Featured Producer
Grottafumata
We introduced our clients in California to Grottafumata last year in 2017. At that time we only had olive oil to propose, and what an oil! Grottafumata’s olive grove is located on the west side of Mount Etna, near the town of Bronte, famous for its pistachios. Mauro Cutuli and Mariangela Prestifilippo inherited their ten-hectare olive grove from Mauro’s grandfather and began working the grove organically, producing their first olio in 2015. The dry-farmed grove is planted to Nocellera Etnea, an indigenous variety to the volcano, in a soil of lava, limestone, sandstone, and clay. In addition to olive trees they grow mandarancio, a cross between oranges and mandarins, used to produce marmalade. The remaining hectare is dedicated to the natural flora of wild fennel, capers, liquirizia, fig, cactus, mulberry trees, and nepitella (wild mint). They also produce their own herb salt and honey.Grottafumata means “smoky caves,” named for the caves formed by a nearby river that has eaten through the lava and the smoke from naturally occurring sulfur in the lava that steams up from the caves. Mauro and Mariangela have won many awards for their olive oil in Italy and we can now see why—the 500ml tins are available in Berkeley. It is an incredible all-around oil—herbaceous and savory with a light touch and it tends to go well with everything. On our last visit to Mount Etna in 2018, we were overjoyed to discover that the talents of Mauro and Mariangela had been applied to the vine as well.
Their wine project is on the opposite eastern slope of Mount Etna, the historic principal zone of wine production on Mount Etna. Zafferana is the name of this area, named after the abundant yellow ginestra flowers that grow here (“zaffro” is yellow in Arabic). This area of Etna is close to Catania and also the closest part of Etna to the Mediterranean Sea. The contrada where their vines are located is called Monte Ilice, situated between the towns of Trecastagni and Zafferana Etnea. Monte Ilice is an absolutely incredible slope, due east, that rises at least at a 45-degree angle, high on the slopes of Etna at 700 to 840 meters above sea level. Grottafumata works 1.4 hectares here, along with the help of the landowner who is in his eighties and still works the vines with his brother. Many of the vines are franchi di piede (planted on their own rootstock) and up to 100 years old.
Grottafumata currently makes one Etna Bianco and one Etna Rosso from Monte Ilice. The Bianco is fermented for three days on the skins, then aged in stainless steel until bottling with full malolactic fermentation. It is principally a Carricante, Catarratto, and Minella blend. The Rosso is Nerello Mascalese and Nerello Cappuccio (also called Nerello Mantellato locally). Both Cappuccio and Mantellato, which mean hat and cape respectively, refer to the large size of the leaves that shield the grapes from the sun. The soil here is incredibly loose, sandy, volcanic ash and the vines literally cling to the slopes. The low pH in this soil gives a white that is very round and honeyed, with its freshness driven more by an intense volcanic minerality than acidity. The influence of the sea and the ginestra flowers can also be felt. The red is very smoky and soil-driven, with great aromatics, delicious fruit, and a silky texture of wonderful touch and finesse. These wines are a fitting tribute to Etna's viticultural history and respectfully showcase its unique terroir without artifice.
Catherine Le Goeuil
The hilltop village of Cairanne on the left bank of the southern Rhône between Orange and Vaison-la-Romaine is a picture of Provençal fantasy where fields of lavender paint the landscape purple and proud plain trees line the marketplace in the center of town. Cairanne belongs to the Côtes du Rhône Villages appellation and is widely regarded as the star among the seventeen villages that have the right to use this designation.Catherine Le Goeuil’s taste for adventure has made her a leading pioneer in Cairanne. Having been born in the Congo to French parents, she had already lived in interesting places, but she longed to return to her roots. In 1993, with little experience and great determination, she and her family bought a six-hectare domaine. Soon after implementing one of their first chemical treatments on the vines, Catherine became very ill. The viticultural direction for the domaine became instantly clear. In her mind, farming as naturally as possible was the only way to go. Over time, she started the conversion to organic farming, and is now fully certified in this methodology. In a village just shy of one thousand inhabitants and only two others who farm organically nearby, her decisions have been met with suspicion and trepidation. Though rooted to the place both figuratively and literally, she is still considered an outsider—not that she lets this dilute her conviction in any way.
