Alario Claudio

Diano d’Alba, Piemonte

The vineyards are part of our family: we know them metre by metre; we cultivate them now with the same passion we did on day one, and we work in the cellar with the sole aim of preserving the unique characteristics of each vineyard.

- Claudio Alario

It was not in search of Barolo that I first met Matteo & Claudio. Rather I was researching the best terroirs, examples, and producers of Dolcetto! As luck had it, I found not only a benchmark grower of the former but an ace Nebbiolo tactician too, in the very same cellar: Azienda Agricola Alario Claudio in Diano d’Alba. 

A family-owned estate for three generations, the Alario family went from sharecroppers in La Morra selling fruit to the cooperative to vignerons in their own rite when Matteo’s grandpa Matteo made the bold move to purchase vineyards in Diano d’Alba in 1963 and begin making his own wines. 

Diano d’Alba, one of Barolo’s eleven villages, is perched just north of Castiglione Falletto and the uppermost parcels designated to Serralunga d’Alba. Its soils are the magnificent sandstones venerated in Castiglione Falletto’s most famous vineyards, which are in fact called Arenarie di Diano. But only 20 of Diano’s 303 hectares under vine are planted for Barolo. Most of their land is dedicated to that delightful yet so often sidelined variety, the lil’ sweetie. Diano d’Alba’s 76(!) carefully mapped historical crus (all beginning with the word Sorì, the Piedmont dialect’s word for a sun-drenched slope, but very Canadian-coded to my ear) testify to the unique attention this village has given this underdog grape. And Alario Claudio has come to be known as one of Diano’s very best. 

While Dolcetto has been beloved in Piemonte since at least the 16^th century when it is first attested in writing, not only as a wine grape but as a table grape, the latter explaining its misleading name because its lower acid amplified the perception of sweetness when eaten. But its fate (much like Freisa and Nascetta and Grignolino et al) was to have its sites planted to Nebbiolo instead as prices for Barolo increased. 

So whither Dolcetto in the 21^st century? Always appreciated for being such a precocious ripener, the grape has been relegated to the harshest, north facing slopes where Nebbiolo won’t reliably ripen. And so, for its early arrival to the finish line it is cruelly rewarded with poorest terroir. Well, that might be too kind—it’s also no picnic to farm, as it remains difficult “to grow as its buds are fragile and break easily” and “what’s more, it grows low to the ground, requiring backbreaking vineyard work,” “has poor vigor, and tends to give scrawny vines” and then “close to harvest time, Dolcetto becomes very weather sensitive and excessive swings in maximum and minimum temperature values can cause dissection of the spine” and “prolonged cold snaps cause a physiological blockage that Dolcetto recovers from with difficulty,” yet when it’s too humid it is prone to rot (Ian d’Agata, Native Wine Grapes of Italy, 2014, p.269-270). But all of that standard finnicky grape vine drama is topped by my favourite Dolcetto doldrum: the damn thing is prone to fruit abscission, which is when fully ripened grapes drop to the earth of their own accord the moment a stiff breeze comes along. So nailing down the harvest window for optimal ripeness requires a great deal of experience, observation, and prayerful intuition. So many producers had just put it on their coolest slopes and taken what they can get, then made it as a simple, juicy, cherry-bomb for immediate pleasure when the occasion is not so auguste as to call for a proper Barolo. 

But as farming improved so the fruit improved and as winemaking improved so the wine improved, and so many chopped unc Dolcetti of Piemonte-past have now morphed into genuinely interesting wines. With this change of fortunes in mind, and having had a host of great Dolcetto in the last ten years, I decided to put a ring on it and actually hunt out some benchmark examples. I hit the books to find domaines that had always given Dolcetto pride of place, who’d always said ‘no one puts [sweetie] in a corner!’, who’d always grown it on the triple-A terroirs with southern exposure and proven soils. That research pointed me to Dogliani and Diano d’Alba, the only two D O C Ggggg’s for this grape. In my explorations I found Dogliani to have a low batting average, at least for my palate. In all but the very best examples I often find it over-done, the dense cherry notes of a fully ripened Dolcetto tipping into cough syrup territory, and usually overly reductive, adding insult to injury. 

Moreover, Matteo’s just an extremely fun guy to hang out with too. He has that huge Leo energy, a solid hang, the kind of guy that’s equally relaxed and energetic at once, with a big, reassuring confidence in himself and his juice—in short, the kind of guy you want to drink a lot of wine with. I can’t help but find that same winning energy in every one of his bottles.

