Roberto Voerzio Barolo 2006 (Rocche dell’Annunziata)
Grape: Nebbiolo
Looks: Deep ruby, with a touch of garnet
On the nose: Floral, roses, cement, rubber, oil, game, soy sauce, only medium intensity. Red & dark berries. There’s a lot in there, but it’s challenging to get out, and the fruit has become a minor player.
On the palate: Blackberry, tannin out of whack with the rest of the wine, still a bit too high for the other elements. Alcohol is nicely integrated. Leather and spices.
Price point: Embarrassing
Terningkast: 3/6
Handling disappointment is one of the most challenging aspects of sharing wine with others. If I’m drinking a bottle alone, it’s fine, even interesting, when a bottle lets you down slightly, but when you’re bringing something for a family member, friend, or special occasion it is difficult to tackle. As the “wine person” should you say something? Should you pretend that you’re loving it for the good of the group? Maybe you could structure a negative comment in a positive light!
And this line of logic and worry is the gift and the curse of being educated in wine, the deeper that you go, the more cerebral drinking becomes, and only the truly great bottles allow you to not think “this has too much VA/mouse”, “this isn’t balanced”, or “this is past its prime drinking window”. In social settings you can begin to feel like the meme of the guy in the corner saying “they don’t know x” while everyone else parties.
Which brings me to today’s bottle, a 2006 Barolo from Roberto Voerzio, one of my favorite wine producers in the world.
I actually met Roberto back at the start of my wine journey in 2011. I had joined a student society called The Bacchus Society at LSE and was plunged into a world of the children of rich socialites from Britain and its ex-colonies. These kids had taste well beyond their years. On the first meeting everyone was instructed to bring a bottle of wine they liked to share with the group. I brought a £30, 4 year old Barbaresco because I had heard Barbaresco was good. Big mistake. Not only did no one really want to taste this wine in a social tasting setting, because the tannins would destroy their palate, it just was a clear signifier that I was, in the words of Green Day, an American Idiot in a world of high taste. The other members, many still teenagers, brought cellar aged bottles from Alsace, Australia, South Africa, and Champagne. They were delicious. I’ve never felt more out of place.
But I kept going, because I love tasting wine. One of the perks that we received was free tickets to a tasting event at the Saatchi Gallery. Right by the door was Roberto Voerzio. There was no line at all to taste his wines (I guess he was a “cult” producer back then?), so I actually got to talk to him a bit and learn about his philosophy vs. other Barolo producers. I tasted all the new bottlings of Barolo, which were great, but obviously a bit tannic given their age. Still, you could see the massive potential. But what stopped me in my tracks was his Langhe. These are wines from the area from (generally) cheaper parcels that are meant to be drank young. They are often made with other grape varietals than nebbiolo as well. Langhes are typically nowhere near the big boys of Barolo and Barbaresco quality-wise, but what struck me about Roberto’s Langhe was that it carved its own lane and in its lightness, expression, and unique flavors of spice, florality, and dark fruits, stood up to the power of his Barolos. It was a revelation and by a mile the best wine for your buck at the event. I remember it like it was yesterday. N.B. His Langhe wines are still delicious and within the realm of being affordable, maybe I’ll do a tasting note on them later so I can heap praise where it is rightly due.
This specific bottle is also from one of my favorite Barolo crus: Rocche dell’Annunziata (RdA for short). The wines from this area are famous for having an ethereal quality, given in part by the rare and beatiful calcarius blue marl soils. That should on paper balance out very well with a more powerful winemaking style, giving elegance, depth, complexity, and balance along with raw power. All of this this prologue is to say: I was hyped to drink this bottle of wine, and excited to share it with my mother-in-law for her birthday, because she also has an interest in wine and specifically the wines of Italy. The result? A resounding meh.
Was it past it best or not there yet? Was it the glasses? The fact that it was sitting out at 20c vs. fresh from a cellar at 13c and allowed to gradually open up to a 17c room temperature? Maybe it wasn’t the right vibe? Should I have decanted it? These are the anxieties that go through your head when a bottle is disappointing, but the reality is that—regardless of the origin—it just wasn’t that good. The wine, after 18 years, wasn’t integrated yet. The tannins were still too pronounced in relationship with the rest of the wine and the fruit character had demurred too much to stand up to it. The tertiary tones (age based) were good, but mild in the background vs. added notes of brilliance in the background. It tasted like love lost and time ebbing away.
Unfortunately, I’m not writing this post because I’ve discovered the solution to these anxieties or socio/ethical questions around wine service, I’m writing to get it off my chest. There is no good way to be disappointed in a wine, but to take it on the chin and try to enjoy yourself.
