Clos Canarelli: The economics of fine winemaking

Tarabucetta, outside of Figari, close to the southernmost end of the island of Corsica, was proving to be as difficult to locate as a bottle of Yves Canarelli wine. I was searching for Canarelli and his eponymous vineyard, and not getting anywhere.

This was, to put it mildly, extremely frustrating. It had taken at least a dozen telephone calls to schedule a visit with the man who many in France say makes the finest white wine in all of Corsica. Despite my GPS, my three calls that put me within five minutes of the vineyard, and stopping twice to ask directions, I just couldn’t locate it. I was about ready to give up when they sent out one of the men working in the wine cellar to bring me in. I followed his car down several unmarked, dusty dirt roads, through several villages with the stereotypical old Corsican men and women watching patiently on benches in front of their stone homes, and finally up to a large, brand new building that I later learned was the Clos Canarelli wine cellar. Not knowing if I could ever find my way back, I took down the GPS coordinates (noted at the end of this article, these may be essential in case you want to make the pilgrimage).

As incongruous as finding a brand new wine cellar, which is even more impressive looking on the inside, in the middle of nowhere, is the impression given by Canarelli. He looks more like a university professor than a winemaker. Wire-rimmed glasses, boyish features, and a propensity to ponder every response with insightful introspection, as if the answer might be just the tip of a solution that merited further examination, he would doubtlessly be as comfortable in a university library as in a vineyard. There may be dirt under the fingernails, but there’s no hiding his formidable intellect. I had come across that same penetrating glaze, total self-confidence, and analytical curiosity before—amid the PhDs that were running high-tech start-up companies in Silicon Valley when I worked there during the Internet bubble-bust years. More than an interview, this was a dissertation about a master plan to make masterly wines.

I wasn’t surprised when he told me that he had studied economics for two years at a Marseilles university. But it wasn’t right for him, he explained, so he decided to take over the ten hectares (almost 25 acres) of grape vines that his father had in Tarabucetta. But first he spent one year at a lycée agricole in northern Corsica, followed by a one-year formation at the CIVAM, the island’s most important center of research for native Corsican grape varieties and the use of traditional vinification techniques. Time well spent, it seems.

His first act, upon taking over the vineyard in 1993, was to rip up the non-native Cinsault, Alicante and Grenache vines that were on the property.  He planted some native Biancu Gentile, as well as another white grape, the Vermentinu, along with the red Sciaccarellu and Niellucciu, and a host of other Corsican varietals, such as Minustellu, Carcagholu Neru and Muresconu, that would be lost, if not for the work of the CIVAM and winemakers like Canarelli, and some other notable Corsican winemakers, including Antoine Arena, Yves Leccia and Christian Imbert. The vineyard now totals over 25 hectares (around 62 acres). He’s planted several large plots recently, so he’s evidently looking to expand his production.

He kept some old-vine Syrah and Grenache that was already planted on the property, and with this, and the Biancu Gentile, the Vermentinu, and the Sciaccarellu and Niellucciu, he makes a red and rosé Petit Clos entry wine, a rosé, red and white top cuvée, his Clos range of wines, and a stellar white from 100% Biancu Gentile.

One unfortunate result of my getting hopelessly lost and arriving late for my appointment was that I had to choose between doing my interview and sampling the wines. Canarelli had two other meetings scheduled immediately afterwards, and, as already mentioned in other stories about Corsican winemakers, they sell already pretty much all that they produce, so they aren’t that eager for publicity. So instead of sampling an assortment of his wines at the vineyard, I had to settle for a bottle of 2004 Clos Canarelli at a restaurant in nearby Porto-Vecchio.

This blend of old-vine Syrah and Niellucciu is his flagship red wine. It’s an intense ruby red, crystal clear in clarity. There are aromas of blackberries and other black fruits, complemented with the distinct perfume of the maquis, the brambly scrubland that predominates the Corsican landscape. This is a well-balanced, delicious wine, with fruity, spicy notes. At age five, it’s still young; a beautiful, long aftertaste hints that it will undoubtedly get better with age.

