Montenidoli’s Rosato and the Return of Canaiolo

There is no greater champion of tradition, history, and reverence for nature than the owner and steward of Montenidoli, Elizabetta Fagiuoli. Her winery lies just outside the beautiful medieval town of San Gimignano, south of Florence—a fitting setting for wines that seem to capture both history and terroir in the bottle.

San Gimignano once served as an important stop for pilgrims and crusaders traveling north from Rome on their way to the Holy Land. By the thirteenth century, it had become a thriving center for merchants returning from the East. Its strategic location was so prized that the Knights Templar established a headquarters there.

The land had already been blessed with vineyards planted centuries earlier by the Etruscans, and the Templars continued the region’s winemaking traditions, particularly the production of whites from indigenous grapes.

Over time, as the Ottomans came to dominate much of the East, San Gimignano became increasingly cut off from the trade routes that had fueled its prosperity, gradually fading into the shadow of Florence. Today, however, the town is renowned as the home of Vernaccia di San Gimignano, the spiritual heir to those ancient Templar wines. It also sits within the Chianti Colli Senesi appellation, just south of Chianti Classico.

Elizabetta Fagiuoli moved to Montenidoli with her husband in 1965. Originally from Rome and trained as an art historian specializing in Eastern art, she found the property overgrown, neglected, and seemingly abandoned—yet unmistakably alive. Over the decades, they restored the land, preserving its forests, olive groves, wildlife, and vineyards. The name Montenidoli means “hill of nests,” a tribute to the many birds that flock to the peaceful woodlands surrounding the estate.

The hill itself creates a remarkable microclimate, vividly demonstrating how indigenous grapes adapt to the land. The lower slopes, between 200 and 400 meters above sea level, were once submerged beneath the Ligurian Sea during the Quaternary Period. Fossils of crustaceans remain embedded in the lighter, sandy soils, which are especially suited to white grapes, lending the wines their distinctive texture and minerality. Above 400 meters, the terrain shifts dramatically: darker, rockier Triassic soils rich in iron and minerals provide ideal conditions for red varieties.

Despite all the remarkable wines produced at Montenidoli, Elizabetta’s Rosato remains, for me, her crowning achievement. It shows how reimagining something traditional can rescue it from obscurity—and even extinction—and transform it into something singular and extraordinary.

Canaiolo is a truly ancient Tuscan grape, with documents referencing Uva Canaijuola dating back to the early fourteenth century. Until the sixteenth century, much of the wine produced around Chianti was made primarily from Canaiolo Nero rather than Sangiovese. That changed in 1873, when Bettino Ricasoli codified the Chianti formula and established Sangiovese as the dominant grape. From that point on, Canaiolo was relegated to a supporting role, used in blends to soften and brighten Sangiovese’s heavier structure.

In many ways, it is the ideal companion to Sangiovese: even a modest addition of 10–15% Canaiolo can amplify Sangiovese’s natural freshness and vibrancy. On its own, however, Canaiolo is rarely seen as a varietal wine. Light- to medium-bodied, with floral aromatics and sour cherry notes, it is notoriously difficult to cultivate, which has discouraged wider use.

Yet the very qualities that once made Canaiolo the perfect blending partner for Sangiovese also make it perfectly suited to rosato production. As a rosé, the grape is finally allowed to step into the spotlight and reveal its full character. There is no finer example of this than Montenidoli’s Rosato. After limited skin contact, the wine is fermented in stainless steel and bottled on the lees, preserving both its freshness and its layered texture. What makes the wine so compelling is the tension it maintains between freshness and substance. It drinks with the lift and brightness of a white wine, yet carries the texture, savory depth, and quiet power of a light red. 

Every year, we watch the final bottles disappear with a kind of quiet heartbreak. There are only a few weeks left before Chicagoland’s supply is gone, and once it is, all we can do is wait patiently for summer to return again—a true testament to why wines like this endure.