At Perno in Monforte d’Alba, the Grasso family trusted no one else. Only family members walked the rows. Only their hands chose the clusters. Each basket filled with judgment born of blood, memory, and pride. That harvest—intimate, deliberate—made all the difference.

The vineyard itself has stories: old vines from the 1950s, a chapel standing watch, once tended by Don Conterno, the parish priest.