Cairanne is located deep in the heart of the Vaucluse and boasts spectacular views of the famous Dentelles de Montmirail and Mont Ventoux. Catherine’s vineyards are frequently subject to the forceful mistral, which is known to purify vines of excess moisture when it is not wreaking havoc on her beautiful flower garden. Her vineyards enjoy all the benefits of organic farming: a grassy cover crop in between vineyard rows that provides nutrients and microbiotic growth and well-aerated soils in a typically tough and relatively impermeable sandy molasse. She credits this soil for giving her wines with finesse and approachability, but she deserves credit, too. Brave trailblazing, risk-taking, and persistence in the face of scrutiny have given this creative maverick the fortitude to make delicious, elegant blends year after year.
Vigneti Vecchio
While viticulture on the slopes of Mount Etna dates back thousands of years, only in the last decade or two have the wines produced on Sicily’s mythical volcano entered the global spotlight. Eager to exploit the terroir riches of this stunning natural wonder, waves of newcomers from around Italy and abroad have settled, relying on both traditional methods and modern enology to search for Etna’s truest expression.The fascination with Etna in the eyes of growers and consumers alike stems not only from its fertile soils of sandy, decomposed volcanic rock but also from the elevation that allows its wines to retain an uncommon freshness and delicacy at such a southerly latitude. Reaching over 1,000 meters above sea level, Etna’s vineyards are some of Europe’s highest, and the cool nights late in the growing season favor slow ripening and the development of extremely complex aromas at relatively low alcohol levels. Harnessing this potential to create wines of nuance and finesse, however, is another story altogether: it requires vision, dedication, and careful execution. It is with tremendous excitement, then, that we announce our collaboration with Vigneti Vecchio, a small family-run estate on Etna’s northern face.
Carmelo Vecchio and his wife, Rosa La Guzza, did not come from afar to make wine on Etna: they are true locals, raised in the heart of the vineyards. Carmelo began working at the nearby Passopisciaro winery at a young age, and after fifteen years of hands-on experience, the time came to strike out on his own. From barely one hectare of vines up to 130 years old inherited from Rosa’s family, the couple took matters into their own hands: sustainable farming by hand, with the goal of achieving an elegant balance in the grapes; micro-vinifications in the tiny cellar beneath their home, with respect for tradition and terroir; and aging the wines in used barrels before bottling without fining or filtration.
Armed with excellent raw materials along with Carmelo's years of experience and an appreciation for ancient local practices such as skin maceration for whites and blending white grapes into the reds, Rosa and Carmelo succeeded in crafting delicate, pure, and highly refined wines from their inaugural 2016 harvest. While Etna still searches for its identity, Vigneti Vecchio demonstrates that this towering volcano rising from the Mediterranean can in fact produce wines as beautifully nuanced as anywhere else in Italy.
Domaine Giacometti
Corsicans are no strangers to rugged landscapes and isolated areas, yet there is only one spot on the island that has earned the name of “Desert” among Corsicans. The Agriates Desert is a large, rugged, empty and arid swath of land between the Cap Corse and Calvi on the northern end of the island. There are no cities nor towns, only one small paved road, and only one hamlet, with a dozen or so inhabitants. It’s swept year round with the Libecciu, a hot and dry wind that rolls down off the Italian coast, and it’s been an empty area for nearly a century. The wind combined with the clay-granite soils makes growing anything here extremely laborious, with the vines requiring constant plowing to allow the roots to forage deep for water and nutrients. The Giacometti family boldly moved here in 1987, taking over vines that had been planted in 1966. The appellation authorities granted Patrimonio appellation status to these vines, even though the estate is several miles from the village of Patrimonio and other vineyards. Given the isolation of the domaine, word of the wines and the estate haven't travelled far, though an important and loyal Corsican clientele has permitted the domaine to thrive. The Giacomettis have long made a generous, approachable style of Patrimonio, similar to what has traditionally been served by the pitcher at the Corsican dinner table. The terroir here provides conditions that allow the Niellucciu vines to forage deep into the granite rock for nutrients and to ripen without excess.To find the estate one needs to venture far from the one paved road of the region, and a good 4x4 vehicle is essential. The founder, Christian Giacometti, has gradually been handing over the reins to his daughter Sarah and son Simon after 25 years of constant and heroic labor to make wine in an inhospitable land. The kids are all right, as they say, continuing on with their unique and eminently drinkable style of Patrimonio, all the while experimenting with Sciaccarellu plantings (extremely rare for Patrimonio) and offering a glimpse of great things to come.
