Now more than ever, we’re doubling down on our mission to offer the best wine values possible. And after tasting this profound 2016 Barbaresco from Pasquale Pelissero—and watching it get better and better over the course of three days open—I’d say this wine’s QPR (quality/price ratio) is as good as it gets.
At the risk of sounding like a broken record, here’s why: Because it is a hand-crafted, micro-production specialty; from a family farm in one of the world’s greatest red wine-producing regions; sourced from a prized single vineyard; and clearly built for extended aging. At just $39, that’s a grab-you-by-the-lapels value in my book. Open this ’16 right now and there are plenty of thrills to be had, but as Pelissero’s “Cascina Crosa” takes on more bottle age, it’s going to bloom like a rose. Headquartered in the celebrated Barbaresco village of Neive and headed up by Ornella Pelissero, daughter of the late Pasquale, this is about as far from “commodity wine” as one can get—and that’s just how we like it. Deep and brooding, aromatic and earthy, expressive and long, this is a serious, thought-provoking expression of the Nebbiolo grape. Within the realm of investment-grade wines—which it is—it is in fact quite cheap. So, for all you Nebbiolo lovers out there looking for a little profundity without the huge buy-in, this is a bottle to pounce on.
Pelissero is a well-known surname in Barbaresco, long linked to inhabitants of a little hamlet, or frazione, within the village of Neive. “Cascina Crosa” is the name of the farmhouse that sits near the top of the “San Giuliano” vineyard, one of Neive’s historic ‘crus.’ It has been in Ornella Pelissero’s family since the 1920s, supplying prized Nebbiolo grapes to other producers until her father, Pasquale, bottled his first eponymous Barbaresco in 1971. After he passed away, in 2007, Ornella was on her own—until her son, Simone, came aboard after graduating from enology school in Alba.
The Pelissero vineyards are mostly clustered around Cascina Crosa, and their plantings in San Giuliano average about 40 years of age. They have embraced a farming methodology called lotta integrata (“integrated pest management”), which is an Italian version of the French lutte raisonnée: The aim is to reduce and eventually eliminate all chemical inputs from the vineyards, be they fertilizers, herbicides, or pesticides. They’ve become members of a recently created consortium of producers called “Biotipicità,” which promotes sustainable farming measures.
All in, this tiny property only produces about 15,000 bottles of wine a year. The San Giuliano vineyard has a southwesterly exposition, stretching southward to kiss another famous Neive cru, “Gallina.” The Pelisseros are the best-known producer of Barbaresco from this site (since most of it is theirs), and both this wine and their “Bricco San Giulano” display the nerve and structure typical of Neive Barbaresco; in the 2016 vintage, which is considered a benchmark in the region and one likely to eclipse the ripe and generous ’15 in the long run, this wine was infused with considerable power—I found it to improve markedly as it took on air, and as I said above, it was singing on day three. That bodes well for the future.
Today’s wine was aged in French oak
botti of 25- and 30-hectoliter capacity for two years, followed by another six months in bottle before release. In the glass, it is a deep garnet-red moving to pink and brick-orange at the rim, with the sweet/savory tangle of aromas that make Nebbiolo fanatics like me swoon: Morello cherry, raspberry, orange peel, rose petal, black tea, tobacco, sandalwood, leather, and tar. As fate would have it, I ended up tasting this wine side-by-side with a red Burgundy from the same vintage and a similar price point (the Burgundy was a touch more expensive, actually). While I often compare Barbaresco/Barolo with Burgundy, I wouldn’t do so in this case: Cascina Crosa has a darker, smokier, meatier feel, and needs a little more time to open up: Decant it at least 60 minutes before serving in Burgundy stems at 60 degrees, and enjoy how it slowly (but surely) blossoms. As I write this, a glass of this wine has filled the immediate area with its aromas and I’m lamenting how lacking I am in mushroom-foraging skills: As is so often the case when I uncork a Nebbiolo, I crave something earthy and rich to eat. The attached ‘raid-the-pantry’-style recipe is a good one for these times. Enjoy!
