VINOUS.COM – Chianti Classico on the rise

In the 1990s, almost every winemaker in Tuscany was planting Merlot and Cabernet Sauvignon. International demand was clear, the prices were right, and old native varieties seemed old-fashioned and difficult by comparison. San Felice did the opposite. On a plot of land near the village of Castelnuovo Berardenga, the Vitiarium was established – an experimental vineyard where over 270 endangered Tuscan grape varieties were planted, in collaboration with the universities of Florence and Pisa. Not for the market. For the future.

Carnasciale Botte Grande is a fascinating expression of that Tuscan individuality which makes the small Il Carnasciale vineyard, perched high above the Arno Valley, so unique. This single-varietal Caberlot – a rare, almost unknown variety and a cross between Cabernet and Merlot – grows on barren, stony terraced slopes at altitudes of up to 520 metres above sea level. The 2022 vintage was characterised by a warm, though not extreme, summer and cool nights in September – ideal conditions for a slow, phenolically mature harvest. 

There are wines that you count – by points, by vintages and, every now and then, by price. And then there's VinSanGiusto. That one is counted and judged by rare experiences. Malvasia and Trebbiano are harvested by hand once the grapes have reached the desired level of ripeness. Then comes the most unusual part: the grapes are dried on racks in well-ventilated rooms. Not just a few weeks – around 140 days. For almost five months, they lose water, concentrating their sugars, acids and aromas. Then they are pressed. What follows is a true anachronism in the best sense of the word. The must is transferred to small chestnut barrels – 40 to 180 Liters – and stored in attics, where it is exposed to seasonal temperature fluctuations. Summer and winter, heat and cold, year after year. Six years. During this time, it ferments and develops slowly, without any intervention. 40% of the liquid evaporates, which also explains its extraordinary concentration. No rush, no control, no shortcuts. Then comes filtration: drop by drop through Dutch cloth. Then 18 months in the bottle. And not a single gram of added sulphur.

Gallule – a name that drifts over the hills of Castellina like a gentle breeze from times long past. It is the Lombard term for what was once the heart of this magical place: the "galla", the acorns of the centuries-old oak trees that dominate the vast valley at the foot of the hills. Here, where as early as 994 the son of the Lombard King Berengario bestowed this land upon his bride as a wedding gift, one of the region's most exceptional Chianti Classico wines is produced today. The vines that breathe life into this Gran Selezione are rooted in terraces laid out by human hands centuries ago – stone witnesses to a time when viticulture was still a craft. These UNESCO-protected terraces, nestled amongst olive trees and cypresses, create a microclimate of unique harmony. The galestro-rich soils, interspersed with limestone and sedimentary pebbles, allow the Sangiovese roots to penetrate deep into the earth and extract the minerality that gives the wine its unmistakable character.

Since 1995, Le Cupole has been the accessible gateway to the world of the legendary Tenuta di Trinoro, yet at this visionary winery, "accessible" never means compromise. In the Val d'Orcia, where southern Tuscany reveals its wild and unspoilt side, near Sarteano on the border with Umbria and Lazio, the eccentric scion of the Cinzano empire and nephew of the American painter Cy Twombly created a wine paradise at an altitude of 500 to 700 metres, which was initially considered madness. Le Cupole is made from the same Bordeaux blend as the great Tenuta di Trinoro – Merlot, Cabernet Franc, Cabernet Sauvignon and Petit Verdot – but comes from younger vines on deeper, less extreme soils. The proportions vary depending on the vintage in order to best reflect the characteristics of the harvest.

In 1961, Aldo Bianchi bought the dilapidated Castello di Monsanto. His son Fabrizio looked out over the landscape from the hill known as Il Poggio – the highest point on the estate: San Gimignano to the west, the Apuan Alps to the north, and Monte Amiata to the south. What he saw was more than just a view. He saw a vineyard that had something unique to express. In 1962, he had the grapes from Il Poggio vinified and bottled separately – for the first time in the history of Chianti Classico. A single-vineyard cru, inspired by Burgundy's Premiers Crus, in a region that at the time did not even have its own appellation. The decision changed Chianti Classico forever. Today, after more than six decades of uninterrupted production, Il Poggio is one of those wines whose name needs no further explanation. The vineyard lies at an altitude of 300 metres; the soils, composed of galestro and calcareous marl, give the Sangiovese a mineral structure not found in other vineyards.

