To understand them, you have to pass through here.
The French have coined a word with a mysterious and elusive meaning: terroir. Among its many nuances, we particularly like the idea that land, fruit and people are one and the same thing. And it is perhaps the thought that best expresses our little planet called Friuli.
We could tell you about the landscape: a succession of terraced hills, protected by the Julian Pre-Alps and tempered by the Adriatic breezes, forests full of biodiversity, an infinite variety of microclimates and vineyards cultivated at between 100 and 200 metres above sea level; that's fine but...
We could take you back fifty million years ago, when these lands emerged by stealing extraordinary sandstone and marl sediments from the sea, and then take you back to Roman Aquileia in the first century B.C., when wine was already being produced in this area, and finally let you imagine what's in our Central European grapes; that's fine but...
We could take you back fifty million years ago, when these lands emerged by stealing extraordinary sandstone and marl sediments from the sea, and then take you back to Roman Aquileia in the first century B.C., when wine was already being produced in this area, and finally let you imagine what's in our Central European grapes; that's fine but...
We could let you in on a secret: just between you and me, it is the strong minerality, acidity and structure, conferred by temperature excursions combined with hillside and ponca soils, that give great wines; that's fine too but...
Come and see us, Ermacora's door is ajar.
