The Prodigal Son's Return: Aglianico

Sometimes the best tastings just happen on their own. So it was recently that, after a small tasting of Agiorgitiko, we were still sitting around, still in a drinking mood, when I had to pull the bottles in question out of circulation, to keep a sip back for the obligatory re-tasting. Not wanting to be a bad host, I went purposefully to my shelf reserved specifically for such occasions, where, given the late hour and the wine's effects already setting in, there's no longer room for any grand deliberations over wine selection...

Right on top sat a bottle of Taurasi from Mastroberardino – from 1973. I'd won this one at auction fairly cheaply once and stashed it in this spot because it struck me as perfect for simply being opened whenever a good bottle of wine was called for without too many cross-references or connections to Greek wines. I'll confess that I've consumed very little Taurasi consciously up to now – even though Wikipedia tells me plainly that it counts among "Italy's best red wines)" and that I've got considerably more experience with Barolo and Brunello di Montalcino, with which it's supposedly "on a par." I no longer had the wine's details clearly in mind. I was aware it was a quality product, but the evening was, after all, supposed to end on a high note too.

Barely had I opened the bottle (I'd never come across such a good cork on a bottle this age) when it hit me in a flash. Just a few weeks earlier, Domaine Hatzimichalis had sent us this rather obscure wine, which had likewise been parked in a very particular spot – on the shelf with the Greek wines from which a themed tasting would never emerge, because too few producers are available for that.

So of course I also had to open this Aglianico 2017 (the "g," incidentally, isn't pronounced in Italian). And it was worth it! There's no need to drag this out unnecessarily. It's clear, of course, that in this tasting the big brother from southern Italy drew the lion's share of the attention. But the Greek wine deserves outstanding 17 points, too. Characteristic, alongside good fruit and lightly herbal, almost medicinal, notes on the nose, is above all the attack, with its concentrated load of mocha notes, the kind I otherwise only know from other wines' finishes. On top of that comes a thoroughly distinctive tannin structure, fine yet dynamic. At 14.5% alcohol as well, we liked this wine noticeably better than the Merlot from the same year from the same estate.

Where all of this might possibly still lead was then shown to us by the Taurasi. What a wine! On the nose, tertiary aromas certainly dominated, suggesting a certain age. Yet those tasting along with us blind didn't even guess a third of its actual age. On top of that, the wine is simply too lively in the mouth – held proudly upright by a still fully intact tannic framework.

Will the Domaine Hatzimichalis wine be just as fantastic in four or five decades? That's only something to speculate about. 18 months in oak certainly speak to a certain ambition. And for exactly that, as a wine lover, one really ought to give Domaine Hatzimichalis an explicit word of thanks here. The estate did pioneering work in the 1980s when it came to establishing varietal wines. (Correspondingly, we were also a touch disappointed by the rather subdued showing of the Merlot, the very wine that kicked off this whole development in the first place.) To this day, the estate keeps tinkering steadily with this range. And that now also includes bringing this ancient Greek grape variety – which left Greek soil for Italy 2500 years ago to such great effect – back home to native ground. That, of course, strikes a certain chord with people who also let themselves be charmed by stories of Phoenician seafarers. But this endeavour is surely also thoroughly worthy of respect on its own terms – and in any case gave us a wholly unexpected second round of tasting that evening.