Sicilian Vineyards, Stunning Sunsets and Sublime Wine Tasting With Arianna Occhipinti

It was about the winemakers who made the wine, the destinations that those experiences could take us, and the memories that we created when we were there.

Driving the along the serpentine roads of Sicily has always been an exhilarating adventure. Taking that very same drive in a 1965 Porsche Cabriolet was a transcendent driving experience. It’s a visceral journey through time and space. The highway roads wind through the Sicilian landscape like veins through an artery, feeding the soul of this ancient country with an intoxicating mix of adrenaline and nostalgia. The sun cast its golden glow over the rolling hills as I gripped the wheel with all 10 fingers, my palms flat against the leather. The car felt alive, humming with anger and became an extension of myself. The wind rushed through my hair blowing it violently in the breeze as I carefully took each curve with surgical precision, the roar of the engine harmonizing with the cicadas. It was a dance of man and machine, a ballet of flesh, bone and metal. A testament to the freedom that could only be found on the open road.

I took the Porsche through its paces, clinging to the road as I hugged the highway’s edges, the landscape unfolding before me like a living canvas. Olive groves, vineyards, and the occasional glimpse of the shimmering Mediterranean all zipped by me in seconds, pulsing, ebbing, flowing, fleeting. The Porsche, with its classic lines and undeniable charisma, felt at home here in Sicily. This highway. This classic machine. This country. This was where history and beauty collided in an artistry of a moving painting, or a Giuseppe Tornatore film scene in the rich and luscious countryside. Each twist and turn revealed a new vista, a new story just waiting to be told. Even as I accelerated, I could smell the scent of the sea mingling with the earthy aroma of the land, creating a sensory tapestry that was quintessentially Sicilian. It was intoxicating.

The Sicilian sun beat down mercilessly on the open cabin, but I could hardly give a damn because I was cruising down the old highway with nothing but open road ahead and the inebriating scent of lemon groves filling my nostrils. I downshifted and the engine purred like a satisfied cat being lovingly stroked. I was slightly reckless, taking each turn of the curvy road with precision and cocky familiarity. To my right, the Mediterranean sparkled like a field of sapphires lost in a blur. I was momentarily tempted to pull over and dive in, letting the cooling waters wash over me, tasting the salty surf between my lips. But I resisted the urge, my appointment and destination driving me forward. It was the visceral thrill of man and machine in perfect harmony on this ribbon of asphalt snaking along the Sicilian roadway. The drive, a celebration of life's raw and unfiltered moments. I embraced the chaos and unpredictability of the road, much like the unpredictability of life itself. The Porsche's engine purred contentedly as I pushed it to its limits. The car seemed to enjoy being teased, accelerated and only to be pulled back. It was playful. It was easy. It was a mechanical symphony that echoed the passion and intensity of this rugged landscape. Driving out here, I was exposed to the elements. I was vulnerable, but I was alive.

I transitioned suddenly onto SP68, the landscape shifting dramatically around me. The seaside vistas all receded in my rearview mirror, left far behind me, replaced by rolling hills dotted with ancient olive trees and crumbling stone walls. The road narrowed. I clung onto the speed that the car promised challenging my reflexes and the Porsche's handling in equal measure. The car was forgiving. Its curves sliding along the road, holding me defiantly. Its metal body clinging onto me as hard as I gripped onto it, squeezing firmly, touching gently, my grasp measured but intense. This duality, this intense exchange of trust and support, this my dear readers was where the real magic happened. This was where I discovered what this automotive masterpiece was truly made of, as we danced together through the Sicilian countryside, leading and following, leaving nothing but dust and memories in our wake. Here, amidst the curves of the winding road, the flowing grapevines all waving at me as I passed by, the wind that flowed around me, here was where I found a piece of myself. A connection to the world that was as timeless as the rushing road beneath my rapidly spinning wheels.

