By Mike Madaio IWA
Guido Cocci Grifoni next to Pecorino vines
Photo Credit: Tenuta Cocci Grifoni
While studying the origins of Italian grapes, as the VIA Italian Wine Ambassador is wont to do, one thing in particular that always catches my attention is the idea that certain varieties were practically extinct, or at risk for extinction, or even — and this one is the most fun — saved from extinction. Think about it: this grape that’s currently being enjoyed as wine in Italy (and across the world) almost didn’t make it! And there are so many of them. The Pecorino grape is one of those stories.
Why these grapes almost went extinct is almost less important — typically it was due to a variety of cultural, commercial or agricultural reasons — but the stories of bringing them back, on the other hand, are infinitely fascinating. In many cases, there’s a riveting tale of human passion, vision, and dogged determination that goes along with the grape’s comeback story. This is what’s most compelling here: the personal, historical, societal and cultural aspects of these stories. (Delicious wine doesn’t hurt, of course.)
For a while now I’ve had this idea to write a book highlighting these lost-then-found grape stories from Italy. Sharing with the world the legacy of resilient Italian humans whose sometimes illogical focus on one mostly abandoned grape led to some of the best wine being made today in Italy (and beyond). For now, however, I’ve only completed chapter one of this story – on the great Pecorino grape of Marche and Abruzzo – but I hope to attack additional grapes as time allows.
How Pecorino made a remarkable comeback
For now, however, I’ve told the rich story of Pecorino mostly through Guido Cocci Grifoni, the marchigiano grower who discovered records of a native local grape in the town archives, then tracked it down in an abandoned mountain vineyard. As he began to experiment with this new grape, Cocci Grifoni met resistance from local farmers, winemakers and even the agricultural school. They called him crazy and forced him to the neighboring region — Abruzzo — to find more willing partners. But he persisted, then succeeded, and Pecorino is now one of the fastest-growing white wines in Italy.
Listen to episode 2743 of the Italian Wine Podcast, where Marc Millon was joined by Marta and Camilla Cocci Grifoni of Tenuta Cocci Grifoni as they explored Guido Cocci Grifoni’s pivotal role in rescuing the Pecorino grape from extinction.
Below is a preview of my eBook monograph (Almost) Lost Italian Grapes: Pecorino. If you like what you read here, the full eBook is available at Life at the Table or at many major eBook retailers in both English and Italian.
(Almost) Lost Italian Grapes: Pecorino by Mike Madaio
Though I can’t remember the exact details of where or when I encountered this, my first exposure to the grape Pecorino — no, not the cheese — came in the form of the seemingly perfect origin legend. Presumed extinct, it was rediscovered, the tale went, growing wild in a ravine in rural, mountainous central Italy. Daydreaming, I pictured an aged, grizzled sheep farmer, ponderously peering down a perilous incline of pure granite, wondering about a single vine that somehow forced its way through a minuscule crack in the craggy rock. I dreamt of experiencing the wonder and excitement that followed this discovery, once it became clear that this grape a) was no longer growing anywhere else, and b) made excellent wine.
As such, it was initially disappointing to learn that the true story — Pecorino was purposely revived by southern Marche vintner Guido Cocci Grifoni and friends — was less romantic than what I had either read or concocted in my own head (or perhaps a combination of both). Once Grifoni’s story unfurled itself, however, it became obvious that this tale, one of dogged determination and unwavering belief that the Ascoli Piceno comune could indeed produce a world class white wine, stands firmly on its own in the pantheon of wine history. (Abruzzo, it should be noted, will also have its say before this chapter is done.)
Today, Pecorino is one of the hottest commodities in Italian wine, producing at its best a full-bodied, complex and serious wine that’s versatile at the table, worthy of the cellar, and still a comparative value.
The beauty of Pecorino is its ability to develop rich, honeyed fruit flavors without sacrificing its backbone of herbal notes and bright acidity. In the right hands, Pecorino can even develop tropical flavors — pineapple, mango, maybe banana — without ever becoming flabby, something that can’t often be said about other grapes of similar ripeness levels. The result, then, is a lush, opulent wine that manages to finish light on its feet.
