Writing about Italian wines always reminds me of that Monty Python sketch where game-show contestants in swimsuits are asked to give a two-minute precis of Marcel Proust's A la Recherche du Temps Perdu. How do you start to sum up a place that makes roughly a fifth of the world's wine?
The first thing to bear in mind is that Italy, like France, is capable of producing some of the greatest wines on the planet. Conversely, it also churns out some of the worst plonk of all. If you've ever had a bad bottle of Italian rosso, served from a wicker fiasco (you couldn't make up a name like that) in a badly lit trattoria, then you'll know what I mean. How could it be otherwise in a country where 800,000 people grow grapes and there are more than 1,000 different varieties?
The Italian wine laws aren't much help, although they make a bit more sense than they did 10 years ago, when many of the country's best wines were sold as Vini da Tavola (a designation reserved for supposedly humble table wines).
According to current legislation, the best wines are produced in 24 DOCG areas (short for Denominazione di Origine Controllata e Garantita). This makes sense when the wines in question are Barolo, Barbaresco, Brunello di Montalcino, Chianti Classico and Vino Nobile di Montepulciano, but not when they're Albana di Romagna, Asti Spumante or Gavi. You'd be better off with something from one of the 297 DOC (Denominazione di Origine Controllata) areas. You'd certainly save some money.
Italian wines are sui generis. There have been attempts to export Italian grapes to other countries, but most have been unsuccessful. For whatever reason, Italian varieties have not travelled as well as their French counterparts: if you want to drink great Sangiovese, Nebbiolo, Barbera, Fiano or Aglianico, go to the source.
The diversity of Italian wine can seem bewildering on first acquaintance. One estimate is that there are more than 1,800 different styles in Italy. You could spend your whole life studying nothing but Italian wine and never work out the precise difference between, say, Colli di Faenza, Colli di Imola and Colli di Rimini.
What advice would I give to someone eager to appreciate Italian wine? For a start, I'd avoid most of the whites, unless you're eating in situ. Most Italian bianchi are bland by international standards, with a few exceptions in the Veneto, Trentino, Campania, Sicily and Friuli. By and large, Italians regard white wines as something to rinse their palates with before they move on to reds.
Italian reds can be sublime, but if you're used to drinking French or New World wines, you need to approach them with a different mindset. They tend to be higher in acid and tannin content than most other red wines. They also have less overt fruit sweetness. Drunk without food, they can taste bitter and dry, which is why they are best appreciated with the local cuisine.
The best Italian reds - and the majority of these come from Piedmont, Tuscany and the Veneto - are almost as pricey as top Bordeaux and Burgundy. But lower down the scale, Italy offers stupendous value for money, especially if you avoid the DOCG regions.
It also offers flavours and aromas that are unique, as well as a host of characterful grape varieties, from Lagrein, Primitivo and Dolcetto to Nero d'Avola, Montepulciano and Negroamaro. These have never tasted better than they do today, thanks to recent advances in the vineyard and the cellar, not to mention in the minds of producers who are no longer content with mediocrity.
It's not exactly a mainstream point of view, but I am particularly fond of the wines coming out of Puglia and Sicily, two southern areas whose combined production is far greater than Australia's. Both regions have been traditionally regarded as headache-providers, but they have made enormous improvements in the past decade and now rank among the most exciting areas in Europe. It started from a higher level, but Tuscany, too, has upped its game, especially in 1997 and 1999, two excellent recent vintages.
Learning about Italian wines can feel like trying to bottle mercury at times. The names and flavours can be unfamiliar, the laws don't make much sense and the sheer diversity of what's on offer can be bewildering. But persevere. Like reading A la Recherche du Temps Perdu , your effort will be rewarded in the end, with or without the swimsuit.
