Le Potazzine Sangiovese IGT Toscana

It feels a little subversive to call this wine a Rosso. It drinks more like a young Brunello, already hinting at the architecture it will one day fully reveal.

Drawn from Brunello-designated vines and shaped by that striking duality of place—high, wind-cooled slopes near the winery and the warmer, alluvial breadth of Sant’Angelo in Colle—the wine opens with lifted aromatics: tart cherry, wild strawberry and blood orange peel, laced with rose petal, iron-rich earth, and flickers of thyme and anise. There’s a subtle ferrous note—almost like warm stone after rain—that speaks directly to those red mineral-rich soils.

On the palate, the wine carries both tension and generosity. The fruit is vivid yet restrained—red currant and cranberry at first, then deepening into darker cherry and a touch of plum skin—while savory notes of leather, tobacco leaf and crushed herbs begin to unfurl with air. The tannins are finely etched and linear, but already showing that telltale Pottazzine refinement: structure without heaviness, grip without severity. Acidity drives it forward, giving the wine a sense of lift and clarity that feels distinctly high-altitude in origin.

It finishes long, saline and quietly impressive, with a lingering interplay of red fruit, spices and mineral tension.

If this is the “baby Brunello,” it’s one raised with patience and intention—less about early charm, more about precision and evolution. Even now, it’s immensely drinkable, especially as the seasons begin to turn.

And that’s the irresistible part, to me: as winter finally loosens its grip, this is exactly the kind of Sangiovese for the table—bright enough for the first green shoots of spring, structured enough to remind you of the depth still lingering beneath the surface. Salute!