In good faith, I cannot offer a score for this wine. I never saw the bottle that was reported to be the 2010 Barolo Riserva Rocche. The wine given to me by the glass (from behind a closed door at the winery) was excellent. I would probably award it a solid 94 points. I would also assign a reasonably long drinking window. The sample opened to a deep, dark ruby shade. Its color saturation was vibrant and healthy. To the nose, the wine offered an old school approach that prizes finesse and elegance over power and brawn. Yet the wine did show an evident determination and fruity richness that is consistent with the 2010 vintage. Good support in the form of firm tannins and bright acidity appeared at the back.
I definitely stocked up on a lifetime dose of Langhe folklore with my visit to Lorenzo Accomasso in La Morra this year. I called to make an appointment and duly presented my professional credentials as a Robert Parker Wine Advocate critic. To this, I received a curt answer: "He already came." I inquired: "Who came? Perhaps you are confusing me with someone else?" In an elderly voice and in Piemontese dialect, Lorenzo Accomasso quipped: "The man with the red hair, he already came." After a brief pause, I asked if it would be okay if I also came. I was told that a visit would only be possible the following day if the weather was bad. If we awoke to sunshine, my visit would be impossible because he had spraying work to do in the vineyard. To sign off on our phone conversation, he offered this gem: "Excuse me, but I am not very good at modern technology. I was going to buy a fax machine and decided against it because it costs too much." I didn't have the heart to explain that in today's world, a fax machine would only get him so far in his struggle for technological literacy. Luckily, the following day saw rain showers and dark storm clouds over the Langhe. I called again to confirm my visit and was greeted with an enthusiastic: "I'm waiting for you, I just opened a bottle of 1978 Barolo." I pointed my car in the direction of his winery and drove as fast as I could. When he greeted me at the door, his only words were: "I imagined you as a blonde." Getting over his obvious disappointment, he offered me a tumbler glass and filled it with very oxidized wine from an unmarked magnum. The bottle only had a few centimeters of browning liquid left at the bottom. There was no visible label, but a handwritten note with the numbers "1978" was affixed to the neck. I asked to see his winery and was told that no one besides himself was allowed inside. I then asked if I could taste a new vintage and he obliged. He got up from his plastic chair in the dimly lit room we occupied. Empty cardboard boxes were scattered at the back. He disappeared behind a door and came back with a glass of wine in hand. He said it was his newest release, the 2010 Barolo Riserva Rocche. I never saw the bottle it was poured from. How Lorenzo Accomasso manages his affairs is a mystery to me. Given the historic farming traditions of this area, making wine is easy enough I suppose. But I have no idea how his wine finds foreign or domestic distribution. Just keeping up with the bureaucracy required by the Italian state is difficult enough even for Italy's most able professionals. Perhaps he his oblivious to all of this. Yet, the fact remains that the wines of Lorenzo Accomasso have reached sure cult status. People come from far and wide searching for his elusive bottles. His wines are highly desired by Barolo enthusiasts and collectors. How he achieved this beats me, especially considering he did so without a fax machine.
