A richly pungent aroma envelops us as thoroughly as the warm, humid Italian air wafting through open windows and doorways of a rustic and rural building. The bouquet, at once sweet and acidic and potent enough to tear up our eyes, emanates from hundreds of old wooden casks lying on their sides in regimented rows of shelves. We’re in the midst of a fabled legacy – the aging of traditional balsamic vinegar of Modena.
Traditional balsamic vinegar, or aceto balsamico tradizionale di Modena, is not just any vinegar, but the king. This renowned elixir is one third of the holy trinity of Italy’s most prized, artisanal culinary treasures from the sweeping farmlands of the Emilia-Romagna region. The two others are Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese and prosciutto di Parma.
The best of all three foods earn the coveted Denominazione d’Origine Protetta (Protected Designation of Origin) from the European Union. The D.O.P. designation on products signifies they meet exacting, consortium-regulated standards, from ingredients to production to packaging.
Italy’s Liquid Gold
My husband, Bill, our friend Terry, and I have come to Pedroni, an award-winning producer of aceto balsamico tradizionale di Modena D.O.P. located in the small town of Nonantola, Italy, about a 20-minute drive from Modena proper.
The Pedroni family is one of the oldest producers of traditional balsamic vinegar in Modena, having come here in 1862.
The Pedronis’ property, which housed a Benedictine monastery in the Middle Ages, straddles via Risaia, named for the rice fields that used to run as long as the street. Now, eight hectares (about 20 acres) of grape vines, drooping with plump fruit, border the roadway. The vines produce various types of grapes: white Trebbianina, formerly named Trebbiano di Spagna, for traditional balsamic vinegar and other varieties for white sparkling wines and Lambrusco.
Currently, the 5th and 6th generations are in charge. The 7th is being primed for training. More than a passion and deeper than a profession, traditional balsamic vinegar is the Pedronis’ ancestral heritage. Given the dedication of successive generations of Pedronis, I wouldn’t be surprised if it, rather than blood, courses through their veins.
We meet our private guide, Valeria Piccinini, in a structure that dates from the 12th to 14th centuries, surviving still from the days of the monastery. Here, the Pedronis operate Osteria of Rubbiara, or tavern, as well as a small shop. Valeria, who works in administration, speaks nearly unaccented English.
As with wine, the story of traditional balsamic vinegar begins with vines.
Traditional Balsamic Vinegar Production
We walk out the back door of the osteria and come upon a few modest outbuildings, simply designed, and sand-colored with tile roofs.
Valeria leads us past a worker studiously cleaning the machine that removes leaves and branches from the grapes. Nearby is the grape press, which gently squeezes out their juice.
We move into the cooking room, where four large, gas-fired open vessels are slowly simmering the pressed grapes for anywhere from 12 to 24 hours depending on their sugar concentration. By the end of the process, the grapes will have reduced some 40 percent. Control, precision, and experience are required to prevent burning, which would mar the taste. We peer inside and inhale.
Cooked grape must is the only ingredient in traditional balsamic vinegar. Yeast in the air naturally attacks the sugar in the cooked must and transforms it into alcohol. The must then ferments naturally in stainless steel tanks from fall until spring of the next year. During fermentation, pulp and leftover skins fall to the bottom, leaving the essence.
Final Aging Takes Ages
Pedroni then ages traditional balsamic vinegar in a vinegar cellar called an acetaia.
“The acetaia is where the magic happens,” Valeria says as we enter one for 12-year production.
On the first floor, the base juice is stored in large wooden barrels, aka mother barrels, and transformed into ascetic acid; that is, vinegar. Wood is highly responsible for traditional balsamic vinegar’s tastes and notes – again, like wine – and the older the wood the better.
We walk past the confessional. Wait…what?
Yes, indeed. An old wooden confessional stands sentry at the door, a reminder of the property’s former life as a monastery. Like Dorothy’s dog, Toto, pulling aside the curtain to reveal the titular wizard of The Wizard of Oz, Valeria moves a faded cloth drape and… voilà! A vinegar-filled cask rests where a secluded monk once heard recitations of sins. Interesting artifact aside, I harbor a sneaking suspicion the Pedronis offer frequent prayers at the confessional for abundant grape harvests and problem-free productions.
Upstairs, though, is the mother lode.
Final aging occurs in the attic, under the eaves, in the highest part of the building, for traditional balsamic vinegar must be in the hottest place in the summer and the coldest in winter.
