Storie da una Rivoluzione - booklet by stuffilm creativeye

STORIE DA UNA RIVOLUZIONE STORIES FROM A REVOLUTION

Storie da una rivoluzione / Stories from a revolution

Voci, curiosità e approfondimenti dal film “Barolo Boys. Storia di una rivoluzione”. Voices, curiosities and insights from the film “Barolo Boys The Story of a Revolution”. Allegato al DVD del film documentario “Barolo Boys. Storia di una rivoluzione” Per informazioni e prenotazione: www.baroloboysthemovie.com / info@baroloboysthemovie.com Questo libro non è vendibile separatamente dal DVD This booklet is distributed with the DVD “Barolo Boys. The Story of a Revolution” and cannot be sold separately. For info and booking www.baroloboysthemovie.com / info@baroloboysthemovie.com Si ringraziano per la concessione delle immagini / Thanks for the images to: Elio Altare (pag.3, 10, 11, 19) Alberto Cravero (pag. 4, 5) Bruno Murialdo (pag. 5) Giovanni Manzone (pag. 8, 24-25, 26) Chiara Boschis (pag. 27) Harmon Skurnik (pag. 12, 13) Archivio Roero. Terra Ritrovata” (pag. 7) Carlo Leidi (pag. 18, 21) Wine Spectator - March 1994 (pag.22) Archivio La Stampa (pag. 20) Grazie a “The SOMM Journal” (www.sommelierjournal.com) per la concessione dell’articolo di Alan Tardi “Postmodern Barolo: the war that never was” e a Decanter (www.decanter.com) per la concessione dell’articolo “Barolo, ancient and modern”, di Stephen Brook. Many thanks to the magazines “The SOMM Journal” (www.sommelierjournal.com) for the article “Postmodern Barolo: The war that never was” by Alan Tardi, and Decanter (www.decanter.com) for the articole “Barolo, ancient and modern”, by Stephen Brook.

Paolo Casalis NON CI SONO PIU’ I CATTIVI DI UNA VOLTA Quando lo scorso anno Tiziano Gaia mi ha proposto di realizzare questo film insieme a lui, ammetto di averci pensato su non una, ma più e più volte. All’epoca il termine Barolo Boys mi era abbastanza oscuro, e tuttavia avevo ben presente il significato di un suo “sinonimo” per me molto più chiaro e immediato: i modernisti del Barolo. Io non sono un esperto di vino, non sono un somellier né un tecnico, ma avendo realizzato in precedenza un documentario (Langhe Doc.Storie di eretici nell’Italia dei capannoni) che aveva tra i protagonisti Maria Teresa Mascarello, mi ero già imbattuto nella diatriba tra i difensori del barolo tradizionale e i nuovi produttori, quei giovani ribelli che a detta di Bartolo Mascarello volevano trasformare le Langhe in una nuova Napa Valley, che avevano studiato a lungo (copiato?) i modelli francese e americano e in alcuni casi non avevano avuto esitazioni nell’abbandonare una tradizione e una cultura secolari. Tornando a quel giorno, il mio primo pensiero fu di sorpresa, di grande sorpresa: per la prima volta qualcuno magnificava (e non condannava) il ruolo e la storia dei Barolo Boys, per la prima volta qualcuno esaltava (e non condannava) un gruppo di piccoli produttori che a partire da metà anni ‘80 aveva portato lo sconquasso nel mondo del vino. I miei due ragionamenti successivi furono 1) “Tiziano ha preso a cuore una causa persa, meglio non seguirlo su questo terreno” 2) “Beh, potrebbe essere l’occasione di raccontare la stessa storia dal punto di vista dei cattivi, di posizionare la telecamera nell’accampamento dei cowboys dopo aver raccontato la guerra dalla parte degli indiani” (invertendo i termini di una descrizione di Andrea Scanzi riferita al succitato Langhe Doc). Da quel giorno sono passati ormai molti mesi, e devo ammettere che molte delle mie granitiche certezze si sono ammorbidite, e che la mia visione delle cose è oggi molto più sfumata e (suppongo) consapevole e obiettiva. In sintesi: non ci sono buoni e cattivi tout court. Mesi di riprese a contatto con i Barolo Boys, con Elio Altare, Chiara Boschis, Giorgio Rivetti, Marco de Grazia (o Disgrazia, come venne soprannominato dai suoi detrattori) hanno smussato le differenze tra il tradizionalista (io) e il modernista (Tiziano). Di certo, oggi sono più aperto nei confronti delle innovazioni apportate dai modernisti e anche io, come Tiziano, attribuisco loro un ruolo rilevante nella storia delle Langhe del vino. Perchè diciamolo chiaramente e una volta per tutte – e nel film lo dice un insospettabile come il Cav. Lorenzo Accomasso, super tradizionalista e veterano di tutte le guerre del Barolo - “Una volta il Barolo non lo conosceva nessuno, andavi a dieci chilometri da La Morra e nessuno sapeva più che cos’era”. In secondo luogo, oggi molti dei Barolo Boys sono “bio” tanto e forse più di molti loro colleghi tradizionalisti, e nelle vigne di Chiara Boschis ho ritrovato quelle stesse erbace alte che avevo filmato nelle vigne di Maria Teresa Mascarello. E per finire, come sempre accade nel fare i documentari, la conoscenza diretta delle persone è in grado di sovvertire qualsiasi preconcetto; non sempre in meglio, intendiamoci! però in questo caso l’entusiasmo di Chiara Boschis, la profondità di Marco de Grazia, l’orgoglio testardo di Elio Altare... Credo e spero che dal film traspaia questo percorso tortuoso alla scoperta dei Barolo Boys, peraltro affrontato in un momento in cui la bilancia della storia (e il gusto degli appassionati) pende a favore dei tradizionalisti. Abbiamo rifuggito qualunque visione manichea della storia, qualsiasi forma di revisionismo o esaltazione a priori dei nostri protagonisti, sondando ogni racconto o diceria senza risparmiare loro accuse di vario tipo e neppure alcuni colpi bassi. Abbiamo dato voce ai tradizionalisti, abbiamo stuzzicato e provocato i modernisti, sollevato temi spinosi e delicati, vicende umane talvolta dolorose che giacevano sepolte da decenni, conflitti personali e contrasti generazionali. La mia personale conclusione? Non ci sono più i cattivi di una volta!

