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Wine School

Chianti Classico’s Emotional Tug

Credit...Serge Bloch

Wine School, a monthly column, invites you to drink wine with Eric Asimov. September’s wine was Chianti Classico; Mr. Asimov shares his reaction to the wine and addresses readers’ thoughts and questions below the assignment.

The next assignment takes us to Tuscany, and to one of the most famous yet abused names in Italian wine: Chianti Classico.

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Credit...Serge Bloch

Its fame speaks for itself. Long before most Americans knew anything about Italian wine or food, there was Chianti, even if its attractions had something to do with the novelty of the fiascoes, those straw-covered bottles. Much has changed since those red-checked tablecloth days, and change has been one of the problems facing Chianti Classico, as the heart of the historic Chianti region is known.

From one decade to the next, it’s been hard to keep track of exactly what it means to be called Chianti Classico. The authorities have continually redefined the blend of grapes permitted, to the point where in the 1970s some of the best producers in the region threw up their hands and exited the appellation under the theory that they could make better wines without obeying the rules.

Though things have stabilized somewhat in the last 20 years, the rules still permit Chianti Classico to be abused. To my mind, Chianti should be an expression of sangiovese, the glorious red grape of central Tuscany, sometimes abetted by an indigenous supporting cast of local grapes like canaiolo and colorino. Yet while the current rules require the blend to include 80 to 100 percent sangiovese, that remaining 20 percent can also consist of international grapes like cabernet sauvignon and merlot. Even that small portion can dominate a wine to the detriment of its distinctiveness.

Some changes have been for the better. At one time, Chianti Classico was required to include some white grapes. They are no longer allowed. And, oddly, the wines once could not be made entirely of sangiovese. That, too, is a thing of the past.

At its best, good Chianti Classico is joyous, with bright flavors of cherries and flowers tempered by a welcome earthy, dusty bitterness. Some Chiantis can be surprisingly tannic, which makes them a good partner for fatty meats. The three bottles I’ve selected are made only with the indigenous grapes. They are:

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Credit...Tony Cenicola/The New York Times

Fèlsina Chianti Classico Berardenga 2011 (Polaner Selections, Mount Kisco, N.Y.), about $23.

Fontodi Chianti Classico 2010 (Vinifera Imports, Ronkonkoma, N.Y.), about $35.

Montesecondo Chianti Classico 2011 (Louis/Dressner Selections, New York), about $28.

As is so often the case, these wines will not be available to everybody. As alternatives, I also suggest wines from these producers: Monteraponi (a favorite of mine), Badia a Coltibuono, Riecine, San Giusto a Rentennano, Castellare, Castello di Ama, Castell’in Villa and La Sala.

If you can’t find one of these wines, things may get a bit confusing. Seven other areas in the central Tuscan region are allowed to call themselves Chianti, with another local name attached, like Chianti Rùfina and Chianti Colli Senesi. There is also plain Chianti. All these wines have their charms, but for our purposes we’re looking for Chianti Classico.

Also note that we are looking for plain Chianti Classico, not Chianti Classico Riserva, which is aged longer, or Chianti Classico Gran Selezione, an entirely new classification that supposedly will represent the best of the appellation.

And, if you do happen to find a straw-covered bottle, don’t reflexively reject it. Some quality-minded importers with healthy senses of humor and irony are now specifically asking top producers to bottle a cuvée in fiascoes.

Updated | Oct. 2, 2014

Even more important than the usual description of a wine, the litany of aromas and flavors, is the emotional response it evokes. How does it make you feel?

The answer could be as simple as, “I loved it” or “I hated it.” It could be more complicated, recalling personal experiences: “It reminded me of a wonderful vacation,” or, “I can’t drink that wine, it makes me think of my ex.”

It’s crucial to seek this emotional response. Being open to how a wine makes you feel allows you to begin determining why. It may be just that you like flavors that remind you of cherry. Or it may go much deeper.

Your next assignment: Champagne

Welcome back to Wine School, where we try to peel away the assumptions about wine that so often impede confidence and understanding. Each month we pick a different type of wine to examine together. Over the course of several weeks the goal is to drink the wines in a relaxed, natural setting, with food, friends or family, and to pay attention to the wine itself and how we respond to it. Then we reconvene to discuss our experiences and share thoughts.

The subject is Chianti Classico, a perfect wine for evoking emotions. I say this because my own response to Chianti is so immediate. It’s a wine I love, made primarily from the sangiovese, a grape I love, and emblematic, if such a thing is possible, of the wines of all of Italy, a country I love. Good examples lead to pure joy. Bad ones make me angry. How could they mess up such a good thing?

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Credit...Serge Bloch

Can a wine really express the character of a country? Sure, at least in a very general way. The wines of the Piedmont in the northwest will of course be different from those of Umbria in central Italy and those of Calabria in the southwest, to say nothing of Tuscany, home of Chianti Classico. Why, anywhere in Italy, the wines in one valley can be completely different from the wines in the next. But over all they share some very general characteristics, which Chianti Classico epitomizes.

