12 October 2011

n.d.p. in piemonte: francesco rinaldi e figli, barolo


In any given wine region, there's bound to be a learning curve for the first-time traveler, as over the course of a few winemaker visits he or she gets a handle on local attitudes. What my friend J and I learned on our first visit in the Barolo region proper, to the estate of Francesco Rinaldi e Figli, was you should never specifically ask to taste a Barolo producer's Grignolino.


This Rinaldi - not to be confused with the related and rather more famous Giuseppe Rinaldi estate - are based just outside the town of Barolo, right among the famed Cannubi and Brunate vineyards. The cheerful Capella di Sol Lewitt, which we'd visited the day before, is visible from the stuffy attic-like tasting room at Francesco Rinaldi e Figli. J and I had just toured the cellar with Piera Rinaldi, granddaughter of the late Francesco Rinaldi, himself the son of Giovanni Rinaldi, who founded the estate in 1870.


I guess part of me thought that demonstrating a knowledge of the estate's lesser-known Grignolino d'Asti, made from the eponymous geeky, pine-needly, feather-light red grape, might separate J and I from what presumably must be legions of ratings-obsessed, Wine Spectator-toting Barolo tourists who pass through. Then, part of me really just liked the Grignolino, the best of its category, in my opinion, and wanted J to tasted it.


Signora Rinaldi looked at us like we were crazy. For having come all the way to Barolo to taste Grignolino, which I gathered she regarded as sort of a domestic servanty sort of wine, helpful to have around the house, but never introduced to guests.

"It's better when it's chilled," I said to J, who like me was nodding and sweating in the hot tasting room. Our passage through Barolo coincided with the hottest week of the year, and I had the impression that all three of us present were somewhat anxious not to spend too much time in that room. This perhaps accounts for what happened next, which was - nothing.


We waited a few minutes for Signora Rinaldi to move the tasting along to another wine. When it became clear she was under the impression we'd come solely to taste the Grignolino, like crazies, J went ahead and straight-up asked to taste some Barolo, which, after all, was what we were mostly here for as well. To her credit, Signora Rinaldi didn't hesitate then to open a bottle of the 2007 Brunate.


Here was the immaculately classic Francesco Rinaldi house style I'd been thinking of when I contacted the estate. The wines are regal, fine-grained, and fully Burgundian in scope. This particular bottle had what I was even then beginning to identify as a 2007 thing going on: it was fully 15% alc., as I remember, with a liquoroso nose, and a chinato-like element in the dark cherry palate. All told it was a little heftier than I like in Barolo, but I'd attribute that to the vintage rather than any fault in winemaking.


Francesco Rinaldi are in any grand reckoning a slightly marginal house, never seeming to attain superstar status to accompany their consistently well-regarded wines. I think this is partly a function of media structure: wine writers like writing about vigneron winemakers historically connected to their estates, or about superpowered consultants with their hands in a number of vast enterprises. Less picturesque are situations like that at Francesco Rinaldi e Figli, where since Piera's father Luciano stopped in 2002 the wines has been made by a contracted winemaker, Fabio Gemme.


Happily, the transition has been a smooth one, without changes to procedure. They still harvest Nebbiolo around mid-September, ferment in fifties' era 50HL glass-lined tanks, still age in ancient enormous barrels, a mixture of 50HL and 110HL, that leave no trace of oakiness on the palate. Total production is around 70,000 btls / year, of which 44,000 are Barolo.



Rather than brooch potentially controversial subjects here by asking about natural winemaking as a philosophy, I found myself taking a piecemeal approach, on this visit and the ones to follow, asking instead simply whether the winemaker used natural yeasts or inoculation to start fermentation. At Francesco Rinaldi they inoculate. Enough said, I figure. For all that I prize natural winemaking, I find myself unable to muster a real argument for a place like Francesco Rinaldi - or any other good traditional Barolo producer -  to change what they've been doing all along, which is making absolutely magisterial wines.

Even the Grignolino. (Shh.)


Francesco Rinaldi e Figli
Via Crosia, 30
12060 Barolo (Cn)
Tel: +39 0173 440484

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3 comments:

  1. I can assure you that, unless you're at Brovia (where they'll sort of shrug and tell you that they try not to innoculate, but that sometimes they have to), it's a terrible, terrible, terrible idea to start asking -- or worse, talking -- about natural wine in the Piedmont. Trust me. I've got the scars to prove it.

    I think this is partly a function of media structure: wine writers like writing about vigneron winemakers historically connected to their estates, or about superpowered consultants with their hands in a number of vast enterprises. Less picturesque are situations like that at Francesco Rinaldi e Figli, where since Piera's father Luciano stopped in 2002 the wines has been made by a contracted winemaker, Fabio Gemme.

    Hmmm. We talk about Giacosa rather a lot, which sort of counters your point.

    I just think they're not particularly well-known, and as with any same-last-name situation where one is decidedly more famous than the other, it's hard for them to get noticed; one hears "Rinaldi," one things of the other Rinaldi.

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  2. well... i kept asking, here and there. it's interesting to approach controversial subjects with piedmontese vignerons, if not always rewarding to dive right in. i'd go into detail here but it would spoil future posts. (i have far, far too much material from piedmont.)

    giacosa and his daughter still present some of the public face of that company though, from what i understand. also they're a much larger operation, no? on the whole though i think your analysis of why Francesco Rinaldi get overlooked it pretty much correct. also i'm sure it's related to how much the family themselves want to promote their wines. different approaches to fame.

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  3. Sure, but if the point is that wine writers want to write about "vigneron winemakers historically connected to their estates," the Giacosas are no more or less so than were, say, the Mondavis before they lost their winery. And I don't think it was an interest in "vigneron winemakers historically connected to their estates" that compelled people to write about the Mondavis.

    I still just think it's that they have a mindshare problem vs. the other Rinaldi (and wine quality has something to do with it too, of course).

    But it could be worse. I visited a huge (and pretty bland) operation in the Piedmont who could never sell their wines in the States even if they wanted to (which they did), because they're unwilling to remove their family name from the labels, and their family name is Negro.

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