For Iacopo Paolucci, Roscialesco is not a project wine. It is an act of attention. Attention to a forgotten local grape, to the wooded hills of Umbria, to a way of farming and fermenting that favors patience over performance. This is not about reviving the past for effect, but about allowing something old to speak again in its own accent.
Roscialesco comes from small, mixed plantings worked by hand, where soils lean clay-limestone and the influence of forest and elevation keeps the fruit cool and grounded. Fermentation is spontaneous, with minimal intervention, followed by aging that is meant to steady the wine rather than shape it. Nothing here is hurried, and nothing is polished for show.
In the glass, the wine feels inward and alive. Dark cherry and wild herbs lead, but they’re quickly joined by something more savory—iron, bark, a touch of bitter earth. The structure is firm without being heavy, the acidity quietly present, carrying the wine forward rather than sharpening it.
For Iacopo Paolucci, Roscialesco is not a project wine. It is an act of attention. Attention to a forgotten local grape, to the wooded hills of Umbria, to a way of farming and fermenting that favors patience over performance. This is not about reviving the past for effect, but about allowing something old to speak again in its own accent.
Roscialesco comes from small, mixed plantings worked by hand, where soils lean clay-limestone and the influence of forest and elevation keeps the fruit cool and grounded. Fermentation is spontaneous, with minimal intervention, followed by aging that is meant to steady the wine rather than shape it. Nothing here is hurried, and nothing is polished for show.
In the glass, the wine feels inward and alive. Dark cherry and wild herbs lead, but they’re quickly joined by something more savory—iron, bark, a touch of bitter earth. The structure is firm without being heavy, the acidity quietly present, carrying the wine forward rather than sharpening it.
