Brunello's Controversy: Is it real? Or Really Successful Marketing?
Recent car ride chatter inspired a discussion about the authority of one of Italy's top wines.
If you’ve ever been on a wine industry trip, you know that everyone gets close, as in sometimes too close. Especially in one of those front & back-facing minivans winding its way along ancient cobblestone streets in some European city or wine region. After a dinner enjoyed with several bottles of wine, the conversation on the ride home, as everyone faces each other, can often get personal and sometimes even controversial.
This was the case during a recent trip to Italy, on a ride home from dinner in Rome. One of our fellow travelers made the bold statement that Brunello (beloved Brunello) is an illusion; it’s not real. She was very passionate about this.
It was a shocking statement in a car full of Italian-wine-loving professionals. Every person in that van was an Italian wine expert (except me). Several were Vinitaly Ambassadors, others Italian wine scholars of the highest degree. I, being the lone Francophile in the car, was all ears to this argument and the case for or against her points. As my colleague made her arguments, the energy in the van shifted, and an otherwise tired and boring ride home became way more animated and interesting.
The question I was left with after we arrived at our hotel with an unfinished conversation was: was Brunello discovered, or designed as a marketing tool for a tiny region with a big desire to prove itself to the world?
Side note: Before I get into this article, I want it to be known that I do love Brunello. I’ve had some amazing Brunello in my life. It’s one of my favorite Italian red wines (despite my general apathy toward Sangiovese). However, I always love a good debate among educated folks.
Rethinking Brunello di Montalcino’s place at the top of the wine world
We tend to speak about Brunello di Montalcino in reverent terms. It sits comfortably in the same breath as Barolo, as a benchmark for Italian fine wine. It’s a symbol of longevity, precision, and place. But unlike many of the world’s great wines that evolved slowly through centuries of shifting practice, Brunello feels… defined, almost too perfectly formed. And this was an argument for her point.
To understand Brunello, you have to start with the fact that it wasn’t always inevitable.
The story begins with Clemente Santi, followed by his grandson, Ferruccio Biondi-Santi, in the 19th century. These men isolated a particular expression of Sangiovese in Montalcino and chose to vinify it on its own, aging it longer than was customary at the time. What emerged was something structured, age-worthy, and unmistakably different from the lighter, often blended wines associated with the historic region of Chianti.
This wasn’t the continuation of a long-standing regional tradition. It was a decision.
Where other Tuscan wines leaned into blending, whether out of habit, necessity, or preference, Brunello doubled down on purity. While others produced for approachability, Brunello embraced time. And as much of Tuscany evolved gradually, Brunello arrived with a full style guide.
This is the foundation of the argument that Brunello is less an ancient inheritance and more a constructed identity. This wine was made to be a product for competitive marketing from the beginning.
What’s in a Name?
“Brunello” isn’t a separate grape variety. It’s a historical nickname for a darker-skinned Sangiovese, once thought to be distinct, but now understood through modern analysis to be part of the same genetic family.
Brunello is Sangiovese Grosso, interpreted through one place and one set of rules. The distinction is not botanical, but entirely conceptual.
And that’s where skepticism creeps in.
Because if Brunello is defined more by decision than by difference, then its identity begins to look less like nature and more like narrative, so the argument goes.
Intention over Tradition
When the original lines for the Chianti Classico region were drawn, Montalcino fell outside the boundaries of the formalized region. Some may say this is because of a distinct climatic change, as Montalcino is located further south than the Classico region. Others may say this is because of historical tensions between regional alliances. Either way, there was a bit of controversy at that time, from what I understand.
So, when Italy formalized its highest wine classification, Brunello moved quickly and strategically. It was among the very first wines to be granted DOCG status in 1980. Notably, it achieved this recognition slightly before Barolo, with a level of unified identity that made it easier to communicate, market, and export.
This wasn’t accidental.
The push for early DOCG recognition wasn’t just about quality (although that is absolutely necessary); it was about positioning. It’s a brilliant marketing strategy to be established as a top-tier Italian wine in the global imagination before the category becomes crowded. From the very beginning of DOCG classifications, when the world looked to Italy for its greatest reds, Montalcino was first in line in the conversation.
