Robin Lee meets the boyishly enthusiastic Tuscan winemaker Bibi Graetz as he shows off his new “grown-up toys”: the Balocchi di Colore limited-edition cuvées.
It is early spring in Fiesole. Pale pink roses cascade over crumbling masonry, and the soft fragrance wafts over the worn paving stones once trodden by EM Foster’s prim heroines. This faded and genteel enclave has always attracted artists, aesthetes, and intellectuals, as well as royalty and wealthy expatriates. Sitting on the terrace of the Bibi Graetz Winery in the center of this perfect little town—miraculously unblemished by modern tourism, bustling with locals and a quaint, old-fashioned charm—it is easy to see why.
Bibi Graetz makes it all look so easy. He arrives in faded jeans and an old gray sweater with rolled-up sleeves. He is a bit late but not ostentatiously so. He is informal, relaxed, boyish, unshowy. He walks and talks at an easy pace, but with a barely contained energy and a sense of purpose that could be intimidating. Graetz is proud of what he has achieved, and the more one learns about what he is doing and what he has accomplished, the easier it is to see why.
I had met Graetz for the first time a few months previously in London at the launch of Balocchi di Colore, his new limited-edition cuvées produced in tiny quantities (900 cases) from old vines of Sangiovese and two of the more unusual, lesser-known indigenous varieties, Canaiolo and Colorino, which once played a supporting
This Article was originally published on World of Fine Wine
