In our ongoing quest to drink through Italy’s seemingly limitless supply of indigenous grapes, we find ourselves in the Sardinian village of Serdiana, just a short drive northeast of the regional capital, Cagliari. This is considered one of the ideal locales for growing the Nuragus grape, one of those “here and nowhere else” varieties Italy is so famous for.
As for the maker of today’s wine, Antonella Corda, well, you might say that Nuragus is in her blood: Her grandfather, the Sardinian wine icon Antonio Argiolas, produces perhaps the most famous expression of the variety, “S’Elegas,” so named for another key township outside Cagliari. Working in vineyards she’s known intimately since childhood, Antonella Corda launched her own wine label in 2010 and enjoyed runaway success from the jump: Every wine in her locally focused lineup is so assured and authentic I can’t help but jump at the chance to offer one when the opportunity arises. Corda is like a chef who sources nearly all her ingredients from a garden right outside the kitchen door, and today’s 2019 is like opening that door to the smell of morning dew and trees full of fruit. Like so many Italian rarities, there are very few producers of Nuragus and few useful comparables I can give you, other than to say that it is familiar—unoaked, delicately aromatic, textured, mineral—and foreign in equal measure. It’s immensely satisfying, it’s unique to one prescribed place, and it’s affordable. Why else do we drink wine but to discover bottles like this one?
With Nuragus, there isn’t even a genetic relationship to some more familiar variety to help its cause. This is as local as it gets. Most experts think the name derives from nuraghe (nuraghi plural), the name for the prehistoric stone huts that can still be found scattered around Sardinia today. The variety is widely planted on the island, second in acreage only to Vermentino, but the area around Cagliari is considered ideal, as the name of the DOC designation—Nuragus di Cagliari—would suggest. Vineyards in Serdiana and the surrounding villages rise to some decent elevations (200+ meters) and the soils are pebbly limestone marls. It’s a hot, arid climate and yet I wouldn’t peg Corda’s ’19 as a “hot-climate” white if tasting it blind. It has some texture but is characterized by snappy green/yellow fruits and a hint of chalky minerality vaguely reminiscent of Chablis.
Corda’s 40-hectare farm in Serdiana includes 15 hectares planted to vineyards and 12 to olive groves, all farmed organically (non-certified). She works with the well-traveled winemaking consultant Luca D’Attoma to craft her tight lineup of wines (two Vermentinos; this Nurgaus; and a plush red Cannonau), but there is no consultant’s “imprint” to be found on any of them—just clean, pure fruit flavors and the right touch of earthy savor. The Nuragus is fermented and aged in stainless steel only, producing a lip-smacking white that sends my brain immediately to a fresh grilled branzino, stuffed with lemon and herbs and drizzled with the greenest, most viscous olive oil I can lay my hands on. In the glass, it’s a pale straw-gold with green and silver, with aromas of green apple, pear, a touch of apricot, wet gravel, and cut grass. There’s less sage-y, minty herbaceousness than in Vermentino, but more chalk and stone. No need for any heavy prep on this one—just pop and pour and keep a second bottle at the ready. This is a white for beachside, poolside, or grill-side sipping, preferably as you prepare the above-mentioned branzino. Attached is a recipe for a simple salmoriglio sauce to go with it, to put you in the Mediterranean island spirit. This white will take you there on its own, but why not go all-in? Enjoy!
