Altura Visits This visit at Altura took place in November, 2011.

Altura
Visits
This visit at Altura took place in November,
2011.
Words by Jules Dressner, photos by Alex Finberg.
The only way to get to the island of Giglio is by ferry, and Altura owner Francesco Carfagna had
warned us that the Tyrrhenian Sea would be rough on our way over. He wasn't kidding: the boat was
going up and down like a huge seesaw the entire trip and I got very, very sea sick. Kevin and Josefa
were totally fine, and don't quote me on this since my head was in a garbage can 75% of the ride
over, but they seemed slightly amused by my misfortune. You might remember me getting car sick
for the first time in my life on the way to Massa Vecchia, so Kevin called my nausea "two for one day."
Later Alex would go on to say:
"Today really took it out of you. Literally!"
Finally, we got to Giglio! Once a military stronghold for the Roman Empire, today the island's
economy relies principally on seasonal tourism. It's incredibly packed during the summer, but only
600 people live there year round. A big part of what Francesco -who is the ONLY person making and
bottling Giglio wine independently- is trying to do with Altura is:
"To take strong action against environmental and social decay by preserving an outstanding wine
heritage. This means joining together to foster pride in the island's inhabitants, to create a future
that is lively and well lived, not an inhuman shell dried up by a tourist village economy."
Francesco cares about Giglio: originally from Rome, he would vacation here with his father and fell
in love with the island when he was 8. As a young man, he became a high school teacher in his
hometown, but quickly grew to hate it. In 1985, he decided to quit (and in the process lose his
pension) to move to the island. Without a lira to his name, he found ways to manage and eventually
opened Arcobalena, a small restaurant and wine bar, in 1987.
He then met and fell in love with a young woman named Gabriella, who came for a summer vacation
and never left. They ran the restaurant together until 1999, when an opportunity to buy an old house
with abandoned vineyards on the south side of the island presented itself.
"When I showed up to the appointment, the owner said: 'Let me show you the house.' I told him I
wanted to see the vineyards! He was shocked, and told me I was the first person who'd ever asked
him that! It wasn't too hard to seal the deal..."
Francesco, who jokingly refers to himself as a "fat old man.", is now 60 and a staple in Giglio. He's
got a happy go lucky personality a lively sense of humor. He's also a talented singer and musician,
and every year to celebrate harvest his family (all of whome play instruments) perform a concert at
the foot of their vines. He lives in Castello, the island's main town.
At 550 meters elevation, it's Giglio's main (non beach) attraction because of the incredible remains
of its castle town.
The town is still inhabited, and Arcobalena is located in the center of it.
Walking through the narrow alleys and up the winding, twisting staircases, I couldn't help but feel
that I'd been here before. A past life perhaps?
Then it hit me! I'd never been here before but I'd seen it in film! This castle town could be non other
than the setting for one of the climactic final scenes of the 1985 classic Gymkata!
For those of you not familiar with the plot of Gymkata, please brush up on the film's surprisingly
detailed wikipedia page. The final test of "The Game" is to go through the "Village of the Crazies",
where after a valiant gymnastics-infused martial arts display against the villagers, John Cabot is
finally surrounded. Fortunately, there just so happens to be a rock in the middle of the village that
looks and functions exactly like a Pommel Horse, which Johnny uses to his advantage by
pommel-horse-karate-kicking his enemies into submission before escaping.
Though I'd convinced myself otherwise, it turns out that Gymkata was actually shot in Yugoslavia.
Oops.
Francesco had brought us here for an aperitif at Arcobalena. This year was his first at Vini di
Vigniaoli, and this led to the subject of the natural wine movement in Italy. Francesco isn't
comfortable with the term, preferring to use "Alive Wine." He isn't jumping on the bandwagon either;
to prove it he pointed to the original 1987 Arcobalena sign:
For those too lazy to use Google Translate, the sign says: "Alive Wine and Kitchen".
After the aperitif, we were off out Francesco's cellar.
The cellar is located directly below where Francesco's living quarters, an old light house he
reconverted with his wife Gabriella. You can see it all the way to the right of the picture below.
It was at this point that I declared:
"this shit is crazy."
It suddenly hit me that I was about to taste wine made in a cellar under a lighthouse from grapes
indigenous to a tiny island off of Tuscany. It's a shame that wines like Altura's are too often
overlooked by the unadventurous; as I was about to discover, the wines are as unique as the island
itself.
In the cellar, Francesco let us taste the 2010 white and red, the latter still in barrel and quite
delicious: fresh, mineral, bright fruit, lively acidity and serious drinkability.
The 2011's were also very promising, although the fermentations are very slow this year,
particularly for the red.
