’ grape rather than strictly an island one, as its core territory (not to mention the source some of its finest expressions) extends all the way up into the Colli di Luna and Cinque Terre of Liguria and down into Tuscany, where the Maremma white wines are especially well-regarded. But it is in Sardinia where this vine unquestionably has made its claim on the wine world’s imagination, even if the island is far from being its original homeland.
Vermentino’s diffusion across the west of Italy can be explained by its provenance – Aragon, in northeast Spain, is likely where it was born, which coheres with the other grapes of the island and their Spanish origins – cannonau-garnacha, carignano-cariñena and so on. However, so long has it been estranged from the country of its origins that there doesn’t even appear to be a surviving native Spanish word for the vine. More than almost any other variety vermentino has made its home on the island of Sardinia, and the winemakers themselves have responded by vinifying it in virtually every conceivable style, including as sparkling.
The Vermentino di Sardegna DOC covers a remarkably massive area, all the provinces of Nuoro, Oristano, Cagliari, and Sassari (an area which naturally imbricates with various other DOCs). It is, however, under the Vermentino di Gallura DOCG – the island’s only maximum classification zone – that this wine is generally agreed to reach its greatest brilliancy, with styles ranging from the taut, glass-cool leaner style (reminiscent of riesling with its occasional hints of cordite and benzine), to creamier, often barrel-fermented examples more rounded-out and tropical in their fruit.
Elsewhere, the best Ligurian examples are distinguished by a habit for lees ageing and a distinct salinity, while the Maremma wines tend more towards the bush fruit feel.
Tldr: brightest star of the western (and particularly Sardinian) firmament, capable of anything from tangy and stony to the guava basket.
Inzolia – also called insolia and in Tuscany, more distinctively, ansonica, this is the Italian nutty varietal par excellence, with everything from almonds to brazil nuts to hazelnuts to peanuts to pecans showing up in tasting notes. It requires careful handling in the vineyard, however, to ensure that this fullness and savouriness doesn’t come at the expense of freshness and acidity. However, the winemaker who puts care and attention into its cultivation will find remarkable rewards, a basket of lemons with (yes) the trademark touch of fruttasecca.
Tldr: Sicilian nut salad also found in Tuscany, capable of anything from crisp to cracking.
Grillo – very planted, very used, occasionally despised (but unjustly so!) speciality of Sicily, one of those traditional bulk varieties that, with the the quality revolutions of the last couple of decades, has become an identifiable, distinctive, and perhaps above all marketable variety, capable of top-value quaffers but also increasingly respected higher-level wines.
There are, strictly speaking, two different vines that carry the name ‘grillo’ (meaning ‘cricket’ in Italian, animals being an ever-reliable source of grape onomastics), one which produces fashionably fresh wines for our zesty zeitgeist, and another, apparently older subtype that can seriously max out on sugary ripeness and reach 18% alcohol through simple basic fermentation alone. Both (but especially the first) were historically vital for the making of Marsala, the traditionally (though not always) sweet fortified wine from the south of the island particularly popular with those most influential of liquorosi consumers – the British.
There’s much more to grillo than Marsala however, for which it is anyway only a part of the final blend (along with cataratto and inzolia). Its sturdy, weather-resistant character means wines of somewhat sturdy personality themselves, with a generous, rather yielding mouthfeel supporting fruit flavours tending towards blood orange and candied, as well as a considerable stoniness. Definitely one to watch.
Tldr: traditionally fortified, often sweet, but gradually gaining recognition for more versatility of style.
Greco – not to be confused with grechetto, and also better known, perhaps confusingly, as Greco di Tufo after the somewhat powdery limestone that comprises the majority of the region’s terrain – confusingly, as that is technically the name of the wine made from the grape (itself actually the name of several grapes rather than one in particular, but of which the greco we will deal with is the most important). Another of those impeccably old Campanese varieties, and, as the name gives away, impeccably Greek as well, although exactly of what precise hellenic provenance nobody seems to be certain.