San Leolino was already considered a cru site 200 years ago. Above the thousand-year-old Pieve, the Romanesque chapel that has been documented since 982, terraces run through the upper part of the Conca d'Oro. In the 15th century, Giovanni Manetti found drawings in the University of Florence that proved that this slope was once completely planted with vines. What followed was a rebirth: the terraces were renewed, 4.5 hectares at an altitude of 450 to 500 metres, on Alberese limestone. These soils are fundamentally different from the slatey Galestro of the Vigna del Sorbo – here, hard limestone dominates, giving freshness, brightness and mineral precision. The pandemic years gave Giovanni the leisure to walk through his vineyards, to reflect. He realised that this parcel has its own identity, a terroir that calls for separate vinification. The first vintage was 2019, the fourth now 2022. Production remains small: only 5,000 bottles.

It was a provocation. When Paolo De Marchi began planting Chardonnay on the hills of San Donato in Poggio in the late 1970s, the response from the Chianti Classico region was unequivocal: that wasn't what they did here. This is Sangiovese country. An obsession with international grape varieties. Paolo planted it anyway – on six hectares that hardly anyone would have considered suitable for Chardonnay: north-facing, at over 400 metres, completely surrounded by woodland, on soils of limestone, marl and galestro that have defined Chianti Classico for its red wines.

Black as the night – is how Andrea Franchetti himself described this wine when it was first vinified separately in 2014. Campo di Camagi is the extreme pole in Trinoro's Cabernet Franc trilogy: where Magnacosta floats and Tenaglia stretches, Camagi condenses. One and a half hectares at an altitude of 550 metres, a flat, stony soil of crushed quartz and limestone – hardly any humus, hardly any depth. The vines, which are over 27 years old, fight for every centimetre, their roots penetrating the hard layer and completely filling the limited space. This struggle for space, this competition in the soil, manifests itself in the wine: concentration, density, heaviness. Twelve months in steel tanks, eight months in barriques, a further twelve months in concrete – a vinification that gives the wine time to organise its power without taming it.

Where the sun sets – right where the light last touches the steep hillside plot before sinking behind the contours of the Val d'Orcia – lies Campo di Tenaglia. This vineyard covers just eight-tenths of a hectare at an altitude of 500 metres, yet what grows here on rugged limestone and coarse, sandy soil possesses an intensity that stands out even amongst Trinoro's crus. The soil extends to a depth of over two metres; the roots of the Cabernet Franc vines, which are over 25 years old, reach down into the mineral, skeletal layers – and lend the wine its powerful character. Tenaglia embodies tension.

In 2011, Campo di Magnacosta was the first of three single-varietal Cabernet Franc crus created by Andrea Franchetti, who recognised that his vines – over 20 years old and with deep-reaching root systems – were capable of precisely reflecting the distinctive character of each individual terroir. This 1.5-hectare plot lies on the valley floor at an altitude of 400 metres, where an old stream disappeared beneath the surface and carved its way into the hillside – magna costa, the 'eating hillside' – leaving behind river sediments of gravel and silt. The vines were planted over two decades ago using cuttings from a vineyard in Pomerol, where Cabernet Franc has been grown for three centuries. This deep, well-drained soil gives the Magnacosta a character that differs fundamentally from its two siblings: the wine seems to burst with energy, is complex and relatively light in colour, yet deep and straightforward with an airy, fresh character.

The name is a tribute – a deliberate homage to Bâtard-Montrachet, the legendary white wine Grand Cru of the Côte de Beaune. Querciabella did not choose it out of arrogance, but out of conviction: because the steep Galestro slopes of Ruffoli, 350 to 600 metres above Greve in Chianti, possess the terroir to produce white wines with Burgundian depth and longevity.

