There’s no wine story I like better than that of an obscure native grape variety making a comeback. Italy has so many of these it’s hard to keep track, but we’re trying our best, whether it’s Timorasso from Piedmont, Schioppettino from Friuli, or today’s ancient Roman specialty, Cesanese.
Grown about an hour southeast of Rome in a handful of hill towns in the province of Frosinone, Cesanese is a hot topic among sommeliers, who always perk up when the words “new” and “good” show up in the same sentence—and Abbia Nòva’s “Senza Vandalismi” is both. Today’s 2019 is emblematic of our current wine moment in every way: Its young proprietors are working with heritage plantings of native grape varieties in the most natural manner possible, or, as they say, “without vandalism.” I’m all for this kind of righteous passion when the wine delivers, and lately, that’s been more the rule than the exception in the world of natural wine. Producers like Pierluca and Daniele Proietti are mastering their craft, producing clean, consistent, nuanced wines while embracing their non-interventionist ideals. The fact that this wine is “natural” is almost incidental, a value-added component in a juicy, spicy, somewhat unfamiliar, but undoubtedly delicious wine. If you’re anything like me (or any sommelier I know), you’ll be pulling the cork on “Senza Vandalismi” as soon as possible!
The Proiettis, who are cousins, launched their Abbia Nòva project recently, naming it for the ancient Roman road that runs from their home base of Piglio, over the Apennine Mountains and into neighboring Abruzzo (there were several trade routes like this, including the famed Via Salaria, or “Salt Road,” which ran from Rome to the Adriatic Coast near Ascoli Piceno, in what is now the Marche). They are working with roughly seven hectares of family-heirloom vines, which range in age from 15-80 years. In addition to Cesanese, these vineyards include a bunch of other hyper-local native grapes most people have never heard of, including Passerina, Bellone, Ottonese, Nostrano and Fosco Peloso. Their farm and winery are in Piglio, the namesake town of the Cesanese del Piglio appellation, which was elevated to DOCG status in 2011.
Much of the impetus behind that “elevation” of Cesanese del Piglio to the highest DOCG level comes from its historical significance: As author Ian D’Agata notes in his exhaustive “Native Wine Grapes of Italy,” the Roman Emperor Nerva was “so smitten by the wines made around Piglio that he had a palace built there.” In the modern era, Cesanese del Piglio had been all but forgotten until quite recently, but its modern revival has given Rome something to crow about: Cesanese is a far sight more exciting than Rome’s signature white wine, Frascati, which is made in the volcanic hills just outside the city.
Piglio and the surrounding towns that make up the appellation, nestled in hills approaching the Apennine border with Abruzzo, feature soils of clay, limestone, and silt. The Proiettis are resolutely natural in their approach from start to finish, farming the vines organically and biodynamically and fermenting the wines spontaneously, on ambient yeasts, with no sulfur added during the winemaking process. “Senza Vandalismi” is all about freshness, lifted aromatics, and immediacy: It undergoes a short maceration on its skins during fermentation in stainless steel, after which it is aged in tank only until bottling the following Spring.
This is usually the point in the story where I try to come up with more-familiar wines to compare this one to. That’s part of the game with these obscure indigenous grapes, but Cesanese is especially challenging. There’s lots of red fruits—cherries, raspberries, currants—but also some darker blackberry notes, purple flowers, black pepper, and an array of sweet baking spices, like nutmeg. This 2019 is medium-bodied and full of lively energy, another pitch-perfect “trattoria wine” for your table. Decant it at least a half hour before serving, to let trace CO2 dissipate (keeping some CO2 in solution is an alternative to sulfur), and serve it at 60 degrees in all-purpose red wine stems with something from the Roman trattoria lexicon. There’s a lot to choose from, but I think it should be Bucatini all’Amatriciana, made all the better if you can find actual guanciale (cured pig jowl). I’ve said it before but I’ll say it again: This is all I want to drink!