Nevermind! The most important thing, of course, is what the stuff actually tastes like. And what you find is that Campania special quality of peaches, blossoms and almonds – but perhaps less markedly bitter than falanghina or fiano. Its dark gold colour belies a relatively middling amount of alcohol compared to its neighbours, as well as a distinct freshness and citrus hint, particularly of orange peel. It’s especially noted for a marked stoniness and minerality.
Greco di Tufo is a particularly promising candidate for aging among southern whites (and in fact among Italian whites more generally). Over time this pebbly character really comes to the fore, and its more complex aromas can even be compared to such great agers as Condrieu or dry riesling. One of the most intriguing white varieties in Italy.
Tldr: a real rising star, full of pluck and personality, and with an affinity for time.
Fiano – as falanghina is thought to have been the ‘falernum’ of ancient Roman vintage, so fiano is likely the same grape as was known back then as ‘apianum’ – a wine whose name refers to the bees (apis or plural apes in Latin) that hovered around this variety (a naming practice still common today, as the wasp-attracting vespaiolo variety of the Veneto attests).
Is it possible that the bees were confused by fiano’s distinct honeyish aroma? OK, too fanciful, but it’s easy to get carried away with such thoughts. Fiano really does ripen very sturdily, such that it can be quite a challenge to keep its acidity under control, and at its fullest it can reach quite heady alcoholic levels. But the skilled winemaker, of whom there are many in the grape’s Irpinian headquarters, will be able to shape a wine of remarkable peachiness and spiciness, along with hallmark Campanian almondyness and, yes, no small hint of honey.
Those Irpinian winemakers are grouped together under the heading of the Fiano di Avellino DOC, a zone that actually covers a remarkable variety of terroirs, soils, microclimatic conditions and so on. Generally speaking however it is a volcanic region, especially rich in the blowy calcareous tufo soil, itself a great aid to ripeness. Perhaps especially interesting is the grape’s capacity for aging, being known to take well to both barrel and bottle. It’s increasingly grown across Sicily as well.
Tldr: honeyed, rounded variety of Avellino of surprising ageability.
The internationals
Chardonnay – there are nearly 24,000 hectares of the ubiquitous burgundian vine planted in Italy, with a particular explosion noted over the last 20-30 years, naturally in response to the phenomenal rise to prominence in the global wine consciousness during the 1970s. The variety is planted all over the country, and is permitted in a great number of DOCs as a minor blending partner, but there are certain zones in which it shines in its own right as a varietal or near-varietal wine. Especially of note are Sicilian chardonnays, which can achieve ripeness levels undreamed-of by the denizens of Burgundy or Chablis, Lombardian Franciacorta, where it plays a key role in the making of this most underrated of Champagne-a-likes, and Alto Adige, where cooler elevations make for some absolutely incredible wines of real tooth-tagging acidity with all the ripe fruit and oakability brought on by the long subalpine summers.
Tldr: global favourite with some exceptional local expressions.
Gewurztraminer – for many people (including this writer!) the grape which breaks open the magical world of wine, with its famously heady rose and lychee aromas and generous, yielding texture. Acidity, however, remains the perennial challenge here, the quest to find which hardly helped by the type of summer to which much of Italy is habituated (long, hot, dry) – the maturation period for gewurz would simply be too short in most of the country.
You can, however, find a good amount of very interesting stuff up near the border with Austria, which is unsurprising both for the weather one finds up in the Dolomites and the simple fact that gewurztraminer, as the name rather gives away, is a grape one finds all over the germanosphere. Here in Friuli and Alto Adige/Sudtirol some very fine and rather fresher and racier examples of wine made with this finicky grape can be found, flourishing with the reliable but broadly cool summers.
Tldr: the definition of ‘aromatic’ in wine – give it some altitude and it can sing.
