The Hand-Excavated Crus & the Grandparents' Cellar
Azienda Agricola Rosmarinus is a minuscule biodynamic estate in the wild hinterland of western Liguria, perched above the Val Nervia and Val Verbone in the historic heart of the Rossese di Dolceacqua DOCG. Run by Marco Blancardi and his wife Francesca, the estate was born from a labour of love: in the mid-1990s, Marco began excavating overgrown, abandoned terrain by hand, reviving olive groves and Mediterranean herbs that had lain fallow for decades. In 2005 he planted the Alpicella vineyard; in 2009 he added Posau, with vines over ninety years old. Today Rosmarinus cultivates only 1.5 hectares of Rossese di Dolceacqua across two single-vineyard crus — Alpicella at 500 metres on limestone, and Posau at 200 metres on steep, calcareous clay — alongside 1.5 hectares of Taggiasca olives, beehives, and aromatic herbs. Everything happens exactly as it did in the cellars of their grandparents: spontaneous fermentation, indigenous yeasts, no temperature control, fifteen days on skins, twelve months in steel, no additives except a little sulphur, neither fined nor filtered. Two wines. A few hundred cases. An argument for devotion over scale.
Marco Blancardi & the Hand-Dug Hillside
The story of Azienda Agricola Rosmarinus begins not with inheritance but with excavation. In the mid-1990s, Marco Blancardi — the estate's founder and vigneron — began digging, by hand, into overgrown terrain in the hinterland of western Liguria, in the province of Imperia, near the village of Perinaldo. The land had been lying fallow for decades, swallowed by scrub and bramble, forgotten by an agricultural economy that had turned toward tourism and construction. Marco did not inherit a vineyard; he carved one from wilderness. With manual labour and patience, he resuscitated ancient olive groves and typical Mediterranean herbs — rosemary, thyme, lavender — from undergrowth that had concealed them for a generation. The name Rosmarinus — Latin for rosemary — honours the first plants that emerged from his work, aromatic and resilient, symbols of the estate's philosophy.
In 2005, the project expanded to include the first vineyard: Alpicella. A second vineyard, Posau, was added in 2009 — a parcel of extraordinary historical value, with vines over ninety years old that had survived the abandonment and were waiting for hands that understood their worth. Marco was joined in this work by his wife Francesca, and together they built a small family-run farm — azienda a conduzione familiare — that would become one of the most precise and devoted expressions of Rossese di Dolceacqua in Liguria. Their approach from the beginning was biodynamic and organic: no synthetic chemicals, no herbicides, no industrial fertilisers. Soil fertility is maintained using humus obtained from the composting of pruning canes and vineyard waste — a closed loop that returns to the earth what the earth has given.
The estate is not merely a winery. Viticulture and olive growing are the principal activities, but on a limited scale apiculture and the cultivation of aromatic herbs are also carried out for the production of essential oils. Pear, lemon, and tangerine trees grow among the vines at Posau, alongside roses and wildflowers. This is polyculture as agriculture and as philosophy: the vineyard is not an isolated monoculture but part of a living landscape where bees, herbs, fruit trees, and vines coexist. The Blancardis convey, through their work and their presence, a passion and respect for the environment that is visible in every detail of the farm — from the dry-stone walls that terrace the slopes to the wild herbs that grow between the rows.
The cellar practices are equally rooted in tradition. "At Rosmarinus," Marco says, "everything happens exactly as it did in the cellars of our grandparents." The phrase is not nostalgic; it is a statement of method. Fermentation is spontaneous, carried out only by indigenous yeasts, without temperature control. The juice macerates on the skins for about fifteen days. After racking, the wines age in stainless steel for twelve months. No additives are used except a minimal quantity of sulphur dioxide. The wines are neither fined nor filtered. The result is not merely natural wine but ancestral wine — wine that tastes of the place and the past, made by hands that have touched every vine and every bottle.
"At Rosmarinus, everything happens exactly as it did in the cellars of our grandparents."
— Marco Blancardi
Perinaldo & the Val Nervia
Perinaldo sits at the top of the Val Nervia and the Val Verbone, in the historic production zone of Rossese di Dolceacqua — one of Liguria's most distinctive and ancient appellations. It is a village of stone houses, narrow alleys, and panoramic views that stretch from the Maritime Alps to the Mediterranean, which lies only a few kilometres to the south but feels, in the wild hinterland, like a distant, moderating presence rather than a dominant force. The landscape is steep, inaccessible, and profoundly Ligurian: terraces held by dry-stone walls, olive groves clinging to slopes, and vineyards that must be worked entirely by hand because no machine could navigate the inclines.