Tiziano Gaia IL MIRACOLO LANGA

(Pubblicato in origine sulla rivista “Slowfood”, Slow Food Editore, Aprile 2014) Un paio di mesi fa, mentre effettuavo alcune riprese per un documentario sulle vicende che hanno caratterizzato la storia moderna del Barolo, sono finito sul famoso “Belvedere” di La Morra. Era una domenica mattina, la temperatura era rigida (credo fosse gennaio) e il cielo di Langa sembrava un lenzuolo azzuro appena stirato, senza alcuna chiazza di nuvola. Lo spettacolo però non era sopra le nostre teste, ma molto più in basso, tra le capezzagne delle Rocche, di Brunate e Cerequio, e ancora dritto davanti a noi, verso la collina dei Cannubi, oltre Santo Stefano di Perno e fino a Serralunga. Sotto i nostri occhi, le terre del Barolo si distendevano in tutta la loro geometrica perfezione, avvolgevano il pensiero e trasmettevano una sensazione di serenità e benessere così accentuata da apparire quasi “tattile”. A un certo punto è arrivata una comitiva di turisti di lingua inglese, americani con ogni probabilità. Dopo l’immancabile coro di “wow!” (sì, a ripensarci erano decisamente americani), la guida, una mia vecchia conoscenza albese, ha iniziato le spiegazioni annunciando con una certa enfasi che in estate tutto quel ben di dio ai nostri piedi potrebbe diventare il 50° sito italiano Patrimonio Mondiale dell’Umanità UNESCO. Quindi, enunciati gli ettari vitati e i milioni di bottiglie annue, è passata a elencare uno per uno i paesi visibili dal Belvedere, indicandoli col dito. Quello che nessuna guida dice mai, o quasi mai, è che la fortuna del Barolo è recente. Anzi, recentissima. I depliant dell’Ente Turismo e i pur notevoli libri fotografici che riempiono le vetrine delle enoteche di Alba non mostrano mai come si presentava lo stesso paesaggio anche solo una trentina di anni fa: gerbidi, cascine abbandonate, campi promiscui, strade interpoderali da percorrere soltanto a piedi e non con i mezzi meccanici. Nessuno avrebbe esclamato “wow!” costeggiando la conca delle Brunate e della Serra. Anzi, nessuno ci sarebbe passato: il turismo ha scoperto queste zone negli ultimi vent’anni, se prima incontravi qualche straniero probabilmente vuol dire che s’era perso. La storia del Barolo non è datata come quella della Borgogna. In Piemonte nessun ordine cistercense ha iniziato otto secoli fa a mappare i cru e testare i sesti d’impianto sui vari vitigni; eppure non è nemmeno così giovane come le premesse potrebbero far pensare. L’epopea di questo vino e del suo vitigno-padre, il nebbiolo, affonda le radici in pieno Risorgimento italiano e ha per protagonisti alcuni dei personaggi eccellenti del periodo, Carlo Alberto e Camillo Cavour su tutti: alla loro passione per i vigneti di Langa si devono le prime innovazioni cruciali, anche se è una donna, la Marchesa Giulietta Colbert, a usare per la prima volta il nome Barolo associato ai Nebbioli prodotti in zona. Nel Novecento la tradizione si consolida e tra Alba e le colline fioriscono importanti aziende di vinificazione. Non sono ancora le cantine di oggi, sono piuttosto ditte che acquistano ingenti quantitativi di uva dai contadini e la vinificano, immettendo sul mercato vini col proprio marchio. Il loro numero è esiguo perché sono tempi duri, sulle colline si respira la malora e solo una minoranza è attrezzata per trasformare la materia prima. Nascono e si affermano quasi tutti tra inizio secolo e le due guerre i nomi che fanno la “seconda rivoluzione” del Barolo, dopo il periodo dei regi entusiasmi: Borgogno, Ratti, Giacomo Conterno, Cappellano, Virginia Ferrero, Pio Cesare, Prunotto, Calissano e pochi altri. I capostipi di queste famiglie sono grandi conoscitori di vigne, hanno un senso innato del commercio e per diversi decenni sono i veri arbitri delle sorti del territorio: intorno a loro si muove una cerchia di mediatori, sensali, acquirenti e venditori, fino ad arrivare al “particolare”, il piccolo contadino senza voce in capitolo. Altre figure si muovono su un piano più intellettuale o di “politica del territorio”: penso a Giulio Mascarello, padre dell’indimenticato Bartolo, Battista Rinaldi, sindaco storico di Barolo e, tra i non produttori, Giacomo Morra e Luciano de Giacomi, inventore della Fiera del Tartufo il primo, promotore dell’enoteca di Grinzane Cavour il secondo. Resta pur sempre un mondo chiuso. E il Barolo, a dirla tutta, non si vende. D’accordo, è il vino della domenica o del giorno delle nozze, ma commercialmente parlando negli anni Settanta non si va oltre le 1.000 lire al litro franco cantina e spesso nelle cascine se ne omaggia una bottiglia al cliente che abbia comprato una damigiana di Dolcetto. Langhetti che vadano per il mondo a proporre i loro vini ce ne sono, ma anche in questo caso si contano sulle dita di una mano: Angelo Gaja e i fratelli Bruno e Marcello Ceretto sono l’eccezione, non di certo la regola. Bisogna attendere una perfetta, irripetibile congiunzione astrale per vedere il Barolo spiccare il volo oltre i confini di Langa ed entrare nel novero dei grandi vini internazionali. Tra la fine degli anni Settanta e i primi anni 2

