Story and photos by Joe Roberts
Part One:
It’s Time to Rethink Sicily’s Versatile Grillo
Grillo grapes.
When wine wonks talk about Sicily, the conversation almost always moves to Etna, where the volcanic soils grow grapes that produce some of the most exotic and interesting wines to come out of Italy in recent memory.
But today we’re not talking about those grapes. Instead, we’re talking about one of Sicily’s more unsung fine wine varieties: Grillo.
Sure, it’s garnered enough recognition to be considered a “classic” Sicilian grape, but Grillo hasn’t been “seen” for its true self by the wine world. Given the growing movement on the Mediterranean’s largest island to show off the grape’s most exciting quality—its versatility—it’s high time for us to rethink Grillo.
While it can be found as far north as Liguria, Grillo calls Sicily home; its parents are the widely-planted Catarratto and the more famous Muscat of Alexandria (also known under the fun-to-pronounce name of Zibibbo). Its main stomping ground is Trapani, where for the last several decades Grillo has been a main ingredient in fortified Marsala. While vigorous, Grillo fell out of favor with farmers who began to focus on planting more productive varieties such as Inzolia. But Italian ingenuity is irrepressible, and so modern Sicilian producers began to ask themselves what could be done with their Grillo; it turns out the answer was “almost anything.”
While most commercial Grillo sits somewhere in the range of herbaceous, Sauvignon-like gulpers to tropical, Chardonnay-like sippers, a deeper dive into the Grillo market yields exciting newer developments: zesty sparklers; deep, old-vine contemplative wines; and hearty, botrytized dessert wines.
Here are a few examples worth seeking out, from producers who are showcasing the “new” Sicilian Grillo:
Gorghi Tondi ‘Palmares’ Grillo Spumante Brut, Sicily, Italy (Mazara del Vallo) (wine-searcher)
The name of this sparkling Grillo, from grapes grown near a World Wildlife Fund nature preserve, translates from Latin to “winning record.” That’s a bold statement for an underdog variety, but the wine’s aromas of white flower and pear, and its blend of zest and elegance, make a strong case for Grillo’s versatility.
Viticultori Associati Canicatti ‘Fileno’ Grillo Sicilia IGT, Sicily, Italy (Agrigento) (wine-searcher)
A trio of sandy-silt and limestone vineyards provide fruit for this grassy, peppery expression of Grillo. You might mistake this fresh and friendly focus on Grillo’s herbal side for Sauvignon Blanc if tasted blind, though a hint of palate roundness betrays its true identity.
Gorghi Tondi ‘Kheire’ Grillo Sicilia, Sicily, Italy (Mazara del Vallo) (wine-searcher)
Meaning “welcome,” the Kheirè name is an homage to Sicily’s time as part of the Roman Magna Graecia (Latin for “Great Greece”) The vines for this elegant white average thirty years in age, contributing depth and complexity not normally encountered in varietal Grillo. It’s an intellectual treat, with peach, floral perfume, saline, lemon peel, and hazelnut notes, and a lovely palate balancing act between pithiness and richness.
Donnafugata ‘SurSur’ Grillo Sicilia IGT, Sicily, Italy (Southwest Sicily) (wine-searcher)
Here’s a wine as cute as its title. Grillo shares a name with the island’s cricket; “sur sur” is classical Arabic (once widely spoken in Sicily) for the same animal. Wet stone, grass, and lemon peel kick off this classic Grillo expression, followed by a palate that’s fresh, clean, and easy to like (and drink).
Gorghi Tondi ‘Grillodoro’ Passito Sicilia IGT, Sicily, Italy (Southwest Sicily) (wine-searcher)
A rarity, this is a serious, late-harvest, passito-style Grillo made from botrytized grapes. Toasty and luscious, but not lacking freshness, it delivers toasted almonds, grilled citrus, and candied lemon peel aromas, with dried peach and honey flavors ideal for lighter dessert fare.
Part Two:
Against the Odds: Making Something Sweet from Sour Conditions on Pantelleria
Drying Zibibbo grapes
While tourists (and more reclusive celebrities) now happily spend their money to enjoy the rugged beauty of Pantelleria, the “black pearl of the Mediterranean,” things weren’t always so pleasant on Italy’s other, other island.
Hewn from rough volcanic stone, lacking freshwater, and seeing enough pirate activity to induce locals to favor farming over fishing, people used to get exiled to Pantelleria.
The island’s tourism and capers industries have since seen smooth sailing, but Pantelleria’s wine production still resembles a Swiss Family Robinson survival struggle. Pantelleria dessert wine is beguiling stuff: long-lived, luscious, spicy, and bursting with aromas and flavors of sultana, caramel, nuts, candied citrus peel, honey, and flowers. Like the survival struggle of Pantelleria’s exiles, it’s both difficult (utilizing the dried grape passito style), and born of necessity (after the development of seedless fruit killed the island’s table grape market).
To prevent high winds from destroying the vines’ flowering process, Pantelleria Muscat vines, here called Zibibbo, are trained low in alberello style within steep dry-terraced walls, a combination now part of a UNESCO Heritage designation. Many of these are now abandoned, after Pantelleria’s vineyard plantings decreased over the years from 5,000 hectares (12,300+ acres) to about 500 hectares (1,200+ acres) today. “Because, well, it’s hard!” notes José Rallo, head of management control and communications for the island’s largest producer of passito, Donnafugata.
Difficult farming conditions mean that harvesting Zibibbo on Pantelleria is a pricey endeavor, costing three times what it would on the Sicilian mainland. Historically fragmented vineyard ownership adds complications to harvesting. Pantelleria’s location (it’s closer to Tunisia than Italy) complicates shipping. You get the picture—and we haven’t even addressed the most difficult part yet.
Adding to the nigh-improbability of making any wine at all on the island is the passito process itself, which requires a late harvest and 20 days of drying. Grapes are separated by hand because “there’s no machine that can do it without breaking the stems” according to Italian Wine Union (UIV) president and Donnafugata winemaker Antonio Rallo. It takes approximately 140 tons of Zibibbo grapes to make just 80,000 bottles of Passito di Pantelleria; eight pounds of fresh grapes equate to a little over two pounds of grapes after drying, followed by eight to ten hours of maceration during vinification.
The results, however, feel worth the pain of creation, even if they are difficult to obtain. A certain vinous magic happens in the drying process, which is borne out scientifically. “When you do the chemical analysis,” notes Antonio Rallo, “the aroma profile looks completely different than it does for the fresh grapes.”
With encroaching tourism and a market push against sweet wines, the odds are still somewhat stacked against Passito di Pantelleria. Fortunately, Pantellerian viticulture seems to be taking a cue from the island’s original inhabitants, carving out its existence despite the challenges, as if the vines were still exiled, and adapting in sheer survival mode. We dessert wine lovers hope no one tells them otherwise.
