Sicilian wines en primeur by Kerstin Rodgers

“Sicily isn’t just an island, it’s a continent.” – Leoluca Orlando, mayor of Palermo
In Sicily, I saw fields where windswept vines are shaped like bushes, often held down by stones. I saw vines that resembled the elegant branches of a harp; others that threaded along a wire in orderly rows like soldiers. I could also see the influence of the natural wine revolution on traditional winemakers: whereas vineyards used to be tidy regimented lines without weeds, now wild flowers grow abundantly between the tiers of vines. Despite the fact that grapevines thrive best in poor soil, vineyards are situated in some of the most beautiful scenery in the world.
The island boasts 76 cultivars of grapes; some, like Grillo, Nero D’Avola, Zibbibo, Catarratto, Carricante and Perricone (the antecedent of Marsala wine) only grow here. The soil too, is varied: 12 kinds, from jet volcanic pumice to red clay schist, chalky limestone cliffs or ochre sand. Around Mount Etna is probably the most visually arresting, even olive green foliage pops when the background is black.
Harvesting in Sicily, due to these diverse geographical conditions, is a long season, stretching from August to November. Picking starts early in the desert heat of the interior, mid-season where there are saline breezes near the coast, and late at snowy altitudes around Etna.
Sicily produces more wine than New Zealand, and almost as much as Australia. Two hundred wineries produce almost 60 million bottles. For a place with little industry and high unemployment, almost double the mainland rate, the wine business provides employment for 7,000 people. Not bad for an island off the coast of Italy. It is however the largest island in the Mediterranean and bigger than Wales.

History

The history of Sicily, due to its location at a naval crossroads in the mediterranean, encompasses every empire and colonising urge, from the Phoenicians, Greeks, Romans, Vandals, Arabs, Normans, Spanish, British and now the Italians.
Time functions differently on this island: ancient and new linger cheek by jowl. The way Sicilians, especially the Planeta wine family, talk about the Roman Empire, it could have been yesterday. This impression was repeated when Valentina Bruschi, an art history guide who gave us a speed-walking tour of Palermo, airily declared that 18th-century baroque is considered modern art in Sicily. 
There is still some resentment against the Romans for ripping out all the vineyards (2,000 years ago!) and replacing them with wheat fields.

 ‘We were the bread basket of the empire,’ explained bitterly one wine family scion, Vito Planeta. 

Memories are long. Likewise, the removal of anything pertaining to Greek culture. As always, the new empire had to wipe out the traces of the previous one.*

Experts

A wine trip, while a great pleasure, can also be an intimidating experience. While not an expert, I want to learn. I know how to taste. I sniff deeply, plunging my nose deep into the glass, sometimes leaving a mark on the bridge of my nose. I’ve learnt to swirl my glass without slopping the wine over the edge. 
When surrounded by experts, I sometimes wonder if I have the right to speak or ask questions but then I think what the hell and ask away. There is no such thing as a stupid question, right? I’ve learnt to trust my instincts. There are no ‘right’ opinions. 
On this trip, I was with 85 journalists from all over the world, the majority of whom were wine experts. Some had very specific interests: one international journalist only covered Italian wine, no other region. Very few came from the UK:

 ‘They are all at the Decanter World Wine Awards,’ I was told. 
‘We keep changing the date not to have a clash, but they keep changing their date too,’ one winemaker complained.

The winemakers were all delightful: warm, friendly, generous, happy to share their knowledge. As were the sommeliers from the Associazione Italiana Somelier, impressively dressed in black frock coats, white shirt and black bow tie, with silver ‘tastevin’ or tasting cup hanging down on a heavy metal rather ‘mayoral’ chain. They guided my tasting choices and I got to taste some truly incredible wines.

What is ‘en primeur’?

En primeur means ‘at the beginning’. You taste very good but very young wines and the idea is to predict how good they will be in a few years time. It’s the wine version of a ‘futures’ market.
I’d heard of Bordeaux ‘en primeur’ but almost every region has an en primeur event. Bordeaux is the most important of these markets.
En primeur is an opportunity to buy wine before it is bottled and get it at a reasonable price. This is much-needed in the case of Bordeaux, and even then, I’ve heard complaints that the prices are beyond anybody but bankers and Chinese investors.

Wineries

It was only around 35 years ago that a new wave of winemakers and cantines started to improve and produce fine wines in Sicily. The wine industry, as in much of Europe, was devastated by the phylloxera wipe-out in the mid-19th century. From that era until the 1980s/90s, the regional wines were either ordinary table wines or had been used to bulk out mainland Italian wines. 
Sicily used to be known for red wines, drunk young. Now white wines, particularly in the west of Sicily are gaining renown. This is my tour of the land of the Cyclops around Etna.

Etna wines

Sibiliana

In the old days Grillo wine used to be be yellow, oxidised and full-bodied: winemakers struggled to control the fermentation. But now Grillo is growing in popularity as a dry white wine.
I tried the Spumante Due Sorbi, which was citrussy, acidic, mineral, as you’d expect from volcanic soil, salty and fresh, with small bubbles. Grapes are picked early, in August. Perfect with seafood. 
I also tried their Eughenès range: Catarratto Lucido, Grillo, Syrah-Nero D’Avola ’15 and ’16, and Perricone. 

Nicosia

Visiting the Nicosia vineyards at 750 metres of altitude, where it sometimes snows, at the foot of an extinguished crater around Mount Etna, I was almost blown to the ground by the wind. I eyed 60-year-old espalier vines, stunning against the pitch black charcoal undersoil. This is the rainiest area in Sicily.