Traveling is the tool to distance ourselves from everything that is familiar, a "circular displacement" that occurs through the alteration of our geographical and emotional position, where time and space take on a relevant, specific, and in some respects eccentric meaning. It is precisely in this new dimension that the "traveler" chooses to experience a time of new knowledge that moves along the tracks of the unusual, the different, the unknown, exposing oneself to what Borges called the "wandering astonishment" of new encounters. Thus, it happens that during a trip to Valtellina, one of the many lands traversed in the relentless search for wines to discover and share, you come across a certain Jonatan Fendoni (artistically known as Jonni Fendi), an anti-heroic winemaker ("life and agriculture in the mountains should not embrace the cult of hard work, but should also be enjoyable"), who in 2015 founded the Orto Tellinum farm in Teglio, a gem nestled between the Retiche Alps to the north and the Orobie Alps to the south.
We are in the homeland of Chiavennasca.
the nebbiolo grown among the famous 'rupi' of the Lombard mountain. Heroic viticulture, they say: and indeed here the wine has always been produced by extracting tiny cultivable areas from the sharp stone, a result of the painstaking work of the local farmers over the centuries. And it is in this context that the story of Jonni unfolds, who, after returning from his studies in natural sciences in Milan, decides to progressively reclaim his grandfather's abandoned land, then adding other small plots from friends and acquaintances who themselves have been uncultivated for a long time, mostly cultivated with Chiavennasca and other rare native varieties from Valtellina.
Meeting Jonni and walking with him among his vineyards has been a gradual journey of "spatial-temporal distancing from the known," yet another stage of a journey that slowly revealed its most intimately metaphorical meaning of a path within oneself and one’s own (in)certainties. The land that hosts the vineyards appears uncultivated, wild, a continuum with the surrounding woods: Jonni does not use chemical fertilizers, but relies on the mowed or manually removed grass left on the ground to decompose. The grape harvest is done entirely by hand and is extremely late (the second half of October-November), allowing the grapes to reach maximum ripeness. As we accompany ourselves through his places,
The winemaker of Teglio is a raging river.
with the word and a perpetual motion in action, a tangible sign of desire, at the same time a bit egocentric but also ecumenically passionate, to transfer to others from oneself the vital flame that has accompanied him in the creation of Orto Tellinum. And so in this continuous stream of consciousness in the vineyard, you come to discover that conventional and organic cultivation methods are perhaps two sides of the same coin (“the approach to nature is the same, it only changes what you put into it”) and that the only cultivation method in harmony with nature is the one inspired by the wise use of agronomic techniques, the only one truly capable of avoiding chemical treatments and fertilizations.
The destabilizing effect within me is strong and intensifies when Jonni begins to show me how the new vines next to him, planted according to the modern planting method (where the rows follow the contours of the land), are certainly better exposed and more convenient for cultivation, but at the same time represent a threat to the historical and visual aspect of the Valtellina lands, which have always been identified with the old "rittochino" systems (i.e., developed according to the lines of maximum slope). At this point, while trying to disentangle myself.
Between a wild wormwood plant and, believe it or not, some mountain cacti.
(“the drought of recent years here has been terrible”), I am beset by existential doubt about the meaning of this extreme quest for authenticity, especially in a context where contamination (both positive and negative) represents one of the fundamental keys to understanding our contemporary world. Caught up in these thoughts, I am reminded, as a form of comfort, of the words of anthropologist Pierre Sansot in what he called the "new art of living": “Slowness, in my eyes, equated to tenderness, respect, the grace of which men and nature are sometimes capable [ ] as far as I am concerned, I have resolved to live slowly, religiously, attentively, through all the seasons and stages of life”.
Now I am ready to taste the fruits of these vineyards so unconventional: the Eretico, the Orobicum, the Estremo, and the Controvento, all wines represented on the label by the word Tzèrb, in the Valtellinese dialect meaning "abandoned land", almost certifying the uniqueness of their production journey. The sober setting of the tasting,
An old wicker chair and a small table
Nestled in the small courtyard adjacent to the tiny cellar, it stands in stark contrast to the sensations that gradually unfold with each sip. Wines that showcase an aromatic bouquet ranging from notes of ripe dark berries to the balsamic quality of aromatic herbs, surprisingly free from those slight odor defects that some 'natural producers' sometimes display as a badge of honor for their craftsmanship.
The sip is almost always a triumph of freshness, with a sensation of alcoholic warmth that, aided by the late harvest, gradually brings a pleasant perception of invigorating energy to the palate. These are flavorful, multifaceted wines, with a lasting taste in the mouth and sometimes, even, with a sharp tannin. The same ruggedness of a mountain and a young producer who know how to give quality to the fruits of their territory.
