We recently had a bottle of Sangiovese, lovingly bought from a farmer in Le Marche in Italy and exported in a suitcase to the USA. It had travelled a bit in the US before settling down happily in North Carolina two years later.
Sadly during that time it had refermented just a little bit, giving it a very light sparkle. The colour held up well though. There was some volatile acidity, but hidden underneath the fresh red cherries remained. The taste was somewhat masked by the tongue prickling, but after an hour or so in the open the flavour came back and the fermentation effect settled down. It was a shame, as the dry yet cherry-filled core of the wine was still there, but the fresh yeast poo bubbles did dominate, and it took an effort to get past the sensation.
Never mind. We drank the wine with the people who bought it on holiday, and we talked about the characters who made the wine, their family and friends, and how enjoyable the trip to that part of Italy had been. When people talk of terroir, it’s not just the soil and aspect, it’s the stories that make a wine loveable.