Food and Wine Trails of Italy: Sardinia

Sardinia: almost a continent. In the early Sixties writer Marcello Serra paid tribute to the enormous richness of this island, the title of his book referencing the fact that no two journeys are the same. From the glitzy atmosphere of the Costa Smeralda to the untamed beauty of the mountainous inland, there is nothing homogeneous about this region, ‘lost’, as DH Lawrence wrote, ‘between Europe and Africa and belonging to nowhere’.

Our journey starts down south, in the rolling hills north of Cagliari – an area anciently known as Parteòlla, probably deriving from the Latin for olive groves (pars olea). These still define the territory, together with neat rows of vineyards. It’s all about autochthonous grapes here – from whites like vermentino and nuragus to the thick-skinned cannonau, the red soul of the island. Winemaker Antonella Corda leads the way through her cannonau vineyard, which tiptoes gracefully into vermentino territory. The large, uneven stones beneath our feet are those of a former riverbed. ‘It’s like the grenache terroir in Châteauneuf-du-Pape. The pebbles reduce the grape vigour, resulting in a well-balanced, harmonious wine,’ explains Antonella, who took over her mother’s estate in 2010. Despite her young age, she had clear ideas about wine, determined to turn a traditionally strong and heady red into its fresher, more elegant version. Sardinia’s most famous black grape was kind to her in return and her cannonau has had numerous awards since she took it to market.

‘Cannonau is a wine that needs to be tamed,’ agrees Valentina Argiolas, whose family winery is nearby in the village of Serdiana. ‘Too strong, too muscular. A bit too much. Well, we got rid of this “too much”.’ A search for balance that Argiolas – one of the island’s top winemakers – achieved in Turriga, a Super-Sard created 30 years ago by Valentina’s grandfather Antonio. ‘He wanted the perfect blend to express the identity of this territory at its best,’ Valentina explains. ‘Cannonau is the base, accounting for 85 per cent of the blend. Malvasia nera adds longevity, bovale brings colours and tannins, carignano del Sulcis provides elegance and richness.’ If the essence of that Sardinian ‘continent’ could be poured into a glass, it would probably be a Turriga.

Driving by the vast wetlands that border the city of Cagliari, the graceful silhouettes of flamingos dot the horizon – the best moment to spot them is in the fiery evening sunset when everything seems to turn pink and the lagoon is flooded with light. While wetlands around the world have been drained for agricultural purposes, Sardinia still boasts a significant portion of Italy’s lagoons – almost 74 hectares, home to nearly 200 bird species.

With that decadent charm of port cities, Cagliari is a microcosm of Sardinia’s diversity. It doesn’t exist for tourists but, rather, for workers and students so its beauty is unpretentious. After walking in the chiaroscuro of the citadel’s labyrinthine lanes, under lines of laundry waving in the wind, you re-emerge into the bright esplanade of Bastione Saint Remy, which rewards you with sweeping views of the salt pans and the city below – a messy ensemble of rooftops and domes – with a backdrop of mountains and wind turbines.

The salty embrace of the sea around the city alternates breathtaking cliffs with small gulfs, hidden moorings and endless stretches of sand, like the well-known Poetto, Cagliari’s 8 km-long urban beach. As you motor across the south-west coastline, along the SS195, you’ll want to keep your window open to inhale the refreshing smell of pine trees.

There’s little evidence of Sardinia’s 1.6 million population – even less of its four million sheep – and holiday settlements are discreetly concealed among the trees. ForteVillage is the largest and fanciest – so big that a map is handed out to help you get your bearings among its hotels, villas, tennis courts, pools and 20-plus restaurants. Many of Sardinia’s leading chefs have passed by at some point in their career. Cagliari-born Andrea Putzu has been a regular for 20 seasons, combining international cuisine with a passion for tradition. No wonder bread is his ingredient of choice – a tribute to a regional heritage that counts hundreds of breads.

‘It’s a key ingredient for many of my dishes,’ he says, ‘be it the round loaves of pane civraxiu, the elaborately decorated pane coccoi or the paper-thin pane carasau, which I use to prepare pane frattau.’ In his version of this lasagne-style dish, Andrea soaks the crispy sheets of bread in vegetable broth (lighter than the regular lamb one) and layers them with a fresh tomato sauce and smoked scamorza cheese. He also likes to play with different textures, contrasting the crunchiness of the outside with the melting, soothing softness of the interior.

The Phoenician remains of Nora, romantically half-swallowed by the sea, are a stone’s throw away, along with the nature reserve of the Laguna di Nora. Fradis Minoris sits right there, on the rocky causeway that separates the lagoon from the sea. Regardless of its awards – a red and a green Michelin star – the feeling of being up for something spectacular hits the moment you set foot on the path suspended between the two bodies of water. The restaurant is a gastronomic extension of the nature reserve and its fragile ecosystem – the last step of what started off as a monitoring centre for cetaceans and sea turtles, with more than 400 animals having been rescued and rehabilitated.

‘Raising awareness through food is essential these days,’ says chef Francesco Stara, just back from his daily hunt for herbs. ‘This is rock samphire, one of the most common plants of the lagoon; this is glasswort; and those are Mediterranean saltbush buds,’ he continues, pointing at the cuttings on his small metal tray. At the table, something magical happens: each dish captures the smell of the sea breeze, translating it into a new sensation for the taste buds.

For Francesco, who lived abroad for many years, the scents of the island create an intimate bond. ‘This smell was the first sensorial experience I had every time I came back, as soon as the aircraft doors opened. It’s an indelible perfume for my soul.’ His approach is circular, based on a zero-waste policy. Fish come straight from their waters, caught by trustworthy fisherman Mario with traditional methods and respecting natural cycles. Fish bones are recycled for broth, less noble parts are masterfully turned into sea pâté or ragù: environmental awareness on a plate. If it’s true that we are what we eat, it says a lot of good things about these people.

For further information on food and wine trails of Italy, visit italia.it/en