(Gerhard Ziegler)
Actually, Martin Kerres – originally, and in a sense still, a doctor – simply wanted a house in Tuscany: sunshine, olive trees, a little retreat in the Maremma with a view into the distance, where the wind drives the butterflies up the hillside. But things turned out differently. Today, his Valdonica winery in Sassofortino produces almost 35,000 bottles of white, red and rosé a year. And recently, alongside the barrels and stainless-steel tanks in the cellar, an amphora (the Italians call it an ‘anfora’) has appeared – almost as tall as a man – from which one of the region’s most exciting new wines is produced.
“It’s not quite a trend yet,” says Kerres. “Amphorae are still something of an exotic novelty. Many wines made in them are wild and untamed. But, like any wine, they must be well-made – in other words, flawless. Even an amphora wine must be free from faults. That is the challenge: to create a flawless, elegant product using this ancient, delicate technology.”
We stroll through the vineyards down to the cellar: standing there amongst the gleaming steel tanks and rows of barriques is the amphora. Thick-walled, terracotta-coloured, handcrafted and actually looking like an ancient amphora, with two absurdly small handles on the side, as if one could move this man-sized, multi-tonne contraption even a single centimetre with one’s bare hands. A hefty thing, but one that can breathe.
“The concrete tank was the first step for me,” says Kerres. “Both concrete and the amphora work through pores. But the amphora – that’s where things really take off.” More happens in clay, he explains. Fermentation proceeds differently. Contact with oxygen is more subtle, more even, and the temperature more stable. And the material itself gives back energy.
This year, Kerres’s amphora contains a blend of the old Tuscan varieties Masareta, Vermentino Nero and Colorino – varieties he had replanted on the hills of Sassofortino. “We work with biodiversity, including old grape varieties that had almost disappeared.” These include, for example, Vermentino Nero, but also Ciliegiolo, which Martin has, in a sense, rediscovered.
The wine spends a year in the “Amphora”. After that, it is transferred to wood for six months. “That way, the wildness of the amphora also takes on a touch of elegance,” says Kerres. There is no terracotta tradition in Tuscany that one could draw upon. “In Georgia, yes – they’ve been doing it there for 8,000 years. Not here.” He laughs briefly. “Perhaps the Etruscans – they certainly had something similar, but that’s gone. We’re definitely starting from scratch here.” In fact, he says, forgotten concrete tanks can still be found in old farmhouses, even in Tuscany. “But amphorae – never seen them. It really is a fresh start.”
And it’s also a business decision. “Small wineries logically have to be innovative to survive,” says Kerres. “What applied this year may well no longer apply next year. Innovation is the key to our success.” He doesn’t mean this as a buzzword, but as a survival strategy. Caught between large-scale industrial operations and ever-increasing price pressure, this experiment is a way of staying visible – without compromising on quality.
Technically, the amphora is demanding. It requires meticulous work, absolute control and experience. “There are three of us here,” he explains. “Antonio Mori from Montalcino – our mastermind, Andrea, the oenologist and estate manager, and me.” The result of the first amphora wine was quite wild. This gave rise to the idea of ageing the wine in wood afterwards – a combination of archaic and classical methods.
“The development is fascinating. Every vintage is, of course, different. We learn something new with every attempt.” He estimates that the amphora itself – the ‘hardware’ – will last for decades. “A wooden barrel leaches out after three to five years, but an amphora lasts. That’s a whole different dimension. I’m planning to buy two more soon. There’s potential here.”
And yet the whole thing remains a niche product. “People need to understand what it is first. Anyone who tries the amphora is delighted. But hardly anyone buys it straight off the shelf.” Kerres says this without bitterness. “But we need ambassadors. People who talk about it, who get the word out.”
Would he advise other winemakers to give it a go too? “Only if they have strong grapes,” he says. “Otherwise, it’s pointless. Every flaw becomes apparent in the amphora. You need grapes with power, structure and energy. Otherwise, it goes off the rails.” For Martin, the focus is always on the grape – not the method, not the trend. “I don’t believe in doing something just because it’s ‘in’. Not barrique, not amphora, not stainless steel. What matters is the environment you provide for the grape so that it can develop to its full potential. If that happens to be the amphora – wonderful. But it has to earn its place.” He takes a generally relaxed view of the whole thing. “If you manage that, if you give the grape the right space, then wines with identity and character emerge. And that’s all that matters.”
My tasting note: Richly earthy, yet not ‘heavy’. With notes of dark berries, herbs and clay. The amphora lends it a subtle wildness and a touch of oxidation, whilst the wood adds elegance and length.
Where to buy: https://buy.valdonica.com/de/products/valdonica-6-bottles-red