Bottle Lust: Italy’s Sexiest Wine

It’s spring. Birds. Bees. Et Cetera.

Put away your stouts, your stodgy porters. Cellar your brown spirits and bust out the gin and tonic; folks, it is time to lighten up.

Let’s say you want something new to drink. Something…sexy. Step away from the Yellow Tail, people: I bring tidings of deliciousness from the Sexy Capital of the Planet, by which, of course, I mean Italy. This wine is perfect for those first warm afternoons of the year. It’s one of the oldest wines known to history -believed to be the basis for Falernum, the most famous beverage of Ancient Rome, and seen on the dinner tables of such venerables as Cato and Pliny the Elder (who, though I am sure he’d be pleased as punch to have an artisan beer named after him, would probably still reach for this instead). Yet it’s likely you’ve never tasted it, or even heard of it.

Falanghina. A gold-green, waxy-skinned grape originally from Greece, this baby is the only white grown in any notable quantity in sultry, southerly Campania, and is bad-ass enough to stake its territory on the harsh, stony slopes of Mount Vesuvius, where it gets serious heat, a little coastal breeze and some epic, writ-large terroir.

In the glass it shows a dusky-gold tone not unlike a tokaji furmint or a fino sherry, so you might expect something rich and heavy.

You’d be wrong.

The 2011 Falanghina from D’Orta e de Conciliis, 2011, Campania, Italy
is…well, it’s sex on the beach in a bottle. But, like, without all that unfortunate sand interference. It’s an almost inexplicable wine—structured yet airy, grounded yet ephemeral. Definite floral nose – acacia, almond blossom, linden. And while the aromatics also hint at something peachy, there is virtually no fruit to this wine. What it delivers on the palate is herbs and sea breeze (and I mean the actual wind off the ocean, not the cocktail), a chalky mineral quality and…lust. It’s liquid “give-it-to-me.”

It’s a paradoxical wine, at once barely-there and a knockout punch. It’s exceedingly marine, including the fact that it comes over you in waves and changes a little with every sip even though it’s always the same thing. As with any wine that so deeply embodies the character of the sea, this bottle is begging to be poured with seafood, though I think it would also make friends with goat cheese and certainly peaches or pears or a handful of almonds.

Okay, this wine is probably not a universal crowd-pleaser. Some people will love it, some will think it’s meh-minus. It is my official Italian Obsession of the Year. And Chardonnay haters, take note: there are white wines for you, and this is one of them. Falanghina has never heard of this butterscotch and vanilla and pineapple upside-down cake thing that’s fomented what Californians have taken to calling the ABC (Anything But Chardonnay) Club. Meanwhile, it’s worth being on the lookout for wherever you live. Or, you know, go to where it lives because this stuff gives the old chestnut of a curse “Va fa Napoli!” a whole new layer.

Folks, if it was good enough for Pliny the Elder, it’s probably worth a try. That’s all I’m saying. It might leave you cold, but it might also be love at first sip. That’s the thing about lust. It’s totally unpredictable, follows no rules, and hits hardest when you aren’t necessarily looking for it. No one gets that quite like the Italians. And it turns out they’ve been bottling it for two thousand years. Find some and find out why.

 
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