I Clivi

At the top of a hill in Corno di Rosazzo, just steps across the border from the Collio into the Colli Orientali del Friuli zone, lies the estate known as I Clivi ("the slopes," in ancient Italian).  I Clivi occupies one of the more privileged sites in the COF zone, with vines rooted in a soil base rich in calcareous marl, known locally as ponca (or flysch), an ideal environment for traditional Friulano varieties and a terroir that lends an intensely mineral signature and compact, focused acid structure to the wines grown on the property.

Arriving at sunset on Tuesday, we were greeted on the front terrace of the winery by Mario Zanusso, the current winegrower at I Clivi.  Mario is a handsome guy, at once quiet, intense and somewhat reserved -- not at all unlike the wines we would taste with him a short while later.  Walking and talking with him, I got the sense that he'd be just as much at home taking in a Ramones gig at CBGB (if only we had a time machine) as he seemed in the hills of Rosazzo.

The vineyards at I Clivi, as are much of the high quality sites throughout Colli Orientali del Friuli, are laid out on terraces cut into the hillsides.  The slopes here, though not exactly gentle, are not insanely steep, at least not when compared to more precipitous viticultural areas such as the Mosel or Northern Rhône. While I'm sure that, for some producers, ease of mechanization plays into the maintenance of the terraces, Mario explained that their genesis sprang from a more primal need, as the friable nature of the ponca-rich soils make the landscape highly prone to erosion.  The terraces, at a very practical level, help to keep the vineyards in place in a landscape where heavy rainfall might otherwise, over time, lay bare the roots of the vines.

I was so intent on capturing the beautiful view of the sunset (something for which my camera is not particularly well suited) that I totally neglected to snap a few shots of the old vines on the steeper, terraced vineyards at I Clivi.

The Zanusso family owns a total of twelve hectares of vineyards, eight of them directly surrounding the winery and falling in the Colli Orientali del Friuli zone, and another four situated in the Collio, just over the next line of hills, immediately adjacent to the border between the COF and Collio DOC areas.  Farming at the estate is certified organic and nearly all of the wines are estate bottled, though Mario's keenness for Ribolla Gialla has led him to purchase some fruit from growers in nearby Goriška Brda (Slovenia) while waiting for his own young vines of Ribolla to come of age.

In both the vineyards and the cellar, I think that the approach at I Clivi can best be described as rational.  Respect for nature is maintained, farming is certified organic, but no particular doctrine or credo is followed.  In Mario's own words, "The first thing is that the wine is good.  We don't need to obey some [set of] rules."  Some of his wines are fermented on their native yeasts, others not, depending on the needs and characteristics of the vintage and each cuvée.  Mario uses a light hand with sulfur, adding a bit at crush when the fruit is most susceptible to oxidation, most of which is consumed during fermentation, then adding just a dash at bottling for the sake of stability.

With one technical exception (which I'll explain shortly), all of the white wines at I Clivi are fermented and aged solely in steel and without skin contact.  Though the family does farm some modern varieties (Merlot, Chardonnay, Sauvignon), Mario holds a strong preference for local varieties.  They are also blessed with having a high proportion of old vines on their property, as Mario feels that the old vines draw greater minerality into their wines.  The white wines all undergo extended lees aging, including a practice the Zanussos adopted from Burgundy – and here's that exception to the steel-only rule at the estate – in which the lees, immediately after fermentation, are removed from the wine and "aged" in barriques for one month before being reintroduced to the wine.

Leaving the cellar for the cozier confines of the family's tasting room, we were joined by Mario's father, Ferdinando Zanusso, who slowly but surely took the reins as we sat down to taste and discuss the wines.  One could quickly fathom from where Mario inherited not just his looks but also his intensity, as Ferdinando is the kind of man who imparts as much information and intention with a quick look, gesture or phrase as many people take minutes and paragraphs to convey.  In earlier phases of his life, he spent time in Africa with the United Nations and also worked in the maritime transport field before settling at I Clivi, where he and Mario have been producing wines since the 1996 vintage.

Collectively, the wines at I Clivi are among the most focused, mineral-intense, and, one could argue, tightly wound of any I've encountered during our week long exploration of Colli Orientali del Friuli, Those descriptors carry even greater weight than usual given that we tasted all of the wines at room temperature, where faults or imbalances, if any, are laid bare much more clearly than when chilled.

We tasted from the family's very last bottle of 2009 Ribolla Gialla, all 11.3% alcohol of it, produced from the fruit of 15 year-old vines grown in Brda; a very clean, light and vibrant style, round in feel and lifted by its bright acidity and minerality.

