Italian Whites

Alistair Highet

Writing AS JAMES MACNAUGHTON, life @ home First published: Wednesday, June 25, 2008

Yes, I know there is no arguing that the greatest wines are from France. I don't think the wines of any country can hold a candle to the best wines of Burgundy. And yes, if you can navigate the complexities of the German classification system, and find a good retailer, you will find Rieslings that will remain in your memory forever.Having said all that, in my view, there is no country as exciting, as varied, as pleasingly anarchic when it comes to wine as Italy. And it seems, too, that every day more and more Italian wines are available at acceptable prices that you are likely to be encountering for the first time. For one thing, Italian winemakers are in the process of dusting off old and ancient varietals, and they are walking away from the standards of the established zones to make idiosyncratic wines in a more personal style. At the same time, some of the oldest wines that we know — like the Vernaccia di San Gimignano, of which I'll say more later — are easier to find in local stores. The result is that there is just so much wine, and so little time.What can you say about a wine that has been praised since the Renaissance except to admit up front that there must be something to it.

There is a lovely town in Tuscany called San Gimignano, and the first recorded mention of the Vernaccia di San Gimignano is in the 12th century. This crisp, lemony tart white wine, pale in color with lots of zip, was mentioned by Dante in the Purgatorio, as having contributed to the gluttony of Pope Martin the IV, who ate "l'anguille di Bolsena e la vernaccia," or, basically, eels pickled in the stuff. Seems like a terrible waste of a good wine to me. The 2005 from Falchini ($13) that I tried was delightfully refreshing, and is truly a wine that "kisses, licks, bites and stings," as the 17th century poet Michelangelo Buonarroti put it.I'm not ordinarily a fan of sweetish, sparkling wines, but I discovered an exception in the Rochetta Tanaro "Vigna Senza Nome" Moscato d' Asti ($25). Now we are in Piedmont, in the north, land of the white Moscato grape. This is a desert wine typically, served with fruit and light cakes and cream puddings. I don't think I could stomach it with more sugar, but it was delightful as an aperitif, with gentle fizziness, honey and orange notes, and a nice clean finish.One of the most mysterious grapes that I know of is the Tocai Friuliano, a grape native to the region in the northeast near the Slovenian border. Despite the name, the grape apparently has no relation to the Tokaji wines of Hungary, although some historical record suggests that a 17th century Venetian princess married a Hungarian count and took some vines along as part of the deal. Whatever the case, the grape is said to be very finicky, late budding and sensitive to mildew, which is perhaps why it has only done well in its native soil. When it is good, though, it repays the effort with a wine that is incredibly delicate and soft, with floral aromas, and a nutty, fresh bread quality that is unusual. The di Leonardo, Toh! Tocai Friulano from 2006 ($13) also had good acidity, pear notes, white peach, and honeydew melon, but all very restrained and whispery. I love this wine.Finally, another ancient character is the garganega. This is the grape that is home in the Veneto, just inland from Venice, and is the backbone of the lovely Soave wines. This is a late ripening, hardy character that is thought to have been of early Greek origin and is certainly ancient. Grown in bulk, it can be used to make oceans of unlikable plonk, but for the first time I tried it in stand-alone form in the Valpantena Torre del Falasco 2006 Garganega. This was a viscous, honeyed, straw-colored wine with bright orangey fruit, fresh lettuce, and melon but with good acidity and firmness.