del decennio successivo le informazioni cominciano a viaggiare, il mondo vive un generale periodo di boom economico e il grande pubblico si scopre disponibile a spendere di più per bere meglio. È in questo contesto socio-economico fluido (e certamente propizio) che emerge la generazione dei figli ribelli: viticoltori di 25-30 anni che intuiscono le potenzialità dell’uva nebbiolo, prendono a viaggiare in Francia e a documentarsi, si coalizzano, fanno esperimenti. In una Langa “inorridita”, questi vigneron mandano in scena la terza e definitiva (per ora) rivoluzione del Barolo: iniziano a diradare le uve per migliorarne la qualità, introducono le piccole botti di rovere francese facendo legna da ardere delle vecchie e grandi botti di castagno, spingono le macerazioni su tempi “scandalosi” di 36-40 ore, invece dei 30, 40, 50 giorni consueti. Tutto si compie nel giro di dieci anni: precisamente tra il 1976, anno dei primi viaggi in Borgogna, e il 1986 dello scandalo del metanolo e della nascita di Arcigola-Slow Food, con relative pubblicazioni enologiche. Dietro questa svolta radicale ci sono i “Barolo Boys”, così chiamati dalla stampa americana che, nei primi anni Novanta, scopre i loro vini e li adotta, trasfomando i loro artefici in star riverite e corteggiate. Elio Altare, Roberto Voerzio, Enrico Scavino, Luciano Sandrone, Domenico Clerico, Giovanni Manzone, Giorgio Rivetti e Renato Cigliuti sono tra i primi “modernisti” riconosciuti. Molti altri si aggregano via via (Conterno Fantino, Parusso, Chiara Boschis, i fratelli Corino e i Revello, Mauro Molino, i due Grasso, Elio e Federico…) e vanno a ingrossare le fila di un movimento spontaneo che ha nel celebre importatore italo-americano Marco de Grazia il più importante terminale commerciale per il mercato americano. Il nuovo Barolo è un concentrato di colore scuro, una bomba di frutto al naso e in bocca sostituisce i tannini dell’uva – che non hanno tempo di attecchire con tempi di fermentazione così esasperatamente ridotti – con quelli della barrique: il mercato impazzisce, i migliori ristoranti del mondo fanno ponti d’oro, la stampa di settore va in visibilio, e come d’uopo fioccano le polemiche. Superato lo shock iniziale dovuto alla novità, il fronte dei “tradizionalisti” si ricompatta e tra le due visioni del Barolo, una più classicheggiante e legata a una certa idea di identità, l’altra sfacciatamente aperta a ogni possibile sperimentazione e miglioria tecnica, scoppia la più originale delle guerre ideologiche. I più acuti di entrambi gli schieramenti sanno che anche questo è markerting e, dietro agli appelli ufficiali alla calma, non fanno nulla per stemperare i toni, che ancora una volta richiamo le attenzioni dei media. La Langa così come la conosciamo oggi, capace di togliere il fiato se ci si affaccia dal Belvedere di La Morra, si plasma in quegli anni rutilanti, anni in cui arrivano sulle colline più soldi di tutto il secolo precedente, in cui i giovani decidono di fermarsi in azienda, si rimodernano le strutture e si pianta nebbiolo ovunque sia possibile (benchè non sempre logico). Oggi le nuove generazioni, figlie dei Barolo Boys e di chi li ha contestati, cercano una sintesi tra le due anime del territorio. Il Barolo 2.0 nasce su 1.500 ettari vitati di 11 Comuni a sud di Alba, finisce in 14 milioni di bottiglie esportate in ogni angolo del globo e sembra aver trovato la giusta misura tra i legittimi desideri d’avanguardia e un gusto più aderente alla tradizione. Ora che tutto questo sta anche per diventare un film, verrebbe da dire che il miracolo è completato. All’inizio ci credevano in pochi, poi i pochi sono diventati tanti, tra due mesi l’Unesco potrebbe farle diventare le Langhe di tutti.

Alan Tardi POSTMODERN BAROLO: THE WAR THAT NEVER WAS Courtesy of The SOMM Journal (www.sommelierjournal.com) After 30 years of the so-called Barolo Wars - the heated debate between the forces of modern and traditional Barolo - many key players have finally declared a truce. But what actually took place during this period? More important, where does Barolo winemaking stand today? HISTORICAL CONTEXT Barolo (the wine) was consciously created a century and a half ago by a small group of noble landowners who were intimately familiar with French wine. The House of Savoy, which held territory in what is now France, ruled Piedmont from 1801 to 1814. These gentlemen-farmers had had enough of the pink, half-fermented, slightly fizzy, semi-sweet plonk being made in their own wineries from the local Nebbiolo grape, and they decided to bring in outside experts to apply more sophisticated, “modern” techniques to their winemaking. Barolo was thus born out of a revolt against the region’s own traditions. Over the ensuing decades, the power of the nobility dwindled, and many peasants were eventually able to acquire land. Wine was considered a basic foodstuff, and most grape growers were subsistence farmers who made some wine for themselves and sold the rest to a handful of larger wineries. Nevertheless, the dry, Nebbiolo-based wine from around the town of Barolo began to develop a reputation outside the immediate area. The original Barolo appellation was created in 1927. After World War II, these small farmers began to assume new roles as entrepreneurs: they acquired vineyard land and machinery, focused on commercial grape growing and winemaking, and produced a good deal more than they needed for themselves. They worked hard and spent little; many were able to put money aside and send their children to school. Some even began to bottle and label their wines. In the late 1960s and early 1970s, Barolo wine began to trickle into the United States. At about the same time, the postwar generation, born into relative prosperity, was starting to become active in the family winemaking businesses. The Gaja winery, founded in 1859, was already quite successful when Giovanni Gaja handed the reins to his 20-year-old son Angelo in 1961. But the ambitious Angelo aimed to improve the quality of Gaja products and to put Barbaresco—which was even less recognized internationally than Barolo—on the wine map. In 1967, he bottled a single-vineyard Barbaresco from Sorì San Lorenzo (joining Alfredo Currado of Vietti, who made his first single-vineyard Barolo Rocche in 1961). In 1970, Gaja did the unthinkable, especially for the son of a mayor of the town of Barbaresco: he ripped out the Nebbiolo vines in a prime site, Bricco, and replaced them with Cabernet Sauvignon. “In the ’70s and ’80s,” says Angelo’s daughter Gaia—who, since 2004, has become increasingly active in running the winery—”‘traditional’ was a pejorative term, used to describe a wine that was rough, bland, and oxidized, with harsh tannins, volatile acidity, and no color or fruit. This was understandable, given the way grapes were grown at the time, but it was a system of winemaking that had many defects. My father set about correcting them.” For instance, he reduced yields significantly through more severe pruning and green harvesting—a practice that was almost unheard of locally at the time. “In the traditional manner of viticulture, you had to leave the wine in large casks for five to seven years to try to soften the harsh tannins,” explains Gaia, “but with healthy, perfectly matured grapes, that was no longer necessary.” 6