The sun-baked hills of Sicily rolled by me like waves of golden wheat, punctuated by gnarled olive trees that have seen more history than I ever will. The road twisted and turned, a serpentine ribbon cutting through vineyards that cling to impossibly steep slopes and ancient hillsides. This was Sicilian wine country, pure and unadulterated, where the vines had been tended by expert winemakers for generations. The air was thick with my anticipation of the afternoon experience to come, or perhaps it was just the heat shimmering off the baking asphalt. Either way, I knew that coming back up the road, I would not be taking the drive in the same exact reckless manner. Driving along the highway in the heart of Sicily on the way to an evening of wine tasting is an amazing way to spend a hot summer day in this part of the country. I took the turns and waves with care and precision as my mind drifted to the promise of what lay ahead of me. Soon, I would be surrounded by weathered oak barrels, their staves swollen with the secrets of vintages tucked away in caves, waiting patiently for their release. The winemaker, will be pouring generous splashes of liquid poetry into my waiting glass. Every sip will tell a story - tales of volcanic soil, of Mediterranean breezes, of traditions older than memory, and of new paths tried and taken. This was an evening of wine tasting and a communion with the very soul of Sicily itself, fermented and bottled for those willing to listen. And believe me, I was all ears.

The roads narrowed as I transversed the rugged terrain with breathtaking views of golden fields stretching out into the horizon on one side and the jagged mountains on the other. The scenic vistas, the absolute splendor and the beauty of Sicily will always take your breath away no matter what direction you turn. It was utterly impossible not to feel a sense of wonder and amazement at the sheer natural beauty that greeted me. The car hummed along the old paved highway, the sounds of the rolling countryside, a low reverberating thunder around me in the open convertible. The warm Sicilian sun kept me in its loving embrace for the the entire journey, but still managed to beat down mercilessly on top of me as I pulled up to Occhipinti Winery, the gravel crunching under my tires like the last dregs of patience being ground out of a hungover line cook. Arianna Occhipinti emerged outside, stepping out into the merciless heat of the day away from the protection of the main building dressed in practical work clothes and a no-bullshit demeanor that immediately would put anyone at ease in s first time meeting. She was a young and creative woman who was making waves in the Italian wine industry with her passion and innovative approach to winemaking. She was also someone who clearly gave zero shits about playing the demure winemaker princess. Winemaking was hard work. It was farming, it was horticulture, it was chemistry and it was labor intensive. And Arianna had mastered all of these with the grace and ingenuity of a master winemaker and winery owner.

With an outstretched hand and a friendly but firm handshake, as well as the traditional kiss on both cheeks, Arianna greeted and welcomed me warmly. She smiled, gesturing broadly at the sun-baked vineyards stretching out around us for as far as I could see through squinting eyes, the blazing sun really making me work to see normally today. This land, this winery was her little corner of viticultural insanity. She turned and ushered me towards the vineyard as we set off on a brief tour of the property. Arianna walked me through the story of her winemaking years with the kind of blunt honesty, dedication and passion that I've found coming from the best chefs and artisans of the craft. She was just a young kid when she began her journey, only sixteen years old when she started working in the wine industry. Twenty-two when she released her first label and became very well known for grown grapes unconventionally by Sicilian standards—she grew her grapes in the biodynamic methodology. In other words, the use of organic farming. Organic farming you say? In Sicily, you say? A woman winemaker, you say? Yes. Sometimes the best way to make a statement and create something all your own is the take a new path, carve it out for yourself and make your mark.

We navigated between rows of gnarled Frappato vines taking in the sprawling views, the lush grapevines providing a badly needed breeze as they slowly swayed up and down as we passed. Arianna paused briefly as we walked, plucked a grape leaf and rubbed it between her fingers. She reminisced that sometimes being the new kid on the block, being full of piss and vinegar, can help change and shape what was long considered tradition. It was through her entrepreneurial actions that helped her be instrumental in putting her mark on Sicilian wine. And in turn, putting that wine on the broader map of winemakers to watch. Sometimes, taking a chance is the right way to go. Turns out, she was right. But holy shit, was it a learning curve. Much like her wine, Arianna herself pulled no punches. We chatted and mused as we gazing out over her property. And she drove a point home like a dominating punch—people always asked her about the struggles of being a female winemaker in a male-dominated industry. But one thing was as clear as the crystal of a wine glass, out here in the Sicilian sun, in-between the vines of the vineyard, in the wine cellar and among her bottles, it was just her and the grapes. And neither of them gave a damn about gender roles. The only thing that she cared about was making incredible Sicilian wine her way, and that is what makes her wine a work of absolute dedication and passion.

