The Beauty We Overlook

The ribbon of sinuous hills embracing the southern shores of Lake Garda stretches across two Italian regions and encompasses a surprising number of wine appellations. Perhaps not quite a myriad, but certainly more than one might expect given the compactness of the area and the shared climatic and morphological traits.

For decades, the wines produced in the swath of land between the cities of Verona and Brescia were considered, at best, second-tier. Thankfully, that perception is changing—and rightfully so. A new generation of young, talented, environmentally conscious, terroir-driven producers is reshaping the region’s vinous reputation, echoing movements seen in other parts of the world. Many of them farm organically and favor low-intervention techniques in the cellar. The resulting expressions convey their respective terroirs with clarity and integrity. Reds once dismissed as too light are now praised for their exceptional versatility. The regional rosato rivals its Provençal cousins. The whites carry a lip-smacking mineral edge. What’s not to like?

Of course, not all bottles from the area are this elegant or in tune with their surroundings. A flood of bland, commercial juice still finds its way onto restaurant tables. So yes, the battle to restore the region’s reputation—and its illustrious winemaking legacy, which has roots in Roman times—is far from over. But this renaissance is real, and it's transforming the Basso Garda into one of Italy’s most exciting destinations for characterful wines that overdeliver on quality for the price.

The region’s geological story is just as compelling and dates back to the last Ice Age, when a massive tongue of ice descended from the Alps into the Padana Plain, carving out the deep basin that now holds Lake Garda. As the glacier advanced, it pushed a mix of rock, soil, and debris before it, accumulating it at the end of its course and leaving behind a series of morainic ridges—today’s softly rolling hills.

These varied soils, combined with steady breezes that keep the vines healthy, the moderating effect of Italy’s largest lake, and the dynamic interplay between the cool air from the nearby Alps and the warmth of the plains, create near-perfect growing conditions for grapevines—as well as olive trees and lemon groves. From east to west, the region is home to several DOCs (Bardolino, Custoza, Colli Mantovani, Lugana, San Martino della Battaglia, and Valtenesi), as well as a wide range of grape varieties (Corvina, Garganega, Turbiana, Groppello, among others), adding a layer of nuance and typicity.

Not long ago, I found myself on the shaded porch of a small, family-run winery in a hamlet near the lakeshore town of Bardolino. I’d reluctantly joined a tasting with a handful of tourists—three couples from the UK, Germany, and Sweden. It’s not something I usually do in the region where I grew up. Perhaps because it feels too familiar to spark curiosity. Still, I’m glad I did.

The cellar and its surrounding vineyard holding are located within the La Rocca subzone, a band of slopes nestled between mountains and water—within the oldest, and therefore most historic, production area, which can append the moniker classico to its labels. It was one of those scorching summer days when temperatures easily crested 100°F, and the idea of ingesting alcohol was far from appealing. Even the hunks of cheese set out alongside the flight were sweating. Yet I’m not one to forgo the pleasure of a glass, even in that kind of heat—so I happily went for it. The local rosso and rosato (known as chiaretto, from chiaro, Italian for “pale”) turned out to be absolutely perfect. With their brisk acidity, low alcohol, and nimble profiles, they delivered a burst of flavor while maintaining a light touch on the palate—leaving you eager for the next sip, pleasantly confirming that wines of character and distinction are being produced here. They were precise, expressive, rooted, and quietly captured the essence of their place without trying too hard to impress.

During the presentation, my attention drifted to a hoopoe—a beautiful bird with a zebra-striped crest (Google it, if you’re unfamiliar)—flying methodically over the vines, from woodland to olive grove and back again, its wings beating with a rhythmic, almost hypnotic flutter. My momentary distraction, though perhaps perceived as impolite, ultimately sharpened my awareness of the quiet richness of this often-overlooked region.

The view before me was nothing short of breathtaking—a quintessential image of gently sloping vineyards framed by distant ridgelines, silvery olive trees, wooded patches, and the shimmering blue of Lake Garda. In recent years, I’ve frantically traveled across Europe in search of exceptional bottles and places—from Burgundy to the Northern Rhône, from Alsace to Barolo, from Austria to Montalcino—trying to quench an apparently insatiable thirst for beauty.

But perhaps—and yes, this may sound like a cliché—beauty is right here, hidden in plain sight, waiting to be noticed rather than taken for granted. This moment turned into an unexpected, somewhat introspective exercise, one that encouraged me to slow down, look more deeply, sip more deliberately.
So I’ve decided: this will be the summer of rediscovery—of looking closer at the familiar, and finding wonder where I least expected it.