The Export Manager, the Lost Grape & the Daughter Who Wants to Struggle
In 2000, after thirty years selling Abruzzo's wine to the world, Riccardo Tiberio quit his job for an abandoned vineyard of true Trebbiano Abruzzese — vines nearly a century old, ungrafted on sand, kept alive by a wind that never stops. His daughter Cristiana, who walked away from a PhD in photochemistry to work with Selosse, Joly and Egon Müller, now makes the wines: no clones, no certification, no irrigation, no press — just free-run juice, her own indigenous yeasts, and stainless steel chosen for one reason — it keeps the brilliance of the terroir.
Origin — 2000, the Thirty-Year Career & the Vineyard That Changed Everything
The story of Azienda Agricola Tiberio rings more like a New World tale than an Old World one. Riccardo Tiberio spent roughly thirty years as export manager for a well-known regional cantina — a man who knew exactly what Abruzzo's native grapes could offer and exactly how far short of that potential the region's wines were falling. Somewhere in those years, he formed a conviction: the problem was not the grapes. The problem was that the true grapes had all but disappeared — above all Trebbiano Abruzzese, the large-berried, thin-skinned, maddeningly brilliant indigenous variety, which had been quietly ripped out and replaced across the region by easier varieties that merely looked similar.
In 2000, near the hillside town of Cugnoli, inland from Pescara, Riccardo found it: an abandoned plot of Trebbiano Abruzzese, vines around sixty years old then, growing ungrafted in sand on a site with canyons to the south and west — a wind tunnel that had kept the vines alive by clearing the humidity that destroys thin-skinned varieties. He quit his job and bought the 8-hectare old-vine plot, along with 31 hectares of surrounding land that had never suffered industrial farming. The vineyard was so neglected it took five years of pruning and cleaning before it produced grapes; the first vintage was released in 2004, and the wine world took notice immediately.
Riccardo planted the new land with the region's own varieties — Montepulciano, Trebbiano Abruzzese and Aglianico, plus Pecorino and Moscato di Castiglione propagated from ancient vines in the area. Small experimental plots of international varieties were tried, then quietly ripped out and replanted to Trebbiano Abruzzese and Pecorino once his children took over. The point had been made: this place, these grapes.
In 2008, Riccardo handed the reins to his children — Cristiana, winemaker, and Antonio, agronomist. Cristiana's path to the cellar was anything but direct: a chemistry graduate who drifted into a PhD in photochemistry before abandoning it for the "infinity world" of wine she had fallen for as a teenager over her father's Bruno Giacosa bottles. She trained with Jacques Selosse in Champagne, Nicolas Joly at Coulée de Serrant, Egon Müller in the Mosel, leading names in Chablis, and in Australia's Clare Valley. By 2011 she was solely responsible for the wines. From an export manager's intuition to one of the most compelling winemakers in Italy, in a single generation.
The Place — Cugnoli, the Sandy Cradle & the Two Soils, Two Yeasts
Tiberio farms 30 hectares of vines — all in one contiguous parcel — at around 350 metres of altitude near Cugnoli, in an uncontaminated landscape of woodland, alfalfa and wheat fields between the Adriatic and the Maiella and Gran Sasso massifs. Sea breeze and cold mountain currents meet over the vines, stretching the season and sharpening acidity. The vineyards, planted on calcareous, mixed limestone and clay soils, range from 25 to 90+ years old — and the Trebbiano Abruzzese vines are among the oldest in Abruzzo. The estate champions biodiversity above all: a healthy, living farm is treated as the first ingredient of great wine.
Two Soils, Two Vineyards, Two Yeast Populations
Cristiana mapped the estate and found two distinct soil zones: a sandy subsoil where the vines are more than 90 years old and grow ungrafted — phylloxera cannot live in sand — and the rest of the vineyard on marl and clay, where the vines are around 75–80 years old and planted on rootstock. Remarkably, the indigenous yeast populations of the two zones are different too — and those native yeasts, not bought ones, ferment every Tiberio wine. The house style begins in microbiology most estates never investigate.
Massal Selection — No Clones, Ever
Every Tiberio vine comes from massal selection — cuttings from the estate's own old vines or from historic local vineyards. Cristiana is blunt about why: nursery clones are bred to be planted anywhere, sacrificing anything native in the name of disease resistance and yield. Massal vines, grown from cuttings of vines that learned this place over a century, cope better in difficult vintages. When the family found just seven old Pecorino vines hiding in the old vineyard, they propagated them into today's plantings. Vines are never ripped out wholesale — replanting happens vine by vine, only when necessary.
Organic — But Deliberately Uncertified
The estate farms organically — no fertilizer, no irrigation, cover crops and grasses growing freely between the rows and under the pergolas — and is well secluded from neighbouring farms, so nothing contaminates the site. They trialled biodynamics and stepped away from the preparations, unwilling to add any outside input that is not respectful of the terroir. But they hold no certification, and Cristiana is emphatic about why: the same certificate can hang on the wall of a devoted small grower and a borderline-industrial producer. Certification, she argues, "certifies our attitude and we stay lazy." She prefers to keep struggling.