The first of two examples of Friulano came next, the 2009 Colli Orientali del Friuli Friulano "Vecchia Vigna al Clivi," which comes from 60 year-old vines immediately adjacent to the house and spent a year on its lees before being bottled in October 2010. Intensely salty, with a gorgeous balance between fleshiness and racy acidity.  A 2009 Friulano "San Lorenzo," from the Collio DOC, was richer, less mineral, more savory in its flavors, with an attractive vegetal undertone and a classic signature of bitter almond flavor on the finish.

One of my favorite wines of the evening (and in near final retrospect, of the entire trip) was the 2006 Colli Orientali del Friuli "Clivi Galea," a blend dominated by Tocai (about 90%) with small proportions of both Verduzzo and Chardonnay.  It spent two years on the lees in tank.  Galea is a single vineyard on the home/COF side of the property with dry, marl-rich soil -- a mix of chalk clay and limestone.  Relative to the younger wines we'd already tasted, it boasted a higher alcohol level of 14%, a level now much more typical of the region, in this case a direct side effect of the hotter than average 2006 growing season.  The wine was nonetheless perfectly balanced; redolent of fennel and loaded with stony flavors and textures, it was downright fantastic.

A bottle of 2007 Collio Goriziano "Clivi Brazan" was richer, darker and more evolved than the '06 "Galea," a facet influenced more by the rainy 2007 growing season than by the wine's different place of origin, over the hill and into the Collio zone.  Still, the wine was far from without its own charms; much more tropical and zesty on the nose, with aromas of lychee and hothouse flowers, along with a subtle peppermint scent.

Neither Mario nor Ferdinando are particularly fond of sweet wines, so they opt to produce a Verduzzo -- one of the two autochthonous vines of the region, along with Picolit, typically used for sweet, appassimento wines -- in a dry style.  In the words of my traveling companion Wayne, Verduzzo is "a red wine grape with white skin." While that character is generally masked in sweet expressions of Verduzzo, it came through clearly here, with a tannic, grippy, somewhat aggressive texture that called out for food -- roast pork or veal come to mind.

Arguably the most forward wine in the day's lineup was the 2009 Colli Orientali del Friuli "Bianco Degli Arzillari," a blend of Chardonnay, Sauvignon and Traminer.  Not at all aromatically overbearing, as the presence of Sauvignon and Traminer in the blend might suggest, it was fleshy and quite pleasant. If forced to pick one wine that didn't particularly call out to me, it would be I Clivi's 2008 Collio Malvasia.  A varietal expression of Malvasia Istriana, it was fat on the palate, from front to rear, creating an initial impression of sweetness yet finishing dry and mineral, with lingering flavors.  Again, it wasn't my fave but is was still a very good expression of Malvasia.

As the evening progressed and our tasting wound down, Ferdinando offered us one last taste, of the only red produced at the estate, the Colli Orientali del Friuli Merlot "Clivi Galea," in this case from the 2003 vintage.  Regardless of country and region, the Merlot vine loves clay and there's clay aplenty in the ponca soils of the Galea vineyard.  Classically red-fruited and elegant at first taste, it took on a smoky character on the finish, where it showed quite a firm spine.  Food came to mind once again, this time roast beef with pesto....

Bidding Signore Zanusso arrivederci under starry skies, I was ready for dinner, dreaming of sleep and, most of all, still savoring the intense, lingering impressions left by the wines and the particular passions of a father and son growing wines in the Friulano hills.

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French, Italian and Cajun

Another fairly impromptu get-together provided all the inspiration necessary for today’s post. Carryout from Cajun Kate’s, a few interesting things to taste and a little conversation with friends…. Definitely not a bad way to spend an evening.

Touraine Sauvignon “Le Petiot,” Domaine Ricard (Vincent Ricard) 2007
$15. 12.5% alcohol. Composite cork. Importer: Petit Pois, Moorestown, NJ.
After reading about the 2008 version of “Le Petiot” at Jim’s Loire a little while back, I figured it was high time to sit down with a bottle of the 2007, which is the current release on American shores. There’s no mistaking this for anything other than a vibrantly pure expression of Sauvignon, from its first aromatic blast of pink grapefruit and spring flowers right down to the tongue twisting, cleansing acidity on the wine’s finish. In between, there’s fine interplay between ripe, peachy fruit, lively citrus overtones and a wee undercurrent of light minerality. A perfect kick-starter of an aperitif, and not too shabby with Cajun Kate’s fried oyster po’ boy.

Venezia Giulia IGT Bianco “Vino Degli Orti,” Terčič (Matijaž Terčič) 2006
$32. 14% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Petit Pois, Moorestown, NJ.
A 50/50 blend of Tocai Friulano and Malvasia Istriana vinified and aged in tank. Regrettably this was a flawed bottle, robbed of its fruit by either a very low level of TCA (I’m pretty sensitive to cork taint and didn’t pick it up) or some combination of heat/oxygen ingress. Too bad, as the first bottle I’d tasted a couple of weeks earlier (sorry, no note) was quite good.


