It is not possible to find out how many harvests you will have in front of you, they say no more than fifty.
I believe this is what makes wine special, each bottle, in fact, carries within itself a whole year of life.

This is my first harvest.


The harvest of the year in which I decided to abandon my old life to devote myself to the work that already belonged to my grandfather.

I didn't get to know him, but today I'm lucky enough to work his vineyards. The same ones that he planted, now, 60 years ago.

I started from scratch, and that didn't make things easy. But along the way, I realized that I have many people willing to help and support me. And now, thanks to them too, here is my first bottle.
I decided to produce only Nebbiolo because this is the wine of my family, the vine that has always surrounded my house and makes these hills unique.

My vineyards are very steep and this forces me to do much of the work by hand.
Surely nature is grateful to me, but the efforts are big. At least as much as the passion I put into it.
You will find only 3610 bottles and 33 Magnum of this wine.

When you decide to drink one, have a toast with someone and enjoy every moment.
am sure that, beyond the wine, it will be a unique moment.

We're just in our second year, but it feels like a whole lifetime has flown by already.

Looking back, it's hard to believe we're onto our second bottle. I can still vividly recall last January, when I was out there in the vineyards, no tractor, no cellar, and only a vague notion of what I was getting into. All I had was determination, a burning desire to make it work, and maybe just a touch of madness.

This second year, it's been tough. Way tougher than the first, what with the pandemic and all the investments. A lot of folks have been asking me if I'm still sure about this whole winemaking gig, if I've regretted my decision, if I've finally grasped what it really means to be a winemaker, and if maybe I should've stuck to being an engineer, chilling in an office with the AC blasting.

But you know what? Every time, my answer's the same: no regrets.

Sure, I might be more exhausted, definitely more aware, a bit less emotional, but I'm also more alive and pumped than ever. These five thousand one hundred and fifty bottles of mine? They're living proof of that.

Once upon a time, after a great night out with a young and ambitious girl, I mustered up the courage to ask her out again.
Thankfully, she said yes, and today, all of this is partly thanks to her.
So, what do you say? Will you give me a second chance?

Stefano Occhetti

I've always been a sports fan, especially soccer. Now, I wasn't exactly a superstar player. I was more like your typical midfielder with wonky feet, hustling around on the local neighborhood field, chasing after balls.

But let me tell you, I learned some real life lessons from that gig. One biggie: it ain't about the score or whether you made the perfect pass. It's about giving it your all, right till the final whistle.

This year, just like every game I played, I think I nailed it. I left it all out on the field, especially with the experience I've gained.

See, if the first round was mostly heart and nerves, and the second was about flexing muscles and pumping lungs, this third round was a mix of all that plus a whole lot of smarts.

Loads of smarts to pace myself when I was running low on energy. Loads of smarts to make the most of what I've learned so far and build on my past experiences. Loads of smarts to keep pushing, even when things got tough. As you learn in those dingy, cramped locker rooms on the outskirts of town.

Because midfielders, we know the deal: if we give up, the whole team crumbles. If we lose focus for even a second, if we start coasting and rely on our teammates to do the heavy lifting, we're gonna end up conceding a goal.

But if you keep pushing, maybe one day, after years of sweat and grind, you might just lift that World Cup trophy.

I often tell this story to help me figure out how we got to where we are now. When I decided to become a winemaker, my wife and I were expecting our daughter. She was the second kid, her older brother, just three years older, was already keeping us on our toes.

Imagine how I felt thinking about leaving a steady job to dive into this new, crazy adventure. I felt like I needed to provide for my family, but instead, I was making things more uncertain.

You know, sometimes to make things better, you gotta tear down what's been built. Finding the guts to do that is the hard part.

Funny thing is, it was my family, the very people I felt responsible for, who gave me the push I needed.

So, for two years, my wife kept the bills paid while I tried my hand at winemaking, using whatever savings we had. I kinda got used to the routine, then finally, in 2020, things started happening. We started selling our wine, one batch after another. And that's when we took another big leap. My wife quit her job too, joined me in the cellar, and got her hands dirty alongside me, feeling the excitement and nerves of this journey.

Since then, we've been on this adventure together, just like I always wanted.

Maybe one day, my stories will seem ordinary, and the excitement will fade. But not today. So, enjoy this bottle because today, this wine is a family thing, a decision we made together. Today, this wine is our passion, the thrill that keeps us going. Let it rub off on you.

Writing a new chapter is always a challenge. It would've been way easier, more convenient, and faster to stick with a classic label, no frills. But that wouldn’t have let me share with you those small moments that define our adventure each year.

After all, memories and experiences are as much a part of this wine as the ingredients nature gives me each harvest. This past year wasn't short on memories. Some great, like our first fair where we introduced ourselves to the world. Others, not so much, like the big hailstorm in July that, in the end, this bottle survived. But one memory, deeply personal, captures the spirit of this fifth chapter: our first ski trip together, kids included. A first ski trip where they, despite their fears, dared to go for it. The first ski trip where we all rode the big chairlift together.

I remember that day for the many doubts, the hesitations, and the falls. But I remember it even more for the countless times we got back up, the courage to go higher each time, and their smiles once we reached the bottom. Just as they pushed beyond their limits that day, we've also faced new challenges this year. We've ventured further and taken our wine to places we never imagined.

I don't know what the future holds, but I know we've decided to dare and ride the big chairlift. "Qué será, será", we'll get down one way or another. And in the end, fears will make way for new joys. But enough talk, "annamo a pija er gelato" (let’s go get some ice cream).