Laura R Gray writes Originally from Scotland, Laura has lived in and around Montalcino since 1995 and is culturally Italian and bilingual. She was CEO of a boutique Brunello winery for twenty years and is still immersed in the wonderful world of Tuscan wine. Her book, The Magpie's Guide to Montalcino, will be published on 1 September 2024 by Constellations Press.
A sip of eternity in Montalcino
Cast yourselves back to 2001 in the days when 9-11 only meant the opening hours of a shop. Italy was still luxuriating in the lira; cash registers and calculators had 000 buttons on them and everything cost hundreds and thousands. As a nation, we were preparing for a second round of Berlusconi. On Saturday 2nd June 2001 the Italian President generously re-booted the Festa della Repubblica as a national holiday for the first time in 28 years. It was my sixth year of living in Montalcino and the second of co-owning a miniscule fine dining restaurant in the hamlet of Sant’Angelo in Colle. A dear client had contacted us after having inherited an exceptional legacy: a case of 1955 Riserva Biondi Santi Brunello di Montalcino.
The first Biondi Santi Riserva was the 1888 vintage, the first Brunello ever made. To this day the Biondi Santi winery nearly always releases Brunello but only makes Riserva in exceptional vintages using grapes from the older vineyards on the property. So far there have been 42 Riserva vintages in over 130 years of winemaking. The 1955 Riserva, just 12% ABV, was made from the family Sangiovese clone, BBS11, that was officially registered years later, in 1978. The 1955 Riserva is the wine that was served to Queen Elizabeth II in 1969 and the only Italian wine to have made it into the Wine Spectator case containing the twelve best wines of the last century.
We had applied and been accepted to attend the ricolmatura ceremony at Il Greppo, the prestigious Biondi Santi winery, renowned for its iconic cypress-lined driveway and incredible history. The near religious rite of the ricolmatura dates back to 1926 and was first performed by Tancredi Biondi Santi with his five-year-old son, Franco, in attendance. Colmare in Italian means to fill, hence ricolmare signifies to re-fill. Even the best of corks allow wine to evaporate over time. Ullage (rhymes with Dulwich) is the gap between the cork and the level of the wine in the bottle. When the level reaches the bottle’s shoulders it is deleterious for the wine since the air contact accelerates ageing and oxidation. Ricolmatura, translated as “reconditioning” or the more prosaic “topping-up”, has the potential to extend a wine’s life forever, a secular miracle. Each bottle is rejuvenated by an addition of the same vintage. The process began by Tancredi was reserved for the winery’s own inventory. Bottles of 1955 Riserva vintage remaining on-site were officially ricolmato in 1968 and in 2000.
From 1990 to 2010, Franco Biondi Santi presided over the ricolmatura ceremony and, under his aegis, private collectors were allowed to participate by bringing their own bottles. For two decades, ensconced within the thick walls of the cellar, the first Saturday of June was the day in which he would personally promote or demote candidate wines. For a collector, bringing a wine to the ricolmatura is a Schrödinger cat gamble. One enters with wine that is simultaneously of great value (or not) and exits with bottles that are officially precious or worthless. In absolute silence, each bottle is opened, examined, sniffed and tasted. When a wine passes these three sense tests, the bottle is re-filled with wine from the same vintage, taken from a bottle that has never left the property. The candidate wine receives a fresh cork and the bottle is resealed and notarised, guaranteed for the next quarter century. Clients pay per gram of the wine used to replenish their bottles that now have a verifiable value and can be sold at auction. Bottles of Brunello di Montalcino Biondi Santi Riserva that are found wanting are returned to their owners, recorked with an anonymous cork and no capsule.
In the solemn, clammy quiet of the cellar, there was a long trestle table with a white tablecloth bearing the creases of careful ironing. An assortment of stained and crumbled corks were lined up like toy cars on the table, flanked by bronze scales, a bowl of pristine corks and an unwieldy hand-operated corking machine. A straight-backed man in a beige suit sat at the table, surrounded by white apron wearing employees. This was Franco Biondi Santi himself, known universally as Il Dottore, cresting eighty and the definition of dapper. The select attendees were wearing clothes fit for a wedding, craning and shifting for a better look. I did not own a phone and there was not a hashtag in the vicinity. After all twelve bottles had been deemed worthy, Il Dottore offered us a thimble quantity of “our” vintage to taste, a gesture of immense generosity. Do I remember the ethereal taste of the wine? The rose petals and myrrh, a hint of iron? What I will never forget is the sensation of having sipped on something eternal. Il Dottore has now departed, along with the lira and our restaurant, but the memory of that taste is vibrant and alive, 23 years later.
The photo is the author's own. Caption: 'Ricolmatura at Il Greppo, 2 June 2001'.
