If I asked you to name the most memorable white wine you drank in the past year, I’m willing to wager it came from an island. If you asked me, it would absolutely be an island—the difficulty would be picking which one. Santorini? The Canaries? Corsica? Dalmatian Coast? There are plenty of bangers from all those places, but for me, no one does “island whites” like Italy—and among the multitudes I can choose from I choose Caravaglio, from the Sicilian satellite island of Salina.
Nino Caravaglio’s dry Malvasias, grown in Salina’s volcanic soils, undoubtedly gain profundity as the drinker conjures a mental image of the idyllic place they come from (and, if you happen to be drinking the wine on Salina itself, forget it: it’s the best white wine you’ve ever had). But it’s more than that. Pour this wine in a glass in some white-walled, windowless laboratory and there’s still no denying its empirical excellence. The sunny, citrusy fruit seamlessly meshed with smoky, volcanic minerality. The texture and the tension. The extended vibrato note it holds on the long, aromatic finish. Yes, I’m partial to Mediterranean whites like this because they so viscerally (and affordably) evoke their place. If, somehow, you’ve missed (or passed over) our previous offers of Caravaglio Malvasia, don’t be left high and dry this time. Life-changing $25 wine doesn’t come along that often.
Salina is part of the archipelago of seven volcanic islands (others include Lipari and Stromboli) off Sicily’s northeast coast. It was also, as I never tire of pointing out, the location for the film “Il Postino.” Steep-sloped and sparsely populated, with whitewashed villages sitting at the base of giant, vine-draped craters, this is where you go for the best seafood of your life; giant caper berries; and grapes from vines never blighted by phylloxera (volcanic/sandy terroirs proved resistant to the louse, which ravaged Europe at the end of the 19th century). The most famous Aeolian wines are sweet, dried-grape nectars from Malvasia, which are labeled Malvasia delle Lipari DOC regardless of which island the grapes come from. Delicious, salty, dry whites (like this one, labeled “Malvasia Secco”) are also made from Malvasia, along with reds from a trove of different grapes.
Although Antonino “Nino” Caravaglio officially founded his cantina in 1992, his family has cultivated vines and other crops on the island since the 16th century. His vineyards have been certified organic almost since the winery’s creation, with 37 acres on Salina. The island’s arid climate and cleansing breezes make Caravaglio’s commitment to natural farming that much easier; mold and disease resistance are not big issues here, and the exceedingly good health and cleanliness of the fruit enables Caravaglio to keep added sulfur to the barest minimum.
The grapes for today’s vibrant, sea-kissed 2019 were hand-harvested and sorted in the vineyard, gently pressed with full clusters intact, then fermented on ambients yeasts in stainless steel tanks. It spent three months resting in tank on its fine lees before bottling, and here we are in the July following the vintage, enjoying the spoils. It is 90% Malvasia supplemented with a few other local varieties, and one of the varietal characteristics that always jumps out at me is an orange-blossom quality to the aromas. Imagine Spanish Albariño or French Muscadet with a more flora, fruity profile and you’ve got a good sense of what to expect here: it combines bright fruit and seaborne salinity beautifully. In the glass, it’s a medium yellow-gold with green and sliver highlights, bursting with aromas of Sicilian citrus, acacia honey, white peach, preserved lemon, green herbs, and caper brine. Serve it at 45-50 degrees in all-purpose white wine stems and pair it with just about any seafood preparation you can imagine. Pesce spada (swordfish) is a very Sicilian choice, and great for Summer grilling to boot. My advice? Have a case of this on-hand if you expect to survive the next few months in style. Enjoy!
