The Cathedral of Barolo: A Visit to Giuseppe Mascarello e Figlio

It was a cold, foggy January afternoon when we found ourselves heading back from Dogliani. The air was thick with mist, blurring the edges of the vineyards as we wound our way through the hills. Despite being late, Michael, who had been importing Mascarello wines for decades, decided on a detour. There was no hesitation—we had to go. Michael knew that history itself was waiting.

For years, Mascarello had been part of my world. Their wines were a staple at Bedales, a symbol of Barolo’s deep tradition. As we arrived at the winery, the past seemed to press in around us, each Foudre, Fut, and stone holding echoes of time. This wasn’t just a winery; it was a place where craftsmanship, patience, and heritage converged seamlessly.

A Legacy in the Land

I had long known the story of Mascarello—a history that stretches back to the mid-1800s when Giuseppe Mascarello first made his name as a vineyard manager. The defining moment came in the 1880s when the family secured their own land. Then, in the early 1900s, Maurizio Mascarello bought the Monprivato vineyard—a move that cemented their legacy, securing a piece of Barolo that would become legendary.

I had heard of Mauro Mascarello, the man who took over in the 1960s, refining the approach—adjusting fermentation times, carefully replanting select parcels, and championing the revered Michét Nebbiolo clone. But what I didn’t know was that we were about to meet him. As we arrived and were greeted by Mauro and his wife, a scene unfolded before us, offering a glimpse into the soul of this winery.

A Quiet Ritual

Inside the winery, everything felt still—not empty, just calm, like a cathedral before a service begins. The air carried the scent of wood, aging wine, and quiet dedication. As the workday ended, we witnessed something remarkable. Rather than dispersing hurriedly, the workers gathered near the entrance. Mr. and Madame Mascarello stood nearby, watching in quiet acknowledgment.

One by one, the workers removed their hats and waited. Then, Mauro Mascarello stepped forward, shaking each worker’s hand, thanking them for their efforts. No grand speeches, no formalities—just a simple, meaningful moment of respect and gratitude. I felt an overwhelming sense of reverence, almost as if I were in the presence of something sacred. Or perhaps, I was simply carried away by the moment.

As we wandered through the cellar and cuverie, stories began to unfold, each one adding another layer to the experience. Every space had a purpose, every barrel had a history, and every corner of the winery whispered of the past. For me, someone who loves a good story, this was nothing short of magic.

The Ice House and the Passing Years

The winery holds more than just barrels—it holds the imprint of time itself. Beside the river stands a building that once served as the village Ice House, dating back to the late 1700s. In the coldest months, blocks of ice were carved from the frozen river and stored there, preserved for use throughout the year. Today, that same space nurtures wines, the chilled air still wrapping itself around the barrels as though it remembers its former duty. This seamless blend of past and present was impossible to ignore.

A Wine That Takes Its Time

As we continued our visit, Mauro shared a story that encapsulated everything about their approach. During World War I, Maurizio was stationed in the Balkans and passed through a dense forest of Quercus robur—Slavonian oak. Captivated by the strength and beauty of these trees, he made a decision: after the war, he would return. And he did. He carefully selected the best trees, knowing they would one day become barrels. It took twelve years for the wood to season before the first staves could be crafted.

This philosophy—of time, patience, and trust in the process—runs through everything Mascarello does. Their commitment to sustainable viticulture, careful clonal selection, and minimal intervention ensures that each bottle carries more than the vineyard’s imprint—it carries the weight of generations. These wines demand patience. They refuse to be rushed. Each glass is an unhurried conversation with history, unfolding in layers as if revealing forgotten stories.

A Tasting Worth the Moment

The tasting was monumental, a true reflection of the land and the hands that shaped it. But sometimes, words fall short. There are moments when it is best to put down the pen, set aside the notes, and simply be present.

Leaving the Cathedral

As we stepped outside, the light had shifted. The sky, once veiled in mist, had given way to a soft golden hue. The air was still, as if holding onto the echoes of what we had just experienced. We climbed into the car, glancing back at the winery one last time, knowing we had been part of something rare.

This was more than just a visit to a renowned estate. It was a glimpse into a world where land, people, and tradition are inseparable. Where craftsmanship is not a label but a way of life.

By Arnaud Compas