Pergola or Guyot? Yes.
Where most estates treat training systems as heritage or fashion, Cristiana treats them as instruments. The ancient Trebbiano vines for Fonte Canale stay under traditional pergola — wide-spaced, two vines per post — where the canopy aids ripening of thin-skinned fruit. But she has no dogma: Pecorino is guyot-trained because the variety grows vertically and pergola would force it into an unnatural shape; Montepulciano is mostly guyot too, since pergola's shade risks rustic, under-ripe tannins. Tradition, here, is a toolbox — not a cage.
Winemaking — Free-Run Only, Wild Yeast Only, Steel for Brilliance
The white wines and the Cerasuolo at Tiberio are made from free-run juice only — the grapes are never pressed. Cristiana's reasoning is uncompromising: pressing extracts phenolics and bitterness that obscure the purest expression of fruit, vintage and terroir. What flows freely from the berries is the wine; what must be squeezed out is not. It is a quiet, radical austerity that very few estates anywhere practice across an entire range.
Fermentation is with indigenous yeasts only — since 2012, no exceptions — with minimal temperature control, and the whites and rosato are raised entirely in stainless steel. Cristiana's defence of steel is famous in its directness: she does not want oak barrels covering up unripeness in the grapes; ripe grapes should not need oak treatment. Stainless steel, for her, keeps the brilliance of the terroir — nothing added, nothing softened, nothing disguised. The single exception in the range is deliberate and diagnostic: the old-vine red Archivio, whose particular grape biotypes she found need oxygen during fermentation, gets 30% old oak — the rest remains steel. Even the exception is an experiment with a stated hypothesis.
The chemistry does the rest. At Fonte Canale, the site and variety deliver wines of 12–12.5% alcohol and a naturally low pH — the 2018 clocked an almost unbelievable 2.7 — so malolactic fermentation is blocked by acidity alone, and the site's indigenous yeasts ferment cool (rarely above 23°C) with little reduction, needing almost no racking. The wines are unfined and unfiltered, with sulphur only at bottling. Reds complete malolactic; whites hold their malic snap — a spine of taut, flavourful acid that carries the wines for decades.
Her summary of the whole philosophy is disarmingly simple: "You can only truly make a wine with the greatest expression of the place if you have lived there and really understand the climate and sense of the place." The cellar work is deliberately minimal because the vineyard work is deliberately total. The struggle is the point.
The Wines — From Free-Run Steel to the Ungrafted Fonte Canale
The Tiberio range is compact, precise and entirely estate-grown: Trebbiano Abruzzese, Pecorino and Montepulciano — the varieties historically native to these mountains — farmed without fertilizer or irrigation, fermented wild, bottled unfined and unfiltered with sulphur only at bottling. Entry-level cuvées are pure free-run juice in stainless steel; the single-vineyard wines map the estate's extraordinary old vines. Praise has come from Eric Asimov, Antonio Galloni and Ian d'Agata alike — and from the natural wine scene Cristiana's hands-off approach has made her a darling of, even as her wines win the scores the scene usually ignores.
Tiberio Trebbiano d'Abruzzo
White — Cugnoli, PescaraThe entry-level Trebbiano — if a wine from 75-year-old pergola vines can be called entry-level. From three hectares of old vines grafted onto the estate's massal material, made with free-run juice only, fermented wild and raised in stainless steel. Light honey and stone fruit on the nose; dry, lean, minerally and saline on the palate, with a long, leesy finish. It is, simply, what Trebbiano Abruzzese tastes like when the grape is the real one and the farming is honest — a benchmark for the entire denomination. Wild yeast, unfined, unfiltered, minimal sulphur.
Tiberio "Fonte Canale" Trebbiano d'Abruzzo
Single Vineyard White — Cugnoli, PescaraThe estate's most sought-after wine — pure Trebbiano Abruzzese from 736 ungrafted vines, around 95 years old, spread across roughly two hectares of sandy soils where phylloxera cannot survive. First made in 2012, after the long-neglected parcel recovered from five years of restoration. The site is a natural winemaker: its indigenous yeasts ferment cool (max ~23°C), the wine needs no racking and shows little reduction, and malolactic is blocked by acidity alone — the 2018 has a pH of just 2.7. Modest alcohol (12–12.5%), taut flavourful acid, and a saline, almost electric finish. It has been on the list of Osteria Francescana since its first release — and the old vines make it nearly vintage-proof. Extremely limited. Stainless steel only.
Tiberio Pecorino Colline Pescaresi
White — Cugnoli, PescaraFrom a 3.8-hectare plot planted in 2001, guyot-trained — among the oldest Pecorino vines in the region, propagated from the seven ancient vines the family discovered in the old vineyard. Free-run juice only, wild ferment, stainless steel. Cristiana's Pecorino is a quiet polemic: the variety is indigenous to the mountains, so mountain Pecorino shows dried stone fruit, sage, flint and peppery minerality — not the tropical fruit of warm, lowland plantings. It ages astonishingly; a 2006 tasted nearly two decades on was vibrant, taut and young. Minimal sulphur. Unfiltered.
