Barolo Secret Meeting in Pantagruel

Acid sweets and wild red berries meet exotic pepper - the kind that whispers of pine and menthol, like those Malagasy-Congolese-Indonesian blends that make you pay attention. Sky-high acidity running through a surprisingly delicate frame; the tannins are dry but the body stays thin, berry-focused, almost kissel-like in its bright fruit suspension. Smoky coffee emerges on the finish, adding depth to what initially seems simple. Blind, I'd never have called this Dolcetto - it's too ethereal, too acidic, too interesting. The kind of wine that makes you question what you think you know.

Obviously old, and wearing its age with dignity. Pickles drift into dried flowers and earth, old cherry preserves gone dark and leathery. Tar weeps through like Latakia smoke in an empty room. The tannins still grip - sandy, persistent - but the fruit has retreated, leaving concentration without exuberance. This is old-school Nebbiolo doing what old-school Nebbiolo does: trading youth's brightness for something more haunting. Twenty-four years on, it's become a study in texture and memory rather than fruit.

Floral and fruited, almost perfumed, with this odd iodine-walnut thing threading through the sweetness. The oak shows its hand too strongly - a bit aggressive for my taste. But beneath that woody insistence, there's proper muscle here, structure that holds everything together. It's caught between elegance and power, not quite reconciling the two. Still thoroughly drinkable, just wish the cooper had shown more restraint.

Oh, this is beautiful. Cherry and flowers with hints of pomegranate, everything knit together into something complete and complex. Twenty-nine years have given it depth without stealing its life - still vibrantly alive, just speaking more quietly now. The balance is spot on: juicy and round but with structure you can actually chew on, the kind that invites contemplation rather than demands submission. This is what great Nebbiolo does with time - becomes itself more fully. A wine that makes you slow down, pay attention, and genuinely appreciate what patience can bring.

Oh, this is dangerously friendly - a crowd-pleaser in silk gloves. Chocolate-drenched strawberries and black cherries, everything immediately legible, no decoder ring needed. Liquorice weaves through the sweetness, adding just enough depth to keep it interesting. Round, silky, long - the kind of wine that makes everyone at the table happy without making anyone think too hard. It's the accessible face of aged Nebbiolo, trading some complexity for pure drinkability. Sometimes that's exactly what you want.

Autumn leaves and red fruits, forest floor with scattered flowers. Still young at eleven years, juicy and fruit-forward but with this unexpected elegance - thin, refined, beautiful. It's still keeping secrets, not fully open, but what it shows is already delicious. For Serralunga, this is surprisingly delicate. Expected more muscle, more power from that terroir, but this chooses grace over force.

Whoa, this is wild. Opens salty and funky like Stilton cheese, then suddenly pivots into chocolate, Icelandic moss, earth, meat, and cellar must. But somehow stays juicy, almost Coca-Cola-like - that Curiosity Cola with its botanical complexity. Blind, they told us 'Nebbiolo with something,' so naturally I'm thinking typical Langhe partners. Then they say 'think unconventional' and boom - Cab with Merlot jumps right out. Mental! Thirty years old and still throwing curveballs. This is an unicorn wine. And pretty.