Albiera Antinori and the underground winery of Guado al Tasso: a tale of care and passion rooted in the land
The cypresses that stand straight and true from San Guido to Bolgheri in a double row,” Giosuè Carducci famously suggests in his verses. It is from that postcard-perfect imagery that our story inevitably begins: from the avenue that shapes the very imagination of Bolgheri and opens up the landscape like a page already written. This is the natural threshold to the story of Albiera Antinori—President of Marchesi Antinori, a prestigious hallmark of Italian wine worldwide, as well as President of the Consortium for the Protection of Bolgheri DOC and Bolgheri Sassicaia DOC wines—a woman of these lands first and a producer second, custodian of a heritage that speaks of roots, responsibility, and continuity. “For us, it is about respect—respect and responsibility,” she says. Words that seem to sprout directly from the soil, as if spoken by the vineyard itself. It is precisely from this sentiment that the most crucial choice was born: to create a winery that cannot be seen. The underground cellar of Guado al Tasso, designed by Fiorenzo Valbonesi of asv3–officina di architettura and recent winner of the Caoduro Lucernari Special Prize, is an act of subtraction, almost of modesty. “The architect wanted as little as possible to be seen from the outside, because a production building must be functional, not a monument to itself.” Thus, the entrance is a mere slit, a measured opening: a “now you see it, now you don’t” effect that leads deep into the earth without ever fully revealing itself. One descends a staircase that leads from the estate’s main house to the hidden heart of the building, while on the grape-reception side, a glass wall looks out toward the sea: a line of technical light, not a theatrical one, that speaks only of the essentials. “Nature comes inside; the wine stays inside but maintains a continuous bond with the external landscape,” she explains. It is a relationship of slow, gradual unveiling. The winery is an underground structure that breathes like a sand dune: you enter into shadow and re-emerge toward the sky through cuts that frame the vineyard and the sea. At the center, three glass walls orient the gaze: one toward the vinification area of Guado al Tasso and Matarocchio, one toward the barrel cellar, and one toward the outside, where the landscape is hinted at rather than fully grasped. Then, there are the shapes. “Inside the cellar, there are two distinct volumes: a circular one for Matarocchio and a trapezoidal one for Guado al Tasso. This didn’t come about as a symbolic choice; it is pure functionality. For Matarocchio, which is a small production, arranging the tanks in a circle allows us to monitor everything with greater precision.” The aesthetics come later: they follow the workflow, ordering it and making it legible. The materials, too, tell the story of the earth. Fair-faced concrete, poured into wooden formworks that leave their textured imprint behind: “There isn’t a single straight wall—the architect drove the construction company crazy—but it is precisely this that removes rigidity and gives life to the space.” The colors come from the soil itself: “During Covid, we did test after test, placing the earth right next to the samples to find the exact shade.” Inside, the walnut-toned oak of the tasting room warms the shadows and the light filtering from above, because in an underground cellar, light arrives just like that—vertical and collected. The conversation then expands, as it always does when talking about wine: touching upon the territory, peasant memory, and the rhythm of the seasons. “It is part of our way of living, of our upbringing: watching the wind coming from the sea, observing the vineyards, understanding what the land is asking for.” Then, she reflects on the evolution of the last twenty years, moving from purely functional buildings to places that must tell a story. “Today, wine lovers want to see where it is born, to understand the history, the climate, the geology, and the hands that make it. Wine has become culture; it has become tourism. And opening a cellar is like beginning a narrative.” It is the story of two wines—Guado al Tasso and Matarocchio—that have their roots here. “These are wines that require parcel, cluster, and berry selection. You need a tailor-made cellar, with dedicated people and spaces.” A bespoke suit, yes, but above all, a home built around the rhythm of the wine and the silence of the earth. There is one place that Albiera loves above all others: near the Bosco del Bruciato (the Burnt Wood), between the hills and the sea, where an opening in the Mediterranean scrub opens up a vantage point from which “you can see everything.” “The hills that enclose the Bolgheri amphitheater, the distant sea, the pines, the oaks. It is the exact spot where the landscape tells its story.” And so, amid this immensity, her thoughts too are drowned… “and shipwreck is sweet to me in this sea” (Giacomo Leopardi, L’Infinito). antinori.it