In 1978, Angelo began aging his wines in French barriques as well as the large botti of oak, chestnut, or acacia wood historically used in the region. Finally, he put a high price tag on his wines, maintaining that they rivaled the world’s most prestigious bottlings, and started traveling around the world to promote them. Collectors and journalists took note. And so did other winemakers. THE NEW GENERATION In the 1980s, yet another generation of producers emerged to take up the banner from the likes of Gaja, Currado, Pio Boffa, and Bruno and Marcello Ceretto. These young winemakers were energetic, enthusiastic, and full of new ideas. They took a fresh, critical look at their methods, often turning to France (especially Burgundy) for guidance—much as their noble precursors had 150 years earlier. They drastically cut back yields and shortened maceration times; some invested in new technology like rotary fermenters and temperature-controlled tanks, and some employed commercial yeasts to control fermentation. Most noticeably, many, following Gaja’s example, started using barriques. “It was a very exciting time,” remembers Chiara Boschis of Barolo’s Borgogno family, which acquired the E. Pira & Figli winery in 1981 after its fabled proprietor died. (Luigi Pira is thought to have been the last winemaker within the commune of Barolo to crush grapes by foot.) “There was a whole group of us young producers—Domenico Clerico, Luciano Sandrone, Elio Altare, Guido Fantino, Giorgio Rivetti, and Marco Parusso, to name just a few—who got together all the time and blind tasted lots and lots of wine, both ours and other people’s. We discussed what was good, what was bad, and how it could be better. We were totally obsessed with trying to make the best wine in the world.” When Boschis took over the winery in 1990 and began using barriques, her father Franco stopped talking to her. And that wasn’t the only family feud: after Altare took a chainsaw to the old botte in the family winery, his father Giovanni disinherited him. On the other side, the legendary Bartolo Mascarello plastered the motto “No Barrique, No Berlusconi!” right on his label. The use of barriques versus botti became the symbol of contention, the line in the sand between old ways and new. As the stubborn old guard continued to soil their hands in the vineyards, the new group of stylish young winemakers, dubbed the “Barolo Boys” (many under the savvy tutelage of high-end wine broker Marc de Grazia), hosted fancy dinners in New York and Los Angeles and poured their accessible, “new-style” Barolos for adoring crowds. Modernity was sexy, tradition was passé, and the philosophical battle was in full swing.

A WAR OR A DISAGREEMENT? In fact, the dividing line between modern and traditional was never really all that clear to begin with: many so-called modernisti (including Angelo Gaja) never completely abandoned the botte, but used a combination of large casks and barriques, some new and some used. For example, Enrico Scavino, who began working in his father Paolo’s winery in 1978, began using barriques in 1982 after detecting some olfactory problems in the wine. “The barrique better fixes the color and permits greater microoxygenation,” he says, “but I was afraid two years in new wood would be too much, so we did the first year in barriques and the rest in large cask.” In 1995, due to the “harshness of Slavonian oak,” he got rid of all the old botti ; two years later, he replaced them with 2,500-liter casks made of “softer, sweeter, more elegant” French oak. Except for the interim period between 1995 and 1997, he has always used a combination of large and small barrels. Sandrone, another supposed ultra-modernist, never used barriques at all but rather 500-liter tonneaux. “This is the optimal-size barrel to age Nebbiolo,” he says, “but there’s really nothing new about it: a 500- to 600-liter barrel, called a boutal in Piemontese, was traditionally used in the towns of Barolo and Castiglione Falletto, the original ‘classic’ zone of Barolo.” To Boschis, “the size of the barrel is irrelevant. Barolo is a wine that must age, and the barrel is a tool with which to do this—but it should be invisible. Does anyone really care what type of knife the chef used to prepare a great dish of food? The important thing is how it tastes. If a wine tastes like wood, it’s not good.” Roberto Voerzio agrees: “To make barriques or botti be the deciding factor between modern and traditional is overly reductive and completely wrong. That’s not what makes the difference. What does make the difference is low yields and the possibility of controlling the temperature during fermentation.” Since leaving his father Gianni’s traditional winery to start his own eponymous house in 1986, Roberto has charted his own path, marked by extremely low yields (sometimes less than a pound per vine) and high-density plantings (nearly 20,000 vines per acre in certain vineyards). Still, Voerzio maintains, “I’m not modern, but I’m not traditional either. I guess you could call me a modern traditionalist.” Although such characterizations may seem confusing, they are not uncommon in Barolo, which finds itself at a particularly interesting point in its evolution. The one-time upstarts now have grown children who are starting to come up with ideas of their own; they themselves are beginning to look back as well as forward. If the distinction between modernity and tradition was ambiguous from the beginning, today it is practically nonexistent. In 1996, Angelo Gaja, the person largely responsible for the original upheaval, reclassified his groundbreaking, top-shelf, single-vineyard Barbarescos from Denominazione di Origine Controllata e Garantita (DOCG) to Langhe Rosso DOC, and he now blends the Nebbiolo with 5% Barbera. This was a big step, whether you consider it backward or forward. “Piedmont is not Burgundy,” says Gaia Gaja, sounding very much like a staunch traditionalist. “ Crus are not part of our tradition. Today Gaja makes only blended wines: either a blend of vineyards—as in the case of our Barbaresco, which contains Nebbiolo from 14 different vineyards—or a blend of grape varieties, as in our single-vineyard wines.” “With all this change and experimentation going on, some mistakes were bound to be made; some people went too far,” admits Boschis, who last year bought several large casks, ostensibly to use in blending Nebbiolo from several small vineyards she recently acquired. Although she condemns what she calls a “witch hunt” against the barrique, she acknowledges that “sometimes there is a hint of new wood in the wines when they’re very young.” Following the 2011 vintage, Elisa Scavino convinced her father Enrico to try aging a Barolo completely in large casks. “With our system of combining small and large barrels, I really don’t think it will make much difference,” says Enrico, “but she is right to give it a try. The wine 9

