Today’s wine is the enemy of concision. Yes, I could summarize by saying it’s an Italian answer to Amontillado Sherry, but I can’t leave it at that: Most readers would at least want a refresher on Amontillado Sherry—but there’s so much more to say about Vernaccia di Oristano beyond that.
In fact, only when you are equipped with its history and context can you fully appreciate today’s 1996 “Riserva Flor” from Francesco Atzori. Headquartered in the seaside town of Cabras, about halfway up Sardinia’s west coast, Atzori is one of a handful of diehards producing the vinous artifact that is Vernaccia di Oristano: It’s not a Sherry, though it strongly resembles one, nor is it a fortified/dessert wine, though it would likely be placed among those on a restaurant wine list. It requires some extra explanation—and, in this case, an exceptional amount of patience on the part of its maker before it goes into a bottle. If you are one of the legions of wine lovers caught up in the ongoing Sherry renaissance, this extremely rare Italian specialty deserves a spot in your rotation. Before, during, after dinner…there’s a place for it anywhere and everywhere!
Known as Tharros when it was founded by the ancient Phoenicians—who also, incidentally, founded the Sherry town of Cádiz—Cabras is one of about 20 small communes (including neighboring Oristano) that comprise the Vernaccia di Oristano appellation. Some Italian wine aficionados may recognize the grape name “Vernaccia” from other regions (Tuscany; Marche), but this Sardinian Vernaccia has no relation to any others. The name Vernaccia may be derived from the latin vernaculus (“domestic,” “native”) and as such there several “Vernaccias” throughout Italy, each appended with a geographic locator to tell them apart.
As in Marsala, in neighboring Sicily, a culture of Sherry-style wine production developed in Oristano many centuries ago, though I haven’t been able to pin down exactly when. The Spanish Aragon dynasty controlled Sardinia from the 15th to the 18th centuries, and much of the island’s viticulture and cuisine has a “Spanish” tinge to it, so it’s quite possible the Marsala/Oristano wine trade grew up alongside that of Jérez, but there are some fundamental differences between Vernaccia di Oristano and Sherry—the biggest being the fact that Vernaccia di Oristano is not a “fortified” wine. Atzori’s Riserva Flor reached 17% alcohol naturally, via evaporation over time.
Yet, as indicated by the name, there’s lots of Sherry-like process in play here: The white Vernaccia grapes, late-ripening and loaded with acidity, grow in sandy, gravelly soils traversed by an assortment of streams that feed into the lagoon near Oristano. After harvest, the wine was fermented on indigenous yeasts and placed into a mix of chestnut and oak casks, which are filled to about 90% capacity: This encourages the growth of the film-forming yeast known as flor, which prevents the juice from oxidizing and allows for a measured evaporation, under which today’s wine aged for many years in cask (known as “biological aging” in Sherryspeak).
As in the case of Amontillado Sherry, however, the flor covering today’s wine eventually died off and the wine then underwent a period of oxidative aging—during which it developed its deep golden-amber color and aromatic cacophony of nuts, golden raisins, spices, and so on. In total, Atzori aged this 1996 a whopping 15 years in casks, plus an additional period in bottle, before the wine was released into the market. It started out its life at about 15.5% alcohol, but ended up at 17% through evaporation—no distilled spirit was added, and just 150 cases were produced. I don’t know how we managed to get some, but we did!
“Riserva Flor” doesn’t offer the shelf life of a Sherry or Madeira, but in the 375ml (half-bottle) format I can’t see how that would be a concern. It’s only marginally stronger than the average glass of Chardonnay, so grab a friend or two and enjoy it at cellar temperature (or perhaps slightly more chilled, say 50 degrees) in all-purpose white wine stems. It would make a perfect partner to some aged Sardinian pecorino with some almonds and honey, but this wine could easily be plugged into any course of a meal—including dessert, where its dryness would be welcome alongside sweeter chocolate preparations. In the glass, it’s a deep gold-amber with hints of orange, with highly complex aromas of figs, dates, dried orange peel, chopped almonds, crème brûlée, warm spices, and an evocative hint of sea spray. It is full-bodied but full of buoyant freshness, with a resolutely dry finish—which really prompts me to suggest pairing it with some Mediterranean seafood or even richer meat dishes (it’d be delicious with
porchetta if you’re willing to part with red wine!). I vividly remember visiting Oristano tasting Vernaccia di Oristano with a local dish of sea bream that incorporated the wine. The attached recipe captures its spirit, and trust me—it is
so worth trying. The chances of seeing this or any other Vernaccia di Oristano at your local shop is rare, so take advantage while you can. Enjoy!