Collio Sauvignon, Terčič (Matijaž Terčič) 2007
$32. 14% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Petit Pois, Moorestown, NJ.
That’s more like it… two bad bottles from the same producer and same shipment would have been a bad sign. This was not only very good but also stood in stark, provocative contrast to the style of Ricard’s Touraine Sauvignon. Terčič’s Sauvignon was just as energetic on the palate but much richer and denser in texture, and darker in its minerality. It’s also far less aromatically potent, expressing itself more through feel, structure and depth than high toned fruit and flowers. Like “Vino Degli Orti,” this is done in tank; if I didn’t know that, though, I’d have guessed neutral wood. There’s plenty of stuffing here for richer food pairings.


Moulin-à-Vent “Cuvée Vieilles Vignes,” Domaine Diochon 2006
$19. 13% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Kermit Lynch, Berkeley, CA.
This might just be the ideal choice to pour for someone who still needs to be convinced that Beaujolais can be serious – and seriously good – wine. It’s got great fruit but also that classic granitic, brooding sensation that seems more common in Moulin-à-Vent than in any of the other Beaujolais Crus. This has great feel and fine balance and delivers waves of crunchy, dark fruit. The nose leads with black raspberries and chalk, follows with white pepper and a sense of black minerals, and ends with scents of ginger and molasses. Lively acid and grip bring it all home. Not too shabby with smoked brisket gumbo, either.


Arbois Pupillin Poulsard, Emmanuel Houillon (Pierre Overnoy) 2007
$32. 12.5% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Louis/Dressner, New York, NY.
Dinner was over at this point but we all felt like tasting something else. The choice was driven, I expect, as much by anticipated pleasure as it was by a wish for redemption after a rather awkward showing from another Houillon wine a couple of weeks earlier. There was no awkwardness this time around.

Though typical in shade for Arbois Poulard (aka, Ploussard), this might startle many with its pale iridescence in the glass, reflecting hues of green olive and orange peel when held to the light. It’s almost spritzy in its liveliness on the palate, like a winey rendition of raspberry lime seltzer. The aromas were just intoxicating. Scents of pine needle, rose petal potpourri, watermelon, lime and eucalyptus jumped out of the glass, one after the other, seemingly alternating between associations of the mountains and the shore. On the palate, it’s all about freshness of fruit and completely unmuddled flavors. Full of refreshing acidity, devoid of tannic interference and laced with rock-sucking sensations, this was just a joy to drink.

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WBW #41: White Wines from Friuli-Venezia Giulia

When Jack and Joanne at Fork & Bottle announced the topic for this month’s edition of WBW, they put forth a strong recommendation: spend at least $20 per bottle. Go for the best. My initial reaction was, “Ok, I’m on board with that.” It would give me the perfect opportunity to get into some of the wines from currently hot producers like Josko Gravner, Radikon or Edi Kante. I soon realized though that the task of acquiring those wines would not only entail the outlay of some serious greenback but would also force me either to make a trip up to New York or to resort to ordering via the Internet.

So I switched gears, opting instead to shop in my own neck of the woods. I picked up a total of three wines: the only two Friuli wines available at one of the better local Pennsylvania Liquor Control Board (PLCB) specialty stores and one Slovenian wine from my own workplace, where we don’t currently carry any wine from Friuli. They all ranged between $10-20. It’s not the first time I’ve intentionally opted to break the WBW ground rules; only time will tell if it’s the last. Along the way, I also broke a few of my own rules (more on that as we move along).

It’s fair to say that Tocai Friulano is the signature grape of Friuli-Venezia Giulia. I rounded up two examples, both from Collio, a small province in southeastern Friuli that, along with neighboring Colli Orientali del Friuli, turns out most of the consistently higher quality wines of the overall region. Its historical origins may indeed be intertwined with the famous Hungarian Tokaji in more than just name, as some viticultural historians believe that Tocai Friulano was once identical to the Hungarian vine Furmint. However, most ampelographers (though not all Italians) agree that the vine called Tocai Friulano, since approximately the 1930s, is actually one and the same as Sauvignon Vert, aka Sauvignonasse.

Whatever the case may be, a good example of Tocai Friulano typically gives peach and blossom aromas with a distinctly crisp, mineral texture. Relatively versatile, Tocai is at home both in straight-forward, tank fermented wines and in more elaborate, oak-endowed selezioni. It also makes a reasonable blending partner.

In 1993, Hungary won its petition with the EU to gain sole rights to the terms Tocai and Tokay in an effort to protect the name of its famous dessert wine, Tokaji Aszu. Most producers in Alsace have already dropped the term Tokay from their Pinot Gris. Many Italian producers are now in the process of following suit. Any wines bottled after March 31, 2007 should theoretically no longer bear the work Tocai; most will simply be called Friulano. Andrea Felluga has written a concise explanation, along with some colorful insights into the matter.