The Rosmarinus vineyards are located in this internal, inaccessible territory — an entroterra selvatico that benefits from the influence of the sea despite its elevation. The soil is calcareous — limestone-rich, with patches of clay — giving a strong mineral influence to the wines while leaving a very elegant imprint. The two crus express distinct elevations and exposures. Alpicella sits at 500 metres above sea level on limestone soil, planted in 2005 across 1.2 hectares. The higher altitude gives the wine its fragrance, its delicacy, and its lifted aromatic profile — fresh red fruit, roses, violets, and a cool, almost alpine freshness that balances the Mediterranean sun. Posau sits at 200 metres on a very steep site that is difficult to manage, with 0.3 hectares of vines over ninety years old on calcareous clay. The lower elevation, the old vines, and the steep exposure give the wine a darker, softer, more complex character — wild berries, roses, pepper, and a lingering montage of smooth, spicy flavours.
The climate is Mediterranean, moderated by the proximity of the sea and the ventilation that moves up the valleys from the coast. The calcareous soils provide excellent drainage, forcing the vines to struggle and concentrate their energy in small berries with thick skins. The old vines at Posau, with their deep root systems, access moisture and minerals that younger, more superficial plantings cannot reach, producing grapes of unusual intensity and natural balance. The result is not merely sustainable agriculture but a form of heroic viticulture that has defined the Ligurian coast for millennia — terraces carved into stone, worked by hand, producing wines that could come from nowhere else.
Viticulture is biodynamic and certified organic. No synthetic pesticides, herbicides, or fertilisers are used. The soil is worked manually; cover crops and wildflowers grow between the rows, supporting beneficial insects and microbial life. The ancient olive trees — 1.5 hectares of Taggiasca cultivar — are preserved as part of the polycultural ecosystem, providing not only olive oil but shade, biodiversity, and a visual connection to the agricultural history of the region. The beehives contribute pollination and honey. The aromatic herbs — rosemary, thyme, lavender — are cultivated for essential oils, filling the air around the vineyard with the scent of the garrigue. This is agriculture as landscape preservation, as environmental restoration, and as cultural continuity. The Blancardis are not merely making wine; they are maintaining a way of life that was nearly lost to abandonment and forgetting.
Azienda Agricola Rosmarinus is located in Perinaldo, province of Imperia, at the top of the Val Nervia and Val Verbone in the historic Rossese di Dolceacqua zone. The estate was born in the mid-1990s when Marco Blancardi began hand-excavating overgrown terrain. Olive groves and Mediterranean herbs were resuscitated from undergrowth fallow for decades. In 2005 the Alpicella vineyard was planted; in 2009 the Posau vineyard — with 90+ year old vines — was added. Today the farm is run by Marco and his wife Francesca as a small family operation cultivating vines, olives, herbs, bees, and fruit trees.
The vineyards sit in inaccessible internal territory that benefits from the influence of the sea despite their elevation. The soil is calcareous — limestone-rich with clay patches — giving a strong mineral influence and an elegant imprint to the wines. Alpicella at 500m on limestone produces fragrance and delicacy. Posau at 200m on steep calcareous clay with 90+ year old vines produces darker, more complex, softer wines. The calcareous soils force vines to struggle, concentrating energy in small berries with thick skins. A terroir of stone, altitude, and maritime memory.
Certified organic and biodynamic in practice. No synthetic pesticides, herbicides, or fertilisers. Soil worked manually; humus obtained from composting pruning canes maintains fertility. Cover crops and wildflowers encouraged. 1.5 hectares of Taggiasca olive trees preserved. Beehives for pollination and honey. Aromatic herbs — rosemary, thyme, lavender — cultivated for essential oils. Pear, lemon, and tangerine trees grow among the vines at Posau. The vineyard is part of a living polycultural landscape, not an isolated monoculture. Agriculture as environmental restoration and cultural continuity.
Alpicella: 1.2 hectares at 500m altitude on limestone, planted 2005. Produces 200–300 cases annually. The higher altitude gives fragrance, delicacy, fresh red fruit, roses, violets, and cool alpine freshness. Posau: 0.3 hectares at 200m on very steep calcareous clay, with vines over 90 years old, added 2009. Produces 50–100 cases annually. The old vines and lower elevation give darker, softer, more complex wines with wild berries, roses, pepper, and lingering spice. Two expressions of the same variety, the same village, and the same family — separated by 300 metres of altitude and 90 years of vine age.
