In La Morra, the auction audience cheers as sparkly-crowned Miss Italy 2008, tucked into a very, very short black dress, raises her paddle and snags a prize lot of Francesco Rinaldi & Figli single vineyard Barolos for 800 euros ($1094.). A bee buzzes around her head, as if she were a ripe bunch of the local nebbiolo grapes that make these famous reds.
I'm in northwest Italy to sample the latest vintages of Piemonte's two great wines, Barolo and Barbaresco, get the news on the nebbiolo harvest and attend this annual all-Barolo sale. No hardship, autumn is my favorite season here in the Langhe hills around Alba, when the earthy, pungent aroma of white truffles fills the air.
Barolo producer Gianni Gagliardo staged the first Asta del Barolo at his winery 11 years ago as a way to establish prices for rare bottles -- and draw attention to his own wine. The televised event now pulls in several hundred people, including Asian collectors who are bidding simultaneously via computer from Hong Kong's Grand Hyatt and Beijing's Ritz-Carlton. They scoop up almost two-thirds of the 31 lots from revered producers such as Giacomo Conterno at very high prices. (A magnum of Conterno's vintage 1997 Monfortino goes for 2,050 euros, more than double the price at a New York May sale.)
Still, this feels more like a p.r. stunt than a real auction as none of the usual key information on the wines' condition, source or provenance is provided.
Noisy Bidders
But that doesn't seem to matter to the noisy crowd bidding at round tables in the huge white tent in front of the winery. My Italian tablemate points out many Berlusconi government officials -- former minister of justice Roberto Castelli, two vice ministers and, in full uniform, Il Generale Carlo Gualdi, commandante of the northern Carabinieri -- Barolo fans all.
``These are the most complex wines in the world,'' says Asti artist Flavio Piras, who prods his 11-year-old son Yarno to hoist paddle #44 until he gets the lots his father covets: the late traditionalist Bartolo Mascarello's wines with hand-painted labels (2800 euros) and 12 magnums of 2000 La Spinetta ``Campe della Spinetta'' Riserva (5000 euros).
Barolos are noted for their heady aromas of truffles, dried cherries and roses, full-bodied power, mouthful of tannin and complex flavors replete with notes of licorice, mint and leather. Well, at least the best ones are. In truth, quality ranges from resplendent to rustic, even in a great vintage like 2004.
Medieval Towns
Most top wines today carry the name of a specific prized vineyard, or cru. Which is why I climb into a helicopter the next morning, taking off for a bird's-eye view of Barolo's patchwork of vines and hills wrapped in a picture-postcard autumn mist. The zone is surprisingly small compared to, say, Bordeaux, only 7 miles by 5. It's named for the medieval town of Barolo, one of a string of tiny hill towns -- Serralunga d'Alba, La Morra, Castiglione Falletto, Monforte d'Alba -- topped with old bell towers. As we swoop above the vines on their slopes, the pilot points out big name vineyards, all south-facing: Cannubi, Falletto, Monfortino, Brunate.
Nebbiolo, the grape of both Barolo and its nearby, more elegant vinous cousin Barbaresco, is hypersensitive to tiny differences in climate and soil and makes great wines only in this corner of Italy.
``Those from La Morra and Barolo are softer, more perfumed, while vineyards in Monforte d'Alba produce ones that are bold, rich, and powerful,'' producer Stefano Gagliardo had told me at the previous morning's tasting in Alba's gilt and red-velvet-seat Theatre Sociale.
Velvety Burlotto
The current vintage, 2004, is more approachable than the highly regarded 2001, but with just as much finesse and complexity. (The 2005, which will be released in early 2009, is not quite as good.) The velvety, refined 2004 G.B. Burlotto ``Cannubi'' ($60) tastes of nuts and roses, while the 2004 Ettore Germano ``Cerretta'' ($45) is spicy, powerful, tannic.
But my favorite at the tasting for current drinking is the rich, earthy, about-to-be-released 1999 Podere Rocche dei Manzoni `Madonna Assunta,' which shows how smooth and developed Barolo gets with age.
In true Italian style, no one here agrees on the exact way to make great Barolo. The so-called Barolo wars that raged a decade ago between modernists who used small oak barriques and traditionalists who didn't are no longer so intense, producer Maurizio Rosso tells me over cheese ravioli presented like eggs in a nest at Treiso's grand Restaurant La Ciau del Tornavento. The 45,000-bottle cellar, complete with an inner vault, includes both. Still, to me the stunning 2004s from traditionalists Bartolo Mascarello ($125) and Bruno Giacosa ``Falletto'' ($150) grab my heart, just as they did Italians at the Barolo auction.
This month in Piemonte they're picking nebbiolo, restaurants are pouring great old Barolos and the white truffle season will be in full swing. Why am I going home?
