L’Aietta: Brunello Born from Toil and Love

2 min read

The first thing to know about Francesco Mulinari’s L’Aietta vineyard is that you won’t find it on Google Maps. I should know, because that’s where I first looked for it. After Mulinari confirmed my April visit, I tried to triangulate his winery and vineyard’s location based on satellite imagery and what little has been written about him (most of which is from wine critic Kerin O’Keefe). My travel companion, Adam, and I were flying solo and under-the-radar in Brunello Land. This was vacation for him, so we were traveling without the aid of a local organization. But we had six appointments over two days, and I wasn’t about to let anything slide. I had been placing pins and calculating drive times, but with L’Aietta , I bumped into a hitch. You would think that a heroic vineyard on the backside of Montalcino’s imposing hill — with its dry-stone terraces and O’Keefe’s 98-point score — would at least be visible from space.

When I pointed out my struggles to Mulinari via email, he suggested that we meet in a parking lot off Via Aldo Moro below the town’s medieval fortress. He would lead us from there.

You would think that a heroic vineyard on the backside of Montalcino’s imposing hill would at least be visible from space.

“No problem,” he wrote.

When Adam and I arrived shortly after breakfast on a crisp but brilliant April morning, we found Mulinari standing alone in the completely empty parking lot. He was dressed with a double layer of jackets, and his blue cargo pants sported durable panels for his knees. He was clearly suited up for the toil of L’Aietta, but he also carried a pink shopping bag from the Montalcino co-op — which we later realized contained breadsticks for our tasting.

I looked around for his car. Nothing. He was on foot.

After brief introductions, Mulinari trotted ahead of our car while leading us down a nearby dirt road that pitched — no, plunged is more like it — into the woods. After a hundred yards or so, we arrived at a building, no larger than a detached garage. This was his winery. From here, it appeared, we would walk the remaining distance to the vineyard.

“Well, this is a new experience,” Adam deadpanned as we parked. The day before we had visited Biondi-Santi. Yes, this was very, very different.