On Bardolino Superiore: Complicating the Complication

While today's post is certainly meant for everyone's reading pleasure, I'm going to start things out with a question for my fellow bloggers. Have you ever started a new post, saved it as a draft part way through and then never gone on to finish it? I'm guessing the answer will be a near-unanimous "yes." Now, how many of you have saved that partial draft, neglected it for over a year, but then returned to and completed it? Not so many of you, I'd guess. Nonetheless, that's exactly what I'm doing today, fourteen months and change after originally starting the piece.

Somehow I always knew I'd return to the topic at hand — Bardolino Superiore and its elevation to DOCG status — as it has been in my head ever since reading the post from Alfonso Cevola that originally inspired it. Be sure to check it out, as it's a great example of what makes On the Wine Trail in Italy one of the best things going in this here vinous corner of the blogosphere.

Ace, as I and others are wont to call him, has made it a serious sideline of his to catalog all of Italy's DOCG designations and to add any changes to this ever-growing list as soon as they come to his attention. As I was reading that inspirational commentary of his on DOCG additions (both recent and not so recent) that he deemed of questionable merit, I can remember thinking, "and Bardolino Superiore.... I'm going to hit the comments with my two cents on Bardolino Superiore." Yet there it was, at the end of his post... Ace's own inclusion of Bardolino Superiore on his not-so-worthy list.

Though I've never had "a hot date with with a cute blond in a mini" (again, Alfonso's inspiration, as is the above photo), I do really enjoy Bardolino, and I do mean *really* enjoy. The Bardolino "normale" from Corte Gardoni, called "Le Fontane," has been one of my everyday Italian go-to reds for many, many moons. I like it better — that is to say, I enjoy it more — than their Bardolino Superiore.

If you're thinking this is all just a long-winded lead-in to a trashing of Bardolino Superiore, then you're in for a disappointment. Another part of the inspiration for the genesis of this post, way back in the autumn of '09, was a bottle of the 2007 Bardolino Superiore from Corte Gardoni. A good bottle. Actually, two good bottles. But wait, I'm getting ahead of myself....

Let's leap forward to earlier this week. Rooting around in my wine closet for something to drink with dinner, I unburied — and proceeded to uncork — a bottle of Corte Gardoni's 2005 Bardolino Superiore. Though Bardolino Superiore was granted DOCG status way back in February 2002, with retroactive application to wines as of the 2001 harvest, it was when this '05 arrived on the market that I first remember noticing the promotion, and first remember thinking it odd. At least that's how I recall it now.

However foggy that memory may be, my experience with this week's bottle of 2005 Bardolino Superiore is still very fresh in mind. Though I'd say the wine had reached full maturity, it was very much holding its own, not yet starting the inevitable slide into the less savory realms of decay. Aside from a deeply tea-like aromatic character, which to me is a hallmark of Bardolino, I might have been hard pressed to identify the wine if its identity hadn't been staring me in the face. Though delicate in body, it had developed aromatic characteristics not at all out of line with what one might expect from a good left bank Bordeaux, produced in an off vintage and now at its mid-life point. Tannic it was not; not at all. Still lively in acidity it was. Pleasing, too, in its own way; quite pretty wine, actually.

Was it a great wine, though? I think calling it great would be a stretch. But does that matter? Should DOCG wines be, by definition, great? Consider the following point made by Tom Hyland in a piece he wrote way back in 2002, just after Bardolino Superiore was granted its DOCG status.

"For Italians, DOCG does not necessarily mean the finest wines in the country; rather the designation is thought of as a statement that these wines are the best they can be, given the grapes and locales used. No one would argue that Bardolino is among the best red wines of Italy, but if DOCG means a better Bardolino, then why not?"

Tom's point is perfectly apropos and well stated. The twist comes (though I'm sure it was not his intention) along with that concept or image of a "better" Bardolino. I'm thinking here more along the lines of Colonel Steve Austin and the opening sequence of The Six Million Dollar Man. "We have the technology. We have the capability to [make him] better than he was before. Better, stronger, faster." Which brings me back to those two bottles of 2007 Bardolino Superiore from last year.

Take a look (above) at the back labels from those two bottles; aside from slightly different lot numbers, they're essentially identical. Turn those same bottles face first, though, as seen below, and it's a different story. The first is clearly Bardolino Superiore DOCG. The second makes no mention whatsoever of the wine's denominazione; only a knowing glance up at the bottle's neck (obviously not pictured) would reveal the wine's DOCG status.

