Azienda Agricola Ronchi di Giancarlo Rocca, Barbaresco, 2016
Ronchi di Giancarlo Rocca is hardly an household name, even in their own household. The make some Barberas and I think a basic Langhe, yet only two Barbarescos are produced, both from the Ronchi cru. I preferred this, the regular bottling, over the slightly more expensive bottling, which is explicitly labelled Ronchi, because I found it the more classically styled of the two. Both are 100% Ronchi, but the Ronchi bottling hails solely from a single plot in Ronchi. Hardly anyone writes about the house, and those who do, write about the Ronchi bottling, not about this one. So I had no idea if this would be ready.
But enough background, let me move on to the wine. The nose shows dark red cherries, tar and hints of roses and herbs, while the fruit and the acidity are both as deep and thrusting as you'd expect from Piedmont. But what gets me about this wine are the tannins. They are rusty and drying yet expressive and surprisingly huge with air. This is the great 2016, sure, but because this is just the basic village wine, I was expecting a more pedestrian wine and their size caught me off guard. Also, because this bottling is raised in foudres (unlike the Ronchi bottling, which also sees French barriques), the tannins were not smoothed or sweetened and instead there is a wonderful, mouth-filling rawness to them that only adds complexity and expressiveness rather than block the fruit or parch the mouth. I enjoyed this over-achiever tremendously, it's arguably the best wine I drank at home in weeks, even this young, and there’s enough balance there for a very long haul. (Jan. 6, 2023)
Tenuta delle Terre Nere, Etna Rosso, Guardiola, 2018
Way down south, on the other side of is the other Italian appellation I love. Some call Etna Sicily's Piedmont, some call it Sicily's Burgundy. I say, why settle for one when you can have both in a single wine? I simple adore the nose. A rose garden behind hedges of strawberries and wild herbs. The palate feels almost Burgundian. True, the alcohol levels are higher, but the fruit and tannins have the same velvety texture. With air, the fruit profile becomes darker, so now there are some black cherries. When this was younger, it had a more unruly character, now, it's quite elegant. (Jan. 7, 2023)
Clos Cibonne, Côtes de Provence, Cuvée Tradition Rosé, Tibouren, Cru Classé, 2020
In a nutshell, this is a Provence rosé made of the Tibouren grape from one of the eighteen Cru Classés of Provence. The Cheers site will tell you all of that and more. They'll also tell you that it's a rosé for contemplation and aging, which is true. Here's what they won't tell you, although they sort of hint at it. This isn't a happy rosé. It's not a rosé dressed in happy fruit with the acidity serving as a trampoline. It's a wallflower rosé sitting on the sidelines waiting for the right lover to come along, even if it takes years. The less romantic of you probably want more concrete descriptors. I can't really provide them. I think there are strawberries in there, but more strawberry-ish than actual strawberries. There's dust in the mix, but it probably rained yesterday and the dust is only slowly flowing up into the air. It intrigues me, but I don't know how much I like it. (Jan. 8, 2023)
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