will tell in a few years.” The Boroli winery, which entered the Barolo game at the crest of the modernist wave in 1997, added some big casks in 2006. Many other modernists are going back to large casks and long fermentation cycles—and some are even starting to take a fresh look at their long-forgotten cement tanks. A few of the steadfastly traditional producers take this apparent backtracking as a vindication of their philosophy, a capitulation of the errant modernists. “They said we were old fashioned, outdated, and that our wines stank,” says Maria Teresa Mascarello, who has been faithfully carrying on the family customs since the death of her father Bartolo in 2005. “Before they insulted us; now they want to make wine like us.” Remembering the “war years,” Fabio Burlotto of Comm. G.B. Burlotto, one of the most historic wineries in the region, says that “I was very young, but this wasn’t an easy period for us; no one was interested in traditional wines. We experimented with barriques for a few years, but we just weren’t happy with the results. I do think, however, it is good to keep an open mind and explore new techniques and technologies.” Adds Mascarello, “Tradition doesn’t mean standing still; it means evolving while respecting the foundation that came before. Even my father said he didn’t make the same wine as his father did, but there was still a continuity.” “This ‘war’ might have been invented in the press,” Boschis believes. “But it wasn’t all negative; it gave them something to talk about, which created a buzz and focused an attention on this region that had never been there before.” Voerzio concurs: “Many of these new ideas that came out during that time were abandoned because they didn’t make sense from the very beginning. They didn’t take into account the fact that there were two or three generations before that had brought winemaking in this area to a very high point. The idea that traditional wine smelled bad is not true; those who worked well made sure it didn’t. There was never any war between modernists and traditionalists; it was more a war of journalists.” Elio Altare, who is often credited with (or blamed for) fanning the flames of discord between the two camps, also insists that “there was never any war. Sure, there was competition, two different ways of looking at things. But there’s nothing wrong with that. I fight for mine, you fight for yours, and may the best man win. Then we all go have dinner together. I never understood what all the fuss was about. The barrique is just wood, and it’s been around for a long time. Stainless steel is modern; destemmers, pumps, 10

and tractors are modern; and today everyone, even the most traditional producers, uses them. I respect and honor the handful of historic wineries that have always worked well; I like traditional wines, as long as they’re made well. And some of them are spectacular. Those flavors remind me of my youth and the wines of my father.” BAROLO TODAY One point on which almost everyone in Barolo agrees is that winemaking practices have changed greatly since the modern revolution. “Fifty years ago, green harvest was unheard of,” says Burlotto. “Now everybody does it. Today everyone keeps their wineries clean, which was something that was very difficult a generation or two ago.” As Scavino sees it, “In the past, there were only a handful of wineries that made good-quality wine. Now there are many wineries, and just about everyone makes good wine. There may still be only a few really great ones, but it’s hard to find a flawed bottle today, and this was certainly not the case in the past.” Even Maria Teresa Mascarello admits that although “the new generation didn’t invent quality, they did bring a new force and a new way of thinking to this region. Things here took a big jump forward, the market changed, and importers came knocking.” Today there are almost as many different ways to produce a great Barolo as there are hills in the Langhe, and there is room for all of them. Mascarello is not likely to make any radical changes in her approach; I recently tasted the 2008 vintage, and though it was supple and approachable in a way that no just-released Barolo would have been 25 years ago, it remains totally true to the house style. Nor will Altare significantly alter his winemaking methods: “A five-day, controlled-temperature fermentation and two years in barrique—that’s our recipe,” says daughter Silvia, “and we don’t plan on changing it in the foreseeable future.” Some years ago, I was visiting with Mascarello when Altare stopped by to chat. He seemed like a family friend rather than a blood enemy. “I made wine differently than Bartolo did,” Altare recalls, “but I respected and admired him: he was true to himself, a maestro of life.” On a wall in the Altare winery hangs a large photograph of Elio and Bartolo laughing and talking together. And on the desk in the Mascarello tasting room is a photograph of a very young Bartolo sitting on barrels marked “Barolo”—barrels that look remarkably like the aforementioned 500-liter boutal . “Tradition is nothing more than good innovations that stuck,” Altare concludes. “Now my daughter is a ‘traditional’ winemaker; she makes wine the way her father did.”

Harmon Skurnik MY BAROLO BOYS STORY I’m not exactly sure who or when the term “Barolo Boys” was coined, but our company surely played a hand in popularizing it at the very least. Skurnik Wines has been an importer of “Marc de Grazia Selections” since 1990. At that time, the wines of Piedmont were just starting a rebound in interest in the US that continues today. The first vintage we imported, 1988, was a good one, followed by the classic 1989s – with excellent reviews from Robert Parker and others, interest in Barolo started to surge. This was nothing when compared to the frenzy that ensued as the much anticipated 1990s were about to be released… This is the backdrop to my first visit to Piedmont in early 1991, with my brother Michael, and Marco de Grazia. We saw first hand that a revolution was taking place, as we visited Barolo producers like Elio Altare, Luciano Sandrone, Domenico Clerico, Enrico (Paolo) Scavino, Chiara Boschis (E. Pira), Luigi Scavino (Azelia), Enzo and Carlo Revello, as well as non-Barolo producers like Franco and Sergio Minuto (Moccagatta), Giorgio Rivetti (La Spinetta) (who at the time only made Moscato d’Asti!), and the late Matteo Correggia of Roero. There was a lot of excitement brewing, not just because the incredible 1990s were in barrel, but the unprecedented level of cooperation between these “Barolo Boys”, who travelled more than once together to Burgundy, was starting to yield results and there was a definite “buzz” in the air. I specifically recall tasting the revelatory 1990 Sandrone “Cannubi Boschis” out of barrel and it was the best young wine I had ever tasted, bordering on transcendental. Something was really happening here and we wanted to be the pied piper and let the world know! Later in 1991, we organized our first Piedmont tasting in New York, and we, along with Marc de Grazia and his brother Iano, convinced many of the above producers to fly over for the event. We sent an invitation out to our customers that said “Come Meet The Barolo Boys and Taste The Great Wines of Piedmont!!!” And the rest was history. Below: Recent photo of the De Grazia brothers with the Skurnik brothers

