Azienda agricola La Lama

Clouds and gusts of wind accompany us company as we drive along the 111/B main road to Monteaperti, a meandering road a few kilometres from the historic centre of Castelnuovo Berardenga.
In the heart of Tuscany, in one of the best known and most visited wine-growing areas in the world, we are surrounded by hills sculpted by olive trees and rows of Sangiovese. The atmosphere is almost unreal: in its damp silence, the rain-laden clouds in the distance and the sound of the Wrangler on the dirt-track roads.

Almost without warning, set atop a scenic hillside 350 meters above sea level, the “La Lama” estate materializes amongst banks of vines and canopies of cypress trees.

The biting chill that greets us on leaving the car, reminds us it is still winter. However, not even the icy cold can't keep me from gazing at length at the '75 FIAT 500L parked under the awning. The idea of making the owners an offer is churning in my mind; fortunately, though, Simona pulls me away before I can wreak havoc on my wallet.

Sienese, renowned criminal lawyer and the only man of the house, Duccio Campani appears among the olive trees surrounding the estate and immediately invites us to follow him inside and take refuge from the freezing weather..

In the winemaking room - "Sorry, things are a little messy; we've just been bottling" - his daughter Sarah awaits us.

We quickly realize that we are in the presence of genuine Tuscan woman: honest, pragmatic and direct.

I’m from Emilia and for me, the most endearing characteristics of Tuscan people are their typical expressions, their aspirated “C” and, above all, their openness. Tuscans are frank and direct and hide nothing. If something doesn't sit right with them, they make it clear with no half-measures; equally so, if they like someone, you can tell right away. 

Sarah "takes us by the hand" and leads us through her family's history.

With a gift of the gab to rival that of my fellow Emilians, she explains that La Lama is one of the smallest wineries in the Chianti Classico area of Siena, with 2.5 hectares of vineyards and a production of 7,000 bottles a year. All bottled by hand in just 2 days.
I am amazed and impressed. When going over these numbers again in my head, just to make sure I’ve understood them correctly, I feel I should be whispering them to myself for fear of forgetting them and to show them the respect they deserve.

Only three labels are produced at La Lama, and all three must be aged in the cellar for a minimum of 5 years before being put on the market. A rarity. "We make the wine we like, and that means prioritizing quality over market rules. We choose to wait because Sangiovese doesn't require haste but time."

We pass through a room of steel vats and follow Sarah into the 17th-century underground cellar completely made of tufa with a vaulted ceiling: a unique example in this area. "It is in the Vault that the wine rests and evolves."

The air we breathe is unmistakable: damp and slightly mildewed with rich undertones of earth and wood. Here the large 1,000-litre natural French oak barrels hold the Chianti Classico and Riserva for three years, while the slightly burned 500-litre casks lend spicy hints of vanilla, cinnamon and tobacco to the wine. 

Simona, whose emotional intelligence is far superior to mine, can’t resist asking Sarah if she has "always seen herself here." Her answer is forthright and from the heart: "This is where I was born and where I have always lived. I didn't like it at first. I took the sommelier’s course to understand: to understand the wines, to understand everything behind them, and to understand my parents. My passion was born when I realized that there were only a handful of such small family businesses left, and that it was my good fortune to be part of them. That's when I decided it was going to be my life."

It is time for a bite to eat. In the hall of the large olive oil mill, seated at a massive, solid-wood table, worthy of a monastic refectory, we are invited to savour some typical Tuscan dishes as we listen to anecdotes about the family from the mouth of a woman of sterling integrity: Tiziana Atzeni, Sarah's mother.

She explains that the estate was purchased by Sarah's grandparents in the late 1960s. Used only as a weekend country house or during the summer, at first it had no ambitions to be a winery. That is until Sara’s grandfather, well-known Sienese banker Giulio Campani, began making wine as a hobby for himself and friends. Then, in '88, Duccio and Tiziana got married and decided to come and live in the farmhouse permanently. In addition to being in love with each other, they’d fallen with this enchanting place.

Today, it is evident that Sarah and Tiziana are the puppeteers pulling the strings to ensure that one show tops the bill every day: the production of wine in La Lama. 