Sauvignon blanc – the grand grape of the Loire, perhaps best known to many wine fans as the grassy fuel of the New Zealand wine industry, is permitted as a minor ingredient in many a DOC blend but only really shines in very select locations in Italy, typically those areas which manage to ape the soils of Pouilly-Fumé to an appreciable degree. It is also a grape that flourishes in cooler climates, as Bordeaux and Marlborough will attest, meaning that only certain breezy and high altitude areas of Italy will succeed in giving it the long maturation on the vine that it needs – essentially, Collio in Friuli (though some other areas, such as the hills on the Veneto shores of Lake Garda, can do the trick as well).
Tldr: famed green grass aromatic flourishes in certain select spots.
Some confusing categories
Trebbiano – it is, I’m afraid, time to once again greet our old friend Confusion. Italian grapes didn’t generally acquire their names in any organised way – no centralised committee with an eye on keeping things easy for the consumer was involved at any stage. Instead, farmers gave names to vines over centuries, basing their efforts on supposition, hearsay, guesswork, vibes and, often, amateur ornithology. The vendor sighs; the marketer scrambles; the customer despairs.
‘Trebbiano’ you see is a name given to many grapes all over Italy, most of which share basically no relevant genetic relationship beyond ‘being grapes’. OK, maybe that’s a touch exaggerated, but they really aren’t especially related at all, these various trebbianii, no more than say merlot and monastrell are related. Rather they all seem to have been named after various towns around the peninsula called ‘Trebula’, itself a word whose etymology remains hidden (such is life in Italian ampelography, as anyone who’s tried to trace the roots of the various red-makers called ‘bonarda’ can attest!).
At least 5 of these various grapes with the name ‘trebbiano’ are considered notable, so let’s cover them here:
- trebbiano toscano is the most widely planted, and among the most planted varieties in Italy (and, therefore, the world). Probably its best known product isn’t wine at all but Cognac, the brandy for which it makes the base wine that is then distilled, and where it goes by the French name ugni blanc. In Italy, as the name suggests, it is most associated with Tuscany, where it was traditionally used not only to make fresh everyday whites but also to add a bit of zip to Chianti (this has since been outlawed). Other than that, this reliable if neutral vine plays its part in an enormous number of different DOCs across Italy, with perhaps its most notable partners being the grechetto of Orvieto and the garganega of Soave, where its job is to provide zing and steel.
- trebbiano d’Abruzzo has its own DOC, whose wines have tended towards the basic end but are more and more starting to show some intriguing stoniness and backbone.
- trebbiano spoletino is, by general consent, the most interesting of this gang, responsible for the Umbrian Spoleto DOC wines and gaining a reputation as being extremely terroir expressive, including when made with minimum intervention techniques. To be labelled with the Trebbiano Spoletino DOC a wine must contain at least 85% of the grape, and can be dry or sweet (as a passito), still or sparkling (from either metodo classico or Charmat-Martinelli method). Perhaps the most remarkable thing about the grape, in fact, is just how much it can vary, from refreshing palate-cleansers to aromatic bouquets to even taking on oak, and that’s all just as a still, dry wine. Its trademark characteristics, however, seem to be a surprising fullness of body and a pronounced spicy tendency. The best are even showing signs of responding well to a good time spent in the cellar. A fascinating variety sure to grow in importance.
- trebbiano giallo & trebbiano modenese are two very distinct varieties found in different parts of the country (TG mostly in Lazio, TM in Emilia-Romagna), not united by much other than their propensity for making more vinegar than wine. Trebbiano modenese in particular is important for being one of the most important grapes used in the production of Aceto Balsamico DOP.
- trebbiano romagnolo is heavily-planted, mostly in the Romagna half of Emilia-Romagna, a variety whose high natural acidity makes it very useful in adding punch to blends.
Tldr: a rather diverse group of grapes of very variable character and usefulness.
Malvasia – okay, fine, this one’s our fault. Malvasia is a word I’m sure you’ve come across on a wine label, and I’m equally sure that it was very hard to find anything like a similar wine to the one you had bearing that name. The simple reason for that is that ‘malvasia’ isn’t the name of a grape – or at least, not of one grape. But before that, a touch of history.