The unexpected treat of the tasting was Arcobalena's house wine, a Sangiovese Francesco makes
himself. This stuff is the definition of Glou-Glou, and as official Taste Maker for Current and Future
Markets (T.M.C.F.M), I pleaded for him to bottle it for us! Francesco told us we weren't the first to
ask, but unfortunately the low quantity and extra manual labor (the family bottles and labels
everything themselves) wouldn't make it worthwhile. For now...
Francesco closed up shop and we were off to Arcobalena for dinner.
Francesco's son Mattia is the chef there, and his specialty are his cured anchovies. He's developed
quite a reputation for them in Italy, and is hoping to expand his production so he can sell them to
restaurants across the country. I sincerely hope so: in an incredibly quotable moment, Josefa said:
"These are the anchovies that converted me to liking anchovies."
And at our Montesecondo visit, Silvio said:
"Man, those are some of the best anchovies I've ever had in my life!"
Silvio LOVES anchovies, and apparently gets antisocial when good ones are around because he can't
focus on anything else.
It was a great meal full of fresh fish and complimented by an Altura vertical of the last three
vintages. Alex Finberg went as far as saying that Altura is the best anchovy wine he's ever had and
that it was his favorite pairing of the trip so far.
"They actually make each other taste better."
We left well fed and ready to visit the vines in the morning.
When we woke up, it was official: though it had rained a little bit the day before, our good weather
streak was over. The village was gray, windy and rainy, but Alex and I still wanted to explore the
castle town a little bit.
Francesco then picked us up and it was off to the vines.
Before I go any further, I really need to stress that no pictures can aptly do this site justice. You just
have to be there to understand how special it is: the terraces, the water channels, the view of sea...
It's just something else.
Isolated on the south side of the island, the only way to access the vines is to take a small dirt road
that can only be navigated with four wheel drive. The rain and wind was picking up but Alex was still
able to get some great shots.
When the Carfagnas took over the 4 hectares of vines, they were abandoned. This was great for the
purity of the soil, but also meant a ton of work. The family rooted and ripped out all the weeds, and
rebuilt thousands of meters of dry stone walls, as well as water channels.
The oldest vines are 60 to 70 years and franc de pied, but since the land was abandoned, only a
handful are still producing fruit today. Francesco re-grafted, and planted young vines 10 years ago
on American rootstock. Everything is selection massale. They also began training the vines, some in
Guyot but mostly in Albarello. The soil is granite.
There is no choice but to do everything by hand (not that Francesco would do it any other way), and
the harvesters have to carry the grapes from the bottom to the top of the hill before loading them
onto a four wheel drive truck.
Our ferry back to the mainland was at 10:30, so we hurried back to the Port. I made sure to buy
some motion sickness medicine.
But when we got there, we were informed that the sea was even rougher than on arrival!
We were told that if the conditions are like this in the morning, they most likely won't get any better
later in the day. We were marooned!
Francesco fell in love with the word and ended up using it at least 50 times during the rest of the
day. He was also delighted because now we had no choice than to have lunch at the lighthouse. He
pulled out the big guns with this local fish.
The aperitif consisted of Francis Boulard and Coste Piane, and marked the beginning of a 4 hour
lunch.
Around 1 hour and 34 minutes into lunch, Francesco's buddy Pietro swung by for a glass.
Pietro is an important guy on the island and you have him to thank if you've ever drank a bottle of
Altura anywhere other than Giglio: he's the guy that ships all exports and imports to and from the
island.
Gabriella also showed me this AWESOME ad she'd just received in the mail for graphically designed
stainless steel tanks.
Looking good, Marilyn!
2 hours after lunch we returned to Arcobalena for dinner. We somehow managed to eat all five
courses, although Kevin and Josefa had half portions of everything.
The plan was to grab the 6:30 am ferry because at this time the sea is at its calmest. Kevin tried to
gracefully bow out from the table, but we weren't allowed to leave before Francesco could sing us a
little tune on the piano. The instrument was out of tune but it didn't really matter, since he stole the
show with his singing.That guy can wail!
All of a sudden one of his friends got on the drums, then some other guy was playing guitar and they
had a full band going! Francesco kept impressing us with his serious tuneage, and Gabriella broke
out into an interpretive dance. It was a great way to be cast off, and after many thanks we finally got
back to our rooms for a little shut eye.
We woke up to a cold, windy morning, but nothing as bad as the eve. We gathered our stuff, drove to
the port and I took a Dimenidrinato. We pulled up to the ferry, and the woman at the ticket booth to
tell us the last thing we wanted to hear: the sea was still too rough! We'd have to wait and see if we
could take the 9:30.
After three hours semi passed out in the car, I woke up to a mob of people storming the ticket booth!
The ferry was leaving, and people wanted out. After all, there was a two day back-up of people trying
to leave! Kevin fended off an angry German family and made sure we got our tickets. A rainbow lit
the sky and we were on our way!