A small plot at 660 metres, where the terraces are older than anyone can say, and nothing here is rushed.
Someone laid the first stones here long before anyone thought to write it down. Dry stone, no mortar — just weight and patience holding it in place. Every wall still standing means someone kept it that way: clearing what slides, resetting what shifts, season after season. It's slow work, and there's no shortcut for it.
Rossese is a native Ligurian variety — thin-skinned, and happiest in poor, stony soil, the kind that makes a vine work for what it gets. At 660 metres the nights stay cool even when the days don't, which is most of what this grape needs. No chemicals go on these rows, and no shortcuts either — just walking the vines, watching what they're doing, and stepping in by hand when they need it.
A small village in the Maritime Alps of Liguria, where the vines meet the mountains.
660 metres — high enough for cool nights, low enough for a long growing season.
Being mapped — details coming soon.
Rossese — a native Ligurian variety, grown on these hillsides for generations.
Vines and olive trees share the terraces with seasonal vegetables.
Being mapped — details coming soon.
No chemicals, no shortcuts — just old methods, done properly.
Being mapped — details coming soon.