We turned around at the stone wall and headed back to the winery for a bit of relief from the baking sun, and maybe a reward of some eagerly awaited libations as well. A welcome relief from the heat. I stepped into the tasting room, wiped the sweat off of my scorched forehead. I was greeted with a wave of familiar welcoming scents and sounds that surrounded and enveloped me, pulling at my taste buds as I inhaled the bouquet of pure magic. The room was filled with the sweet aroma of aged wine. I inhaled deeply, enjoying the flavors that could literally be plucked out of the air as they traveled around me. I felt a boyish tingle of excitement and anticipation flow through me. My expression must given me away because Arianna laughed at my sheepish grin as she walked over to grab the first bottle for us to sample. Just smelling the initial hints of oak and vanilla that were pounding my nostrils made the drive here from Catania definitely worth it.

Arianna poured the first wine for us to taste—the SP68 Bianco. The wine was named after the road that runs by the vineyard, interestingly because sometimes, the most beautiful things come from the most ordinary of places. It was a unique blend of Moscato di Alessandria and Albanello grapes and as luck would have it, was lusciously cold. I eagerly raised the glass of light nectar to my lips taking a sip and let the wine settle across my palate. My mouth was immediately filled with crisp citrus and stone fruit flavors that seemed to grab my tongue and linger as though they had no where else to go. The fragrant aromas of honeysuckle and ripe peaches wafted through the air creating a harmonious symphony of textures and tastes, and the bright acidity and minerality of the wine were a perfect complimentary combination. The delicate sweetness of the Moscato was noticeably balanced by the tartness of the Albanello grape. It was as if a magical harmony was instantly created where the warm Sicilian sun always shined and the grapes were always perfectly ripe. I closed my eyes and savored each sip feeling grateful for the crispness and coldness of the bottle. This SP68 Bianco was a liquid middle finger to conventional winemaking. Arianna was like a Sicilian rebel crafting a wine that was as uncompromising as a New York City restaurant host on a busy Saturday night. The blend of Moscato di Alessandria and Albanello grapes created a flavor profile that made your taste buds perform one double-take after another. From the moment she poured this golden elixir, I knew I was in for one hell a ride through the rest of the tasting. The nose hit me with a bouquet of white flowers and citrus, like walking through an orchard after a summer rain. On the palate, it was a delicate balance of light acidity and gentle tannins, with notes of pink grapefruit, lychee, and fresh herbs that danced across my tongue. It was the kind of wine that makes me wonder why the hell I was wasting my time with boring, cookie-cutter whites all these years. And personally, I didn’t even like white wine. But, I knew instantly that I liked this!

Arianna ran to get the second bottle in our lineup to taste which was a complement to the first bottle we just tried. SP68 Bianco had a sibling, the SP68 Rosso which was a proprietary blend of Nero d'Avola and Frappato grapes. I gently swirled the wine in my glass helping it open up, letting the wine quickly develop as I waited patiently. When the first bit of cherry wafted up to my nose, I raised the glass to my lips and took my first sip of the SP68 Rosso. My taste buds were immediately hit with a vibrant explosion of flavors that seemed almost too big for such a light red wine. This Sicilian red blend was a symphony of ripe cherry, blackberry and a hint of earthy spices. The tannins were just enough to give the wine structure while the acidity provided a pleasant pull that kept me coming back for more. Let's get one thing straight: This wasn’t your nonna's table wine. Instead it is a wild ride through Sicily's sun-baked vineyards, a liquid rebellion against the mundane. It will make your taste buds do a double-take with ever sip, wondering if they've just been slapped or kissed, or maybe both. This uncorked this ruby-hued beauty filled the air with the scent of cherries, violets, and a hint of "fuck you" to conventional winemaking. It's nervy, it's turbid, it's everything my stuffy wine snob cousin would hate – which is precisely why I love it so much.