It’s a perfect example of the world-class quality of Italian whites that sit behind the mass-produced Pinot Grigio and other beachfront fare that perhaps closes off wine connoisseurs to the potential that still lies under the radar here along the Adriatic coast.
Pecorino grapes in Arquata del Tronto
Photo Credit: interminatispazi, via Wikimedia Commons
Known as a trailblazer long before he started thinking about Pecorino, in the 1960s Guido Cocci Grifoni established a dedicated wine production facility independent from the family farm, something quite uncommon at the time. He was instrumental in creating the Rosso Piceno DOC in 1968, and also bottled the first wine from this DOC, in 1970. At the time, reds were the strength of the region, with stalwarts Montepulciano and Sangiovese leading the way.
“In the early 1980s, he realized the problems we had with our white grapes,” Marilena Cocci Grifoni said of her father, who passed away in 2010. “Trebbiano mainly, but Malvasia and Passerina as well.” The comune’s most notable white — Falerio dei Colli Ascolani, today simply Falerio — had held DOC status since 1975, but predominantly featured the often over-farmed and thus lackluster Trebbiano Toscano, with much smaller allowed percentages of other regional whites. While the local market for Falerio was reasonably strong, outside this small region it generated little interest.
“He traveled to Vinitaly,” Marilena continued, speaking of the country’s most important wine industry trade fair, “and saw that our white wines could not compete with the rest of Italy. So he understood that he had to find a new grape.” Verdicchio, of course, is the star white of Marche, but it only thrives in the northern part of the region, not in the more southern Ascoli Piceno area (which lies just north of the Abruzzo border), due to climate and terrain differences.
Guido Cocci Grifoni began to research other native white varieties. “He did not have an agronomy degree,” Marilena said. “He didn’t even finish middle school, because his father passed away from cancer when [Guido] was very young. He had to take care of his mother.”
For much of the mid-to-late 20th century, Ascoli Piceno remained underdeveloped. “I would not say the area was poor,” Marilena remembered. “People could feed themselves. But it was very limited, basic. We did not have technology. No central heating, simplistic washing machines and dishwashers.” This continued in the vineyards, which already were riding a wave of progress in more famous wine areas. “There was no research approach for vinification or production. We didn’t have a university close to us, or an experimental research office in the region. Nothing.”
Because the cooperative wineries, which most growers still worked with, were paying based on quantity (as opposed to quality), this meant farmers were focused on the same, producing huge amounts of swollen, waterlogged grapes that — considering they were mostly Trebbiano Toscano — surely led to bland, forgettable wines.
None of this, however, deterred Guido in his quest to discover the region’s own great white. “My father, he didn’t talk much,” Marilena recalled. “He didn’t know how to communicate, like a lot of southern Marche people, but he was serious and honest, and a strong work ethic was fundamental to his life.” Despite his limited schooling, he procured books on local grapes and read them with his wife. He sought out like-minded friends and colleagues in the industry, in particular Teodoro Bugari, a teacher, author, judge and sommelier, the latter “before anyone in our area knew that word,” as Marilena put it.
Nicknamed “Maestro,” Bugari was an original member of the Associazione Italiana Sommelier (AIS), founding both the AIS Commission for Education — in which he dedicated himself to the professional training of many wine students — and the regional AIS branch for Marche, Abruzzo and Molise. For Bugari, said Marilena, education was his life’s purpose. “He was totally addicted. He worked his entire life, never becoming rich, because for him, to be an educator, to be a teacher, was his mission.”
“When we say maestro,” she continued, “it is different from saying professor in English. Professor is something else. For us, maestro means a person who dedicates his life to educating the new generation. Teodoro Bugari was Maestro.”
More fascinating wine stories on the Italian Wine Podcast:
This is a guest blog by Italian Wine Ambassador, Mike Madaio. His ebook, (Almost) Lost Italian Grapes: Pecorino is available at: https://lifeattable.com/pecorino-almost-lost-italian-grapes/.
Mike Madaio appeared on episode 2280 of the Italian Wine Podcast:
