Shane Golden | Sicily, from beginners

This time last week I was on my first visit to Sicily. Having completed two thirds of a grand tour by visiting North and Central in a mere 50 years of existence, the south had been ignored but now beckoned. Having now returned from the at once antique, foreign and utterly cosmopolitan city of Palermo I am already making plans for a return.

“What have the Romans ever done for us? And for that matter, the Greeks, The Normans, The Ostrogoths, the Habsburgs (both Spanish and Austrian), the Byzantines or the Arabs?” No Sicilian ever asked. Leaving my hotel, situated in one of the oldest parts of Palermo, my GPS tells me to go west. I pause to consider whether this is meant literally or metaphorically.

There are more UNESCO world heritage sites within a donkey’s roar of my hotel than in the whole of Ireland. Enough history here to make Athens or Istanbul blush.

While any trip to a wine producing country these days is inevitably some form of busman’s holiday for me, the chance to experience its unique offerings meant that the bon vivant in me was bouncing around like a spring lamb. History, after all, is the Mother of great food and wine.

I took the decision to head on the shoulder of the high-season.The crowds weren’t frenetic, the heat tolerable. Apart from the airport, I don't recall eating indoors. Truly, I am one of the great men of the al fresco

Sicily is one of the warmest places in the world to make wine. Syracuse, on the eastern side of the Island recorded Europe's warmest ever temperature very recently. Not coincidentally, it is also the home of a wealth of indigenous grapes. Names that read from an almanac of lost civilisations, Zibibbo, Carijcante, Muscat of Alexandria, Inzolia, Nerello Mascalese, Grillo. Some familiar, many not. These are relics, ancient grapes that have weathered many storms and have adapted themselves for survival. Winemakers the world over now look to these forgotten varieties as a bulwark against our current ecological predicament. It's straight out of the old dog for the hard road school of philosophy.

Zibbibo is flamboyant like a citrus-gilded Viognier, and not easily forgotten. Nerello Mascalese and its associated blends should grab the attention of all red burgundy lovers in need of some fiscal rectitude. By the end of the week though, it's the white Carijcante that dazzles. A varietal previously unknown to me. With an absolute steely raciness that would make an Alsace Riesling seem pudgy, it's hard to fathom that any wine made here can reflect back so coolly. If you’ve been to Sicily before and had a glass of white then chances are you’ve had it in the form of an Etna Bianco. Even here, single varietal expressions of it are relatively rare but with all the zeal of the newly converted, I proclaim this my most favoured white and look down on those still ignorant to its delights.

Climatic and topographical conditions here means that Sicily is at the forefront of Organic farming. In practical terms this means that the majority of the wines are all about expressions of the fruit, the terroir. Very little new oak here. I was routinely impressed by the high standard of offerings even in the most tourist-driven hostelries. Etna’s shadow looms large, literally and metaphorically over wine making on the Eastern side of the Island. High-altitudes in general means that much cooler nights counterpoint the excessive daily heat and Sicily has some of the highest vineyards in Europe. At this confluence of history and geography, I doubt Carijcante would thrive anywhere else. It is in fact a supreme expression of terroir, distilled.