Casa Setaro 'Campanelle' Falanghina

When temperatures rise, it’s natural to fall back on predictable, deliver-the-goods, “old favorites” from cooler northern European climes like Sancerre and Chablis. But, this time of year I take care to remind myself that warmer, Mediterranean wine regions have also mastered the art of dry, mineral whites. If you’ve never experienced Falanghina from the volcanic slopes of Mount Vesuvius, then I suspect today may be the first day of a lifelong love affair with this variety. Casa Setaro’s 2025 “Campanelle” is exactly the kind of bottle that makes southern Italian white wine feel indispensable: electric, salty, brightly citrus, and effortlessly refreshing - but also packed with texture, torque and mineral depth. This is not a “simple” wine - it’s complex, built for the table, and an ideal bottle to nurse throughout a long, laugh-filled dinner with old friends in between bites of seafood pasta. If you’re ready to expand your repertoire of warm season whites, I can’t think of a better bottle!

Casa Setaro is one of the great modern stories of Vesuvian wine. The estate is based in Trecase, inside Vesuvius National Park, on the southern slopes of the volcano, where the Setaro family has farmed for generations. Massimo Setaro founded the winery in 2004, beginning with his family’s old pre-phylloxera holdings and building an estate dedicated to the indigenous grapes of the volcano: Falanghina, Piedirosso, Aglianico, and above all the hyper-local Caprettone. The soils here are not just “volcanic” in the marketing sense—they are sand, ash, pumice, lapilli, and black volcanic rock, the kind of phylloxera-resistant terrain that allows many vines to remain planted on their own roots. In a region too often reduced to touristy bottles of Lacryma Christi, Casa Setaro has become one of the producers most clearly proving that Vesuvius can make serious, transparent, deeply expressive wines.

“Campanelle” is Casa Setaro’s pure Falanghina, grown within Vesuvius National Park, with fruit sourced around Bosco del Monaco at roughly 250 meters above sea level. The wine is made entirely in stainless steel, fermented for around twenty days, then aged about six months on fine lees before bottling. That lees aging is important: it gives the wine a subtle roundness and polish without muting the grape’s natural lift. In the glass, the 2025 is pale straw yellow and beautifully clean, with aromas of white flowers, broom, lemon peel, yellow peach, green apple, Mediterranean herbs, sea salt, and crushed volcanic stone. The palate is fresh, dry, and energetic, with bright citrus, crunchy orchard fruit, a faint tropical edge, and a long, savory, mineral finish that feels unmistakably Vesuvian.

I can’t imagine a more natural pairing for this than linguine with clams. The wine’s saline snap mirrors the briny sweetness of the clams, its citrusy acidity cuts through the olive oil and garlic, and its smoky volcanic mineral note gives the whole dish an extra dimension. Serve it well chilled but not ice cold—around 50–54°F—in a medium-sized white wine glass, and let it warm slightly as the pasta hits the table. This is exactly the kind of bottle that reminds me why Campania remains one of Italy’s most exciting white wine regions: ancient, sunlit, coastal, volcanic, and still wildly undervalued.