(Claude Auguste / animated image: runwayml)
When Piero Antinori (and even more so his brother Ludwig) and the then largely unknown oenologist Giacomo Tachis decided in the early 1970s to ignore the rigid rules governing Chianti, it was more than just a technical or philosophical decision. At that time, the regulations still required white grapes to be used in Chianti. Antinori disregarded this, opting uncompromisingly for Sangiovese, supplementing it with Cabernet Sauvignon and later Cabernet Franc, and allowing the wine to mature in small barriques. The result was a wine that lost its DOC status and could only be sold as a simple table wine. Ironically, this supposed demotion marked the beginning of a revolution. The Super Tuscans were born. And with them came the revolution of the Bolgheri Boys, which began shortly afterwards and reshaped the entire wine world.
Today, half a century later, much of what was once hotly contested now seems almost a matter of course: Cabernet in Tuscany no longer shocks anyone, barriques are (now less commonly) part of the winemaker’s toolkit, and the Italian wine world has reinvented itself. What remains is the disruptor, Tignanello: it has now become one of the great icons of European red wines and is also one of the few cult wines that have remained affordable for dedicated wine drinkers. The prices are high, but they’re still within a range where one actually wants to open a bottle and enjoy it. This is precisely what sets Tignanello apart from many other legends that have long since found their way into safes and auction houses – a path that leads astray.
I have revisited four vintages: the 1990 from a magnum, along with the 1998, 2001 and 2009. Four wines spanning almost twenty years. Four snapshots of this often-derided and controversial icon.
In Tuscany, 1990 is regarded as a warm, very well-balanced vintage. A dry summer and consistent ripening produced concentrated, long-lived wines that have retained remarkable freshness to this day. After years of undisturbed ageing in a stable cellar (this applies to all the wines here), the wine itself is incredibly youthful: tomato, plenty of cassis, cherry, rosehip, damp tobacco, a hint of mint and meadow herbs, and an absolute delight on the palate. One of the best red wines in a very, very long time. Incidentally, the 1990 vintage in a magnum bottle cost 840 schillings at Morandell in Tyrol in 1995: roughly 65 euros.
The 1998 vintage long stood in the shadow of the legendary 1997. Unfairly so. A mild spring, a warm summer and ideal conditions during ripening led to wines characterised by composure, balance and remarkable elegance. Tignanello in particular benefited considerably from this – not least because the cellar staff at the time were a perfectly coordinated, calm and methodical team – many say the best team ever to have worked there. On the nose, it opens with plenty of red earth, heart cherry and a brief hint of iron, followed by herbs; only then, and on the palate too, do the usual characteristics emerge: measured fruit and intensity. It should, however, be enjoyed within the next five years.
2001 is, in any case, one of Tuscany’s great classic vintages. A near-perfect growing season produced wines that remain among the longest-lived of their generation to this day. Structure, freshness and ageing potential came together almost perfectly – and I can tell that from this bottle: it’s incredibly youthful, with the potential to age for at least another 20 years. And it’s fresh on the nose and on the palate. I would have taken it for a Bordeaux from the 2010s.
2009 was significantly warmer. The growing season brought plenty of sunshine and high temperatures, whilst a few cooler nights prevented any loss of freshness. Many wines still display ripe fruit and an approachable texture to this day. Yet the 2009 was the weakest Tignanello in the series (and not, as expected, the 1998): a hint of lactic notes, a touch of tomato-like over-ripeness (barely any cherry), a touch of dullness. Magnificent in the finish as you breathe out – but unfortunately only there.
Yet something else remains remarkable: Tignanello ages differently to many great red wines. It does not slowly disappear behind leather, undergrowth and tertiary aromas. The Sangiovese fruit remains clearly recognisable. It changes its character, loses its youth, but never the cherry and rosehip. At the same time, the Cabernet components blend ever more closely with the wine, until they are no longer perceived as grape varieties but as structure – which also gives the Tignanello’s flavour a slight hint of Bordeaux.
Yet this also explains why Tignanello could never simply become a ‘Bordeaux from Tuscany’ (although it almost became one in the 1980s). The wine possesses international qualities, yet remains thoroughly Tuscan. Its acidity, its herbal spice, its fine-grained tannins and that unmistakable hint of cherry, earth and Mediterranean herbs reveal its origins at every turn. The four bottles in my cellar therefore speak less of individual vintages than of an idea that has been enriching the world of wine for over fifty years. And it may well remain one of the few Super Tuscans to survive the red wine crisis.