Peter Dipoli
Peter Dipoli represents one of the wine world’s pure talents, a pioneer in Alto Adige who is producing wines on a level beyond what anyone thought possible in this mountainous region. After much research and study, Peter determined that the steep, high-altitude slopes near Bolzano are ideal for the production of complex, age-worthy white and red wines. He began by replacing the local red Schiava with Sauvignon Blanc: at this altitude, Sauvignon would be able to enjoy a longer growing season, attaining great ripeness while retaining the acidity that would allow it to age in bottle. His in-depth study of terroir seems to have paid off, as the Voglar bottling—a pure Sauvignon Blanc grown in limestone soils on near-vertical slopes, fermented and aged in acacia casks—is characterized by gorgeous exotic fruit with abundant minerality.Peter’s research led him to detect a zone with a milder climate and soils of clay and limestone, ideal for Merlot and Cabernet Sauvignon. Like for his white, he can achieve longer hang time that confers optimal maturity to the fruit while avoiding unpleasant vegetal flavors. After two years in barriques and another two in bottle, Iugum is released. Peter's goal is to make an age-worthy, complex red from Alto Adige that simultaneously reflects its terroir, and like Voglar, Iugum has been a great success in this regard. It is a cool climate Cabernet that shows both great poise and class and excellent drinkability. Broadly useful at table, it is approachable young but has great potential for the cellar as well. Experience the unique artistry of one of northern Italy's great talents, a secret largely guarded within Italy's borders, until now.
Domaine Chignard
Even after many successful years practicing his craft, fourth-generation vigneron Michel Chignard claims to be a novice. He is a modest man, kind and courteous, but in every aspect of his winemaking one clearly sees a passionate perfectionist. In 2007 Michel turned the management of the family domaine over to his son Cédric, who is carrying on this philosophy with great pride and has already managed to prove himself in his first few vintages. The Chignard family is also blessed with vineyards in one of the best sites of the Fleurie appellation, Les Moriers, an arrowhead-shaped parcel that juts right down into Moulin-à-Vent vines. Their eight hectares of vineyards are over sixty years old, keeping yields naturally low. These old-vine root systems also run very deep, accessing minerals from the granite subsoil and giving Chignard’s Fleurie a trademark goût de terroir and great freshness.While many critics attribute Michel’s success to the soil, Kermit would argue that his traditionalist stance on vineyard management and winemaking is essential to craft such great wines. As ardent defenders of traditional Beaujolais methods, the Chignards take a minimalist approach in both the vineyards and the cellar. The finished wines couldn’t be more reflective of Les Moriers’ splendid location: light and playful, with deep, ripe fruit and finesse. The Chignard's have recently started making wine from another Beaujolais cru, Juliénas, which produces a beautiful, high-toned wine in keeping with the style of the domaine. La Revue du Vin claims that the aromas from their wines evoke memories of the great Chambolle-Musignys from Burgundy, to the North…but who’s to say, maybe they got it reversed.
