They call me Policalpo. I point upwards and I look at the sky. But I come from the soil, which gives me my strength, and I mature in a womb-like cellar. I bear the name of an ancient hero, but I’m modern in taste, the son of Barbera and Cabernet Sauvignon grapes, born of the marriage between a local and an outsider. My genes have fun surprising those who love surprises. My symbol, the arrow, looks as if it has just been shot. It leaves the earth like an archaic rocket driven upwards by fire. I’m a comet flying through the summer sky, a light among the stars. Not only do I show the way, I also speak of a desire to grow and never stop.
I’m wine and I’m work. Every year, it starts all over again in the cellar, after the joyous toil of the grape harvest. It takes technique and know-how, advice and experience. I, Policalpo, like to be with young people. I show them how oenology is a science that’s moving forward, tenacious and tangible. I allow myself to be explored by the most attentive palates and noses, ready to pick up the best part of me.