Legendary New York Post gossip columnist Cindy Adams signs off each day with the same words of wonderment: “Only in New York, kids, only in New York.” Our reactions to Italian wines are often similar—amazed, but not especially surprised, to be drinking a wine made from some impossibly obscure local grape grown only in such-and-such province and nowhere else.
A wine we more readily imagine in a demijohn, on a cart pulled by a donkey, than in a bottle on some store shelf in New York or San Francisco. But here we are: This wine is a lush, evocative red from the Aeolian Island of Salina, a Sicilian satellite. The grape is a local, near-extinct variety called Corinto Nero—most likely brought by the ancient Greeks, possibly related to Sangiovese, and definitely the first example I’ve ever tasted. If you love Mediterranean reds, as I do—reds that radiate warmth, sunlight, and herbaceous wildness—don’t miss this 2014 “Nero di Munti” from Nino Caravaglio. It is utterly unique and comfortingly familiar all at once, an “only in Italy” bottling from one of the most beautiful wine places on earth.
Salina is part of the archipelago of seven volcanic islands (others include Lipari and Stromboli) off of Sicily’s northeast coast. Steep-sloped and sparsely populated, with whitewashed seaside villages sitting at the base of giant, vine-draped craters, this is where you go for the best seafood of your life; caper berries the size of walnuts; 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 the sweet, dried-grape nectars from the aromatic Malvasia grape, which are labeled Malvasia delle Lipari DOC regardless of which island the grapes come from. Delicious, salt-kissed dry whites are made from Malvasia (and other grapes) as well, along with reds from a trove of different grapes—not surprising given how many conquerors/colonizers Sicily has seen over the centuries.
Although Nino Caravaglio “officially” founded his cantina in 1992, his family has cultivated vines and other crops on the island since the 16th (16th!) century. His vineyards have been certified organic almost since the winery’s creation, with 37 acres on Salina and, on nearby Lipari, his 5 acre vineyard of Corinto Nero, where some vines are 150 years old. The site sits in the crater of an extinct volcano, overlooking the Mediterranean at an altitude of about 300 meters. 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.
Lately, our go-to manual on obscure Italian grapes has been Ian D’Agata’s exhaustive Native Wine Grapes of Italy (University of California Press), which has a short-but-interesting entry on Corinto Nero. It is thought by many ampelologists to be a distant relative of Tuscany’s Sangiovese, although it has mutated over the years to be seedless. Likely planted on Salina by the ancient Greeks, it is known for very sparse production and is grown only in the Sicilian province of Messina.
From these ancient vines, rooted in mineral-rich, volcanic soils, Caravaglio crafts Nero di Munti as a ‘varietal’ red—one of the few examples of such a wine in existence. For Sicilian wine lovers, you’ll find more similarities to Nero d’Avola than Nerello Mascalese here, but ultimately there are shades of both: In the glass it is a vibrant dark ruby-red extending all the way to the rim with purplish hues, its aromatics announcing its “island” origins: brambly bush fruits like black and red raspberry, mulberry, and currants mingle with scents of roasted bread, wild sage, fennel, mint, and a kind of smoky, humid, turned-earth quality. The palate is ripe, lush, warm…you can taste the sun without feeling any excess alcohol heat or jamminess. Texturally it might call to mind a fresh, medium-weight style of Châteauneuf-du-Pape (or, more appropriately, perhaps, Cannonau di Sardegna), but with a darker fruit component and a little more blackberry twang. More so than any ‘soil’ component, it’s the herbal, scrub-brushy notes that give it its ‘Mediterranean’ personality. It’s a drink-now style, delicious out of the bottle, and best served at around 65 degrees in the red wine stem of your choosing. A traditional Sicilian caponata has the kind of tomato-y, herbal savor to complement this wine beautifully, but that’s a summer dish; uncork Nero di Munti alongside these
tomato-braised pork chops for a wild, exotic, inimitably Italian melding of flavors.