La Marca di San Michele
The La Marca di San Michele estate in Cupramontana is run by the sibling team of Alessandro Bonci, Beatrice Bonci, and Daniela Quaresima. They are light years ahead of most of their neighbors in growing their six hectares of Verdicchio vines entirely organically, vinifying with minimal SO2, aging some cuvées in large botte, and bottling unfiltered. Cupramontana is the historical birthplace of Verdicchio production in Le Marche–the region’s first vineyards were registered in the land office here in 1471. Camaldolite monks began viticulture here many centuries earlier in 1186, in the area of San Michele, a rural frazione bordering Cupramontana. La Marca refers to a “border district.” All of these rural territories were united to form the region of “Le Marche,” the only Italian region that takes the plural.This estate represents a real diamond in the rough in this immense and beautiful region of largely untapped potential. In the family’s capable hands, the Verdicchio grape shows its potential to make one of the most exciting white wines of Italy. La Marca produces two main white wines, a DOC Verdicchio di Castelli di Jesi Classico Superiore called “Capovolto” that is tank-aged and a DOCG Verdicchio di Castelli di Jesi Riserva called “Passolento” that is botte-aged with full malolactic fermentation. Their vineyards are planted on a 12 million year old former limestone seabed, on slopes climbing the foothills of the Apennine mountains facing east towards the Adriatic sea. The dynamic young leadership of La Marca is producing wines from this bountiful land of green rolling hills that will inspire your senses and transport you to this breathtaking land.
Il Palazzotto
Paolo Olivero is a small farmer in the little hilltop village of Diano d’Alba, just north of Barolo. He farms 5 hectares of vines and 6 hectares of hazelnut trees. His specialty in wine is producing Dolcetto, but he does produce small quantities of Barbera, Nebbiolo, and Roero Arneis. The Olivero family has produced wine on their property for four generations, but it wasn’t until after Paolo finished oenology school and worked for another domaine in Diano d’Alba that he returned home to lead the family domaine and bottle their wines.The Dolcetto grape in particular is associated with Diano d’Alba and since 2005 has DOCG status. Paolo’s Sorì Cristina vineyard produces a soft Dolcetto, with good structure and an elegant balance. The Sorì Santa Lucia vineyard produces a more structured Dolcetto than the Cristina and can be cellared for three to five years. The word “sorì” in the local dialect refers to a hilltop area with good sun exposure that produces great wine. “Sorì” is a word that is therefore added to historical names of vineyards to identify a superior terroir. Paolo’s Dolcetto is delicious, straightforward, and an honest ambassador of this workhouse grape that the Piemontese drink daily with their robust cuisine. The Sorì Cristina Dolcetto gets the award for the easiest drinking Dolcetto in our portfolio.
Jean-François Ganevat
The green, rolling landscape of the Jura is a sight to behold, and the perfect picture of how a mountainous region nestled in between Burgundy and Switzerland should appear in the mind’s eye. In this cooler climate, vineyards are planted on slopes at varying altitudes and gradients. This region is home to forty different grape varietals with styles so different that they tend to shock the uninitiated. And at the heart of it all, in the charming hamlet of La Combe (just south of Lons-le-Saulnier), Jean-François Ganevat is making wine with the inspired magic of an alchemist. Known as “Fanfan” to his friends, Jean-François’ wines have occupied the better part of the hamlet, filling picturesque country cottages with barrels and barrels of his diverse yet traditional wines. He comes from a long line of winegrowers, dating as far back as 1650, although the family supplemented their grape growing with a dairy that produced milk destined for the local cheese, Comté, until 1976. After working both for his father and for the prestigious Domaine Jean-Marc Morey in Chassagne-Montrachet, Jean-François returned to the Jura in 1998 to take over the family domaine. With only eight-and-a-half hectares under vine, the family had seventeen different local varietals planted of both red and white grapes—an incredible amount of variation to consider for holdings of such small size. For such a fervent perfectionist and insatiable lover of details as Jean-François, the decision to have the domaine certified as biodynamic was a natural choice.Jean-François creates a stunning number of cuvées, ranging between thirty-five and forty every year! His methodology goes far beyond the details of the average vigneron. For some, his process would be maddening, as each cuvée calls for a highly individualized élévage. Jean-François is committed to minute doses of sulfur, so low in fact, that many fear it hurting the wines during transport. He curbs this issue entirely by aging many of his whites on the lees for extended periods of time, anywhere from two to eleven years! In all of his years making wine, he has never had a problem. In the Jura, many of the wines go through a traditional, intentional oxidation; however Jean-François aims to lend a greater lightness and elegance to wines of this style than are typical. He gravitates toward the Burgundian style, using ouillage to top off barrels. Jean-François Ganevat is a master of his craft, one of the true magicians of the eclectic. To say that his grapes are spun into gold would not be far from the truth; they are entirely otherworldly.
