Quick, can you name Sicily’s first and thus far only DOCG (Denominazione di Origine Controllata e Garantita, Italy’s highest wine classification award)? If you guessed Cerasuolo di Vittoria, you’re right. Established as a DOC in 1973 and promoted to DOCG in 2005, Cerasuolo di Vittoria surrounds the town of Vittoria, which lies some twenty minutes inland from the southerly coast of the island.
This region, now making some of Sicily’s most distinctive red wines, was our next wine destination after Siracusa. The SS 115 road there first took us through the exquisite Baroque hill towns of Noto, Modica and Ragusa, then across the high plateau which forms the southern flank of the Iblean Mountains (Monti Iblei), before finally dropping precipitously down the escarpment towards the dusty town of Comiso which lies at the edge of the coastal plain that forms the heart of the region.
This pedantic bit of geographic description is important to understanding Cerasuolo di Vittoria DOCG. Its vineyards are influenced by two key geographical factors: their relative proximity to the sea, and the cleansing winds that regularly blow down off the Iblean Mountains, especially in the late afternoons. Both of these factors have a moderating influence on the vineyards, and help maintain healthy grape growth. In fact, Cerasuolo di Vittoria has a high concentration of organically grown vines, reflecting its clean terroir.
On its favoured ‘terra rossa‘ soils of decomposed red sandstone over limestone, the grapes grown here are Nero D’Avola and Frappato. In fact no other grape varietals are allowed in the DOCG blend.
I’d been drawn to this relatively obscure corner of Sicily area by accounts I’d read and invitations I’ve received by two rather remarkable sounding sisters. Occhipinti is a well known family name in these parts, and this particular family has been central to the revival of fine winemaking in Cerasuolo di Vittoria. To begin with, there’s Giusto Occhipinti, one of the original founders of COS winery, one of the region’s most well-regarded wine producers. Giusto’s brother Bruno has two daughters, Arianna and Fausta, and I’d been in touch with both of them.
Arianna, who is only still in her 30s, runs Azienda Agricola Occhipinti and has made quite a name for herself internationally for her natural, carefully made, honest wines. I was keen to see for myself what all the fuss was about. We had arranged to meet at the winery for a private visit and tasting. Arianna’s older sister Fausta, meanwhile, runs the nearby family farmhouse as an agriturismo (bed & breakfast). I had booked us in for a couple of nights and was looking forward to meeting her too, since she was, like me, trained in (landscape) architecture and had by all accounts transformed Baglio Occhipinti into an elegantly designed, inspirational country escape that focused on simple pleasures done well. Both sisters seemed impressively accomplished.
My plan was to interview the Occhipinti sisters, as I was curious to ask each of them how these two apparently overachieving young women had made their way in what is still a relatively traditional and patriarchal Sicilian society. It seemed like an interesting line of enquiry. Maybe it would help me understand contemporary Sicily a little better.
Getting to Baglio Occhipinti involves negotiating several narrow country roads that are perplexingly signposted. Finally, approaching our destination, dark clouds rolled in overhead, thunder growled, lightning crackled, and a plume of thick black smoke suddenly rose ahead of us. Then, as we entered a traffic circle (roundabout), bright red flames shot upwards from a desiccated palm tree in its centre. We drove through the smoke and flames and exited the roundabout, emerging at the gates of the baglio (the Sicilian word for a farm with an enclosed courtyard). This was a positively biblical entrance. Or perhaps I should have taken it as a signal.
We were greeted by a slim young man who turned out to be British. Upon enquiry, Simon told me that Fausta was away somewhere and would not be back while we were staying at her place. A gnawing feeling crept over me: I’d had this experience once already in Sicily (see my post on Tenuta di Fessina). Oh well. At least Baglio Occhipinti was everything it had advertised itself as: a charming, peaceful rural estate surrounded by vineyards and fruit orchards, and with the most exquisite pool enclosed by an ancient stone wall. And country quiet. Until, that is, the other guests made themselves known: three generations – including several rambunctious children – of a large northern European family group seemed to have overrun the place.
Travel is sometimes like this: you have to roll with the punches. Family fun and games notwithstanding, we still ended up loving Baglio Occhipinti’s elegant simplicity, and Simon was very apologetic, generously offering to make it up to us. Overhearing his conversation later that day with one of the family group members who was enquiring if Simon could set up a visit for them all to Azienda Agricola Occhipinti the next day, I made a point of quietly asking him not to arrange it for when I had my appointment with Arianna. At least that visit would hopefully transpire as expected.
You can probably guess how this story continues.
The next day, upon my arrival at Azienda Agricola Occhipinti, an energetic young Sicilian fellow greeted me. Rather offhandedly, Damiano advised that Ariana would not be available to meet me after all, as she had other matters to attend to. Oh, and there was a visiting American family who would be joining us for the winery visit and tasting. My heart sank.
In the event, it was a lovely visit. The tasting room (complete with country kitchen) was housed in a beautifully renovated old palmento, with the minimalist new winery tucked in below underground. Damiano was an entertaining, knowledgable host, and took us out into the vineyard for a walkabout in the sandy red soils. He pointed out the hazy profile of distant Mount Etna on the northern horizon. I enjoyed chatting with the other visitors too, who turned out to be a couple from New York City and their 20 year old son, who back home would still be legally under age to drink alcohol. Sipping a limpid Frappato in this cool wine room in the heart of Sicily, surrounded by vineyards and olive groves, this struck me as a particularly absurd example of puritanical US law. Oh, and the Occhipinti wines were delicious, for the most part.
In the end I did not get my interviews with either Occhipinti sister. Tant pis, as my French friends would say. But there was an unplanned bonus instead: Back at the baglio, an older man, dressed in that quintessentially shabby-chic way that Italians seem to pull off effortlessly, was pottering around the courtyard outside our suite, where I was sitting in the sun enjoying a glass of rosato. I introduced myself, and he turned out to be the absent sisters’ father.
Bruno Occhipinti proved to be the epitome of Sicilian graciousness: an old-fashioned gentleman who had the resigned air of a man who is used to being surrounded by women. We had a long, rambling conversation, mostly in Italian (him, with me mostly trying to follow). I learned that he’s an architect and had designed both the family baglio makeover and Arianna’s new winery down the road. When I mentioned that I’d visited the winery earlier that day and had been disappointed not to meet his younger daughter, he insisted on calling her on his telefonino. After what seemed like a somewhat fraught yet brief conversation in rapid-fire Italian between father and daughter (did she try wiggle out of talking to me?), he passed me the mobile phone. Arianna apologized for her earlier no-show, and we had a brief, friendly conversation. She offered to answer any questions I might still have, via email. I thanked her, wished her and her wine project well, and handed the phone back to its owner.
As he pocketed the device, Bruno turned to me with an unmistakably wistful look that I took to mean something about the challenges of dealing with strong-willed women we love. My wife chose this moment to arrive, and I introduced them to each other. Bruno made a show of greeting her. After a few more minutes of chatting, we said our goodbyes, and Bruno moved off towards the garden. A moment later he reappeared and gallantly proffered a freshly picked red rose to Shirly.
Sicilian honour had been restored.
