Marco Bonfante Barolo 2020

Normally, “Barolo” and “Steal” don’t belong in the same sentence. But here at Waterford, that’s exactly the kind of contradiction we love. By importing as directly as the law allows, we eliminate the traditional middleman markup—and what you taste, instead of inflated prices, is the purity of place and passion in the glass. A Barolo you can actually afford to cellar by the case? Absolutely.

But let’s start with the story behind the wine.

Marco and Micaela Bonfante are eighth-generation farmers from Monferrato, a part of Piedmont that’s rich in vines, hills, and family history. For centuries, the Bonfantes grew grapes destined for other people’s wines—quiet contributors to the Barolo legacy. It wasn’t until 2000, after their grandfather passed away, that the siblings decided to change course. They built their own winery, turning their family’s fruit into wines that carried their own name and spirit.

Technically speaking, Monferrato lies just outside the official Barolo growing zone. But here’s the nuance: the Bonfantes also own vineyard parcels within Barolo proper. Those grapes are vinified within the DOCG zone at a friend’s facility, ensuring the wines meet every Barolo requirement. The main winery remains in Monferrato, where they produce more Barbera—but the Barolo, make no mistake, is as authentic as they come. And far more delicious than its modest price would ever suggest.

When you open a bottle of the Bonfante Barolo, the first thing that greets you is fragrance—black cherries, plums, raspberries, and rose petals. It’s a perfume so vivid you can almost see the colors. Then comes the texture: those classic Barolo tannins, firm but graceful, stitched together with a clarity that reveals layer after layer of fruit and spice. It’s a study in precision and patience, a wine that feels both timeless and alive.

Even at five years old, it’s still a young Barolo—eager, structured, full of promise. If you plan to drink it now, give it air: decant it generously, or better yet, open it the night before and let it breathe under cork. You’ll be rewarded with a wine that blooms overnight, its edges softened, its heart revealed. Or tuck it away in the cellar for a decade and let time work its quiet magic.

And then, there’s the price. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve heard that our Barolos are “too cheap.” But that’s the beauty of importing directly—you get the story, the craft, the soul of Barolo, without the markup.

It’s not often that “Barolo” and “Steal” belong together. But every now and then, a wine like this comes along to remind you that they can.