Once again, we’re going to turn this offer over to our Editorial Director, David Lynch, for a look at an under-appreciated white from southern Italy. Don’t let the archaic name or bargain price fool you: this is serious white wine that can age!
There are many instances in wine when the story behind the wine is more compelling than the wine itself. Italy has some especially colorful ones, like Est! Est!! Est!!! di Montefiascone—an actual appellation, in northern Lazio, which took its name from a 12th-century legend in which a German priest, traveling to Rome to see the Pope, sent a scout out ahead of him to find inns that served good wine. When the scout found the good stuff, he scribbled “Est” (“It is” in Latin) on the door. Apparently, the scout was so enthralled with the wine at one spot in Montefiascone that he scrawled “Est! Est!! Est!!!” in a fit of excitement. Maybe he was drunk; I’ve never had an Est! Est!! Est!!! (a simple, clean white from the Trebbiano grape) that would inspire anything near that reaction.
This white, from the slopes of Mount Vesuvius in Campania, is another local specialty with a fanciful name and a legendary history: “Lacryma Christi” means “Christ’s Tears,” and refers to both red and white wines grown in the volcanic ash of Mount Vesuvius—soils fertilized by Jesus’ tears as he wept over the fall of Lucifer from heaven. Um, okay, you might (rightly) ask, but how’s the wine? In this instance, in the hands of the Ambrosio family at Villa Dora, I’d say it’s downright divine.
In years past, Lacryma Christi had a reputation as a simple ‘pizza parlor’ wine, hailing from the same place—Naples—as pizza itself, not to mention most of the Italian-Americans who made it. But I don’t look at Villa Dora’s 2013 Bianco as a nostalgia pick: it is a structured, serious white from volcanic soils, comparable to great whites from other volcanic terroirs—Santorini; the Canary Islands; Mount Etna—that we’ve offered here.
Villa Dora is located on the eastern slopes of Vesuvius in the village of Terzigno, not far from the ruins of Pompeii, and this Lacryma Christi Bianco is comprised primarily (80%) of the Coda di Volpe (“tail of the fox”) grape. Coda di Volpe was named by the Roman agricultural writer Pliny the Elder based on the shape and length of its grape clusters; it’s an indigenous variety that undoubtedly factored into the whites of ancient Rome but doesn’t exactly headline the roster of Campanian whites today. But it most definitely shines in the soils of Vesuvius, not only developing deep fruit flavors but communicating the smoky, mineral essence of the soil clearly and powerfully. Supported by the brisk acidity and floral high notes supplied by 20% Falanghina (another indigenous variety), this isn’t just a light summer sipper—it’s got the structure for short-term aging.
This 2013, in fact, now has a few years under its belt, as reflected in its honeyed, yellow-gold color (we were also treated to a taste of the 2006 vintage of this wine, which was vibrant and compelling with a decade of age, with some kindred qualities to aged Loire Valley Chenin Blanc). The nose is smoky, herbal, and flinty out of the gate, with fruitier notes of preserved lemon, citrus blossom, and white peach layered underneath with a hint of salt and nori in the background. Fermented and aged in stainless steel tanks, it is a brisk, pure expression of place without any adornments, and it is starting to take on a more beeswax-y texture now that it’s had a little time in bottle. The acidity and minerality are downright tactile and mouth-watering, and while I’ve seen hard evidence of its capacity to age, I don’t see any reason to wait—serve this at about 50 degrees in all-purpose white wine stems, alongside something that captures the incredible diversity of Vesuvian agriculture. Yes, the best tomatoes in the world are grown here, and also some of the best citrus. Check this wine out with this ultra-simple, ultra-authentic
recipe from my main man Mario Batali. It’s the next best thing to being there!
— David Lynch