The Republic of Venice retained its independence from the Carolingian Empire and subsequent Holy Roman efforts to subsume all of northern Italy largely thanks to an alliance with the Byzantines, initiating from the days of the Exarchate of Ravenna, the Byzantine capital in Italy for a time and Venice’s neighbour on the Adriatic coast. After a time, however, Venice rather spectacularly bit the hand that had fed it, eventually sponsoring the infamous Fourth Crusade’s sack of Constantinople, from which they took a considerable amount of loot (including most notoriously the four bronze horses once adorning the hippodrome, now fronting the Basilica of St Mark’s) and – finally relevant to our story – a rather large amount of land, mostly in what is now modern-day Greece.
Among these holdings was an important port city on the southern coast of the Peloponnese called Monemvasia, a vital hub for much of the regional trade in olive oil, in spices coming from India via the Middle East – and for wine. The Venetians, unfortunately, couldn’t quite pronounce the name of this city, and over time garbled it into the now-familiar word ‘Malvasia’ – and the name got attached to the wine which came through this port city as well. (We in English were no better, somehow managing to pronounce the word ‘malmsey’, as Shakespeare attests.)
Sadly, it’s actually at this point that things get complicated. Were the various vines that got planted around Istria, the Veneto and the broader Italian peninsula that bore the name ‘malvasia’ all brought from this port? Or through it? Or did the wine they make simply resemble that brought from – or through – this port? We will likely never know. What we do know is that these days we have to deal with tons of different grapes (at least 84 at last count) carrying the name ‘malvasia’ in some form or other.
So, thanks Venice. But don’t despair – we’re not going to go through all of them. We need only look at a few, and really these are the versions of the grape you are most likely to encounter:
- malvasia istriana is the version you will most likely find up here where we are (in the north east). It’s mostly found around Veneto, Friuli and up and down the Balkan (or Istrian) coast, much of which by no coincidence used to be territory under the control of the Venetian Republic. It is perhaps the least aromatic of the malvasia varieties, the leanest, zestiest, and most acidic, though certainly carrying about with it a certain orange-peel-and-flowers aroma.
- malvasia di Candia is named not only for the Venetianised name of Monemvasia, but also for the Venetianised name of its prized Greek holding back in the day – Crete. This grape, much more towards the aromatic end of things (‘aromatic’ effectively means ‘smells sweet, tastes dry’), is mostly planted in Emilia-Romagna, particularly in the areas around Parma and Piacenza, and in Lombardy, where it can be found in Oltrepò Pavese.
- malvasia toscana, also known as malvasia bianca lunga is, naturally, mostly found in Tuscany, where it adds organoleptic interest to some blends with more neutral trebbiano toscano (see above).
- malvasia puntinata sometimes goes under the name malvasia del Lazio, a perhaps decisive clue as to where to find it. It retains a good amount of acidity in the hot and the dry found around that region, and can be made into dessert wines with a particularly pleasing candied orange peel aspect.
- malvasia moscata, sometimes called malvasia bianca di Piemonte, is all but extinct in Italy now, but is the vast majority of the malvasia you’ll find from California. So just bear in mind that, if this malvasia is your frame of reference, the ones you find in Italy will almost definitely be very different indeed!
- malvasia nera is a black-berried vine, and therefore red.
- if you ask someone ‘what kind of malvasia is this’ and they respond ‘malvasia bianca’, they are not helping.
There are others (oh boy are there others!), but this is most likely enough to be getting on with. If you encounter some other malvasia, do remember that there’s likely no relation to any other malvasia encountered here or elsewhere – but also, that there might be, and it would take a very determined botanist to get at the truth.
So don’t worry – be happy, indeed, and rejoice in this most confused but felicitous Veneto-Greek category of wine. After all, what’s life without a bit of dizzy contentment?
Tldr: Venice is to be blamed for a sprawling category of mostly unrelated grapes but which generally share deceptively sweet aromatic properties.
Moscato – we’re so sorry, but it doesn’t get any easier. In fact, this is probably the most irritatingly finicky grape name out there, a whole universe of obfuscation, taxonomical error and cheerful ignorance. While the grape is known as ‘muscat’ in English, there is one wine in particular which the anglosphere refers to by the Italianised ‘moscato’ – but we’ll come onto that.
