Planeta makes my favourite wine of the year

La Segreta Rosso IGT Sicilia 2005 (about $16) & La Segreta Rosso IGT Sicilia 2006 (about $16)

It was late last year that I tasted this 2005 blend of Nero D'Avola, Syrah and Merlot from Sicily. It was bold and unusual, not what I typically expect from Italian wines in the price range, namely expressions of light to medium body with some tart damson plum or zingy black cherry.

There weren't much of those. Or at the very least, you could've said the Syrah packaging aligned the fruit flavours of the Nero D'Avola and the Merlot with newer world traditions: cedar, spice box, lovely roasted notes, substantial body. It was perhaps too young to drink in 2006.

Fast forward to the end of the 2007. It was November and great praise met the release of the 2006 Segreta reds. Swayed by the positive reviews, my friends and I went out to buy and taste it. Somehow we ended up with a bottle of the 2005 back in front of us. We didn't know it at the time we opened it up.

We didn't know it, except immediately I felt I couldn't be drinking wine that was less than a year old. Sure enough, this was the older vintage. Although bright and charming, there was a mellowness and fine integration to it. I wasn't taking notes at the time, but it didn't matter. It was one of those tasting moments where all the elements come rushing together perfectly -- jotting down individual components of the wine as they come to you doesn't apply when a wine is this whole, with this much integrity.

Many critics underline how tones of mocha and raspberries envelope one another within the beautifully tannic arc of the 2005. I'd go along with that. But it'd be a cop-out not to provide my own notes on a wine I'm proclaiming a wine of the year. Problem is that there is no more 2005 left where I am and all I can do is retell the story of not paying enough attention to wine labels and the happy mistake it created.

A TWO-IN-ONE ENTRY IN MY FAVE TOP FIVE

So this post for one of my five favourite wines of the year is actually for two different wines. The Planeta Segreta Rosso 2005 -- the wine that moved me -- and the the Segreta Rosso 2006 -- my great "red" hope for drinking in the new year. (Click on the first "drink now" bottle image above for 2005 availability in Ontario -- click on the second "lay down" bottle image for 2006, which is what the SAQ is currently stocking across Quebec.)

So meet the 2006 red Segreta... It's not the same wine as the 2005 by any means -- it adds Cabernet Franc into the mix -- but if anything, its critical acclaim has only grown from last year's reaction. For more technical details and press, see the Planeta website, which is making me want to visit all corners of Sicily with every mouse click. With any luck, in about ten months' time the 2006 will integrate as amazingly as the 2005 has done (isn't it interesting that the release date for the 2005 Segreta was only in August -- about a year later than its release in Quebec and perhaps much more timely). Without a doubt, I know I can look forward to 2007's edition to be bottled and shipped out soon from this island off the tip of the Italian boot.

(While I admitted to not having notes for the 2005 other than a fallible memory, my notes for the 2006 are very much hot off the press, and I might add, rather hastily arranged from a BYOW dinner at a small, noisy, and dimly-lit resto, just moments ago.)

Eyes: Brickish red, but with intense hues and quite opaque.

Nose: Earth, thyme, hints of cooked fruit? Developing...

Mouth: Savoury attack, with stewed vegetables and ripe tomato, grippy but with a silky texture and somewhat woody.

Stomach: Garden fare done Italian-style, hearty pasta with sausages, bold herbs, anything oven-roasted.

And then Nero d'Avola gets into the mix: Tenuta Rapitalà Nuhar 2003

I've had tasting notes for a Silician red blend that I've been meaning to put up for some time (and I've alluded to this fact in my last fan mail entry). Just as I was uploading said notes this morning, the annual Tre Bicchiere Italian wine awards began making news. The announcement is important for several reasons, but since we're on the topic of Sicilian wine, I will highlight one significant point that on this day Jancis Robinson reacted to in particular: Sicily is getting more recognition than ever.

While Tenuta Rapitala -- producer of the wine that I'm reviewing today -- does not get recognition this time around, Corvo (Duca di Salaparuta), Planeta, Tasca d'Almerita and Donnafugata all do. These four producers make cuvées that round out a list of 15 honoured Sicilian wines, a number that is up three from last year's list. All four that I've mentioned, as well as Tenuta Rapitala, are available in Quebec.

The bottle that I'm writing about and that you see pictured here, was a prezzie I picked up in New York this summer. Tenuta Rapitalà Nuhar Nero d'Avola Cabernet Sauvignon 2003 is the bottle. (Nuhar appears as two words "Nu har" but apparently nuhar is the arabic for flower.) It's an affordable quaffer, but the nearly as much as its little brother is. That one is strictly a Nero d'Avola varietal and it is both less expensive and more expressive (a swell combo) and on sale locally (follow the link). The Nero d'Avola varietal from Rapitalà makes for a very enjoyable, distinctive wine, but I think I gravitate more to Rapitalà's Nero d'Avola blend. I love Nero d'Avola to be sure, but it can hit rough patches and end up lacking some smoothness.