Spontaneous Fermentation & the Steel Rest
The winemaking philosophy at Azienda Agricola Rosmarinus is governed by a single, unbreakable rule: the wine must be made as the grandparents made it. This is not a marketing narrative but a technical protocol that shapes every decision in the cellar. After manual harvesting — 100% by hand, with sorting in the vineyard to ensure that only healthy, ripe clusters reach the winery — the grapes are transported in small containers to preserve their integrity. Fermentation occurs spontaneously, without inoculation, without temperature control, and without the safety nets that modern oenology provides. The yeasts that transform the sugars into alcohol are the same yeasts that live on the grape skins and in the vineyard environment — a microbial biodiversity that is the biological fingerprint of the Perinaldo terroir.
The maceration lasts approximately fifteen days — long enough to extract colour, tannin, and aromatic compounds from the Rossese skins, but not so long as to strip away the variety's natural delicacy. Rossese di Dolceacqua is a sensitive grape, related to the Provençal Tibouren, capable of producing wines of extraordinary transparency and perfume when handled gently, but prone to astringency and oxidation when pushed too hard. Marco's fifteen-day protocol, learned from the ancestral practice of the region, finds the equilibrium between extraction and elegance. Pumpovers are gentle and infrequent; the cap is managed by hand. The fermentation proceeds at its own pace, preserving the delicate floral and red-fruit aromatics that define the variety.
After racking, the wines are transferred to stainless steel tanks, where they age for twelve months. There is no oak — no barriques, no tonneaux, no casks. Steel is chosen not for economy but for neutrality: it allows the wine to evolve without the aromatic intrusion of wood, preserving the pure expression of calcareous soil, old vines, and sea-influenced climate. The steel also provides a hermetic environment that protects the wine from oxidation while allowing the slow integration of tannins and the settling of natural sediments. No batonnage is performed; the wines rest undisturbed on their fine lees, gaining texture and complexity through time rather than through manipulation.
The finishing practices are as restrained as the fermentation. No additives are used except a minimal quantity of sulphur dioxide — a homeopathic dose that protects the wine during bottling without altering its character. There is no filtration, which would strip away the natural textures, the microbial life, and the subtle phenolic compounds that give the wines their energy and their capacity to evolve in bottle. There is no fining with animal products or chemical agents; the wines clarify naturally through decantation and time. Bottling is done by gravity, according to the lunar calendar, with the wine racked once beforehand to separate it from the coarse lees. The result is a portfolio of just two wines — Alpicella and Posau — that are unmistakably Rossese, unmistakably Perinaldo, and unmistakably made by hands that have touched every vine and every bottle.
The Grandparents' Cellar & the Ancestral Method
The phrase "everything happens exactly as it did in the cellars of our grandparents" is the foundational philosophy of Rosmarinus — not nostalgia but methodology. It means spontaneous fermentation with indigenous yeasts, not because it is trendy but because it is the only way the wine can taste of its place. It means no temperature control, because the cellar breathes and the seasons turn, and the wine must find its own rhythm. It means fifteen days on skins because that is what the grape and the soil demand, not because a consultant prescribed it. It means steel, not oak, because the grandparents did not have barriques and their wine was cleaner for it. It means no filtration, because filtering would remove the very life that makes natural wine compelling. The grandparents' cellar was not primitive; it was precise — adapted over generations to the specific conditions of Perinaldo, Rossese, and calcareous soil. Marco and Francesca Blancardi have not invented a new method; they have refused to abandon an old one. In an age of industrial wine production and technological intervention, Rosmarinus stands as a living museum of ancestral practice — and a proof that the old ways, when executed with devotion, produce wines of extraordinary purity and distinction.
The Portfolio & the Two Crus
Azienda Agricola Rosmarinus produces exclusively Rossese di Dolceacqua — a single variety, from two single-vineyard crus, in quantities so small that each bottle is effectively a limited edition. Total annual production ranges from 250 to 400 cases, depending on the vintage and the conditions of the old vines at Posau. All fruit is hand-harvested from biodynamically farmed, certified organic vineyards, fermented spontaneously with indigenous yeasts, macerated for approximately fifteen days, aged for twelve months in stainless steel, and bottled without filtration or fining. Only a minimal quantity of sulphur is added. The result is two distinct expressions of the same grape, the same village, and the same philosophy — separated by 300 metres of altitude and ninety years of vine age.
"At Rosmarinus, everything happens exactly as it did in the cellars of our grandparents."
