Radikon

video: Mauro Fermariello editing: Mauro Di Schiavi

The Radikon winery is on the Oslavia plateau, practically in Slovenia.

There are no signposts for the estate, and I had been wandering for some time around the hills of Collio before I found it, a long series of steep amphitheatres, all planted to vine: a real spectacle. This is an area of clayey soils, known as “ponche”, blessed with salubrious winds.

Now I’m sitting on the grass, listening to Stanko Radikon talking about his wine.

It’s a lovely day, and all around golden clusters are shining in the sun.

I’m charmed by Stanko’s border accent, and his willingness to talk both about his mistakes and successes.

Stanko is a serious man, straightforward, yet complex. When he has an idea, he tries it out in the rows, then draws his conclusions. His career has witnessed what may seem steps back in time, such as the use of steel and a return to wood, or the adoption of widely spaced plantings only then to be replaced by greater vine density, but these moves have been informed, and have thus led to a growth of awareness. With his willingness to experiment he has become one of that group of growers from Friuli who have revolutionized the Italian wine scene. He has made decisions that the market has seen as radical, but that were often dictated by pure good sense.

And his innovations were often harking back to the past, such as the abandonment of chemical products to produce natural wines, or fermentation on the skins for Ribolla Gialla.

He has always been convinced of the worth of his products, so much so that he refuses to be judged by the guides (he doesn’t send samples to anyone). Nevertheless, he says he is still not satisfied, and that if he were he would change job.

Having heard all this, you must now be expecting to meet a grumpy bear of a man. But he isn’t at all; Stanko is the very embodiment of hospitality, ironic and chatty, and after walking round the vineyard he invites me to lunch, where I meet his wife Suzana and son Saša, who both work in the winery.

At table he starts to open one bottle after another (see photo), and he’s evidently proud of his creations. We try the Ribolla, the Tokaj (he has called it Jakot, in reverse), the Oslavije, the Slatnik and the Pinot.

The wines are aromatic, amber-hued, and extremely personal. Today, fermentation on the skins lasts 3-4 months (he has tried every possible variation, of course), with three years in barrels and one more in the bottle. No sulphites are used.

Stanko’s wines are considered difficult, but I think that’s because they wrongfoot the drinker with their simplicity; you can really taste the grapes in the glass.

I take my leave slight buzzing, in the afternoon light, golden like the clusters I photographed and the wines I drank.

translation: Simon Tanner