A Conspiracy Against Franciacorta!

I think I beat Jesse Ventura to this one.

About a year and a half ago, I was wandering through the sparkling wines section of Astor Wines, like you do, when I stumbled upon a wine I'd never seen. Looking down at the bottle, I mouthed the words "Ferghettina Franciacorta." Unfamiliar with either of these words, I wondered which was the producer and which was the name of the wine itself. I looked to the neck of the bottle and took note of the very familiar ribbon indicating Italy's highest wine designation, DOCG. This shocked me; as the son of Italian immigrants, and someone who has been helping his father make wine (including champagne-method sparklers) since age 7, I could not believe I was at that moment discovering an Italian sparkler I'd never so much as read about! I immediately brought the bottle to the register, projecting a poorly-feigned air of confidence as I made my purchase.



Thirty dollars later, I was on my way home in hopes of trying the wine; after giving it some thought, however, I realized drinking sparkling wine alone is probably up there with cryurbating, so, I did the next best thing: I googled it. What I found, or, lack thereof, really surprised me. There simply wasn't a whole lot of literature on Franciacorta. Much of what I did learn, I ended up reading in David Lynch and Joe Bastianich's aptly-named encyclopedic tome, Vino Italiano.

The word Franciacorta itself first appeared in 1277 as Franzacurta; derived from the Latin franchae curtes, denoting a district of tax-exempt monasteries in Brescia. Evidence suggests wines being made in the metodo classico or champagne method by the clergy (like all good booze) in this region since the 1570's, though it was not until the 1960's that we have the beginnings of contemporary Franciacorta. DOCG protection was bestowed in 1995; and, by law, Franciacorta may only contain Chardonnay, Pinot Bianco and/or Pinot Nero (which is genetically identical to Pinot Noir.)

In fact, the story of contemporary Franciacorta quite nicely parallels the experimental and entrepreneurial spirit that built Napa, Sonoma, and - to give an Italian example - the Super Tuscans; yet Franciacorta receives little to nothing in the way of acclaim or recognition from the international wine conoscenti. One would suspect this is because the wine simply isn't that good, but this could not be farther from the truth.

Just about every example I've tasted is superb. Franciacorta seems to possess a characteristic nuttiness on the back of the palate that immediately recalls Krug's multi-vintage champagnes. I am not so bold to assert that a lower-end Franciacorta is better than the pride of Epernay, but, there is a serious complexity to this wine that is being entirely overlooked. This is not a 1970's asti spumante; this is a contender in the dry sparkling wine category.

Now comes the conspiracy part: I figured if I couldn't read much about it, I'd just try some. My first instinct was to ask some friends in the restaurant business (one of whom is the wine director at a popular restaurant in the West Village and another of whom works with a large wine distributor in NYC) if they could get their hands on a particular vintage-dated or millesimato Franciacorta for me. After a few months, the search proved fruitless. (Wine pun.)

Perhaps, I considered, I was on the cutting edge! I fantasized about being the wine version of one of those angsty hipsters who totally started listening to Modest Mouse before they were like, MODEST MOUSE. Being ahead of the trend, while an exciting prospect, was probably not what was going on with Franciacorta.

The next avenue I pursued was to inquire at Italian Wine Merchants, considering Sergio Esposito (the owner) is something of an authority on Italian wine in NYC. My initial inquiry was met with a curt "we don't sell Franciacorta." I didn't have the presence of mind to ask "why not?", but there was evidently no need as that question was cryptically answered some months later by the owner in the comments section of this IWM blog post. At least two other people find it strange that they do not carry Franciacorta!

Reading Sergio’s response actually made me think the man hated money. Here he had customers giving direct feedback saying they were interested in buying Franciacorta, and his only response was a pumped-up version of, “those guys just aren’t on the level, maaaan.” This could be explained by one of two not necessarily mutually exclusive factors: 1) The self-aggrandizing snobbery bordering on gnosticism that is all too prevalent in the wine community, or, 2) a conspiracy of Illuminati Champagne producers - who have never recovered from the deep emotional wounds left by the Judgment of Paris - paying off vendors and retailers in an effort to save France's last culturally relevant superlative. I could be wrong, though.

In the months after, I was able to find and taste various examples - Cavalleri, Ca' del Bosco and Bellavista among the highlights - all of which were pretty great, but none of which were vintage-dated. I confided my concerns of the active suppression of Franciacorta in a friend, who then pointed me in the direction of a free Franciacorta tasting event going on at Acker Merrall & Condit last Friday.

The Franciacorta on offer was a 2006 Ricci Curbasto, retailing for $40. The lively rep and I spoke at length about our frustrations surrounding Franciacorta. Her biggest struggle, predictably enough, is getting restauranteurs to purchase her wine. According to her, it seems to be a question of branding and marketing. Champagne evokes a "lifestyle", and it's no surprise that French luxury giant LVMH (Louis Vuitton S.A.) owns the houses that bring us Moët et Chandon, Dom Pérignon, Veuve Clicquot, Krug and Mercier. Franciacorta has no such association, and it seems the wine community is content to keep it that way.

I see no reason why this wine should not have yet "exploded" onto the popular wine scene, or even amongst collectors. It is a first-rate wine that I am confident could go toe-to-toe against Champagne. If you're skeptical, please don't take my word for it-- set up a mini blind tasting for yourself. You can find several different producers at the new Batali/Bastianich Behemoth of Eataly; let's hope the maddening foot traffic Eataly gets can help promote this truly extraordinary wine.