— Marco Blancardi
The Excavator & the Ancestral Purist
To understand Azienda Agricola Rosmarinus, one must understand the concept of the excavator — a viticultural identity that is almost impossible to sustain in an era of inherited estates, purchased vineyards, and speculative land investment. Marco Blancardi did not buy a ready-made winery; he dug one from the wilderness. In the mid-1990s, he began hand-excavating overgrown terrain in the Ligurian hinterland — clearing bramble, rebuilding dry-stone walls, resuscitating olive trees that had been abandoned for decades, and planting vines on land that had forgotten agriculture. This is not romanticism; it is a form of physical labour that breaks the body and builds the soul. The excavator is not a gentleman farmer; he is a manual worker who happens to make wine of extraordinary refinement. Every vine at Rosmarinus has been touched by Marco's hands. Every olive tree was cleared by his machete. Every stone wall was rebuilt by his fingers. The wine tastes of this labour — not because the labour is added to the wine, but because the labour is the foundation of everything the wine is.
The ancestral purist identity that Marco and Francesca embody is equally central. They do not seek innovation; they seek continuity. The cellar practices — spontaneous fermentation, indigenous yeasts, no temperature control, fifteen days on skins, twelve months in steel, no filtration, no fining — are not chosen because they are natural-wine trends but because they are the methods of the grandparents, refined over generations to suit the specific conditions of Perinaldo, Rossese, and calcareous soil. The ancestral purist does not reject modernity out of ideology; he rejects it out of experience, knowing that the old ways, when executed with devotion, produce wines of a purity and distinction that technology cannot replicate. The result is not a museum piece but a living tradition — wine that tastes of the past because it is made in the present with the methods of the past.
The future of Azienda Agricola Rosmarinus is tied to the deepening of Marco and Francesca's relationship with their two crus — the continued biodynamic cultivation of Alpicella and Posau, the preservation of the ninety-year-old vines, the refinement of their ancestral cellar practices, and the strengthening of their position in the natural wine markets of Italy, Europe, and beyond. The estate will remain minuscule, family-run, and defiantly focused — only Rossese, only two vineyards, only a few hundred cases a year. The Alpicella will continue to express the high-altitude fragrance and delicacy of 500-metre limestone. The Posau will continue to demonstrate what ninety-year-old vines on steep calcareous clay can achieve. And the olive oil, the honey, and the aromatic essences will continue to remind those who visit that Rosmarinus is not merely a winery but a farm — a living organism of vines, trees, bees, herbs, and human hands.
In an age of industrial wine production, of chemical agriculture and homogenised taste, Azienda Agricola Rosmarinus stands as a compelling alternative — not because it rejects Liguria but because it has embraced a different Liguria, one that values hand labour over mechanisation, old vines over new plantings, biodynamic farming over chemical convenience, spontaneous fermentation over laboratory inoculation, steel over oak, ancestral methods over technological intervention, and the specific voice of Perinaldo's calcareous hills over the standardised replication of a global style. Marco and Francesca Blancardi are not merely making wine; they are excavating a landscape — a 1.5-hectare argument for the possibility of agriculture as physical devotion, of terroir as ancestral memory, and of the wild Ligurian hinterland as a place capable of producing wines that are as pure, as precise, and as unforgettable as the rosemary that gave the estate its name. The mid-1990s excavation, the 2005 Alpicella planting, the 2009 Posau acquisition, the ninety-year-old vines, the grandparents' cellar, the biodynamic practice, the two crus, and the name that has meant ancestral Rossese for two decades: all united in one bottle, one estate, one unanswerable argument for the possibility of authentic, place-specific, heritage-rooted, hand-excavated artisan wine at the top of the Val Nervia.
Marco Blancardi did not buy a ready-made winery; he dug one from the wilderness. In the mid-1990s, he began hand-excavating overgrown terrain in the Ligurian hinterland — clearing bramble, rebuilding dry-stone walls, resuscitating olive trees abandoned for decades, and planting vines on land that had forgotten agriculture. This is not romanticism but physical labour that breaks the body and builds the soul. Every vine has been touched by Marco's hands. Every stone wall was rebuilt by his fingers. The excavator is not a gentleman farmer; he is a manual worker who makes wine of extraordinary refinement. The wine tastes of this labour because the labour is the foundation of everything the wine is.
Marco and Francesca do not seek innovation; they seek continuity. Spontaneous fermentation, indigenous yeasts, no temperature control, fifteen days on skins, twelve months in steel, no filtration, no fining — these are not natural-wine trends but the methods of the grandparents, refined over generations for Perinaldo, Rossese, and calcareous soil. The ancestral purist rejects modernity not out of ideology but out of experience, knowing that the old ways produce a purity that technology cannot replicate. The result is not a museum piece but a living tradition — wine that tastes of the past because it is made in the present with the methods of the past. As Marco says: everything happens exactly as it did in the cellars of their grandparents.