We have only begun to scratch the surface of what Southern Italy is capable of, according to SommSelect Editorial Director David Lynch. Today’s wine, from a grape variety traditionally relegated to blends, is a new-look wine for the Puglia region.
When I first started getting into Italian wine, southern Italy was “having a moment” with American wine drinkers. People were going crazy for wines like Sicilian Nero d’Avola, which delivered the richly concentrated fruit and soft texture of Californian reds at a fraction of the price. When we found out that Puglia’s Primitivo was related to American Zinfandel, all hell broke loose there for a while. Over time, however, we’ve learned that (a) southern Italy isn’t uniformly hot and dry and (b) that its reds aren’t uniformly rich and ultra-ripe. There is quite a lot of nuance to southern Italian wine (whose greatest champion is still my friend Shelley Lindgren of A16 in San Francisco). When I first traveled to Sicily, everyone was talking about Nero d’Avola; now all anyone can talk about is the considerably more finessed, aromatic Nerello Mascalese grape of Mount Etna. Similarly, it was all Primitivo (and, in second place, Negroamaro), when I first went to Puglia. But in the last few years, the Puglian red that has impressed me the most has been Uva di Troia, a grape best known as the driving force in the reds of the Castel del Monte DOCG northwest of Bari. Many producers, including Villa Schinosa, use the name Nero di Troia instead, but whichever you choose, this is the Puglian red to get to know better. Today’s bright, fragrant 2016 is a velvety evocation of the southern Italian sun without any of the jammy, ‘cooked’ qualities that doom many Puglian reds. There’s much more to appreciate here beyond its bargain price; I’m certain you’ll agree!
Villa Schinosa is a large and diverse agricultural property just outside of Trani, a village along Puglia’s Adriatic coast north of Bari. The area is best-known for rich, sweet Moscato wines carrying the Moscato di Trani DOC designation, and less than 30 kilometers to the west is the Castel del Monte area (where one of southern Italy’s most important wineries—Rivera—is headquartered). Owned and run by the Capece Minutolo family of Naples, the farm, which is in the process of organic conversion, grows not just grapes but cherries, almonds, and olives as well; most of the estate’s wines are labeled with a simple ‘Puglia’ IGT (indicazione geografica típica, or typical geographic indication) as opposed to the local DOC, Barletta. They do, however, make a DOC-labeled Moscato di Trani.
As with so many indigenous Italian varieties, Uva di Troia has a long if imprecise history in northern Puglia: The most widely believed origin story is that the variety came to the Italian peninsula via cuttings from ancient Troy (Troia), in what is now Turkey. There is an Italian town called Troia near the city of Foggia, just to the north of Villa Schinosa, for which the grape could be named, though most experts agree that it originated across the Adriatic—in Turkey, Greece, or Albania. The best-known Uva di Troia-based wine is a Castel del Monte from Rivera called “Il Falcone” (a wine I sold truckloads of in the early 2000s), but lately I’ve seen the grape’s name gracing more and more labels. And for good reason: The floral perfume and relative finesse of Uva di Troia-based reds set them apart from their Puglian contemporaries.
Grown in reddish clay soils flecked with limestone, the 100% Uva di Troia grapes for this wine were harvested in mid-October (quite late by Puglian standards) and vinified in temperature-controlled concrete vats. The wine was aged in 35-hectoliter Slavonian oak barrels before bottling, and there’s a freshness and nerve to the wine that keeps the ripe, sappy dark fruit in check. In the glass, it’s a deep ruby with magenta and pink highlights at the rim, with aromas of blackberry, plum, black currant, damp violets, lavender, a hint of black pepper and underbrush. Medium-bodied, with moderate alcohol and soft, silky tannins, it delivers velvety pleasure right out of the bottle, although a brief 30-minute decant never hurts! Serve it at 60-65 degrees in Bordeaux stems alongside the kind of food you might serve with a Provençal red (there are some kindred qualities to Mourvèdre here, IMHO). The attached recipe is Puglian in spirit, I think, if not in name.
Salute! — David Lynch