Now, let's talk cheese. But not just any cheese. Let’s chat about Pecorino Romano – the salty, sheep's milk punch to the face that's been around since toga parties were actually a thing. This pairing was a flavor cage match where both contenders came out swinging. The SP68's Rosso bright acidity and fruit-forward attack met the Pecorino Romano’s salty roundhouse, creating a taste explosion that made me question why I ever bothered with those insipid wine and cheese parties in the past. Even still, here's the kicker—this combo wasn’t about thoughtful contemplation or marveling at complexity. It was about pure, unadulterated pleasure. It's about emptying the bottle before you realized it's gone, and scraping the last crumbs of cheese off the board with your fingers because forks were for suckers. It was an Italian arm gesture to pretension and a bear hug to authenticity. As the afternoon stretched itself into the early evening, we poured glass after glass, cut cheese chunks off the the block, and behaved rather badly, ruining any semblance of the perfect picture of a posh wine pairing.

The Il Frappato was a grape variety that was completely new to me and one that I had never even heard of before. Arianna, being a not so typical winemaker as well as a rebel with a cause, raised the bottle heavy poured this gem with a grin and a hearty laugh, knowing immediately that I would dive into it without hesitation. To say that I was instantly blown away by the elegance and delicacy of this wine would be a complete understatement. Arianna and I discussed the bottle and my complete lack of knowledge with this particular grape. She explained that it was made from 100% Frappato grapes which was a varietal that was well known for its subtlety and nuance. I turned the glass in my hand, looking down at the ground as I swirled it around gentle, its delicate pale ruby hue and fragrant bouquet of cherries, violets and Mediterranean herbs offered a sensorial journey for the inexperienced. On the palate, the Il Frappato was noticeably smooth and graceful with a balanced acidity that brought almost a burst of juicy red fruits and a savory hint of black pepper. The finish was elegant, clean, refreshing and left me wanting a bit more with every sip. It was such a unique pleasure to taste a wine that was so harmonious, so complex and so imbued with a sense of place.

Tasting some reds, you almost expect that they are just going to come in heavy and pile drive your palate with tannins and oak. This wasn't one of those wines. It wasn’t a fruit bomb. It was elegant. It was perfumed. It was light. Arianna continued to pour with a quiet confidence, explaining how she lets the grapes do the talking. With Arianna it was about respecting the wine as if it were a person. She was a renaissance winemaker who gave a shit about the soul of her product, finding the right balance, the right amount of fermentation and patience to let the grape take center stage and shine in every sip. The Frappato seemed to change with every taste I took. It twirled with bright cherries and delicate spices carrying a backbone of minerality that screamed of Sicilian terroir. Arianna paired it with a chunk of ricotta salata, the salty cheese providing a perfect counterpoint to the wine's vibrant acidity. As we nibbled and sipped, she told me about her journey—learning from other wine makers and battling against the cookie-cutter approach taught in University of Milan's school of viticulture and enology. "They wanted to give me recipes," she scoffed, "but wine isn't made with recipes. It's made by listening to the grapes and the land." I smiled, holding the glass in a soft toast to my hostess. I’ve tasted a lot of wines, some good, some bad, and some that make me question your life choices all together. But Arianna's wines were the real deal. They were honest. They were pure. They told a story of a place and a person, of education and creativity. And just as I had envisioned when I first smelled this wine in my glass, time trickled away and the bottle slowly emptied over laughter, cheese and amazing conversation.

Just as every journey has an end, so did our exquisite wine tasting adventure as we finished this tasting with a bottle of the Siccagno made from 100% Nero d'Avola grapes grown on the property from 35 year old vines. The final bottle of Nero d'Avola for the evening was uncorked before we started this tasting adventure and was now standing right in front of us, its deep, inky color promising a journey through the terroir of Vittoria. As the evening quickly approached the air slowly cooled and we moved our tasting experience outside under the shade of an awning to a rustic wooden table surrounded by this picturesque winery. I gently swirled the Siccagno in the glass in my hand marveling at its viscosity and dark, inviting depth. As it moved around and around and around in my glass, the deep ruby-red wine exuded aromas of dark cherries, black currants and a subtle hint of cinnamon. I took a long and lingering sip. I literally could almost taste the vineyard where the Nero d'Avola grapes for this amazing bottle were grown, surrounded by the salty sea breeze and the scorching Sicilian sun. I walked through that vineyard with Arianna when I first arrived at the winery. It was where we strolled, talked and smelling the soil, the herbs, and savored the aromas of the fruit hanging on the vine just waiting to be harvested. The full-bodied wine coated my tongue with a velvety texture and the tannins lingered on my palate giving way to a slightly spicy finish.

