A Lone Grape Takes the Lead: The Monovarietal Movement Hits Tuscany

How Montenidoli's Colorino can lead the charge for a category of Tuscan wines.

Montenidoli Colorino Toscana Rosso IGT 2022

Varieties: Colorino

Region: San Gimignano, Tuscany, Italy

Producer: Montenidoli / Elisabetta Fagiuoli

Costs: $30-$40

Missive: Isolating Colorino

There are endless possibilities when it comes to discussing what makes a wine interesting. For every person, there is a varying reason why a particular wine is interesting. It may be an attachment to the region, an appreciation of a specific grape variety, or even just a fun label that tells a story. Heck, even the particular soil and microclimate can make a wine more interesting for someone. I am one of those people. But now I am going down another rabbit hole: the isolation of previously blended grape varieties. Stay with me here, folks.

There seems to be a movement towards highlighting grape varieties that may previously have been blended into a general “Rosso” or “Rouge”. I am not sure how long it’s been going on overall, but I’ve been fortunate to be on the receiving end. Let’s just throw out some examples off the dome to give you all an idea. Carignan is now being shown in its independent form, whereas it used to be predominantly blended with Grenache or other Rhone varieties. Mencía in Ribiera Sacro and the Dao used to be one grape of many in various field blends, but it has recently emerged as the Pinot Noir of Spain. And we come to the belle of the ball for tonight. I am currently drinking a single-variety Colorino from one of my favorite Tuscan producers.

The belle of the ball: the Colorino bottling from Montenidoli.

The genius of Elisabetta Fagiuoli and the team of Montenidoli deserves all its flowers. This producer performs magic with both their white and red wines. Vernaccia that makes you rethink what a great Italian white wine can be. Those white wines also pair well with some of the most intriguing and undervalued red wines from the broader northern Tuscany region. Montenidoli does a Chianti Colli Senesi bottling, which is fantastic, but if you can find their “Sono” and “Triassico” bottlings, you must buy them. However, tonight we are here to talk about the act of isolating a grape that was traditionally blended with a handful of others. I’m just introducing Montenidoli to let you know you are in good hands.

Oh, Colorino, you interesting little grape. When you try to look up Colorino online, there is shockingly little information about it. What I do know is the following. The black grape is native to Tuscany, and if I had to make a shelf talker for the bottle, I would highlight the wine’s deep color. Colorino… color… colorful wine… You get it, folks. So, you can probably imagine why it would be added to Sangiovese in Tuscany and Umbria. A darker, fleshier color only adds to the rusticity and complexity inherent in the Sangiovese itself. There is a perception about regal and powerful wines coming in on the more purple/inky side. When you isolate a grape that focuses on that, you get something sort of special.

Speaking of special… look at that face.

What does the 2022 Colorino from Montenidoli give you then? The wine is a walking paradox in the best way possible. It is hard to pin down. It’s inky like a Petit Verdot or Syrah, but it comes in at 12% ABV. It’s rather gentle on the palate, but the flavor is intense in a good way. There is a rather juicy dark fruit component that rounds out with notes of tart pomegranate and cherry on the fruit side.

Then you move into this prominent spice-and-sweet-smoked note that really took me by surprise. There is certainly an element that you get from the barrique aging, but it is deeper than that. I think there’s something going on with this grape and the soil that nudges up against the Triassico bottling. Ancient, deep-red, mineral-rich soil that once belonged to the Ligurian Sea adds something special to these wines.

Harnessing the soul and energy of the location, while also taking the chance to bottle a lesser-known grape by itself, is impressive. I don’t really know what else to say. It takes guts to isolate something like Colorino rather than to blend it back into her general “Rosso” or other vineyard bottlings, while also significantly increasing production in these wines. Increased production in the “Sono”, “Triassico”, and Chianti Colli Senesi bottlings would be easier to market and probably easier to turn a profit on. But Elisabetta does not opt for this route.

Folks, I am excited about all of this. This is really a special time for wine if you are willing to take a leap on something every once in a while. I am more sensitive about this now due to the recent terroir rabbit holes. Those rabbit holes led me to read about all of these indigenous varieties from places like the Canary Islands, Corsica, Sicily, and the Azores. These grapes that very few people have ever heard of provide something magical in their own way. They tell a story, often a very complex and unsettling one, filled with numerous changes of imperial hands that led to resilience among local populations.

That parallels the story of the vines themselves. Resilient, rooted, and making a comeback in the modern day. For example, have you all ever heard of the grape Carcaghjolu? I had one of the best light-bodied red wines the other day from Corsica, no less! I was thinking this must be their local clone of Sangiovese or something of the stort, but instead it is an ancient, indigenous variety that is scarce in the domestic market.

That could be a large part of the allure for these sorts of rare single-variety wines: there simply are not many of them. I like to boil it down to the following analogy, if you will stay with me. When you get a good blend from Bordeaux, the Rhone, or the Maremma, you are seeing what a team can do in harmony with one another. Imagine it’s a basketball team and the starting five are firing on all cylinders. The point guard (Cabernet) is perfectly in sync with its power forward (Petit Verdot) and shooting guard (Merlot).

But, in contrast, when you isolate a variety to its singular form, you are only getting one reference point. You are seeing that grape in its true form, raw, and unfiltered. The good, maybe the bad, and hopefully none of the ugly. Where it excels and where it falls short. Plus, the complexity of this lies in how it relates to “singularity” as a concept. You could apply that across sourcing grape varieties, vineyard selections, and so much more.

Anyways, this was a heady one here, people. I am in full-on teacher mode, tapping back into my seventh-grade history teacher roots. The notes and rabbit holes on exciting examples of terroir in the wine world, combined with this Colorino bottling from Montenidoli, yielded results I was entirely sure of. I love wine. I love getting excited about wine. Perhaps this is a way we can collectively get excited about wine and what things may be coming down the pipeline. Isolated examples of indigenous grape varieties from ancient wine regions. They are tapped into the history of that region, with many producers breathing new life into them as well. That’s the best part. So, fortify yourself and plunge ahead into the world of obscure wines. When you are at the wine shop next time, grab that Colorino instead of the Chianti Classico. Snag the Malbec from Cahors instead of a general southern French blend. Embrace the beauty of isolation and what it brings.

My little writing corner got a new dash of religious iconography. That’s always fun.