Circa 1991 Marco, Michael and me sitting on the Arborina vineyard contemplating Elio Altareâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s wines on the above trip described

Another early photo of Michael with Marco from the 1990s 13

Stephen Brook BAROLO, ANCIENT AND MODERN 2 February 2006 Courtesy of Decanter (www.decanter.com) On a recent visit to one of Barolo’s finest producers, Mauro Mascarello, I was taken aback when he fished out an email I had sent him months earlier, commenting on his top wine, Cà d’Morissio. My comment had been favourable, and had concluded with the assertion that the old distinction between ‘traditional’ and ‘modernist’ producers of Barolo was losing its importance. Mascarello is a high priest of the traditionalist wing, and he took polite exception to being lumped in with other fine winemakers whose approach was very different. My attempt at lordly arbitration had clearly not gone down well. This was a vivid reminder that the debate is, in some eyes, very much alive. Traditionalists see themselves as the guardians of authentic Barolo, the outcome of a long, slow vinification followed by prolonged ageing in large, oak casks. Modernists, by and large, favour shorter macerations and more overt fruitiness, and often use barrique ageing to give the wine its structure and additional flavours. Mascarello’s gripe against the modernists can be summed up as follows: ‘I don’t, for one minute, dispute that some modernists are making great wines. But they are not making great Barolo.’ Elio Altare, a pioneer among the modernists, once told me: ‘I’m not interested in making great Barolo. I simply want to make great wine. And all the world’s great red wines are matured in barriques.’ I have sympathies with both camps, which are both betrayed by their excesses. Poor traditionalists produce volatile, astringent and often dried-out wines with ferocious tannins; mediocre modernists swamp the complex aromas and fruit of the Nebbiolo grape with toasty, chocolatey, new oak flavours. Yet few would dispute that there are brilliant winemakers in both these opposed schools. Of all the red grapes in the world, Nebbiolo must be the most tricky to vinify. Pale in colour, yet high in tannin, acidity and alcohol, it demands a difficult balancing act from the winemaker. Should one element obtrude excessively, the wine will be unbalanced. California winemakers often talk about ‘tannin management’. Their struggle with the genial Cabernet Sauvignon is nothing compared with the battle undertaken by Barolo and Barbaresco producers in taming the tannins of Nebbiolo. One of the major differences between the two camps lies in their approach to maceration – that is, the amount of time the juice remains in contact with the skins and pips during fermentation. Traditionalists such as Mauro Mascarello, his namesake, the late Bartolo Mascarello, or the late Giovanni Conterno thought nothing of a maceration of 30 days or more. Inevitably, this will extract more tannins than a briefer period. (....) Clearly, Mascarello knows what he is doing, as do other traditionalists such as Bruno Giacosa, Aldo Vajra and the Conternos. But many traditionalist wines were awful. Claudio Fennocchio, also a traditionalist, explained how, 40 years ago, the wine could be so tough that it would be taken up to the attic in demijohns during the baking summers, so as to accelerate the evolution of the otherwise-undrinkable wine. The use of old casks could, if not scrupulously maintained, radically increase the risk of bacterial contamination; volatile acidity was an ever-present problem. I have had the dubious pleasure of tasting many traditional Baroli from the 1960s and 1970s, and a clear majority have not aged well. On the contrary, they exhibit extreme volatility, dry tannins, a lack of fruit, and off-flavours. 14

So it is not hard to understand why the modernist pioneers – Elio Altare, Domenico Clerico, Roberto Voerzio, Angelo Gaja, the late Renato Ratti, and others – were keen to make a break from this dubious past. Their voyages to Burgundy and Bordeaux persuaded them of the virtues of shorter vinifications and barrique ageing. Indeed, Ratti argued that the so-called traditional methods were an aberration, brought on by labour shortages during periods of war and economic crisis. The truly traditional, but labour-intensive, practice of breaking up the cap had been replaced by maintaining the cap submerged, often weighed down by stones, thus inevitably maximising tannin extraction, which in turn required long ageing in casks. There can be little doubt that the modernist pioneers revolutionised the making of Barolo out of a genuine desire to improve quality. Enrico Scavino, who employs both casks and barriques, insists he isn’t after oaky flavours. ‘I use barriques because they make it easier to fix the colour and anthocynanins, and give the wines some necessary micro-oxidation,’ he says. ‘All of this helps set the wine on the right path. Then it is aged in French-oak botti, which are neutral containers. If you use nothing but barriques, the evolution of the wine is more rapid. But that’s precisely why I restrict my use of barriques – I want a slow evolution.’(...) Elio Grasso ages his cru ‘Runcot’ in new oak, but his other Baroli are aged in botti, which are renewed every 10 years. Renato Cigliutti in Barbaresco also varies the kind of wood according to the character of his different crus. Domenico Clerico insists he is a traditional producer, despite his use of barriques. His Baroli are macerated for 18 to 25 days, yet they are also aged in 90% new oak for at least two years. ‘The only reason I am seen as a modernist is because I installed temperature control before many others,’ he says. ‘My most important role is to respect and express my different terroirs, which have been known for centuries by our ancestors. Intelligent growers matter more than clever winemakers.’ Twenty years ago, Clerico was regarded as a firebrand. Today, he sees himself as a conservative. There are producers and wines that are unashamedly modern, such as the new-oaked ‘Enrico VI’ from Cordero di Montezemolo, and the three Baroli from Conterno Fantino, all aged in new oak. Many growers in La Morra, ardent disciples (and often neighbours) of Altare, follow his preference for rapid vinification in roto-fermenters and barrique ageing. I arrive at no conclusion, except that I welcome the variety and quality of the present-day wines from Barolo and Barbaresco. I can take great pleasure from a complex, traditional Barolo from the likes of Mascarello, Conterno, Fenocchio, Cavallotto or Giacosa, without it spoiling my appreciation of the richly structured, barrique-aged wines from the modernist camp. Consumers are all the richer for the choice of styles now available. It is also worth underlining that only at the extreme ends of each stylistic wing – the names of Mauro Mascarello and Elio Altare – are entrenched positions maintained. Most winemakers here are pragmatists, borrowing and adapting from ancient and modern ideas. In Barbaresco, the dynamic Giorgio Pellissero ages his regular Barbaresco in older barriques and in botti, whereas his top cru, Vanotu, is aged entirely in new oak. Vietti also uses both barriques and botti. Aldo Vajra favours a lengthy maceration and prolonged ageing in botti, but he also uses pumpovers and mechanical punch-downs, which would probably cause some traditionalist eyebrows to raise. Roberto Voerzio uses a lot of new oak, but his fermentations are quite long. In short, the winemaking techniques are adapted to the structure of the wines.