Corvo seems to approach this by blending the variety with regional grapes Perricone and Nerello Mascalese. The resulting wine is supple and ripened and retails for a similarly inexpensive price.

But back to big brother Rapitalà I got in New York. It takes takes on Cabernet Sauvignon to add great suppleness and deep structure to the Nero d'Avola. This really makes it sing, and I would be so bold to suggest that it's this kind of fine work that is getting Sicilian winemakers noticed so nicely at this point in time.

NOTES FROM MY TASTING

Rich magenta tinge with a sweet and supple aroma. On the palate, there is a brightness to it and definite lift. Buzzy mouthfeel. Loads of gorgeous fruit though not jammy; smoky notes, though not too woody. Grenadine up front and blacker fruit on the finish. Full and luscious with nice balance and some smoothness, if a bit rustic overall. Good with a hearty lasagne.

NOTES ON THE LABEL

Two wine varieties: the Nero d'Avola rich in tannin and body and the Cabernet Sauvignon which responds to the heat of Sicily with colour, softness and depth unlike elsewhere. A wine with strong notes of fruit, warm, full, balanced and mellow tannins achieved from barrel ageing.

Camporeale, Sicilia, Italia. 13.5%

A splurge for Easter: Ceuso Custera 1998

Exactly one year ago, I changed a fundamental wine-purchasing behaviour in me. It could've had something to do with Lent ending and the Easter holidays arriving. Or it could've had to do with lent money and Easter wine sales arriving: I decided that I could (and should) start appreciating wines in the $30 to $40 range.

WITH MY SAY-SO

I happened upon a 25% off sticker on a bottle of Sicilian wine: Ceuso Custera 1998 (which I like to think is pronounced "Say-so!"). I figured that I enjoy everyday Sicilian wines -- wouldn't forking out an additional $20 make the experience with these southern Italian reds THAT much better? Besides, I was getting a deal: Spending less than $30 on a $40 bottle of wine. Surely this would be three times as good as Corvo, that lovely $13 standby from Duca di Salaparuta.

Mistake? The math might be right, but is the theory sound? These days, I have the wisdom to realize that wine prices are not set to scale with level of pleasure. In my experience, any semblance of a reliable scale will evitably crap out, usually somewhere around $21.85. After that you never know if you are paying for a name, prestige or a piece of history, all things that tend not to fare very well in a blind tasting.

THAT MAGIC MOMENT

But there I was at the cash, ready to take advantage of this sale. On the store's bookshelf, I had found a fairly positive sentence or two by way of review, and that was enough to guide me to my purchase. I expected anything else that was to follow to be measured by intangibles. After all, this was a wine worth more than any other I had ever bought home.

Actually, I had paid $40 for a single bottle in the past. But that was Champagne. $40 is strictly entry-level when it comes to a Black Label Lanson. A $40 Sicilian, on the other hand, is the total opposite -- it's pretty much through the stratosphere when it comes to this relatively rustic wine-producing region. There was going to be a genie jumping out of this bottle. I just knew there would be.

But later on with in-depth research on the Internet I heard the voices of many wine critics and industry authorities. While lauding the efforts of the winemakers that tended Ceuso's exclusive Custera vineyard, they cried out their alarm at such immodesty form this producer: a big and showy Bordeaux-like label, the brash trumpeting of stylish international grapes, and an indulgently-set price tag. This wine was good, they said, but with an elevated price. Never mind my Visa balance, would my modest discernment and young palate really be able to get around this Sicilian avant-garde?

What had I gotten myself into?

Another person might've holed away the bottle in guilt and then try to forget the extravagance. Me, I pretty much opened it on the spot, all by myself, for a look-see. There was still a few other bottles of the stuff remaining and I wanted to find out if I should scoop up more of this mark-down.

Well, short answer is yes, and I did buy another bottle which I kept until now. Regardless of pricing and all the reviews, this wine is for me. It's my style, and at one bottle per year, it's also a squeaker for my budget. As I await the 1999 vintage for my third purchase, here are the ravishing tasting notes from my second Ceuso.

WHAT I PAID FOR

The majority of the Ceuso Custera is made up of Nero d'Avola grapes, but Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot are blended in to make this bottle part international, part regional. To the eye, this wine is muted garnet with brick edges. Clearly it is showing some of its age.

Ceuso is redolent with intriguing cedar flavours, an attribute that I often sense verging toward corkiness but not in this case. It's a warm and welcoming embrace. The aroma features blackberries and candied cherries with dusty tobacco on the palate.

On the second night, I was quite amazed at its evolution, so you may want to donate to this wine a portion of time in a decanter, despite its eight years. Drinkers may miss how, given time, Ceuso's gripping dryness melds with lingering fruit and vanilla notes for a fantastic finish. Now I know why I bought more of this wine: it was after I tasted it on the second night that the decision was made.

Alcamo, Sicilia, Italia. 13.5%.