Bolzano is a mid-sized industrial city that sits in a narrow valley in the Dolomites, 45 minutes south of the Austrian border in Italy’s Alto Adige region. This is Deutsch-speaking, lederhosen-wearing Italy, and the local culture and snow capped geography feels far more like Austria than it does Italy. Bolzano (Bozen to locals) is a mix of shipping warehouses, cold war-era municipal structures, and multi-story housing projects. Upon exiting the city’s utilitarian train station and making your way past numerous warehouses en route to Heinrich and Elda Mayr’s front door, you wouldn’t be faulted for doubting your proximity to a famous vineyard. But suddenly you round a corner and before you lies a breathtaking and verdant biodynamic farm with ancient stone walls, chirping birds, wildflowers, and rows of vines and fruit trees. This is Heinrich and Elda’s farm and walking through their front door is not unlike stepping through a portal into the past. Nearly everything remains as it was 400 years ago when Heinrich’s ancestors began farming here. Today, as tall buildings, the Autobahn, and a high-speed rail line (separated by a river on the vineyard's eastern border) creep up on it, this tiny and sacred 2.4-hectare parcel of land stands locked in time and remains carefully looked after by the local citizenry.
It’s not a coincidence that this property is fiercely protected. One of Heinrich Mayr's ancestors who worked the land nearly a century ago was a conscientious objector in WWII and a vocal opponent of Nazi and Fascist regimes. He used the property’s small cellar as a safe haven for those escaping the treachery to the north and was eventually caught and imprisoned in a concentration camp where he died as a Catholic martyr. So today, as the city of Bolzano rises and the modern world creeps in around it, Heinrich and Elda’s farm remains untouched as a landmark and reminder of the past. It’s fascinating to stand on the property and imagine how 400 years ago it was surrounded by vineyards and farms—but today, it is the only one left.
Here’s an aerial photo, as you can see the property is truly an endangered species of the wine world.
All farming on Heinrich and Elda’s property is fiercely organic (certified by Bioland). The family farms vegetables, fruit trees, and a few different local grape varietals: Teroldego, Blaterle, Schiava, and the family’s pride, Lagrein. All fruit is harvested by hand, fermented in small steel tanks, and ultimately aged in tiny 250L neutral oak barrels before bottling. This is one of the smallest commercial cellars in the region, and the family makes a minuscule amount of wine. You simply do not see the wines on retail shelves or wine lists in Europe. Even in the US, they are extremely rare and allocated seasonal treats that arrive and disappear in an instant.
In the glass, the 2009 Nusserhof Lagrein Riserva bears a striking resemblance—both aromatically and visually—to the great wines of the northern Rhone Valley. With that in mind, I poured it at a tasting last week with a lineup of heavy hitter Cornas and Cote Rotie, and at half the price of its competitors, this wine stole the show and blew everything else off the table. Despite it’s moderate weight and relatively modest price, this is a profound and aromatically complex wine. The extra years in the bottle have only added delicacy and mystery to the picture. Truly, I’ve never had a single Lagrein-based wine of this quality. It stands alone, with dark notes of blackberry, Turkish coffee, oil cured black olive, fine leather, red tea and fresh wild lavender and sage. The wine’s tannins are fine and perfectly integrated, and the finish is hauntingly long. I urge you to decant it for 30 minutes before serving in large Burgundy stems. Two nights ago I found this bottle to be a perfect companion to this
recipe for slow-cooked Italian pork shanks. The only challenge was not finishing the bottle before the dish was ready to eat! Cheers.