Crociani Vino Nobile di Montepulciano Riserva 1999

Sometimes I think the best way to judge a wine is to revel in its perfume -- after the glass is empty. 

In which case this wine is beautiful.  Roses and orange pekoe tea, a hint of sunny autumn, the fallen leaves on the moist earth, a little spice, evocative, layered and subtle, elegant and balanced.  The sort of wine I seem to fall for often, with fruit not forward (being forward is a bad thing where I come from) but muted by age.  Sangiovese with its acidity and rather bitter tannins smoothed out by its blending partners and age in bottle.

God, I just realized this is a kind of self-description.  (Magari!)  There is no escaping the prison of self, I guess.

But I digress.

The bottle arrived last week.

"All my pretty ones" -- Anne Sexton's words,

Susanna Crociani's wines

In photo:  Italian wine critic Franco Ziliani with a magnum of this vintage on the occasion of his 50th birthday.  Lucky man.                                       

Susanna Crociani had given it to Domenico. He duly sent it to me.  I'm grateful he didn't keep it for himself. I opened it last night because the weather was cold and atrocious and it was my birthday.  Another atrocity, the birthday.  Oy veh.

This is a DOCG Vino Nobile di Montepulciano Riserva, the real thing, made of Prugnolo Gentile (a subvariety of Sangiovese), Canaiolo Nero and Mammolo grapes.  It spends at least two years in oak barrels -- big oak, not barriques, which would impart too much toastiness and so on -- and is at least three years old before release. 

To lift from the Consorzio del Vino Nobile web site:

...in a lovely old underground cellar dating back to the 14th century where the wine matures in oak barrels, Crociani holds tastings of wines and other typical products.
In this environment where time seems to stand still, visitors are captivated by the warmth of Tuscan hospitality and the wonderful flavour of the wines which so perfectly match the local gastronomic specialities.

There's a bit of puffery in that description, but I don't mind.  The wine is very good, it was a good fit for the food, and it's even better tonight after being exposed to the air for 24 hours -- the slightly bitter finish has disappeared, replaced by the scents and tastes of autumn.  A Mozartian feeling. 

No wonder Susanna says this is a "meditation wine."

It's available in a few places in the US, mainly the Boston and New York markets.*  And the warm, embracing Susanna Crociani comes here often for tasting dinners and reunions with those who had been guests at her country house. 

Sometimes you have to marvel -- how is it that so many lovely people make wine?  My list of the wonderful people I've known could go on and on.  It's a pleasant mystery to ponder as you sip and swirl and taste the year the wine was made, and sense the hard work and pride of all the people who made it.

*Imported by:

1.  New York/New Jersey -- Eric Munson of Dancing Bear Selections

2. Ohio -- Daniel Ross

3. Massachusetts -- Lynda Allison, Atlantic Importing

Comments

[IWG]

The term "meditation wine" should be filed with the word agriturismo. In your words, "Talk about suffering for your faith. "

Too many times I have heard the term used, as if no one know where to put it. I understand why, no need to review that with me. However, there are way too many wines of meditation gathering dust, in cellars, in shops and on wine lists.

Perhaps they could dream up a trendy new name, maybe "Shiva-Kundalini" wines or "Kama-Supra" wines.

With all due respect

[Terry Hughes]

Good point. A cliche at best.

But my preferred designation, "vino di stupore alcolico," would send the wrong signal in these post-William Powell days.

[IWG]

Ah, but a Moscato d'Asta, now that would be a vino da meditazione

[Terry Hughes]

"Moscato d'Asta"? Does that mean it's up for auction?

[IWG]

http://www.iloveasta.com/

[Terry Hughes]

You're a funny boy. I admit I didn't get it until you rubbed my snout in the link. Bau bau!