Filippo Grasso, "Mari di Ripiddu", Etna Bianco DOC

There are few places in the wine world that stop you in your tracks the way Mount Etna does. You stand there looking up at this massive, snow-capped volcano rising straight out of the Mediterranean, quietly smoking, reminding you that everything here is alive. The air feels different—charged, almost electric. Small villages wrap around the slopes, where life revolves around the vine, olive trees, citrus groves, and the rhythms of the mountain. Most people know Etna for its reds, but the whites can be just as profound—wines that combine the tension and precision of great Burgundy with a salty, windswept Mediterranean edge. Filippo Grasso’s “Mari di Ripiddu” is exactly that kind of bottle. It’s compact, coiled, and intensely mineral, with razor-sharp acidity wrapped around a surprisingly textured core. Etna Bianco, driven by Carricante, thrives in these high-altitude volcanic sites, producing wines that feel both powerful and weightless at the same time.

Sicily itself is one of the most historically layered wine regions on earth—a crossroads of civilizations shaped by the Greeks, Romans, Arabs, and Normans, each leaving their imprint on agriculture and culture. But Etna stands apart even within Sicily. Located on the island’s eastern edge, just north of Catania and overlooking the Strait of Messina, it is Europe’s most active volcano and one of its most dynamic terroirs. The vineyards climb from roughly 1,500 to over 3,000 feet in elevation, planted in black lava soils that shift constantly with each eruption. These aren’t uniform vineyards—they are fractured, patchwork sites formed by centuries of lava flows, ash deposits, and erosion. The result is a landscape that feels almost Burgundian in its site specificity, but with a raw, untamed energy that is entirely its own.

Filippo Grasso is a fourth-generation Etna grower farming a small estate on the volcano’s northern slopes in Contrada Calderara—one of the most compelling zones for precision and structure on the mountain. Like many of Etna’s best producers, the family spent generations selling fruit before beginning to bottle under their own name in the mid-2000s, part of the modern Etna renaissance. Grasso trained in enology in Alba, in Piedmont, bringing a level of technical precision to an otherwise rugged, elemental landscape. Today, the estate spans just a handful of hectares planted entirely to native varieties—Carricante, Catarratto, and Nerello Mascalese—rooted in deep volcanic sands and fractured lava rock. These soils are incredibly porous and mineral-rich, forcing the vines to dig deep while providing natural drainage and heat retention, which is critical at these elevations. Farming is thoughtful and low-intervention, surrounded by olive trees, herbs, and wild vegetation that create a balanced ecosystem. In the cellar, the approach is restrained—fermentation and aging in stainless steel and neutral vessels, no heavy oak, minimal manipulation—everything designed to let the vineyard speak clearly. “Mari di Ripiddu” is a direct translation of this place: high-elevation Carricante shaped by altitude, wind, and volcanic soils.

In the glass, the 2022 “Mari di Ripiddu” shows a pale straw color with flashes of green. The nose is tightly wound at first—lemon zest, crushed stone, green apple, and a subtle smoky note that feels unmistakably volcanic. With air, it opens into white flowers, citrus oil, and a saline edge that pulls you back in. The palate is where this wine really delivers: electric acidity drives through a dense, compact core of fruit, with layers of citrus, orchard fruit, and wet stone unfolding slowly. There’s a firmness here—almost a tactile grip—that gives the wine real presence without ever feeling heavy. The finish is long, mineral, and mouthwatering. Serve at 50–55°F in Burgundy stems, give it 20–30 minutes of air, and pair it with crudo, oysters, grilled branzino, pasta with clams, or roast chicken with lemon and herbs. This is one of those bottles that reminds you just how compelling Etna’s whites can be—and how much value still exists if you know where to look.