Château Moulin
Bénédicte and Grégoire Hubau do not come from winemaking families, nor did they pursue studies in enology or viticulture. Both natives of northern France, Bénédicte was a computer specialist and Grégoire a chemist. Without much ado, they decided one day to leave it all behind and start a new life as vignerons. After visiting an endless line of available properties in various regions of France, they finally came across Château Moulin Pey-Labrie, an estate in Fronsac that met their requirement for a terroir de caractère. Unconcerned by their ignorance in the field of winegrowing but reassured by their experience as avid consumers, they purchased the property and dove head-first into their new adventure, counting on their employees to teach them as they worked. The young couple’s eagerness to learn earned them free advice from all their neighbors, and they drank in every word. It quickly became clear which approaches matched their own easygoing, natural philosophy, and before long they were deftly handling the vineyard and winery work on their own. The problem with many winegrowers, as they see it, is that they decide what a vine should have rather than giving it what it wants. Just as each of us has a unique style and prefers certain clothes or hairstyles, they learned that each vine needs individualized care in order to thrive. In 1990, having mastered their new craft, they purchased a second property, Château Haut-Lariveau. Château Moulin, though not a physical château, bottles wine from both Canon-Fronsac and Fronsac. The fruit for these “easy-drinking” wines is sourced from the lower-slope clay vineyards of either Château Moulin Pey-Labrie or Château Haut-Lariveau.Though their growing experience has only shown that their instincts were right from the start, the Hubaus have tweaked their methods over the years in order to bring the reality of their work more perfectly in line with their vision. Refusing to slacken their strict quality standards, they frequently design their own equipment, including one machine that works the earth from below. In the cellar they consider themselves observers, letting the character of the land express itself freely and encouraging the greatest possible elegance and finesse in all of their wines.
From the Blog
Richard Olney’s Final Book, Reflexions
by Jim Harrison, March 2000
Richard and Kermit © Gail Skoff
I was thoroughly swept away by Richard Olney’s Reflexions, which made me all the more saddened by his death this past July. There is ample evidence in Reflexions that no one on the planet has sat at better tables, most especially his own, or drank consistently better wines than Richard Olney. The evidence here and in his many other books, all of which I revere for their lucidity and range as books about food and wine that suggest, but not obtrusively, that there are standards that must be kept, no matter how implausibly high these standards might be. And this is all against a backdrop, a diorama, of a life lived with devotion and honor, of life lived as art itself.
If I have ever been to a home that may suitably be called magic it must be that of the Peyraud family in Bandol. The place has all the delicate mystery one senses in reading Alain Fournier’s Les Grandes Meaulnes (in English, The Wanderer) but also the very visceral, sensual quality of the best food one is likely to eat, prepared by Lulu Peyraud. Once there, there is not the slightest desire to ever leave, not for Paris let alone home.
I had been to Lulu Peyraud’s for lunch once before I met Richard in the spring of 1996. In the earlier trip I was with a Franco-American, Guy de la Valdène, who had taught me a great deal about both the French and their cooking. I was very excited at the time to learn that Richard lived in the area because I was so devoted to his work, much in the manner that I would have been in Mississippi had I known that Faulkner was down the road frying bacon for lunch to go with his bourbon. I’ve never been interested in differentiating between genres. The best is the best and we must take it on the rare occasions that we find it.
So in 1996 when I was on a French book tour, no more delightful than an American book tour except that, unlike in America, the food will carry you through, I drove to Lulu’s for lunch with my friend the French literary fixture and translator, Brice Mattieussent. I was a bit flustered, actually stunned, to find that Kermit Lynch and Gail Skoff were there with the fabled Richard Olney. In a curious, not improbable way, I had the same set of feelings I had had years before in London on spending time with John Huston. Were either of them still alive the comparison might strike them as far-fetched, but I can guarantee they would have been drawn to each other. In both cases I knew the work thoroughly before I met the man. And in both men there was an uncompromising, tenacious, and indefatigable pursuit of excellence, an implicit splendor that accompanies Kierkegaard’s “purity of heart is to will one thing,” whether it be the art of food and wine or the art of cinema.