It paired beautifully with the grilled red mullet that I had ordered for my meal, but it left me even more frustrated about my directionally-challenged morning; tasting the all-too-rare Clos Canarelli whites—a pair of 100% Vermentinu and 100% Biancu Gentile beauties, which regularly earn tasting notes sprinkled with adjectives such as “magnificent,” “unique” and “profound”—would undoubtedly have to wait until my next visit.

The Clos Canarelli has granite-based soil, with deposits of red-colored alluvial soil mixed throughout. This soil is poor in content, but high in minerals. The vines are forced to plow their roots deep into it to try to find sustenance, drinking deeply from the minerals and increasing the complexity of the wines.

He started with biodynamic viticulture in 2002, and the vineyard has been fully biodynamic since 2006. This obviously helps his wines to better express the terroir found at Clos Canarelli. It’s amazing that his white wines are so fresh and aromatically complex, given that the temperature at ground level in the vineyard must be over 40° C (104° F) pretty much throughout the summer months. I’ve been in this part of Corsica during a summer canicule (“heat wave,” in English), and you bloody well cannot breathe. There’s only one thought in your mind—get up to the cool, nearby mountains as fast as you can. Well, vines can’t avail themselves of this sort of relief, and his stellar wines are testimony to how well adapted these native grape varieties are to the local climate and soils. The wind blows pretty constant here on the southern tip of the island, which helps to reduce diseases and insect pests that might attack the vines and grapes.

Canarelli is a traditionalist in the vineyard, in his choice of traditional varieties, in his abhorrence to chemicals, and in his use of manual means to control weeds (although, somewhat incongruously, he machine harvests his grapes; this is an unfortunate commonality, because of the lack of manpower, among Corsican vineyards). Despite the high-tech, modern appearance of his wine cellar, his winemaking style is just as traditional. Once harvested, the grapes are pressed and then placed in oak barrels (this is somewhat untraditional for the white Vermentinu and Biancu Gentile grapes, but surely has a lot to do with their rounded, full-bodied, rich, silky texture).  The wines are aged on the lees (the sediment that descends to the bottom of the barrel), and they are stirred regularly, two techniques that contribute to their wonderful mouth feel.

Only indigenous yeasts are used here, and he only filters the white wines; the reds are unfiltered. But this non-traditional traditionalist is not afraid to try new techniques. Hidden among the different sized oak barrels of his cellar are several Nomblot Eggs, man-high, egg-shaped vessels used to ferment and age wine. These are the first that I’ve seen, but they’re now being used in some of the more innovative wineries in France, California and Australia. The porous, clay-cement walls of the Eggs mimic the natural oxygenation properties of oak barrels without the woody, toasty or vanilla aromas that oak can impart to wine. Their vortex shape is also supposed to be advantageous to an oak barrel, as it naturally circulates, with the rise in temperature caused by the fermentation, the lees, eliminating the need for stirring.

Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised to have seen these Eggs in Canarelli’s wine cellar, given his holistic and organic philosophy of winemaking and the Eggs resemblance to ancient amphorae. He says that this is still just an experiment, but it will be interesting to see how it plays out.

His passion for his soil, his meticulous approach to grape growing and winemaking, and his unending research into native varietals, biodynamic cultivation, and vinification techniques, means that high-quality, distinctively original Clos Canarelli wines should continue to wow wine enthusiasts. And if he can ever equal his success with white grape varieties with the native Niellucciu and Sciaccarellu varietals, he will shine the international spotlight of wine renown that much more brightly on Corsica.

Economics’ loss was the wine world’s gain.

Geo-coordinates: Latitude: 41°31.6.42”N (41.52737°) / Longitude: 9°08.5.26”E (9.14211°)

Tagged as: Corsica