Italy's Hidden Grapes

Ribolla Gialla is one of Italy's oldest indigenous grapes, documented in Friuli as far back as the 13th century. It nearly disappeared after phylloxera and post-war replanting favoured international varieties — Collavini was among the handful of producers who kept it alive. It opens tonight because it's the only white, and because its combination of texture and minerality sets a benchmark that everything after will be measured against.

This is your arrival drink, and it's doing a specific job: waking your palate up without overwhelming it. Ribolla Gialla's natural acidity cuts through anything you might be eating right now. Enjoy it while you're still settling in — once the reds begin, you won't be coming back to this register for the rest of the evening.

Fumin is a grape that almost no one outside Valle d'Aosta has heard of — and Valle d'Aosta is Italy's smallest region, a high-altitude sliver wedged between Mont Blanc and the Matterhorn. The name likely derives from fumé, smoky, a reference to the grape's characteristically dark, almost hazy bloom. It was heading toward extinction in the 1970s; a handful of mountain families, Grosjean among them, kept growing it. It's chosen here to make a point: that Italy's obscure indigenous varieties are often more interesting than its famous ones.

This comes second because it transitions gently from the white — same delicacy of texture, now with red fruit and structure. Compare it directly to the Ribolla: same country, completely different altitude, soil and world. Almost none of this wine leaves the valley. You're drinking something genuinely rare.

Sagrantino is the most tannic grape variety in the world — no other variety comes close by polyphenol count. It grows in roughly 10 square kilometres of Umbrian hillside around the town of Montefalco and almost nowhere else on earth. It was near extinction in the 1970s, kept alive mainly for a sweet passito version used in religious ceremonies — hence the name, from sacro, sacred. The dry version only gained DOCG status in 1992. This 2015 is chosen because it's a great Umbrian vintage and because at 10 years old, it's finally starting to open.

This is the structural centrepiece of the evening — placed third so your palate is warmed up enough to handle it, but early enough that the tannins don't fatigue you. This is exactly why people make special trips to Montefalco. If you're eating something with fat or protein, now is the time.

Sangiovese is Italy's most planted grape — the backbone of Chianti, Brunello and Vino Nobile — but this one comes from Montecucco, a DOC quietly operating in the shadow of Montalcino just to its north. Same soils, similar altitude, a fraction of the price and the fame. ColleMassari is the estate that put Montecucco on the map; Lombrone is their flagship Riserva, made from the oldest vines on the estate and aged 24 months in large Slavonian oak. James Suckling scored it 94 points. It's chosen here because Sangiovese after Sagrantino is a lesson in contrast — same Italian seriousness, completely different feel.

After the Sagrantino, notice how much lighter on its feet this feels. That contrast is deliberate — the progression moves from power to elegance. If the Sagrantino was a statement, this is a conversation. Which would you rather spend an evening with?

Montepulciano is one of Italy's most planted red grapes — most people know it from Montepulciano d'Abruzzo. But Offida DOCG in Le Marche, on the Adriatic coast, is where it reaches a different level of depth and complexity. Ciù Ciù is a family estate run by the Bartolomei brothers — they planted this wine in the 1980s and named it Esperanto because they believed wine was a universal language. The 2011 is the oldest wine of the evening, and it's chosen deliberately: this is what happens when you give a great vintage the time it needs.

Hold this next to your Lambrusco glass if there's anything left. The contrast — vivid and fresh vs. settled and contemplative — is one of the most interesting moments of the evening. This is a generous pour. Take your time with it. It rewards patience.

Nerello Mascalese is the grape of Etna — it grows almost nowhere else, and almost all of what exists is over 60 years old, often pre-phylloxera, on bush vines planted in black volcanic ash. The contrada system on Etna mirrors Burgundy's premier cru logic: named parcels on the volcano's slopes, each with its own elevation, soil composition and microclimate. Pianodario sits on the northeast face at altitude. Wine Enthusiast scored this 96 points. It's chosen to close the red sequence because it is unlike anything else in the lineup — and unlike most wine you will ever drink.

Look at the colour against your Esperanto glass. The Esperanto is deep and almost opaque — this is pale, barely red. Same country, same wine category. The contrast is the point. This is what an active volcano does to a grape. Taste slowly — the finish goes on for a long time.