What I know, only because I know the wines and the producer that makes them, is that they're actually the same wine (bottling lot aside). Corte Gardoni simply decided to change the name of the wine, and to do so smack in the middle of a vintage. Why? Well, as I understand it via a conversation between an old coworker of mine (who speaks fluent Italian) and Corte Gardoni patriarch Gianni Piccoli, it was the Piccoli family's direct response to the trend toward Six Million Dollar Bardolino that had occurred since the institution of DOCG elevation.

The discipline for the Bardolino Superiore DOCG requires that the wine's blend be based on 35-65% Corvina Veronese, the most distinctive and important variety of the area, 10% of which can be Corvinone (once thought to be genetically related to Corvina); 10-40% Rondinella; and up to 20% of other varieties, which can include no more than 10% each from any combination of vines such as Molinara, Rossignol, Barbera, Sangiovese, Marzemino, Merlot, and/or Cabernet Sauvignon. Granted, 20% might not sound like much but if you take 10% each of dark, bold varieties like Cabernet Sauvignon and Barbera and add them to the inherently pale and delicate Corvina, then you've got some serious fortification in the works. Add to that the fact that some producers were apparently making ripasso-style Bardolino Superiore and the scene just gets wrinklier.

The family Piccoli wanted none of it, so they gave their wine what some might be tempted to call a nome di fantasia — "Pràdicà" essentially means "house meadow" or "meadow by the house." To them it's a statement that their wine is, well, their wine, not a wine that's following the "superiore" fashion trend. The problem, as I mentioned before, is that one needs to know that for it to be meaningful. Complicated, no?

My point, aside from wanting to tell the story of Corte Gardoni's wine, is actually quite simple. In the big picture, I'm inclined to agree with Alfonso, who said it much more plainly than have I, "Bardolino is fine as a DOC, but no 'G', no 'G'." Sometimes simpler really is better.

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Marc de Grazia Grand Tour 2008 Tasting

I’ve been struggling for several days now as to whether or not to post this. As you’re now reading it, my decision should be obvious. However, it wasn’t reached easily. It took encouragement and inspiration from a few friends. Really, it wasn’t until I saw Jeremy Parzen’s video of his recent visit to the Gambero Rosso tasting in San Diego and, subsequently, Brooklynguy’s reluctant report on the Gambero Rosso event in New York that I made up my mind. Even then, coming to a decision took a little more self-inflicted torture. The reasons are many. First and foremost, the tasting occurred in the middle of a busy workday. I tasted fairly but did not have the time to sample all of the wines present or to take notes in as much detail as I’d usually like. Second, I found little to like among what I did manage to taste. Even after years in the trade and a year-plus of blogging, I still feel a tug of self-conflict when griping about something for which I didn’t pay.

It’s time to get over it, McDuff.

The whites:
The only producer whose wines I enjoyed across the board, white or red, was Gini, an estate located in Monforte d’Alpone at the heart of the Soave Classico zone. Their 2006 Soave Classico “normale,” done all in stainless and unusual in its claim of being 100% Garganega, was pure and well-balanced, with golden pear fruit and mouth watering acidity. The 2004 Recioto di Soave Classico “Col Foscarin” was simple but lovely for its honeyed fruit and, again, good acidity. More compelling was their botrytis affected cuvée, Recioto di Soave Classico “Renobilis” 2003. The extra concentration provided by the noble rot lent the wine more aromatic depth and a longer, spice-tinged finish.

Overall, the whites in the de Grazia portfolio fared better than the reds, though mainly by dubious virtue of falling in the neutral zone, that undistinguished, middle of the road, neither bad nor characterful part of spectrum. This, of course, is an issue that many critics have pointed out with all too many Italian white wines in general. One such pundit, Terry Hughes at Mondosapore, has been digging for the exceptions to that rule lately (see here and here). Along with him, I’ve been looking to Campania in search of some of those exceptions. The wines I tasted today, though, didn’t quite raise the bar.

The 2006 Falanghina from Cantina del Taburno was corked, so I’ll withhold judgment (aside from the fact that they were pouring it). Their Greco from the same vintage was perfectly acceptable for its fruitiness yet was boring. But then, I’ve yet to find a Greco I have liked much… any recommendations out there? On the flipside of the simple yet fruity coin was the 2006 Fiano di Avellino from Collio di Lapio; it showed intense structure, with both acidity and apparent extract on the palate, yet it was nearly bereft of fruit.

