SANGUINE SANGIOVESE

Color the good life red.

By Rod Smith

Photography by RJ Hinkle at Quad Photo

Most of us have a clear idea of what we want in a red wine. Mine goes something like this: It should have an inviting aroma with more complexity than just the smell of ripe grapes and wood; a stimulating tannic texture within overall smoothness; a harmonious impression in the mouth; fine balance leaning slightly toward acidity; and a long, clean aftertaste that repeats the foregoing impressions in a rather more ethereal form, like a dream.

Is that too much to ask of a wine? In fact, it could generally describe any number of yummy red wines from the world’s foremost wine regions. But get a little more specific in some of the sensory elements — for example, mingle the scent of violets into the perfume and plug sour cherry candy and a hint of licorice into the fruit section — and it’s a pretty good description of Sangiovese. The literal translation of Sangiovese is “blood of Jove,” which is entirely appropriate. A fine Sangiovese is godlike wine, indeed.

And the best Sangiovese-based wines in history are even now landing on American shores. Just the color of these wines is enough to whet my appetite. It’s the color of the good life. A fine Chianti Classico or Rosso di Montalcino has the ruddy glow of a summer sunset — or a bed of mesquite coals in a Weber that’s ready for marinated lamb chops and skirt steak.


A REGION REINVENTED
These wines reflect not only the excellent 1997-2000 growing seasons in west-central Italy, but an evolution that has been in progress since quality-oriented wine production laws were introduced in 1966. In an intense campaign to bring Tuscan vineyards and wineries to the front rank of the world’s top wine-producing regions, every aspect of Tuscan wine, from clones and rootstocks to fermentation and aging technology, has been scrutinized. Every aspect of production has been upgraded. In effect, one of the oldest wine regions on the planet has reinvented itself in the dawn of the 21st century.

The result is a sea change. “Generally speaking, Chianti is a good sound earthy wine with an aggressive, tannin tang: a full-bodied beverage that you take with food,” wrote the astute Italian wine observer Raymond Flower in Chianti: The Land, the People, and the Wine (1978). “Yet this widespread image hardly does justice either to the delicious wines that certain dedicated vineyards have always produced, or to the efforts that are now going into the making of high-quality wine.” Flower was predicting the new Chianti. Twenty-four years ago, he could already see that beyond their Italian charm, the best new wines of Tuscany demonstrate the capacity of Sangiovese, Italy’s most widely planted red grape, to express a dazzling array of nuances depending on where it’s grown. In fact, Sangiovese is one of the world’s great terroir-talking varietals.


TASTING THE WINE
That makes the annual tasting of new vintages in Tuscany an especially exciting event. More so in the past few years, because vintages in the late 1990s were very, very good to Sangiovese. When the Chianti Classico producers showed off wonderful 2000s and ’99 Riservas, they included many sleek beauties with polished tannins, succulent flavors, and wonderful wood violet and rose petal perfumes. Actually, those are my notes for the Badia a Coltibuono Riserva ’99, but it’s a good general description of what to expect from any number of other ’99s — such as Canonica a Cerreto (with an especially piercing black cherry flavor), Castello di Fonterutoli (deeply concentrated yet elegant), Castello di Verrazzano (high-toned perfume and velvety fruit), Melini (juicy sour cherries), and Tenuta di Bibbiano (intense fruit with a hint of smokiness).

The ancient hilltop fortress of Montepulciano presented its 2000 Rossos and ’99 Vino Nobiles. The local name for Sangiovese in the vineyards around Montepulciano is Prugnolo, and a decade of viticultural research in Tuscany has revealed that Prugnolo is actually a distinct clone of Sangiovese that yields characteristic wines, just as the Brunello clone of Sangiovese does in the Montalcino vineyards. (Confusion control note — and stop me if you already know this: Another Tuscan wine called Montepulciano d’Abruzzo is unrelated. It’s made from a grape called Montepulciano around the village of Abruzzo. Go figure.)

These wines are more rustic than Chianti Classicos, and that’s a good thing. The altitude and dry climate of Montepulciano produces riper Sangioveses that show more of a dried-fruit character, concentrated in the black cherry, blackberry, and licorice realm. Sometimes there’s a smoky, leathery undertone, too, which is a perfect foil for barbecue flavors. Best of all, for my rather lascivious tastes, is the sensuous tannin — slightly rough without being abrasive, it gently scours celestial but greasy substances like olive oil and pork fat from the palate and leaves it fresh for the next bite.

Look for Rossos such as La Calonica, Vecchia Cantina, Le Casalte, and La Braccesca. But look for ’99 Vino Nobiles, too. Poliziano, for example. My notes read, “Color! Flavor! Richness and elegance!” And that was early in the day. I also was impressed by La Calonica (ravishing perfume and a succulent sour cherry finish), La Ciarliana (fine red fruit with savory herb overtones), Poderi Boscarelli (simply luscious), and Canneto (if you like oak, this silky beauty is for you).

I love to drink Rosso di Montalcino, the younger version of Brunello. It just smells, tastes, and feels like my idea of red wine. And the 2000 Rossos are fantastic. For all their lip-smacking slurpiness, they have plenty of structure and nearly chewable tannins. Banfi is a good example: bright red, packed with sunny fruit and firm on the palate, it’s like a Super Beaujolais. (Note to self: buy several cases, serve with pizza.) The big revelation for me was the ravishing beauty of the ’97 Brunello di Montalcinos. These are the most regal Sangioveses Tuscany has to offer. The warm climate and tannic Brunello clones conspire to produce powerful wines that require longer aging before release. As a group, these are worth the wait.

Tenuta di Sesta, for example. This astonishing Brunello is one of the wines I’m sometimes tempted to describe with anthropomorphic terms like “insouciant,” or even “insolent.” The wine actually has a personality, and it’s definitely my type. Not just deep and powerful, but rolls through the mouth like a convoy of Ferraris at cruising speed.

And then there’s Donatella Cinelli Colombini’s remarkable Prime Donne, a proprietary bottling by one of the most dynamic women in the Italian wine world. In fact, her entire team, from cellar to marketing, is made up of women — and if this “first ladies” Sangiovese reflects their personalities, they are a seductively powerful group, indeed. The Colombini Brunello ’97 is even more so, truly majestic in the depth of its dark, clear flavors and sensual tannins.

And let us not neglect the rapidly expanding class of wines known as IGT (Indicazione Geografica Tipica). These come from grape varieties and/or vineyards not officially part of the DOC (Denominazione di Origine Controllata) system, including some of the most expensive Tuscan wines, such as Antinori’s Tignanello, a New Worldish blend of Sangiovese, Cabernet Sauvignon, and Cabernet Franc. But you don’t have to spend a bundle. Look for scrumptious 2000s such as Antinori’s Santa Cristina, a lovely Sangiovese-Merlot blend produced at the same estate as Tignanello and Capezzana Conti Contini, entirely Sangiovese and entirely tasty.

Raymond Flower wrote, “It may take another generation before wine lovers come to appreciate the sharp accelerating taste of a fine Gallo Nero Riserva as much as the lingering grace of a Médoc or a Graves, or before hosts will uncork it with the same sense of pride. But the time will surely come. For there is no doubt that its acerbity — its aggressivita, as my neighbors describe it — is sometimes magnificent, particularly in the company of game or a roast.”

I would agree with Flower wholeheartedly — except that I would delete the word “sometimes.”

Rod Smith is wine columnist for the Los Angeles Times and recipient of the James Beard Foundation Journalism Award for magazine writing on spirits, wine, and beer.