And it worked.
For decades, the majority of Brunello production has been consumed outside of Italy. Exports are 70% of the region’s business, with the United States consistently the region’s largest market, often accounting for 30% - 40% of total exports according to the Consorzio & ItalianFood.net. (And conversations with a winemaker in the region.)
Typically, wines that are primarily consumed locally tend to evolve with local tastes. Wines that are exported, especially at scale, often evolve with the expectations of a global audience that is looking specifically for structure, ageability, collectability, and prestige. These are strategic traits of Brunello di Montalcino, highly valued and cultivated ones.
Which leads to a slightly uncomfortable philosophical question:
Did Brunello become great because of what it is, or because of what the world expects it to be?
The “Inferior Sangiovese” Argument
For some, including my colleague, Brunello represents not the pinnacle of Sangiovese, but its most rigid expression.
According to this argument, Sangiovese thrives in nuance. It can be bright, savory, lifted, even transparent when handled with a lighter touch. In regions like Chianti Classico, it often gains complexity through blending, which is necessary according to some. In more modern contexts, it has even found harmony alongside international varieties. (Super Tuscans)
Brunello, by contrast, locks itself into a single interpretation:
100% Sangiovese
To its critics, this can feel like a lesser expression of a grape that ideally needs a boost by blending. So, by this argument, Brunello isn’t necessarily the best version of Sangiovese, but simply the most codified one.
Branding vs. Belief
Is Brunello’s prestige earned or engineered?
Perhaps, the honest answer is: both.
Yes, Brunello benefits from one of the most clearly defined identities in wine. Its rise was indeed supported by strategic classification, strong consortium control, and a global market that embraced its narrative. In many ways, Brunello di Montalcino offers a masterclass in how to build a luxury wine brand with an average grape, after a perceived centuries-old snub.
But the fact of the matter is that the region wouldn’t be so beloved if the wine simply did not deliver. Because at the end of the day, Brunello does what great wine is supposed to do: it ages, evolves, and tells a consistent story over time. Brunello gives collectors a reason to wait and a reason to come back. (It’s also a pretty place to visit.)
That’s not just marketing or an unnecessarily rigid expression of a lackluster grape. It’s high-level performance in a bottle.
Brunello may not adhere to the romanticism we like to attribute (fairly or not) to our noble wines of the world. But does that matter?
This wine doesn’t just represent a place. It represents a decision about what that place could become.
And the fact that the numbers prove the world strongly believes in Brunello might be the most real thing about it.
Is Brunello an "invention" ? Sure. But so are many many appellations in Italy and across the world. Napa? Bolgheri? Franciacorta? Champagne and even Bordeaux?
Humans are part of terroir.
Does Brunello warrant its own appellation? Absolutely because of the particular clime in the warm/dry part of southern Tuscany. The wines are riper and bigger than in Chianti Classico.
About 20 years ago, an Italian colleague told me "Italians don't drink Brunello-- that's for Americans." I think that may have been on the count of the big pleasing style that wowed American critics in the 00's.
Nowadays Brunello faces a bigger crisis with climate change. And as the Brunello president Giacomo Bartolommei of Caprili told me:“Brunello is still a wine for people who are over 50. We are not seeing people under 50 much interested in it. This is the challenge.”
So the consortium, is moving to promote Rosso di Montalcino, which I think is a good thing. The wines tend to be fresher and easier and less "Big Brunello". This is a good thing. The problem with we boomers even is that our livers and all the rest aren't getting younger.
A fun discussion, though it boils down to a simple premise: Your colleague on that weary bus ride after a long day simply isn't thrilled by Brunello. If the Biondi-Santis doubled down on a particular selection of Sangiovese and created a higher-end wine than Chianti, why is that not legitimate? And if Brunello got its paperwork in first to achieve DOCG status before Barolo, who cares? (The first American Viticultural Area, after all, was not Napa, but Augusta, Missouri.) She can make the argument that Brunello is straight-laced compared to Barolo's more free-wheeling, earthy vibe (the Bordeaux-Burgundy contrast). But as you note, Brunello is successful and loved by many. No wine will ever be for everyone. So as for your colleague -- well, there's more Brunello for the rest of us!