Abruzzo: Plain and Simple.

Rubesto Montepuliciano

Mispronunciation is one of its stronger points. That’s not good, at least, if you live in the States perhaps. The eloquence, or the pretension needed to sound-out the words takes some time, but no one is holding you to that standard. What most people recognize, is the unapologetic way it conforms to almost every Italian entree known to the genus: “homo-spiritualis.” Sure, maybe not to their next bowl of “Maritata,”  but its cohesive bonds are represented in something practical, something, “good.” For us, it’s an innate sense of enjoyment that the ponderous can disavow, thus making those conversations we have, to be worth every agreeable difference; which is why these wines are so beneficial to commoners and friends. Though some would argue that there’s a gross abundance of imports from Abruzzo--which is considerably true in many ways--it’s only a question of the viewpoints that gauge their successes. Despite monotonous production and the stereotypical views that can be thwarting and wholly damaging, a stellar Montepuliciano seems to be outshone by all others wanting shelf space and a chance to gain some artisanal recognition.    

I love a good Montep; yes, that’s what I scribble on most of my inventory sheets, because there’s no need for full documentation, or for that matter, pronunciation. Most people know what I’m talking about, and any perennial lover of wine should plainly understand. It doesn’t have anything to do with those modes of snarky conversation at parties, or any correlative that happens to ‘snub-out’ anything under thirty-dollars a bottle, but begins with that irrepressible reasonability I love so much. I like it, because it’s a honest-market peasant wine that leaves people feeling jaded and misguided; and often enough, it unveils items purchased with so much remorse, that buyers need therapists schooled in the offbeat grace of oenology to ease their timely woes. Perhaps, I’ve said too many times that a good bottle of wine is usually the most reasonable one, but anything from Abruzzo, is one of the most practical, yet workable mechanisms. 

Once, it was a haven for overproduction, but as of late, this southern region has been outdoing their own respectable crafts. Which is not bad for a district of Italy that has seen it’s share of imperialism and a polychromatic influx of ideas and acculturations. It still stands far from a past where supermarket wines dominated the U.S. trade, while the Montepuliciano and other grapes were primarily sent northward to be used as blending agents for various castles and vineyards in the countryside. However, the appeal is much less strained now that producers are recognizing that it can conform to a “boutique” style of sensibility in winemaking. 

Cocociola Terre Valse

What are some of the traits? Who knows...It has something to do with rusticity, but that’s not quite the answer. The presence of earth, savory elements and the culpability of fruit is something to look forward to in wine, but with this varietal being so versatile, possibilities are still being examined. Right now, I’m drinking one from Rubesto that has a succinct wrap-around of sauteed red fruits, suggesting strawberry-raspberry, but has a depth of grilled peach and sweet tobacco. I was confounded, and yet unsurprised at the fact that even a red wine figured into the spectrum of fruit usually journaled in white varietals. Also, despite the prominence of Montepuliciano in our market, there is esteem for one of the most obscure Italian grapes known to vintners worldwide. Known as “Cococciola,” it’s a white wine that builds comparisons on nuances, that are in some form, facetiously composed  from most winemakers’ illicit daydreams about hybridizing Chardonnay and Sauvignon Blanc. Nothing could be further from the truth, as though we were to believe that, it’s pretty interesting to think so. If anything, it resembles a Verdelho with a touch of Chard backing its madcap personality. Think about cinnamon apple, toasty coconut and citrus fruits; it’s weird, but certainly true. 

I like Abruzzi. The two wines I mentioned are no less than twelve, or sixteen bucks apiece, and they pay off. Aside from the countenance of others, it seems that this region still has a lock on feasibility and good taste. I wonder though, why we haven’t seen more. I tend to think on the auspices of pricing, but it doesn’t mean everything. What I believe, is that southern Italy is a great foreground for delicious wine, even when you think about Sicily or Calabria, but what we’re waiting for in the aforementioned, is a deliberate renaissance in wine crafting. I don’t know exactly, if it’s happening now, or will eventually arrive on some more beatific level, but all I’m hoping for, is to sample just a little bit of the experience.

It’s like having tickets on the “will-call” of wine drinking. 

Brian Maniotis

Wine Warehouse Team

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