Collio Tocai Friulano, Conti Attems 2004
This was the big rule breaker. First, most Tocai is best drunk young. Picking up a wine from 2004 in early 2008 was, I knew, already pushing the envelope. Buying it in a shop that doesn’t care for its wines or exert discretion in its selection processes, though, was the real no-no. But I was prepared to take some risks for the sake of the WBW exercise. I took more.

I never buy a wine strictly because of its label; however, I often avoid wines because of their labels. Cute animals, catchy names and absurdly oversized bottles are all red flags. Attems’ Tocai didn’t offend on any of those counts yet it still threw up some warning signs. It’s purely subjective and instinctive on my part, but something about the artwork and color choices on both the front and rear labels screamed “commercial” to me and would normally have made me steer clear. I would have doubly steered clear from the partnership with Marchesi de’ Frescobaldi – a large Tuscan wine concern that has held similar partnerships with Robert Mondavi among others – as such relationships are typically constructed to leverage brand awareness and distribution channels rather than to make a good wine better. The fact that the wine is estate bottled was about the only potentially saving grace that kept me from rejecting the bottle in spite of my willingness to suffer for the greater good of WBW.

I should have stuck with my instincts. This was the first wine I’ve purchased (as opposed to tasted in passing) in years that was just plain undrinkable. Its color was promising, suggesting no signs of advancing age. The nose, however, was lacking in the fruit and charm I expect from Tocai. Instead, it smelled of artichokes, lanolin and feed corn. The wine’s medium acidity was still in tact but its texture was coarse and hinted at the beginning stages of oxidation. Fruit was also absent on the palate, which was dominated by acrid, bitter sensations and a flavor of canned creamed corn. It became less and less appealing with air and as it warmed in the glass. Was it just over the hill? The deterioration of age may have played a role but I saw no signs that there was ever any good initial raw material.
$11. 13% alcohol. Natural cork closure. Importer: Folio Wines, Napa, CA.

Collio Tocai Friulano, Colle Duga di Damian Princic 2005
Colle Duga is a small estate of seven hectares that nearly abuts the border with Slovenia in the eastern extreme of the Collio. Their Tocai, much like Attems’ above, shone a pale greenish-yellow in the glass. Lime blossom and honeydew melon met my nose, followed by a fleshy, neutrally oaked, medium-acid attack on the palate. The wine got crazy in the presence of food, totally transforming to an intense, slightly candied lemon-lime character. It recalled a distinct flavor memory from my childhood. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it but it was somewhere between the original Gatorade formula and a lemon-lime ice pop, plus a touch of Snapple peach iced tea. Though these flavors may sound strangely appealing, their unnatural character was driven home on day two, when Princic’s wine, in spite of showing a hint of its peachy typicity, smelled clearly of paint thinner and modeling cement. It was significantly better than the Tocai from Conti Attems. But at $20, marked down from $30 via the PLCB’s “Chairman’s Selection” program, it was neither a good value nor a wine I look forward to revisiting. If you do feel compelled to give it a try, I’d recommend making it a one-night bottle.
$20. 13.5% alcohol. Natural cork closure. Importer: Bartolomeo Pio, Fort Washington, PA.

Brda Ribolla Gialla, Ferdinand 2006
Given that I sell this wine at my day job, Ferdinand’s Ribolla Gialla was my failsafe for this tasting. One of my coworkers is fond of saying, “This wine is technically from Slovenia but it’s really Italian.” Apparently Jack and Joanne agree, as their definition of Friuli for this WBW episode was extended to include the hills (colle) on the Slovenian side of the border in Goriska Brda. It’s a position which is reinforced by winemaker Matiasz Četrtič’s decision as of the 2006 vintage to relabel his wine, formerly called Rebula in keeping with Slovenian culture, to the Italian Ribolla Gialla.

As Tocai is the signature of Friuli, so Ribolla, also planted in Friuli, is the traditional variety of Brda. Ferdinand’s Ribolla is simple, clean and easy, brimming with peach on both the nose and the palate. There’s a refreshing, tingly character in the mouth, accented by delicate minerality. As the wine warms, it becomes fleshier but holds onto its purity of fruit. It paired well with a semi-firm cow and sheep’s milk cheese, providing a worthy foil to both the fattiness and saltiness. Still a hint yeasty, I’ll look forward to revisiting this from time to time over the next six months.
$14. 12.5% alcohol. Natural cork closure. Importer: Petit Pois, Moorestown, NJ.

If you’ve read this far and would like to read more, why not join me and participate in the first edition of the Wine Book Club. We’re reading Vino Italiano, by Joseph Bastianich and David Lynch. Given that Friuli leads off the geographical chapters of the book and that Bastianich owns a wine estate in Friuli, it’s a clear tie-in to and jumping off point from this month’s WBW theme.

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