26 generations, since 1385 – no other estate in the world of wine can boast such a long, unbroken history. And yet the Marchese Antinori Chianti Classico Riserva label is not a museum piece, but a living testament: since the 2011 vintage, made exclusively from the vineyards of Tenuta Tignanello, the estate situated between the Greve and Pesa river valleys, which has shaped 20th-century Tuscan wine history more than any other patch of land in Chianti Classico. 319 hectares, of which 165 hectares are under vine – predominantly Sangiovese, complemented by small proportions of Cabernet Sauvignon and Cabernet Franc.

There are wines that have changed the history of their country. Not by chance, not because of a passing trend – but through a single, well-founded act of provocation. In 1971, Piero Antinori commissioned one of the most prominent Italian graphic designers of his time to design the label for his new wine: Silvio Coppola, known for book covers and designer furniture, for his austerity and minimalist style. The label was minimalist – but the wine behind it was a revolution. No Trebbiano, no Malvasia. No white grapes in the red wine, as the Chianti regulations had stipulated since Ricasoli's time. Instead: Sangiovese, Cabernet Sauvignon, Cabernet Franc. Barrique instead of large casks. A wine that consequently fell outside the DOC classification – and was launched on the market as a simple Vino da Tavola. Piero Antinori signed the label with his father Niccolò's name: a gesture of gratitude for the trust that had allowed him the audacity to do so in the first place.

In 1977, Sergio Manetti produced a pure Sangiovese from Radda in Chianti for the first time – without Canaiolo, without Colorino, and without the white grapes that the Chianti regulations required at the time. Not because he wanted to break the rules, but because he believed that this soil, these vines and this single grape variety needed no additions. From the very beginning, the wine was called Toscana IGT – not out of defiance, but out of consistency. And it bore a name rooted in the landscape itself: Le Pergole Torte – the twisted, winding pergolas of old Chianti, those wooden trellis systems up which the vines of his grandfathers' generation once climbed. A reminder of what was, before modernity straightened out the vineyards.

26 generations, since 1385 – no other estate in the world of wine can boast such an unbroken history. And yet the Marchese Antinori Chianti Classico Riserva label is not a museum piece, but a living testament: since the 2011 vintage, made exclusively from the vineyards of Tenuta Tignanello, the estate situated between the Greve and Pesa river valleys, which has shaped 20th-century Tuscan wine history more than any other patch of land in Chianti Classico. 319 hectares, of which 165 hectares are under vine – predominantly Sangiovese, supplemented by small proportions of Cabernet Sauvignon and Cabernet Franc.

Andrea Franchetti loved Merlot – and Palazzi is his ultimate tribute to this grape variety. Year after year, the higher-altitude plots of the estate – comprising five to seven hectares of old Merlot vines – produce one of the finest Italian Merlots of all: opulent yet mineral, powerful yet silky smooth. The name refers to the historic "Strada Vecchia" vineyard, where dense clay soils lend the wine its characteristic richness. Eight months in new French barriques, followed by eleven months in concrete tanks – a vinification process that lends the wine complexity without masking its natural opulence.

There are wines that have changed the history of their country. Not by chance, not because of a passing trend – but through a single, well-founded act of provocation. In 1971, Piero Antinori commissioned one of the most prominent Italian graphic designers of his time to design the label for his new wine: Silvio Coppola, known for book covers and designer furniture, for his austerity and minimalist style. The label was minimalist – but the wine behind it was a revolution. No Trebbiano, no Malvasia. No white grapes in the red wine, as the Chianti regulations had stipulated since Ricasoli's time. Instead: Sangiovese, Cabernet Sauvignon, Cabernet Franc. Barrique instead of large casks. A wine that consequently automatically fell outside the DOC classification – and was launched on the market as a simple "Vino da Tavola". Piero Antinori signed the label with his father Niccolò's name: a gesture of gratitude for the trust that had allowed him the boldness to do so in the first place.