In Reflexions and in person one senses that like many artists Richard was quite human, only more so. He was perhaps too indulgent with some of his friends but that is part of the territory, and I remember his laconic twinkle when I was carted away after a four-hour lunch and a great deal of wine to address a large audience in Marseille. He was sympathetic but knew the situation was comic. Luckily with a gallon of excellent Domaine Tempier Bandol in my system the audience became a flowery blur.
The next morning on the train from Marseille to Paris I remember reflecting that there was a specific grandeur to Richard Olney. This was a largehearted man, and his largeheartedness is everywhere in Reflexions, from his single-minded devotion to his work, to his lifelong love for his five brothers and sisters and his many friends. One can only imagine the loss felt by his close friends such as Kermit and Gail, Lulu Peyraud and Alice Waters, and his brothers and sisters and their children who were so close to him. Reflexions is an enchanting memoir of this life.
by Jim Harrison, March 2000
Richard and Kermit © Gail Skoff
I was thoroughly swept away by Richard Olney’s Reflexions, which made me all the more saddened by his death this past July. There is ample evidence in Reflexions that no one on the planet has sat at better tables, most especially his own, or drank consistently better wines than Richard Olney. The evidence here and in his many other books, all of which I revere for their lucidity and range as books about food and wine that suggest, but not obtrusively, that there are standards that must be kept, no matter how implausibly high these standards might be. And this is all against a backdrop, a diorama, of a life lived with devotion and honor, of life lived as art itself.
If I have ever been to a home that may suitably be called magic it must be that of the Peyraud family in Bandol. The place has all the delicate mystery one senses in reading Alain Fournier’s Les Grandes Meaulnes (in English, The Wanderer) but also the very visceral, sensual quality of the best food one is likely to eat, prepared by Lulu Peyraud. Once there, there is not the slightest desire to ever leave, not for Paris let alone home.
I had been to Lulu Peyraud’s for lunch once before I met Richard in the spring of 1996. In the earlier trip I was with a Franco-American, Guy de la Valdène, who had taught me a great deal about both the French and their cooking. I was very excited at the time to learn that Richard lived in the area because I was so devoted to his work, much in the manner that I would have been in Mississippi had I known that Faulkner was down the road frying bacon for lunch to go with his bourbon. I’ve never been interested in differentiating between genres. The best is the best and we must take it on the rare occasions that we find it.
So in 1996 when I was on a French book tour, no more delightful than an American book tour except that, unlike in America, the food will carry you through, I drove to Lulu’s for lunch with my friend the French literary fixture and translator, Brice Mattieussent. I was a bit flustered, actually stunned, to find that Kermit Lynch and Gail Skoff were there with the fabled Richard Olney. In a curious, not improbable way, I had the same set of feelings I had had years before in London on spending time with John Huston. Were either of them still alive the comparison might strike them as far-fetched, but I can guarantee they would have been drawn to each other. In both cases I knew the work thoroughly before I met the man. And in both men there was an uncompromising, tenacious, and indefatigable pursuit of excellence, an implicit splendor that accompanies Kierkegaard’s “purity of heart is to will one thing,” whether it be the art of food and wine or the art of cinema.
In Reflexions and in person one senses that like many artists Richard was quite human, only more so. He was perhaps too indulgent with some of his friends but that is part of the territory, and I remember his laconic twinkle when I was carted away after a four-hour lunch and a great deal of wine to address a large audience in Marseille. He was sympathetic but knew the situation was comic. Luckily with a gallon of excellent Domaine Tempier Bandol in my system the audience became a flowery blur.
The next morning on the train from Marseille to Paris I remember reflecting that there was a specific grandeur to Richard Olney. This was a largehearted man, and his largeheartedness is everywhere in Reflexions, from his single-minded devotion to his work, to his lifelong love for his five brothers and sisters and his many friends. One can only imagine the loss felt by his close friends such as Kermit and Gail, Lulu Peyraud and Alice Waters, and his brothers and sisters and their children who were so close to him. Reflexions is an enchanting memoir of this life.