Tua Rita - the Super Tuscan

Back in the ’80s we first heard the words “Super Tuscans”. They were new-style wines that veered away from the old recipe for chianti which, since the eighteenth century, had been made from a cocktail of black and green grapes. Super Tuscans either produced wine from straight Sangiovese and no add-ons, or introduced Bordelais grape varieties, such as Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot, into the Tuscan interior for the first time.

These Super Tuscans were located in the heartlands of Chianti. The coastal Maremma around Livorno and Bolgheri was better known for fish and strong winds. What wine was made there was produced on small holdings and consumed as compensation for the ravenous mosquitoes; but the giant had actually stirred first on the littoral areas, for it was here that the Marchese Inciso della Rocchetta released Sassicaia in 1968 and the potential of the seaside region gradually became clear.

Next up was Ornellaia in 1981. Both wines used Bordeaux grapes, as the Tuscan war horse Sangiovese is not regarded as giving such good results. Since then, much of the interest in high-quality Tuscan wines has migrated from the central Tuscan regions and the hills around Florence and Sienna to the coast.

Suvereto, south of Bolgheri has only been classified as a top DOCG since 2011. The law marks it down as a wine that must be made from Cabernet or Merlot. It was there that Tua Rita was born a quarter of a century ago. A couple of weeks ago I received an invitation to celebrate their birthday at Les 110 de Taillevent in London’s Cavendish Square. I was anxious to learn more, and I was also keen to experience Taillevent’s London outpost.

I had eaten at the Paris restaurant more than once, and had affectionate memories of the time when I returned from India with gastro-enteritis, brought on by too much Bombay street food. I had to put together a guide to Paris restaurants, and had trouble holding any food down. With time, and the wise counsel of a couple of French doctors, I managed to subdue the worst of the bug, but it hardly inspired appetite.

Then I went to Taillevent. I ordered a couple of courses, which I thought my stomach could handle, but the head waiter wasn’t having any of it. He kept adding dishes to my order. I summoned my reserves of strength and bit in. I found it all better than good. As I got up to leave he gave me a reassuring smile: “Alors? Vous avez tout mangé!” I realised I was cured. Taillevent’s London branch turned out to be in a former bank that was once part of the grandiose and only partly built palace of the duke of Chandos. We tasted a few wines before dinner, while some excellent little gougères (little choux buns filled with gruyère cheese) were brought round.

Tua Rita adheres pretty strongly to the idea that it is the Bordeaux grapes that do best in the Maremma, but they have also planted Syrah from the Northern Rhône, which has also been tried out in a number of Italian domaines since the ’80s, notably the chianti Isole e Olena. A 2018 Rosso dei Notri mixed fifty per cent Sangiovese with Cabernet Sauvignon and Syrah.The Rosso is a second wine from the estate. I thought I picked up a little whiff of game which I associate with Syrah. Then came the pure Sangiovese 2017 Perlato del Bosco, which I really liked, with its tarry nose and tangy fruit. Maremma Sangiovese, I concluded, was much maligned. The third was “Keir”, not, I was told, an allusion to my MP, but a name derived from the Ancient Greek word for a hand. I expected something more typical of the grape variety from Keir. There was another Syrah wine circulating, but it failed to reach me. We tasted the top wines over a five course dinner. A crunchy (lots of seeds and nuts) “Highland venison tartare” with pickled apples and beets came with the first flight of Giusto di Notri, a Bordeaux-style blend of approximately eighty per cent Cabernet Sauvignon, and ten per cent each of Merlot and Cabernet Franc. I liked the 2017 hugely: it had a good Cabernet nose and a robust swagger about it. The 2015, from a very hot year, was much more crumbly, although it certainly filled out with time.

The blend for the 2013 was subtly different; with the Cabernet Sauvignon accounting for just sixty per cent of the blend, and the Merlot as much as thirty. I loved this wine — it reminded me of black olives and was luscious enough to deal with a pheasant breast served (curious idea) with a meaty ragú together with an endive and fennel chutney. Tua Rita’s top wine is the pure Merlot Redigaffi, of which we were served the 2017 and the 2013. Only 13,000 bottles are made on average. The former went tremendously well with the Goosnargh duck leg served with turnips, quinces and trompette mushrooms, with a little salad on the side containing yet more duck.

It was a big sinuous wine, and needed a bit more time to show its full fettle. The 2013 I might have taken for a Cabernet Sauvignon with its blackcurrant and green pepper aromas and its cooling, minty, almost chocolate-like taste.

That left us with one last treat: the 2017 Sese Passito di Pantelleria: an unctuous sweet Muscat wine made from grapes that shrivel up in the intense heat of a windswept volcanic rock off the coast of Libya. Only grapes and capers survive on Pantelleria. Tua Rita has less than two hectares and makes about 2,000 half bottles. I went to Pantelleria once, as a guest of another house and I knew what it was to get those rich, buttery, concentrated, apricot-like flavours from grapes half buried in rocky dugouts.

The passito came with a slice of fig and frangipane tart with fig leaf ice cream and lemon sorbet. And I ate everything.

Tua Rita wines are available from John Armit.