BAROLO QUIZ

Rispondi alle domande e controlla il tuo livello di conoscenza del più grande rosso italiano! Try to answer these 10 questions and discover how expert you are about the King of Wines! (Soluzioni a pagina 35 / Solutions at page 35) 1) Il Barolo è un vino a denominazione - Barolo denomination is a) Doc b) Docg c) Vino da Tavola - Table wine 2) Quale percentuale di altri vitigni oltre il nebbiolo è ammessa nella produzione del Barolo? A part from Nebbiolo, wich percentage of other varieties is admitted in Barolo wine? a) fino al 5% - up to 5% b) fino al 30% - up to 30% c) non sono ammessi altri vitigni oltre il nebbiolo - no others varieties admitted 3) In quanti comuni si può produrre Barolo? In how many communes can Barolo be produced? a) 4 b) 11 c) nel solo comune di Barolo - only in the commune of Barolo 4) Se diciamo barrique a che cosa pensi? - If we say barrique, your thoughts go to a) a una tecnica di potatura della vite - a pruning technique b) a un fusto di rovere da 225 litri per l’affinamento del vino - a 225 litres oak barrel c) una tecnica di vinificazione francese - a french winemaking technique 5) Solo una di queste tre è una vigna atta a produrre Barolo. Quale? Only one of these three vineyards is able to produce Barolo. Which one? a) Cannubi b) Asili c) Masseto 6) Il Barolo 2014 per legge non si potrà bere prima del… By law, customers will drink Barolo 2014 only in a) 2015 b) 2018 c) quando il produttore deciderà di immetterlo sul mercato - when its producer will decide to sell it 7) Non sono macchie di Rorschach, bensì di vino. Qual è il Barolo secondo te? This is not a Rorschach test, they are wine stains. Which one is Barolo’s? a)

8) Che cos’hanno in comune Elio Altare e Roberto Voerzio? Elio Altare and Roberto Voerzio: what do they have in common? a) entrambi coltivano una vigna nel cru Brunate - they both have wineyards in Brunate cru b) hanno iniziato a esportare vino con la Marco de Grazia Selection they both started exporting wines with Marco de Grazia c) le loro cantine si trovano nella stessa frazione di La Morra their wineries are in the same part of La Morra 9) I Barolo Boys sono - Barolo Boys are a) una squadra di calcio - a football team b) un gruppo di produttori di vino degli anni ‘80-’90 - a group of wine producers from the 1990s c) entrambe le cose - both of them 10) Un po’ di storia. Chi usò per primo il nome del comune di Barolo per questo vino? A bit of history. Who for the 1st time gave this wine the name of the commune of Barolo? a) Giulietta Colbert, moglie di Carlo Tancredi / Juliette Colbert, wife of Carlo Tancredi b) Camillo Benso Conte di Cavour c) Lorenzo Accomasso (Soluzioni a pagina 35 / Solutions at page 35) h

Hai risposto bene a tutte le domande Sei un vero “Barolo Boy”, non ti sfugge nulla del celebre vino rosso di Langa. Ti consigliamo di continuare così, senza eccessi ma con l’entusiasmo del vero appassionato di grandi vini. Questo film è dedicato a te. You’ve answered correctly to all our questions You’ve answered correctly to all our questions. Great, you’re a real Barolo Boy or girl, you know everything that can be know about Barolo! Go on this way, this film is dedicated to you. Hai risposto bene a 6-9 domande Sei un discreto conoscitore del Barolo, ma puoi fare di più. Ti consigliamo frequenti gite in Langa, piacevoli soste dai produttori e tante istruttive bevute. Questo film può aiutarti nel compito. You’ve answered correctly to 6-9 questions You know Barolo wine pretty well, but you can do much more! We suggest you frequent travels to the Langhe, with a lot of pleasant wine tasting experiences. This film can help you in this task!

Hai risposto bene a meno di 5 domande Non ci siamo, o forse sei astemio e davvero pensavi che questo fosse un film sul calcio. In ogni caso non disperare: si può imparare a nuotare e a guidare molto tardi, e lo stesso vale per la conoscenza del Barolo. Però dovrai applicarti molto e questo film, anche se da solo non basterà, può indirizzarti sulla “retta via”. Auguri! You’ve answered correctly to less than 6 questions Are you a teetotal? Maybe yes, and you thought this film was about football. In any case, do not despair: you can learn to swim and drive very late, and the the same is for the knowledge of Barolo wine. But you have to apply yourself a lot and this film, even if alone it’s not enough, can put you on the “right path.” Best wishes! 17

Fotografie d’archivio / Archival images È una Langa in bianco e nero – o comunque a tinte sbiadite – quella precedente l’avvento dei “ragazzi del Barolo”. Poche grandi case imbottigliano (tra cui Borgogno), la maggior parte delle cascine vende il vino in damigiana. In vigna si muovono ancora i genitori dei futuri “rivoluzionari”, in cantina la vecchia generazione fa tutto da sé, senza consulenze esterne o ausili tecnologici. E di barrique, ovviamente, nemmeno l’ombra...