First of all, Italian reds like Chianti Classico tend to be high in acidity and a trifle austere, which permits them to go beautifully with many foods. In Italy, the notion of drinking wine in a setting without food is vaguely horrifying. Italian wines tend to be subtle, without the powerful, high-volume fruit flavors that can overpower food (Amarone is an exception). And they emphasize harmony and balance: acidity is prominent but rarely shrill, fruit is present but not dominant and the sweetness implied by the fruit is often countered by an inherent bitterness. This for me captures Chianti Classico: gorgeous red cherry-like fruit with a bitter, leathery element; great acidity; and dusty, earthy tannins, all poised on a tightrope, with an internal tension that gives the wines energy.

All of these characteristics are contained within the sangiovese grape, the dominant red grape of central Italy. How they are expressed depends on where the grape is planted, how it is grown and how it is transformed into wine.

Chianti Classico, the heart of the historic Chianti region, is just one of several areas in central Tuscany that are permitted to use the Chianti name. Seven other zones may append a local name onto Chianti, like Chianti Rùfina or Chianti Colli Senesi, while an extensive area is allowed to use the simple term Chianti.

Even within the Chianti Classico region, as one reader, Bill Haydon of Chicago, pointed out, the wines can differ markedly, depending on the soil in which the grapes were grown, the microclimate and a host of other factors. In fact, the three examples of Chianti Classico I suggested, the 2011 Fèlsina Berardenga, the 2011 Montesecondo and the 2010 Fontodi, each come from a different place within the Chianti Classico zone and reflect those differences.

Each of these wines expresses the characteristics of sangiovese without interference from overt winemaking or other grapes. This has not always been the intention of the Chianti Classico region, or at least of the officials who determine what constitutes Chianti Classico. Over the last century they have frequently redefined the blend of grapes permitted to go into the wine. Now, Chianti Classico must be 80 to 100 percent sangiovese. The remaining 20 percent may include indigenous grapes in the sangiovese cohort, like canaiolo and colorino, as well as international grapes like cabernet sauvignon and merlot.

For me, grapes like cabernet and merlot change the character of Chianti. They add weight and solidity while diminishing acidity and tension. At one time, Chianti producers believed they needed to make Chianti Classico more attractive to a perceived international palate. Now, many producers who experimented with international grapes have pulled back, realizing that a worldwide audience prizes Chianti Classico for its distinctiveness, not for how it resembles other wines.

Of these three Chianti Classicos, I found the Montesecondo to be the lightest-bodied, easiest-going and most immediately expressive. Partly this was because the blend included just 80 percent sangiovese, along with 17 percent canaiolo, which contributes lightness, and 3 percent colorino, which, not surprisingly, adds color. For me, this is a classic Chianti, juicy, joyous and utterly refreshing, with pure bitter cherry flavors and a touch of dusty tannins, great with homemade pizza. It may also have been lighter because the grapes were from the cooler San Casciano commune in the northwest of the zone.

The other two were both denser wines, 100 percent sangiovese. The Fèlsina, from the warmer commune of Castelnuovo Berardenga, was riper, darker and more tannic than the two wines, earthy yet still unmistakably Chianti Classico. You could feel the effects of the sun in the wine, which will reward longer aging. The Fontodi, from the commune of Greve, was in the middle, richer, deeper and more structured than the Montesecondo, yet not as tannic as the Fèlsina. It, too, offered a juicy purity and went well with a porterhouse.

Not everybody liked the Fontodi. Dan Barron of New York described the Fèlsina as “electric.” By contrast, the Fontodi “was a puffed up, empty suit letdown.”

I love the immediacy of these descriptions. I don’t mean that they were quick judgments. During Wine School, we’ve seen how wine changes in the glass over time, how it can be transformed by food and even by mood and atmosphere. It requires time to assess. Nonetheless, wine still produces emotional responses even if they change over time, and even if they are arrived at after deliberation.

Most readers seemed to enjoy these wines, especially with food. Many were able to compare several Chianti Classicos. J.K.M. of Washington, D.C., found each of the three recommended wines and noted they were far more similar than different. “However, this close consistency of overall style allowed us to appreciate the subtle differences between them, like variations on a theme.”

Martin Schappeit of Richmond, Va., found the wines hard to describe and concluded, “Chianti Classico can be puzzling and fascinating at the same time, like a game of chess.”

Isn’t that a great thing to say about a wine?

EMAIL: asimov@nytimes.com. And follow Eric Asimov on Twitter: @EricAsimov.

On Flavor and Aroma

As with many Italian red wines, Chianti Classico offers a blend of sweet and bitter flavors. I experience this as a sort of push-pull tension that can make a wine thrilling. How do you perceive it?

On Texture

Good Chianti Classico can display noticeable tannins and acidity. If the wine is in balance, the acidity and tannins create a sense of structure, felt as a lively freshness and shape. Out of balance, the wine can seem sharp and astringent. How do you experience it, and how does it change with exposure to air and food?

Purity

Good sangiovese wines offer a sense of purity that can be hard to define. For me, it’s the notion that nothing mediates between the aromas and the flavors of the fruit itself and their direct impact on my senses and emotions. That is, no evidence of oak barrels or of the winemaking itself. Do any of these wines offer you that experience?

A version of this article appears in print on  , Section D, Page 4 of the New York edition with the headline: Chianti Classico’s Emotional Tug. Order Reprints | Today’s Paper | Subscribe

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