Why I’ll always remember Bruno Giacosa, the master of Barolo

Bruno Giacosa, one of the legends of Barolo, died today in Piedmont at the age of 88. Giacosa was a mentor to me with his sharp wit and precise palate. In his early years, he was said to have the ability to taste grapes from particular vineyards and be able to name them on the spot. It was something he used to great effect, as he was able to acquire an impressive number of top Barolo and Barbaresco crus, whether for sale or rent.

What I really appreciated was tasting with him. He was a man of few words. “This wine isn’t any good,” he would say, tasting a local wine with me. “Why?” I would ask. “Because I don’t like it.”

That was good enough for him – and for me. I remember when he decided not to bottle his 2006 Barolos. He used the same five words even though the wines were clearly outstanding quality, with some even ranking them among the best of the vintage. “Why not bottle them, Bruno?” I asked. “Because I don’t like them,” he said, with a wicked grin.

A larger than life figure, Bruno Giacosa knew the Langhe better than anybody yet was a humble man of few words.

In the 1990s, I convinced him to come to a tasting of a range of his wines at the Wine Spectator’s Wine Experience. He had a wonderful time. It was his first visit to the city, and he had the awe and enthusiasm of a teenager. I can remember we even had matching black ties for the fancy dinner and we shared many laughs that night. He only went to the United States twice in his life.

I will never forget the annual or semi-annual lunches we had at the La Ciau del Tornavento restaurant in the town of Treiso within the Langhe. Bruno relished the lunches even when he had to come in his wheelchair in recent years. He always wanted to try different Champagnes and would insist that his sparkling wine was better – no matter if it was Krug or Cristal.

I often came along with my children Jack and Isabel, and though kids at the time, they always laughed whenever Bruno cracked a one-liner or two with his spontaneous, dry sense of humor. But most of all, he would just look at them, smiling with a firm appearance but a great sense of warmth and kindness inside.

I will miss dear Bruno. He was like an Italian father to me. He also made probably my favorite wine on earth: his Barolo, Le Rocche del Falletto (now known as Falletto Vigna Le Rocche). But part of the reason I love his wines so much is because of my love for the man. Bruno leaves his namesake winery in the capable hands of his daughter Bruna. – James Suckling, Editor/CEO