Moving up the boot to Umbria, the Orvieto-based estate Palazzone was showing three of their whites. Their 2006 Orvieto Classico Superiore “Terre Vineate” fell very much into the same camp as the Greco from Cantina del Taburno, perfectly nice yet ultimately uninspiring. More interesting and soundly up there in the “wines I liked” category was their vineyard designated 2004 Orvieto Classico Superiore “Campo del Guardiano.” Fourteen months of bottle aging prior to release, along with what would appear to be better quality fruit, had give it firmer texture and a savory, herbaceous and nutty character. Falling totally flat, however, was Palazzone’s 2005 Umbria Bianco IGT “L’Ultima Spiaggia,” a barrel fermented, varietal Viognier. De Grazia’s signature barrique stamp had robbed the wine of any varietal character, with wood dominating the fruit profile, aroma and texture of the wine. The idea of a “de Grazia signature” moves me right along to…

The reds:
As mentioned earlier, I was a touch pressed for time. So rather than letting my brain lead me to the southern Italian reds with which I’m slightly less familiar, I let my heart lead me right to the region of Italy to which I feel the strongest affinity – Piemonte.

I so wanted to like the wines from Cavallotto Fratelli. I’ve enjoyed their Freisa on occasion and have particularly fond memories of drinking a bottle of their 1996 Barolo “Bricco Boschis” Riserva more or less in situ, over lunch at the fantastic restaurant Le Torri in the town center of Castiglione Falletto. Relatively speaking, I did find at least a little to like. A 2004 Barbera d’Alba “Bricco Boschis Vigna del Cuculo” was still tightly wound and loaded with plump yet structured Barbera fruit. The 2003 version of their Barolo “Bricco Boschis” showed some character, especially for the vintage, on both the nose and palate. Both wines, however, were marred by an overzealous use of oak and were lacking, respectively, in juiciness and nerve.

It was with the line-up from Domenico Clerico that I really hit the wall. Across the board, the wines were over-extracted, over-oaked, inky black and lacking in a clear expression of place. Their 2005 Dolcetto d’Alba “Visadi” was missing both the aromatic nuance and fruity charm of which Dolcetto is capable, instead clamping down on the palate with aggressive tannins and closed, over-saturated fruit. One de Grazia rep called it “not your father’s Dolcetto” (I doubt my father ever drank Dolcetto but that’s beside the point). Another boasted that the wine had somehow gained nuance by being aged in barriques formerly inhabited by the estate’s Barolo…. Ahem. Next. A similar fate befell the Barbera d’Alba “Trevigne” from 2004 that was just plain overblown. Worst of all was the estate’s 2004 Langhe Rosso “Arte,” a blend of 90% Nebbiolo and 10% Barbera done in 100% new barriques. I look to Nebbiolo for nuance, for structure, for delicacy intertwined with sinew; this was loaded with oak and tannins but had nothing else to say.

Clerico’s 2002 Barolo smelled great, with lots of spice, tar and wild red fruits. Yet it turned out to be unpalatable, marred by an apparently dogmatic insistence on using all new barrels in spite of the difficult, slightly dilute nature of the 2002 vintage. Only in the 2003 Barolo “Ginestra Ciabot Mentin” was there enough natural substance for the resulting wine to stand up to the oak and vinification techniques that were thrown at it. Even then, this is Barolo designed for lovers of the overtly modernist style – big fruit, dark color and lavish oak.

A couple of my coworkers who ventured over to the tasting later in the day assured me that I hadn’t missed much with the Tuscan and southern Italian reds. Their essential summation: “Everything tasted the same.”

It may seem unfair to judge de Grazia’s portfolio after going through only a subset of his producers. But my experience at the tasting is backed up by similar past experiences with wines from other estates in his Piemonte cadre alone, such as Paolo Scavino and, in particular, La Spinetta. Like them or not, it’s hard to argue that they don’t fall into a very narrow extreme of the stylistic spectrum.

This brings me full circle to the main message and inspiration of the posts from my fellow bloggers. The Gambero Rosso awards, as with most of the points-based systems used by major print critics, have come to favor high alcohol, high extract, in your face, drink me now wines. That’s just too many extremes to balance, even if a real, honest and truly good wine does occasionally sneak into the fray.

It also brings me to my final discomfit. The dominant trend over the last 15-odd years to reward high alcohol, overtly modern wines that end up lacking a sense of place – fueled by the Gambero Rosso and similar systems – is irksome enough. A portfolio of wines from an importer that, from what I’m given to understand, pushes its producers to make wines to appeal directly to those systems – via the promotion of roto-fermenters and required new barrel aging regimes, for instance – is even harder for me to swallow.

* * *
Related links, aka, flame off:

For a very thoughtful essay on the topic of modernist vs. traditionalist Barolo, see Craig Camp’s 2003 article on the Barolo wars.

A fair-handed piece on the pros and cons of roto-fermenters:
Fast and furious: rotary fermenters have fans and skeptics
from Wines & Vines, April, 2005, by Tim Teichgraeber

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