It’s a Langa in black and white, the one before the advent of the “Barolo Boys.” A few big estates (including Borgogno) are bottling Barolo wine, while most of the farms are selling wine in big carboys. The parents of the future “revolutionaries” are working in the vineyards, the older generation does everything by itself in the cellar, without external advice or assistive technology. And, obviously, there’s no trace of french barriques ... In alto: Giovanni e Maria Altare, fine anni 70 - Above: Giovanni and Maria Altare, late 1970s In basso: un giovane Cav. Lorenzo Accomasso - Above: a younger Lorenzo Accomasso

Nel 1986 le campane suonano a morto sulle colline del Barolo. In primavera si insinua, subdolo, il morbo del metanolo, diffuso a partire da una cittadina di pianura ai margini delle Langhe e famosa per le sue grandi ditte imbottigliatrici, Narzole. La gente muore bevendo un bicchiere di troppo di vino adulterato: in Italia non era mai successo, e si scatena una caccia alle streghe – anche mediatica – che annienta l’immagine enologica nazionale. Per i figli ribelli delle colline è giunta l’ora di fare qualcosa per riabilitare un settore, e un mestiere, messo in ginocchio da questo scandalo. In 1986, death bells are sounding on the hills of Barolo wine. In spring the ghost of methanol poison, spread from Narzole (a small town not far from the Langhe, famous for its large bottlers) strikes the world of italian wine. People die by drinking an adultered glass of wine, something never happened before in Italy: this generates a witch hunt (even in the media) that destroys the image of italian wine. For the rebellious sons of our hills it’s time to do something to rehabilitate an industry, and a profession, brought to its knees by this scandal.

I Barolo Boys non lo sanno ancora, ma la loro avventura è agli inizi. «Sono le persone giuste al posto giusto: sono giovani, ambiziosi e affamati». Iniziano a trovarsi, a degustarsi i vini a vicenda, in un clima di confronto e apertura senza precedenti nella storia non solo delle Langhe, ma probabilmente dell’Italia del vino. Sono pronti per il grande balzo. The Barolo Boys do not know it yet, but their adventure is beginning. “They’re the right people in the right place: they are young, ambitious and hungry”. They start to meet, to taste and compare each other’s wines, in an atmosphere of friendship and openness never seen before in the world of wine, not only in the Langhe, but in the whole Italy. They are ready for the big leap.

Gli anni Novanta segnano la nascita e subito il trionfo della critica enologica. In America come in Italia fioriscono riviste specializzate e guide, si moltiplicano gli eventi, esplode la moda dei corsi di degustazione. Tre i protagonisti assoluti della scena: negli Usa, la rivista Wine Spectator e il critico, ex avvocato, Robert Parker; in Italia Slow Food e Gambero Rosso che, in tandem, iniziano l’avventura editoriale di Vini d’Italia destinata a fare epoca con l’agognato riconoscimento dei “Tre Bicchieri”. The Nineties saw the birth - and immediate triumph - of wine critics. In America as in Italy specialized magazines and wine guides bloom every day, while the fashion of wine tasting courses and wine related events literally explodes. Three are the protagonists of this scene: in the United States, the magazine Wine Spectator and its founder (and former lawyer) Robert Parker. In Italy, Slow Food and Gambero Rosso, together, begin the adventure of publishing their guide “Vini d’Italia”, and create the “Tre Bicchieri” recognition, the highest honour for italian wines.

In prima fila, da sinistra: Luciano Sandrone, Giorgio Rivetti, Piero Selvaggio, Chiara Boschis, Elio Altare, Marco de Grazia; In seconda fila: Enrica Scavino, Franco Moccagatta, Marco Parusso, Dina Cigliuti, Giovanni Manzone, Angelo Rocca, Luigi Scavino, Renato Corino 24

First raw, from left to right:: Luciano Sandrone, Giorgio Rivetti, Piero Selvaggio, Chiara Boschis, Elio Altare, Marco de Grazia; Second row: Enrica Scavino, Franco Moccagatta, Marco Parusso, Dina Cigliuti, Giovanni Manzone, Angelo Rocca, Luigi Scavino, Renato Corino 25

«I Barolo Boys alla conquista dell’America: chi l’avrebbe mai detto?». Invece succede anche questo. Anzi, succede soprattutto questo. I modernisti iniziano a viaggiare oltreoceano e “spaccano” grazie alle loro bottiglie dal gusto nuovo ma ancora di più, forse, grazie a quello spirito di squadra che li fa apparire moderni, brillanti, sicuri di sé. In altre parole, vincenti. E d’accordo: oltre al lavoro, c’è anche tempo per qualche legittimo svago... “The Barolo Boys conquer America: who would have thought?”. Well, this too happened, or better this was one of the main thing that happened. The modernists start to travel overseas and “become hip” thanks to their bottles’new taste but even more, perhaps, thanks to a new team spirit that makes them look modern, bright, self-confident: in other words, they’re successful. And of course, in addition to work there is also time for some legitimate entertainment... 27

Foto di scena / Behind the scenes photos In questa pagina: backstage delle riprese video con la Banda Musicale G.Gabetti di La Morra. A destra: backstage della registrazione del vivo della colonna sonora del film, con la Banda Gabetti e il compositore Giorgio Boffa. Left page: behind the scenes with the Gabetti Musical Band, La Morra Right page: recording the original film soundtrack with its composer Giorgio Boffa.

In questa pagina: sessione fotografica con ASD Monforte Barolo Boys e Alex Astegiano. A destra: trasferta in Sicilia con Marco de Grazia, presso la Tenuta delle Terre Nere. Left page: behind the scenes with ASD Monforte Barolo Boys and photographer Alex Astegiano. Right page: in Sicily with Marco de Grazia, at Tenuta delle Terre Nere.

Indice / Index

Non ci sono più i cattivi di una volta Paolo Casalis

p.1

Il Miracolo Langa Tiziano Gaia

p.2

Postmodern Barolo: the war that never was Alan Tardi

p.6

My Barolo Boys story Harmon Skurnik

p.12

Barolo, ancient and modern Stephen Brook

p.14

Barolo Quiz

p.16

Fotografie d’archivio - Archival images

p.18

Foto di scena - Behind the scenes photos

p.28

SOLUZIONI AL QUIZ “DO YOU KNOW BAROLO?” QUIZ SOLUTIONS 1B-2C-3B-4B-5A 6 B - 7 A - 8 A - 9 C - 10 A

A sinistra: a Corvara (Dolomiti) con Joe Bastianich; In basso: luglio 2014anteprima del film con i protagonisti, presso l’Enoteca del Barolo Left page: in Corvara (Dolomites) with Joe Bastianich; Below: july 2014, first film screening with its protagonists at Enoteca del Barolo 33