Nun Monastero Suore Cistercensi Coenobium

Every so often a wine arrives that seems fascinating from every possible angle.

Coenobium is one of those wines.

Let’s start with the obvious curiosity: this wine is made by nuns. Actual nuns. The Cistercian Sisters of Vitorchiano, living in a convent north of Rome, tend these vineyards and produce one of Italy’s most distinctive white wines. If your immediate reaction is, “Well, that’s charming,” you’re absolutely correct. But the remarkable thing is that Coenobium would hold your attention even if the label told none of that story.

Then comes the second surprise. Coenobium is a skin-contact wine, yet it avoids nearly every stereotype attached to that category. No barnyard theatrics, no kombucha impersonations, no “how far can we push the funk” stunts. Instead, this is skin-contact wine handled with restraint and control. A brief time on the skins adds texture, aromatic range and a gentle amber glow, while the wine stays centered and genuinely delicious.

Made primarily from local Lazio varieties including Trebbiano, Malvasia and Verdicchio, Coenobium sits in that fascinating middle ground between white and orange wine. The aromas meander among chamomile, dried apricots, citrus peel, wildflowers, honeycomb and mountain herbs. On the palate, there’s a tactile quality, a subtle grip that gives the wine shape and presence, balanced by poise and freshness. It feels both ancient and contemporary at once.

And then there is the third reason this bottle means so much to me personally. Many years ago, this was the very first wine ever brought into Wisconsin by the legendary importer Neal Rosenthal. Long before natural wine became fashionable and long before skin-contact wines occupied entire shelves, Rosenthal recognized something singular here: a wine with clear identity, deep tradition and real integrity. For me, Coenobium has always represented that spirit of discovery that makes wine endlessly rewarding, the bottle that proves the most memorable wines are often the ones nobody saw coming.

A convent of nuns. A beautifully executed skin-contact wine. A pioneering Rosenthal import with deep personal history.

Somehow Coenobium manages to be all of those things at once and, most importantly, it remains utterly delicious. That’s the real miracle.