DROP BY DROP

Across the country, vintners are reclaiming ancient growing practices to produce ‘heroic’ wines

In the Lattari Mountains, high above the Amalfi Coast, is an Alice in Wonderland landscape of what look like upended tree roots. These are vines, but here in Tramonti, they’re more like trees, with branches as thick as arms, entwined in centuries-old embraces. Key to their survival has been their location, helping them to escape a plague that wiped out most of Europe’s vines in the 1800s.

“When the phylloxera arrived, it couldn’t kill Tramonti’s vines,” says Gaetano Bove, striding through his vineyard. Phylloxera is a microscopic pest from the US that attacks at the root. But here, it couldn’t get a hold. “Look at this one,” he says of a centuries-old vine striking a ballet-like pose.

“It’s a work of art.” Today, Gaetano’s cooperative, Tenuta San Francesco, makes È Iss — a wine from Tintore grapes, indigenous to Tramonti.

The reason those vines survived? The pumice-filled, volcanic soil — impenetrable to the phylloxera — spewed from Vesuvius, 13 miles north west. Italy’s dramatic coastlines aren’t the easiest places to plant vines, but that hasn’t stopped locals planting them for thousands of years, producing some of the most exciting wines around.

Take Etna, for example. On its steep eastern slope, Seby Costanzo rakes his hand through the ash-rich soil. Etna wines are seeing a surge in popularity, and Seby’s seaside setting is doubtlessly a key reason — the sea breezes impart a unique taste to the unusually minerally red at Cantina di Nessuno, the vineyard he founded 10 years ago.

Cliffside vineyards are often dubbed ‘heroic’ because of the effort it takes to work them. Up north in Liguria, the cliffs of the Cinque Terre were terraced with vineyards for centuries, but then came industrialisation; Ligurians turned away from the back-breaking vineyards. “It wasn’t worth doing all the work,” says Simone Bonanni.

In 2015, Simone and his friend Luca Pagliari replanted two abandoned vineyards, growing the indigenous varietals Bosco and Albarola to make their Finis Terrae wine. The pair are part of a wine renaissance in the Cinque Terre, as locals realise the heritage they stand to lose, and start to cultivate vines once more. “Nobody’s doing it for the money — we’re doing it to respect our ancestors, who shaped the mountains for centuries,” says Simone. Four hundred miles south, Gaetano thinks along the same lines. “Tramonti is the Pompeii of wine,” he says. “This is a living museum — and we’re doing this [work] to preserve it.” vinitenutasanfrancesco.com cantinadinessuno.it instagram.com/finisterrae_riomaggiore

È Iss, the signature wine at Tenuta San Francesco, Tramonti From left: The Ciolo Bridge at Gagliano del Capo, south of Otranto; gnarled, centuriesold vines at Tenuta San Francesco, Tramonti