Tiberio "Quarmarì" Pecorino
Single Vineyard White — Cugnoli, PescaraThe estate's newest single-vineyard wine, first released from the 2023 vintage — a Pecorino of even greater definition from a selected site, named after the family's late dog, Quarmarì. More exotic and concentrated than the Colline Pescaresi — apricot, peach and mango framed by the variety's signature stony minerality — yet still driven by the taut acidity that makes Tiberio's whites age like wines from far more famous regions. A new chapter in the estate's ongoing study of what Pecorino can be when it is truly mountain-grown. Very limited.
Tiberio Cerasuolo d'Abruzzo
Rosato — Cugnoli, PescaraA rosato made with total seriousness: from nine hectares of guyot-trained Montepulciano, free-run juice with no maceration whatsoever, wild ferment, stainless steel only. The result is perfumed, bright and intensely mineral — wild strawberry, rose petal, blood orange and a flinty, mouthwatering acidity — yet structured enough to age beautifully: the 2018, at five years old, was flinty, savory and complex, a rosé that demands bottle age rather than shrugging it off. In a region that drinks Cerasuolo by the carafe, this is the argument for Cerasuolo as fine wine. Minimal sulphur. Unfiltered.
Tiberio "Colle Vota" Montepulciano d'Abruzzo
Single Vineyard Red — Cugnoli, PescaraOne of the estate's two single-vineyard Montepulciano expressions — the more fragrant and immediately giving of the pair. Wild ferment, stainless steel élevage, the variety's rustic edges polished by guyot farming and low yields rather than oak. Dark cherry, violet, sweet spice and dried herbs over a chalky mineral frame; the 2018 showed an almost lapsang-souchong tea-leaf savouriness, the 2020 rich black fruit and nutmeg. With age: leather, undergrowth, supple tannin — a mountain red of real architecture. Wild yeast, minimal sulphur.
Tiberio "Archivio" Montepulciano d'Abruzzo
Single Vineyard Red — Cugnoli, PescaraThe estate's firmer, fuller-bodied flagship red — first vintage 2017 — from a 56-year-old pergola-trained vineyard whose Montepulciano biotypes Cristiana found behave differently in the cellar: they need oxygen during fermentation. Her solution, reached through experimentation, is the range's only concession to wood — 30% old oak fermentation and ageing, the rest stainless steel — which brings out what she calls the brilliance of these grapes. Powerful, compact and savoury — bramble fruit, incense, drying tannins over a line of mouthwatering acidity — it is a Montepulciano built for decades, and the clearest demonstration that at Tiberio even oak is a scalpel, never a crutch. Extremely limited.
Legacy — The Estate That Proved the Grape Was Never the Problem
Tiberio's legacy is, first, varietal. When Riccardo Tiberio bought the abandoned vineyard in 2000, "Trebbiano d'Abruzzo" on a label usually meant anything but Trebbiano Abruzzese — the true variety had been supplanted across the region by lookalikes farmed for yield and sugar. By rescuing nearly a century of ungrafted vines and propagating them by massal selection, the family built a living archive of the real grape — and the wines proved the point: Trebbiano Abruzzese, farmed seriously, is one of Italy's great white varieties, capable of pH 2.7, decades of ageing, and a place on the list of the world's best restaurant.
The legacy is philosophical. Cristiana Tiberio has become one of the most articulate and influential voices in the natural-leaning wing of Italian wine — not through manifestos but through method: no clones, no certification, no fertilizer, no irrigation, no press, no bought yeast, no oak except where experiment justifies it. Her refusal of organic certification — because it "certifies our attitude and we stay lazy" — is one of the most quoted positions in contemporary wine discourse, a standing challenge to an industry that increasingly outsources its ethics to auditors. I want to struggle is not a slogan; it is a quality-control system.
The legacy is oenological. The estate demonstrated that stainless steel, used with intent, is not the industrial default but the purest amplifier of terroir — and conversely that refusing oak can be a more radical position than embracing amphora. The free-run-only rule, the two-soils/two-yeasts microbiology, the vine-by-vine replanting, the 30%-oak experiment of Archivio with its stated hypothesis: Tiberio runs its cellar like a research program with a control group, which is precisely what a scientist-turned-winemaker would do.
And the legacy is generational and regional. Alongside the neighbouring legends of Loreto Aprutino, De Fermo and the Valentini estate up the road, Tiberio completes the modern map of Abruzzo's high country — proof that the region's renaissance is not one producer's miracle but a terroir-wide argument, made by a family that chose its site, chose its grapes, and chose to keep struggling. Thirty years of selling Abruzzo's wine taught Riccardo Tiberio what was wrong. Twenty-five years of estate wine have taught the world what was right.