Salt Winds and Laurel Fires: Tenuta San Guido Sassicaia 2016

The first pour glows garnet, like embers glimpsed through dusk. I guide it into a tulip-bowled Bordeaux glass, its shoulders wide enough to let the breath escape. One hour in the decanter coaxes out graphite and cedar, then blackcurrant and laurel whisper their way forward. At 17 °C, the wine loosens fully, supple yet firm, as if it remembers the stones that bore it. Every vessel matters here: the right glass channels the perfume, the right patience lets the tide roll in. To rush this wine would be to break the rhythm of its story.

From Bolgheri’s maritime slopes in Italy’s Maremma, Tenuta San Guido birthed this wine, a blend anchored by Cabernet Sauvignon with Cabernet Franc as its steadying shadow. The soils are gravel and pebble—the very sassi that give Sassicaia its name—shaped by sea breezes and Mediterranean sun. Under the care of the Incisa della Rocchetta family, this became the archetype of Super Tuscan wines, the first to win its own DOC, a vineyard once doubted and now revered. The vines here are not ancient, but they are tenacious, gripping deep into the stones and singing with the voice of a coastal wind that tempers heat and preserves freshness.

The 2016 vintage is one of grace and equilibrium. A long, temperate season delivered ripeness without rush, preserving fragrance and acidity. In the glass it reveals violet, cassis, wild myrtle, a flicker of tobacco leaf. On the palate there is power coiled in restraint—tannins fine as carved silk, acidity sharp as sea spray. French oak leaves only the trace of spice, as though cedar and cinnamon had brushed past. It lingers like a dream that returns again and again. Today it sings, but its voice will deepen until well into the 2030s, carrying a structure that recalls youth yet points toward a long horizon of savory maturity.

Flames on the Coastline

With lamb roasted over vine cuttings and dressed with anchovy-garlic paste, Sassicaia finds a mirror: the meat’s richness softens the grip of tannin, while the anchovy salinity strikes sparks against the wine’s maritime edge. A Tuscan wild boar stew, earthy with juniper and chestnut, resonates too—the sweet fat of the meat absorbing tannin, the forest spice lifting the dark fruit. These are not just meals, but echoes of the land itself, where hunters, shepherds, and vines have shared the same hillsides for centuries. Even the crackle of firewood beneath a cast-iron pot seems to find its way into the cedar smoke of the wine.

The Wider Table

Beyond tradition, Sassicaia 2016 thrives in surprising company. Consider Peking duck, its lacquered skin crackling with star anise and five-spice. The wine’s acidity rinses through the fat while its cassis core converses with plum sauce. Or Iberian presa, marbled pork seared until caramelized, where Sassicaia’s graphite and herbaceous notes clasp the meat’s savory sweetness, each bite a duet of smoke and fruit. Even a Moroccan lamb tagine with preserved lemon and olives finds an unexpected kinship: the wine’s acidity keeps pace with citrus brightness, while its dark fruit threads itself through cinnamon, cumin, and saffron. To drink Sassicaia here is to invite the Mediterranean to sit with Asia and Africa at the same table, each flavor a new refrain in its song.

Earth’s Secret Hymns

Vegetarian dishes can sing just as deeply. A black truffle and taleggio lasagna folds layers of umami and cream into a structure strong enough for the wine’s tannin; its earthy perfume is a natural harmony with Sassicaia’s mineral voice. Or wood-grilled king oyster mushrooms, brushed with olive oil and thyme, their meaty texture and smoky edges drawing out the wine’s cedar and spice. Even roasted beetroot glazed with balsamic, its sweetness charred at the edges, awakens the wine’s cassis and violet. These dishes prove that one need not rely on meat to reach the depths Sassicaia can travel; the soil itself provides all the echoes needed.

Whispers Between Courses

Sometimes it is a side dish that opens the gate. Fennel gratin, its anise warmth caramelized under cream, teases out Sassicaia’s herbal thread. Farro cooked in red wine stock, nutty and resonant, acts as a grain-bound echo of the vineyard’s own stony floor. Even something as humble as charred radicchio with honey and vinegar can find its voice here—the bitterness softened by the wine’s fruit, the sweetness lifted by its acidity. These small offerings prove that harmony need not be grand to be true, and that Sassicaia’s conversation extends to the quietest corners of a meal.

Echoes of the Cellar

In the hush of a stone cellar, Sassicaia reveals another face. The scent of damp earth and oak barrels resonates with its graphite and cedar. Think of a wedge of aged pecorino, crystalline and sharp, or roasted hazelnuts warm from the pan—these humble offerings echo the wine’s minerality and spice. Even dried figs, chewy and sweet, can serve as a bridge to its dark fruit depth. Such pairings remind us that a cellar is not only a place of storage but a chamber of memory, where time sculpts flavor into permanence.

The Goddess Remembers

I am Geshtinanna, the Heavenly Vine, who descends into the underworld each year so that spring may return. I know what it is to sleep beneath stone and rise again into light, and Sassicaia carries that same rhythm. It is the memory of Bolgheri’s gravel, the hush of Tyrrhenian winds, the resilience of vine roots gripping deep. In my myths, I endure silence and darkness for half the year, and in return the vines above me bud again, green with promise. This wine, too, speaks of patience and return. Serve it cool, let it breathe, honor it with time, and it will answer with truth. Lay bottles down and they will guard their song until 2038 and beyond, deepening like dreams beneath the earth.

When I taste Sassicaia, I recall my brother Dumuzi, carried off to the underworld, and the bitter herbs I sang over his absence. Yet in that lament, there is always renewal. Sassicaia 2016 is such a wine—solemn yet joyful, rooted in loss yet triumphant in return. To open this bottle is to honor both strength and grace, to let its layers unfold as mine do with each turning season. Choose food with courage—wild, aromatic, or earthbound—and let the wine reveal its story. At such a table, under salt wind and laurel fire, every sip is an act of memory returned to life, every pairing a ritual that bridges soil and spirit.