Ask the question ‘What do you mean by Bonarda?’ and let me tell you, the answer is really a complicated one.
Wine and geography are intrinsically linked and as such, locality - and all that comes with it - is a necessary key to understand wine – its history and of course how that shapes wine today. Italy as a country is relatively young (depending on which date you pick, but this isn’t a history lesson, so let’s call it about 150 years old). This means that not so long ago even the concept of a single Italian language was vague. Hundreds and hundreds of dialects and even languages (there are towns in Italy whose dialects are closer to Albanian, Serbo-Croatian and ancient Greek just to give you a few examples, in addition to the multilingual regions where French, Ladin - not a typo look it up - and German are official languages) dominated vernacular life – and wine being a vernacular drink, its history and terminology can be well, to say the least, confusing. Different names for the same grape varieties, the same name for different grape varieties – the potential for mix up was, and in some cases remains - huge. Bonarda is a case in point.
The name Bonarda is used, confusingly, for concepts and wines that are significantly different. Let’s start in Piedmont, where Bonarda is a red grape variety, which makes a nice medium-bodied wine. From this moment on we will call it the Bonarda variety. It’s found in a number of wines produced in the region, which of course, are often called ‘Bonarda’. But interestingly enough, before our forefathers could bring grapes to a lab and do a bunch of testing, in parts of Piedmont they used a different term to refer to the same grape variety, in this case called ‘Uva Rara’ (rare grape). So in Piedmont, sometimes the grape is called Bonarda, and sometimes Uva Rara.
Now, if you jumped on a car and drove east for about an hour in the direction of Pavia (a town in the neighbouring region of Lombardy) you would see the name Bonarda all over the place. But it has (almost) nothing to do with the Bonarda variety you left behind in Piedmont. You see here, instead of referring to a grape variety, Bonarda refers to a wine, which is primarily made of a grape variety called ‘Croatina’ – nothing to do with the Bonarda variety from Piedmont. But since Croatina is the critical grape variety in the production of Bonarda wine, some people just call Croatina ‘Bonarda’. So in Pavia, Bonarda can mean either Croatina or the Wine made from it, but does not mean the Bonarda variety we have in Piedmont.
But here’s the kick: sometimes they actually do use a touch of ‘Bonarda variety’, which in this subregion they call Uva Rara just like in some parts of Piedmont. But you could have a ‘Bonarda’ from Pavia with 100% Croatina – so nothing to do with ‘Bonarda variety’ – or a ‘Bonarda’ from Pavia with a touch of ‘Bonarda variety’ that in this geography they call ‘Uva Rara’.
Confused yet? I am. And it doesn’t end here. The history of Italy is also the history of emigration. For as long as Italy has existed as a country, Italians have left in search of a better future, escaping poverty, disease and misery. And where Italians have gone, they have brought vines, wines and viticulture with them. And even more confusion.
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So, like some Shakespearean play with cross-dressing characters, let’s remind ourselves of the many names and faces of the characters from the first half of this article. We have the Bonarda grape variety - which we call Bonarda variety – a grape variety from Piedmont. We have Uva Rara which is the same grape as Bonarda variety but just with a different name. Then we have Bonarda wine, a wine from Pavia which is made predominantly with a grape variety called Croatina which in the local jargon is often called ‘Bonarda’. Bonarda wines from Pavia may actually contain a touch of ‘Bonarda variety’ which here they call with another name, Uva Rara. Clear as mud.
Now for a further Act in this theatrical performance, the theme of Italian emigration enters the plot, as it had a profound impact on creating new wine growing regions in areas of the world where wine was previously not cultivated.
Argentina, where it is estimated that well over half of the population has some kind of Italian heritage, is one of the few countries outside of Europe where wine is truly a national drink. Now Malbec is the grape variety most associated with Argentina, as it’s the country’s most important red grape variety. But can you guess Argentina’s second-most grown grape variety? Bonarda. Now, the first question would be – which one? Is it the Bonarda variety, or perhaps it’s Croatina, the grape variety used to make Bonarda wines in Pavia? You guessed it, it’s neither.
The massive Italian influence in Argentinian wine making meant that for decades it was thought that the Argentinian Bonarda, like many of those who were producing this wine, had roots in Italy. But actually, genetic analysis revealed that the Argentinian Bonarda is a French variety called ‘Douce Noir’ which of course, is also found in Italy, but just not in Piedmont and not called anything like ‘Bonarda’.
And that same grape variety seems to be found in Napa Valley where it is now called Charbono, but for years was actually called ‘Barbera’ because the Italian immigrants who allegedly brought it over thought erroneously that it was ‘Barbera’ – a grape variety most commonly found in Piedmont, where our Bonarda journey began. Of course, the Barbera and Bonarda varieties have nothing to do with each other genetically, but (and I promise I am not making this up) you can use a bit of Barbera to make Bonarda wines in Pavia…
Before this gets any more confusing and to cut a long story short, the history and genetic science of wine are, like all sciences and all history, not as accurate and precise as some may think. Throw in historical documents that use the same/different names for same/different things in same/different regions and well, what we’ve got here is failure to communicate.
But these are just other fascinating elements of wine – its future and historical analysis and re-discovery, its invention and re-invention, and its cultural diversity manifest in the local language and reality of all the small towns, provinces, cities and countries where wine is made, drunk and celebrated. Embrace the historical chaos, linguistic confusion and continuous scientific breakthrough as part of what makes this all so bloody exciting. Truths in the world of wine can be elusive, with everyone, even experts, discovering and learning new things regularly. So when you meet someone who speaks in axioms and maxims about wine, just ask the question ‘What do you mean by Bonarda?’.