The facts are that there are more than 200 separate varieties carrying some version of the muscat (or moscato) name, many of which are surely the same grape and some of which are surely clones of grapes better known by other designations. There are also grapes called things like ‘muscadelle’ which recall but aren’t technically muscat (or more specifically its Spanish appellation, ‘moscatel’). So, thank goodness I’m about to save you 99% of the time you might otherwise have spent thumbing desperately through a neverending grape dictionary entry, as there are only two varieties you’ve really got to bear in mind:
- moscato giallo, the Italian name for muscat blanc à petit grains, a grape famously responsible for dessert wines such as the renowned Beaumes de Venise (that’s nothing to do with our ‘Venise’, by the way, just in case you thought Italy was the only country capable of utter onomastic chaos). Moscato giallo can be found up and down Italy, but easily its most celebrated iteration is Moscato d’Asti, the gently sweet Piedmontese sparkler that barely tops 5% in alcohol and carries notes of burnt honey and – there’s no way around this – grapes. It is also particularly well-known around the north-east for making these honeyish wines in a dry style, and in the Colli Euganei Fior d’Arancio DOC it makes both sweet and dry wines, as well as a sparkling style which (likewise) can be sweet or dry. Moscato giallo is beloved for its gentle sweetness, but perhaps it should be recognised more for its versatility as well.
- moscato d’Alessandria (of course known in English as muscat of Alexandria) is the less planted, often somewhat more rough and rustic cousin of moscato giallo, the grape generally known as ‘moscatel’ in Spain, and used the world over to make lowish alcohol, highish sugar tooth-melters of varying quality. However, in Sicily it has acheived a level of greatness that few would have thought it capable of under the beguiling dialect name of zibibbo. While some dry wines are made under this name, and hauntingly aromatic though they can be, it is on viscous, rich dessert wines that zibibbo has staked its reputation, especially from the tiny island of Pantelleria, off the southern coast of the main island of Sicily. A grape that in lesser hands can prove a bit basic and uninviting can, given the right care and circumstances, produce truly world class wines.
Tldr: mainly (but not exclusively) dessert wines from mainly (and almost exclusively) two similarly-named grapes.
In closing
That last line of the moscato d’Alessandria entry could stand for an awful lot of Italian white grapes. White wine was in general less prized than red during the 70s and 80s wine commodity boom, and those that found prestige were generally those that in some way could match reds for obvious weight and character (in practice this meant oaky chardonnay).The strange, often savoury, seldom tropical whites of Italy were always going to find it a bit difficult to get cut-through in this environment, a situation not helped by the sometimes careless practices in the vineyards and general overproduction Italy was guilty of back in the day.
But how often do we find that some forgotten vine turned up in a cloister or a back garden and, thanks to the belief and skill of a local champion, hasn’t just survived but in fact flourished? Fashions have changed, unusual is in, and all manner of daring and different varieties from albana to zibibbo have found themselves suddenly thrust into the limelight. We’ve barely scratched the surface here of the simply ludicrous quantity and variety of indigenous vines found across the peninsula (anyone for albarola? erbamat? vitovska?). So has the wine world, however – in terms of white wine, despite its ancient pedigree, stretching back to the Romans and beyond, you feel like Italy’s only just getting started.
Photo credits to: Consorzio Barbera d’Asti e Vini del Monferrato, PerBacco se brindavano nell’antica Roma! – Ethea, I 13 migliori Pinot Bianco dell’Alto Adige e del Friuli Venezia Giulia al di sotto di 20 euro scelti dal Gambero Rosso – Gambero Rosso, Il vigneto urbano di San Francesco della vigna a Venezia, White wine vs. red wine: key differences in grape varieties – The Mill Keeper, Orvieto it | www.umbriatourism.it, Vesuvio: bus da Napoli e biglietti di ingresso, The chardonnay that will convince chardonnay haters | Salon.com, Chardonnay | La storia del vitigno, caratteristi e ampelografia
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