Every sip seemed to reveal something new to me as my taste buds peeled back layer after layer after layer of the complex bottle. Bold yet elegant, with sheets of dark fruit flavors dancing across my palate, intertwined with hints of spice and scents of tobacco. The tannins, smooth as silk, provided just enough structure to remind me that this was a serious wine, capable of aging gracefully but utterly irresistible in its youth. Arianna watched me geek out over my glass with an infectious smile as I savored each sip, her creation speaking more eloquently about her philosophy and terroir than words ever could. And just to complement this liquid verse that was swirling in my wine glass, Arianna produced a hunk of Parmigiano-Reggiano, its crystalline aged texture glistening in the fading light like crystals in a dark cave. I sliced and paired a bite of the salty, umami-rich cheese with another sip of the Nero d'Avola, the flavors exploding in perfect harmony, washing over each bite of cheese and elevating the entire experience. In that moment, surrounded by vines and bathed in the golden hour of a Sicilian evening, I experienced a moment that was infectiously sublime. Arianna, with her amazing wines, sharing the stories of her discovery, sharing the tastes of her amazing vintages, it was a moment in time that could truly be called magnificent. It was a human and culinary connection of experiences and enjoyment all rolled into an unforgettable evening spent under a stunning Sicilian evening.

The sun dipped below the horizon and seemed to accelerate on its path downward, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. I was sprawled out on a weathered wooden bench, glass in hand, as I savored the last drops of Arianna Occhipinti's Siccagno. Arianna sat with me, enjoying her last glass from an incredible bottle that was her creation. The wine lingered on my palate. It was a vibrant symphony of red cherries and wild herbs that seemed to capture the very essence of this rugged landscape that stretched out in every direction in front of us. Arianna, this winemaker, this force of nature had just taken us both on a tasting journey through her vineyards and cellar. Her arms folded in front of her as her eyes blazed with skill and passion. Arianna’s wine was exquisite, the view from the vineyard was breathtaking, and Arianna’s company was nothing short of perfect. Through the afternoon, Arianna spoke of her commitment to organic viticulture and natural winemaking, a philosophy that she had inherited from her uncle but honed through her own fearless experimentation. The result were wines of such purity and elegance that they have single-handedly redefined Sicilian wine for an entirely new generation. Dusk settled over the gnarled old vines. I looked out through the twilight, marveling at the trajectory of this remarkable woman and her incredible portfolio of wines. From a wide-eyed 16-year-old helping out at a wine fair to becoming the undisputed queen of Sicilian natural wine in less than two decades. It's a journey that was filled with discovery, eduction, innovation, passion and drive to create something that would take Sicilian wine on a journey around the globe.

As the sunset teased an orange line of light across the horizon and the day came to a satisfying close, I lingered at the winery taking in the beauty of the countryside and the warmth of the disappearing sun. As twilight descended, we found ourselves unable to leave, captivated by the primal energy of this vineyard. The air was thick with the scent of the vineyard and sun-baked earth, punctuated by the occasional whiff of fermenting grapes from the nearby cellar. Arianna's dogs lounged at our feet, their contented sighs a perfect accompaniment to the gentle chirping of crickets, the clicking of glasses and the soft murmur of conversation coming from the tasting room behind us. The warm night breeze caressed my skin as the scent of the grapes, soil and herbs filled the air around me once again providing a flow of intoxication that went far beyond alcohol. The wine tasted better with every passing moment as it opened up more and more in my glass. As Arianna and I chatted about food and wine, I marveled at the idea that people fell in love with the special wines that they discovered on their travels because of the experiences that surround them. Maybe it was an event where good friends shared a bottle of something extraordinary. Maybe it was a dinner experience at a Michelin Star restaurant with flavors and pairings that have never been experienced before. Perhaps it was the simple act of trying something new, popping a cork on a bottle that would otherwise never have been sampled. Or maybe, it was a day like to today that took expectation, and transformed it into an experience that was simply delicious. At the end of the day, it was not just about the wine in my glass but the stories and experiences that went into each and every bottle, the winemakers who made the wine, the destinations that those experiences could take us, and the memories that we created when we were there.