A single-vineyard Barolo, fermented wild on its native yeast, aged four years in massive Austrian and French oak, then forgotten—on purpose—for a decade in the estate’s private cellar.

Fifteen years of silence. No marketing. No press junkets. No shortcuts.
Just a great vintage, left alone to become greater.

Today, that modestly reviewed wine has outlived the praise they gave its louder cousins.
It has evolved into something profound: deep, structured, whispering secrets of rose, tar, cherry, and time.