Matteo is well into the gradual baton pass from his father Claudio (Matteo in the cellars while his younger brother Francesco steps into the vineyards and agronomy side of the work). Claudio had been the first in the family to attend enology school and in 1988 he began transitioning estate’s winemaking to the pedigree they’re known for today. 

Back in ‘88, the estate was entirely focused on Dolcetto, but Claudio saved and savvily expanded their holdings, row by row, securing Barbera and Nebbiolo and ultimately Barolo sites, first with a purchase in Verduno's Riva Rocca MGA in ‘95, then in the Sorano MGA in Serralunga d'Alba in 2000. And with Matteo & Francesco they’ve continued this conquest with their biggest get yet, buying one hectare in the illustrious Serralunga cru of Cerretta in 2021, their debut 2022 vintage appearing this year.

Meticulous vintage-responsive vineyard work, strictly limiting yields, longstanding relationships with their carefully selected cooperages, extended bottle ageing before release, and an equal commitment to each of their grape varieties—this is the straight forward and tireless hard-working philosophy behind great wines like Alario Claudio. No gimmicks, just a lot of sweat, uncompromising standards, and a true love of wine.

— Joe Gurba, Portfolio Director



If you spend any time in the hills of Diano d’Alba, sooner or later, you hear the name Claudio Alario. Not because he’s chasing fame, but because his wines quietly carry the story of a family that has believed in this land for more than half a century.

The Alario story begins with Claudio’s grandfather, Matteo Alario, a sharecropper in the Langhe who managed vineyards in La Morra, working with Nebbiolo destined for Barolo. In 1963, during a time when many people were leaving the countryside for factory jobs in Alba, Turin, and Milan, Matteo made the opposite choice. He bought vineyards in Diano d’Alba and committed the family’s future to the land.

Claudio grew up among those vines. By the time the late 1980s arrived and international interest in the wines of the Langhe was beginning to rise, he decided it was time for the family to bottle their own story. In 1988, he released the first wines under the Alario Claudio label, focusing on the traditional grapes of the region: Dolcetto, Barbera, and Nebbiolo.

If you talk to Claudio, one thing becomes clear very quickly: he doesn’t think about vineyards as plots on a map. He talks about them almost like family members. He knows them metre by metre,  their soils, their exposures, the way the wind moves across a slope in late September. For him, terroir is the meeting point between nature and the responsibility of the grower.

That philosophy shows most clearly in his work with Dolcetto, the historic grape of Diano d’Alba. While many producers have replaced Dolcetto with Nebbiolo or Barbera, Claudio doubled down on it. Today he produces three single-vineyard Dolcetto di Diano d’Alba, each from a different Sorì - a local term for a hillside with its own personality.

At Sorì Montagrillo, a one-hectare parcel planted in 1990 with south-eastern exposure, sandy marl soils yield wines that feel bright and generous. It is the sort of Dolcetto that seems to capture the warmth of the hillside itself. Higher on the slope lies Sorì Costa Fiore, the estate’s most historic vineyard. Planted in the 1950s and perched at the crest of a natural amphitheatre, the old vines grow in marl-limestone soils touched with clay. Here, the wines gain a different voice, with firmer structure, deeper concentration, and a freshness that hints at surprising longevity. Then there is Sorì Pradurent, the highest site at nearly 450 metres above sea level. Limestone and tufa dominate the soils, and the altitude brings a tension and depth that elevates the Dolcetto into something almost architectural, darker, more layered, and powerful.

Claudio approaches these sites with almost surgical precision. Each wine is vinified separately, because in his view, the purpose of the cellar is not to shape the wine into something new, but to preserve what the vineyard already says.

But the estate doesn’t stop with Dolcetto. Claudio also farms vineyards dedicated to Barbera and Nebbiolo, including sites near Serralunga d’Alba and Verduno, where he produces Nebbiolo d’Alba and Barolo. Working with Nebbiolo is something Claudio approaches with both humility and excitement. He often describes it as a challenge that demands patience, discipline, and respect at every stage of the growing season.

Despite modern equipment in the cellar, the Alario philosophy remains fundamentally traditional. Great wine, Claudio insists, starts in the vineyard. The family manages yields carefully, sometimes sacrificing quantity to ensure concentration and balance. Every wine then rests in the cellar after bottling, allowing the rough edges of youth to soften before it reaches the table.

Today the estate represents three generations of the Alario family, with a fourth already beginning to take part in the work. And if you ask Claudio what success looks like, he doesn’t talk about scores or markets. For him, success is much simpler. It’s opening a bottle somewhere in the world and knowing that inside it, you can taste a specific hillside in Diano d’Alba, and the quiet persistence of a family that never stopped believing in it.

— Sanda Silakaktina, Sales Director AB Mountains