Uccelliera is owned and run by Andrea Cortonesi, whose small estate of about 15 acres is in the hamlet of Castelnuovo dell’Abate, at the southern end of the Montalcino zone. As visitors to Montalcino can attest, you don’t drive to Montalcino so much as climb into it: the town of Montalcino itself is a classic medieval fortification, perched at about 600 meters on the crest of a dramatic, cone-shaped hill, with vineyards spilling down all sides. Most people arrive in Montalcino from the north (Siena), and it is amazing to crest the hill in the namesake village and start down its southern slope, which opens out toward the broad, golden-hued expanses of Tuscany’s Maremma – marking the beginning of ‘Mediterranean’ Tuscany. Conventional wisdom in Montalcino says that ‘south slope’ Brunellos such as Cortonesi’s are prone to be riper and more forward given the exposition of the vineyards, although this doesn’t always hold true. There’s a plushness, and sweetness to the tannins, that makes Uccelliera’s ’11 so drinkable right out of the bottle, but there’s also a firm backbone of acidity and a woodsy, rustic savor that screams Sangiovese.
It may seem odd to complement a wine made from 100% Sangiovese for tasting like Sangiovese. But in this warmer, more Mediterranean climate (Montalcino harvests earlier than Chianti or Montepulciano, the other members of the Sangiovese “big three”), many producers are tempted to choose power over finesse, especially in the hunt for big critical scores. Pushing Sangiovese to super-ripeness, slathering it with oak, and/or blending it with other (illegal) grape varieties – the latter a cause of a major scandal a few years back – rob the variety of its true charm. More a kindred soul to Pinot Noir than anything else, Sangiovese is about aromatics and vibrancy more so than density, and this wine succeeds because it doesn’t lose sight of that.
While voluptuous in texture, and not without some oak influence (it spends 36 months in casks of various ages and sizes), what drew us to the Uccelliera was its Sangiovese energy and savor: no cloying sweetness from either oak or over-ripe fruit, but rather a terrific ‘forest-floor’ piquancy that transports us straight to a grill loaded with sizzling steaks. While it was a pleasure to drink on its own, this stuff is meant to shine with food. Decant it a half-hour or so before you plan to share it and serve it in oversized Bordeaux stems. The ultimate pairing would be with a Tuscan-style flour-and-water pasta such as the
Sienese specialty pici, dressed with a meaty short rib ragù.