Le Coste

Gianmarco in Le Coste’s underground Gradoli cellar, the blurs an accurate representation of my state at the end of a marathon barrel tasting

The simple truth is that there is no domaine quite like that of Le Coste. It’s as if the Italian Gianmarco Antonuzzi and the Lyonnais Clementine Bouveron have constructed a sort of dream world together, a walled in utopia over the Lago di Bolsena that the rest of us can only get glimpses of through imbibing their polychromatic bottles. The sheer scope of the duo’s work is hard to ascertain on a rational level, and even after finally making my, admittedly tardy, premier sojourn to Gradoli just a few weeks ago, I’m left still with more questions than answers. 



I set off alone in my rented Citroën from a friend’s house just over the Umbrian border for the town of Gradoli, a sleepy neighbor to the west of the bustling lake side touristic districts of Bolsena, and where Gianmarco Antonuzzi is originally from. Coming of age in Rome, Antonuzzi spent time as both a lawyer and a food and wine writer, and the guy is a bit of an encyclopedia when it comes to facts of pleasure. Upon arriving in Gradoli, I parked my car across the street from the restaurant La Ripetta which, unbeknownst to me at the time is Gianmarco’s cousin’s place. Pulling up shortly thereafter in a 4x4 flatbed jeep of some sort, Antonuzzi picked me up and off we went to the vines. We toured about ten different vineyard sites both on foot and on wheels, Gianmarco explaining the soil makeup of each, me pretending to be holding on to all of this minute information in my brain. The Le Coste “lieu-dit” (it is actually walled off) as Gianmarco calls it, is a hilly labrynth of old and young vineyard sites, with even more just being planted a couple of months prior to French varietals such as Chenin Blanc, Chardonnay, and more. While Gianmarco mentioned that Clementine is in charge of the land and life of the plants, and he the cellar master, it’s clear that there is some sort of natural crossover of tasks between the pair. They also employ a large amount of year-round workers. 

Aerial view of new plantings

After visiting the vines, we headed to La Ripetta for a big lunch of fresh frutti di mare and cooked whole fish with potatoes, and of course a few bottles. Being Gianmarco’s cousin’s restaurant, naturally there is a large supply of Le Coste amongst the more conventional crowd-pleasers in the cellar. It happened to be Sunday lunch, and the place was popping with families celebrating birthdays alongside tables practicing pure Sunday Italian hedonism. Gianmarco’s lawyer even made an appearance to join us for a glass, and to question if I “actually liked this stuff, natural wine.”

“Of course,” I replied.

“Me, I just like a good rosé” he responded, curiously sniffing a glass of Vigna Le Coste Bianco from 2018. 



We left the restaurant without paying any sort of bill (I’m assuming Gianmarco has a tab or agreement with his cousin) and moved to the grand cellar. The initial chamber was stunning; a room of high domed ceilings filled with fiberglass and inox tanks of newer wines, everything clean and pristine as could be. This room gave way into a very long hallway sloping underground that went for about 100 feet, lined with amphorae and barrels large and small until the end, a deluxe cooling system overhead. 



Tasting out of barrel with Gianmarco is intense, his outward convictions about the validity of his wine increasing with each additional sip of alcohol entering his bloodstream. Upon asking him if he came to the cellar to taste often, indignantly he snapped in a sort of atavistic way and retorted, saying that he almost never tastes—his grapes were always beautiful, so of course his wines will always be, too. We paused to let the awkwardness settle back and dissipate into the air for a second, and then went back to tasting. A little bit jarred but also reveling in the passion of the moment, I thought to myself “perhaps it is that simple.” Of everything we tried, Gianmarco seemed to be most proud of his red wines. I said that I felt his red vinifications, particularly those of Sangiovese, reminded me of the Pinots and Syrahs that I love drinking, and he absolutely agreed, replying that this was exactly his style. Before Gianmarco and Clementine met working for Bruno Schueller, Antonuzzi had worked for Leon Barral, and also considers Bernard Bellahsen a mentor and one of the greats. If since their meeting chez Schueller Le Coste have established a style all their own of wines that tow the line between Italian rusticity and French refinement, it is still impossible for me not to keep Schueller’s wines—particularly his Pinots—as a reference point in my head while drinking Le Coste. There is the hallmark racy acidity, soaring aromatics, refined tannin structures wrapped around a core of pure nectar like juice, and of course the simple yet oft-overlooked digestibility of the drink. And while Le Coste’s wines have become increasingly pricier, the scope of the project has grown in conjunction, and too the quality of the wine. I know many who relate Antonuzzi as difficult and erratic—too egotistic, too macho Italiano, and perhaps this is, besides the point, all true in some manner, but I find it impossible to say that the incredible artistic intensity of Le Coste doesn’t feel true. The wines speak for themselves. 

While the entry level wines of Le Coste can start to feel a bit ubiquitous around town, I’ve decided to focus on a selection of the upper tier bottles from the pair with this release, and with a scope on their unique and exciting work with the aromatic Aleatico; reds perfect to ride out the rest of summer. We always have a few back vintage wines from Gianmarco and Clementine as well—just ask.



Rosso Piu 2015
Sangiovese (Greghetto Rosso)
$143



Alea VV 2016
Aleatico
$175





Alea Jacta Est 2019
Aleatico
$78



Due M 2021
Moscato 
$75





Le Primeur 2022
Aleatico
$38



Le Primeur 2022 MAG
Aleatico
$83





Rosato 2022
Aleatico
$60



Rosato 2022 MAG
Aleatico
$124





Olio 2023
Olives
$36