In 1977, Sergio Manetti produced a pure Sangiovese from Radda in Chianti for the first time – without Canaiolo, without Colorino, and without the white grapes that the Chianti regulations stipulated at the time. Not because he wanted to break the rules, but because he believed that this soil, these vines, this single grape variety needed no additions. From the very beginning, the wine was labelled "Toscana IGT" – not out of defiance, but out of consistency. And it bore a name rooted in the landscape itself: Le Pergole Torte – the twisted, winding pergolas of the old Chianti, those wooden trellis systems up which the vines of his grandfather's generation used to climb. A reminder of what was, before modernity straightened out the vineyards.

There are wines that have changed the history of their country. Not by chance, not because of a passing trend – but through a single, well-founded act of provocation. In 1971, Piero Antinori commissioned one of the most prominent Italian graphic designers of his time to design the label for his new wine: Silvio Coppola, renowned for book covers and designer furniture, for his austerity and minimalism. The label was minimalist – but the wine behind it was a revolution. No Trebbiano, no Malvasia. No white grapes in the red wine, as the Chianti regulations had dictated since Ricasoli's time. Instead: Sangiovese, Cabernet Sauvignon, Cabernet Franc. Barrique instead of large casks. A wine that consequently fell outside the DOC classification – and was released onto the market as a simple Vino da Tavola. Piero Antinori signed the label with his father Niccolò's name: a gesture of gratitude for the trust that had allowed him the boldness to do it in the first place.

There are wines that have changed the history of their country. Not by chance, not because of a passing fad – but through a single, well-founded act of provocation. In 1971, Piero Antinori commissioned one of the most prominent Italian graphic designers of his time to design the label for his new wine: Silvio Coppola, known for book covers and designer furniture, for his austerity and minimalist style. The label was minimalist – but the wine behind it was a revolution. No Trebbiano, no Malvasia. No white grapes in the red wine, as the Chianti regulations had stipulated since Ricasoli's time. Instead: Sangiovese, Cabernet Sauvignon, Cabernet Franc. Barriques instead of large casks. A wine that consequently fell outside the DOC classification – and was launched on the market as a simple "Vino da Tavola". Piero Antinori signed the label with his father Niccolò's name: a gesture of gratitude for the trust that had allowed him to exercise such boldness in the first place.

In 1977, Sergio Manetti produced a pure Sangiovese from Radda in Chianti for the first time – without Canaiolo, without Colorino, and without the white grapes that the Chianti regulations required at the time. Not because he wanted to break the rules, but because he believed that this soil, these vines and this single grape variety needed no additions. From the very beginning, the wine was called Toscana IGT – not out of defiance, but out of consistency. And it bore a name rooted in the landscape itself: Le Pergole Torte – the twisted, winding pergolas of the old Chianti, those wooden trellis systems up which the vines of his grandfathers' generation used to climb. A reminder of what once was, before modernity straightened out the vineyards.

In 1977, Sergio Manetti produced a pure Sangiovese from Radda in Chianti for the first time – without Canaiolo, without Colorino, and without the white grapes that the Chianti regulations required at the time. Not because he wanted to break the rules, but because he believed that this soil, these vines and this single grape variety needed no additions. From the very beginning, the wine was called Toscana IGT – not out of defiance, but out of consistency. And it bore a name rooted in the landscape itself: Le Pergole Torte – the twisted, winding pergolas of the old Chianti, those wooden trellis systems up which the vines of his grandfathers' generation used to climb. A reminder of what was, before modernity straightened out the vineyards.

There are wines that have changed the history of their country. Not by chance, nor because of a passing trend – but through a single, well-founded act of provocation. In 1971, Piero Antinori commissioned one of the most prominent Italian graphic designers of his time to design the label for his new wine: Silvio Coppola, renowned for book covers and designer furniture, for his austerity and minimalist style. The label was minimalist – but the wine behind it was a revolution. No Trebbiano, no Malvasia. No white grapes in the red wine, as the Chianti regulations had stipulated since Ricasoli's time. Instead: Sangiovese, Cabernet Sauvignon, Cabernet Franc. Barrique instead of large casks. A wine that consequently automatically fell outside the DOC classification – and was launched on the market as a simple "Vino da Tavola". Piero Antinori signed the label with his father Niccolò's name: a gesture of gratitude for the trust that had allowed him the boldness to do so in the first place.