Duccio shows up on the weekends, when he leaves behind his lawyerly paperwork to pick up a hammer and nails and become the estate's handyman. It is this passion for manual labour that, when Sarah was a child, led her to believe her father was a carpenter rather than a lawyer. And, indeed, this is the case, at least on weekends.

Getting down to business: a succession of Tuscan Focaccia, home-cured local charcuterie, toasted bread and wine glasses welcome, one after the other, the estate's three prodigies.

Our first taste thrill is provided by the Sottol’aia. The label is unambiguous, taking us back to the Tuscan sun, the light, the long days of summer, the desire to play, to laugh, to live. The name is deliberately irreverent, poking fun at big names such as Solaia, Sassicaia and Ornellaia. However, there is also an explanation in its name, since the grapes it is made from come a vineyard “sotto all’aia” (literally "under the barnyard"). 100% Sangiovese, it is authentic, straightforward, and direct. It is honest from the first sip to the last and it is this that wins me over.

It brings back memories of drinking with my friend Guido Cappelli during the Palio di Siena, of wrestling with the barbecue under the hot July sun, of laughter around a table and happiness and hugs.

Sottol’aia's alter ego is Caliptra IGT. The name derives from the Greek word (kalýptra) for the hood covering the flower on the vine as it develops into grapes. The label is dark because it is inspired by the view of the estate at night: Caliptra, we are told, is a wine to experience from dusk onwards, for important dinners and starry skies. It requires more than one taste to understand and appreciate it completely as it may seem quite a “pleasing” wine, yet its soul is anything but simple, since the process to obtain it is long and complicated. 

Tiziana, evidently pleased with the expression on our faces, explains that what we are experiencing is precisely the goal they had in mind: the reason why they put their hearts into it. “We like people coming to visit us. People come here not only to taste a glass of wine, but also to be welcomed in every sense, to enjoy the warmth of the company and the calories of the bruschetta made with our oil, while having a chat about the countryside. As well as making it, we also like to talk wine, to make people understand the spirit with which we work." 

And to astound us completely, Sarah presents Terzo Movimento. The name has three meanings all linked to the number 3: it is the third wine of La Lama, it is reminiscent of a minuet, that is to say the third movement in classical music and it is also the third sense involved in tasting (the first being sight, the second smell and the third taste). There is a treble clef on the label because, as they explain, this is a wine not merely made for drinking but for contemplation.

Terzo Movimento is left to age one extra year, that is to say six years rather than five. Tiziana reads my mind: "Having reached a certain age now, at each harvest we promise to taste it when it is eventually ready."

Duccio lightens the mood, feigning a vein of scepticism: "I’m a bit older and tend to be a bit more cautious when making promises. We'll see if I get to taste it! "
The positivity, energy and humour of this family are enviable.

I've never had much to do with sheep. They have unnerving eyes, they stare at you, they seem to judge you. In short, I've never been crazy about them.

Pointing west to show me the limits of the estate, Sarah draws my attention to the line of cypress trees at Castell'in Villa, the well-known estate of Princess Coralia Gherorts Pignatelli della Leonessa, a veritable celebrity in these parts.

I can’t help it. It kicks in like clockwork and images of the Countess Serbelloni Mazzanti Vien dal Mare, a funny character from the Italian Fantozzi comedies, come straight to mind. I imagine a wiry woman, with aristocratic features and wearing a wide-brimmed feather hat, who everyone curtseys to. It takes Sarah to sweep away this disrespectful representation, sharing with us her esteem for the Princess. A strong and determined woman, she was born in Japan, grew up in Greece, settled in Rome and finally chose the Chianti area to be a warrior and pioneer in the macho world that wine was in the 1960s. This world would see her become the founder of an empire named after Sangiovese.

I can imagine sparks must have flown between Sarah's mother, Tiziana and the Princess. I have an image of the pair of them, arguing the toss over the single dirt track connecting the two properties: recurrent bouts between two adamantine titans. 

It’s time to say our goodbyes, the most difficult moment. Sarah and Tiziana bid us a fond farewell, latter giving me a precious gift with the words: “You are the link between the small producer of excellence and the wine lover, who drinks not simply to drink, but to be enraptured."

We were singing from the same song sheet.