When I've driven with Piedmontese vintner Angelo Gaja, or seen his sleek, dark Mercedes bend and twist through the narrow, rolling hillside roads of Barbaresco, the first thing that comes to mind is Batman's Batmobile zooming into Gotham City. . . . Thanks to the autostrada, I was able to crisscross Tuscany several times in June to take in the scenery, visit small wineries and learn what's new in the land of Chianti Classico. . . . THE PACE IN Tuscany is much slower than in California, where it's not uncommon for a new vintner to buy land, rip it up with a tractor, plant it and build a new winery, all within a year or so. . . . In Italy, tradition dictates the pace. Families hold on to their land for generations.
Laws restrict where new vines can be rooted and dictate wine styles as well. . . .
This snail's pace can be very frustrating to some of the more ambitious vintners, such as passionate, dark-haired Paolo de Marchi, of Isole e Olena, which is in southern Tuscany near the ghost village of Olena. . . . Thirty years ago, some 300 residents inhabited this area near his vineyard and worked as sharecroppers. Grapes, olive trees, vegetables, hay and livestock all shared the same rolling hillsides. . . . With time, the sharecroppers moved on to the cities and vintners such as de Marchi began to slowly focus on higher-quality grapes and wines, applying art and science to them as a means for survival. . . . At the time, Europe was awash in cheap wine and the huge cooperatives that had bought the grapes no longer paid decent prices. . . .