We climb creaky wooden stairs to the second floor, and gaze in awe. Before us are hundreds of small barrels divided into sets of five (called a batteria, or battery) in descending sizes. Each one has a hole on top, covered with a cloth. Producers use a mix of five different woods – chestnut, cherry, oak, mulberry, and juniper – which help impart distinctive flavors and scents.
The “magic” Valeria reveals involves no sleight of hand. No tricks up her sleeve. No waving a wand and intoning “abracadabra.” But profound changes are underway, an alchemy involving grapes, woods, and time.
Each cask contains fermented grape must. Over time, evaporation, and even some leakage, reduce the contents of each cask. One day a year, they refill each cask to keep the volume constant and compensate for the loss. They draw grape must from cask number two and refill cask number one – the smallest. Grape must from cask number three refills cask number two, and so on. Cask number five, the largest in the series, receives cooked grape must from the latest picking in the mother barrels. This happens for 12 years. From the smallest, they withdraw just one liter to preserve the same quality for the future. That amount comprises a mere 10 bottles.
And so it goes for each batteria, which is essentially its own production line. That includes the hundreds more in the 25-year acetaia, where the same “magic” takes place. Only in here, the aroma of the woods and grapes is even more complex, balanced, and evocative, as expected with added maturity. Adding to the lore are walls adorned with historic photos, the Pedroni crest, and a colorful depiction of the family tree.
Balsamic Vinegar of Modena IGP
Pedroni also makes balsamic vinegar of Modena IGP, which is the most common balsamic vinegar found in most grocery stores in the United States and elsewhere.
Made from a mix of wine vinegar and cooked must with some aging, the grapes can come from anywhere in the world, which results in a greater diversity of taste and textures. Some producers add caramel and colorants. The letters IGP on the label stand for Indicazione Geografica Protetta (Indication of Geographic Protection), signifying the vinegar was produced and bottled in Modena. While IGP vinegars require a controlled standard of quality, the criteria are less stringent than for traditional balsamic vinegar.
Tasting Traditional Balsamic Vinegar
We’re sitting outdoors in an open-air, covered pavilion within a lush, park-like space. I swat a few of Italy’s omnipresent mosquitoes. A tasting table adorned with bottles of Pedroni’s IGP and 12-year and 25-year D.O.P. products beckons.
Heightened anticipation takes hold. One by one, Valeria carefully tilts each bottle, and the dark, glossy, and dense liquid eventually drips onto the tips of our ceramic – always and only ceramic – spoons. The definitive shape of the traditional balsamic vinegar bottle, designed by influential automobile designer Giorgetto Giugiaro, echoes the shape of the languid drop prior to making solid contact.
We taste, we swoon.
Valeria gives traditional balsamic vinegar as wedding gifts, and drinks it to soothe a sore throat. She says famed tenor Pavarotti rinsed his throat with it prior to singing. She encourages us, once we return home, to drizzle a few drops over just-cooked meat or on a shard of Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese.
Head of the Family
A man with white hair and expressive, thick-rimmed black glasses ambles onto the terrace. He’s dressed simply and elegantly in a softly draping, white shirt and neatly pressed black pants.
“Buongiornio,” he says.
He is Italo, the 83-year-old padrone di casa, the master of the house. At the end of World War II, when Italo was 10, his father, Giuseppe II, died. Italo helped his mother, aunt, and grandmother take charge of production and the tavern in those difficult days. Later, in the manner of the Pedroni patriarchy, Italo assumed the role of his forefathers. Thanks to his methods, Pedroni consistently wins yearly competitions, the “Oscars” of traditional balsamic vinegar. Since 1997, his son, Giuseppe III, has managed the business.
Thrilled at his unexpected presence, we stand and shake hands.
He smiles merrily. Italo and Valeria converse in animated Italian, and Valeria translates. Italo asks if we’d like some gelato to accompany our traditional balsamic vinegar – the Italian way. Yes, thank you, we’d be delighted. Further, he wants her to tell us that Pedroni was selected to represent all farms in Emilia-Romagna at Milan’s universal, food-centered Expo 2015. We heartily applaud at this honor, and so does he.
As we devour the gelato and traditional balsamic vinegar combo, I observe the exchange between Italo and Valeria. Their easy rapport as employer and employee is evident, simultaneously congenial and respectful. I wonder, is their topic perhaps yield projections for the harvest? Are they discussing order shipments?
“Not at all,” she laughs after Italo has left. “He was just at his dentist, and was telling me about his teeth.”
Valeria saves the best for last – a sampling of their revered 70-year-old traditional balsamic vinegar. It’s the oldest thing I’ve ever tasted, and certainly one of the most memorable.
As we depart, I purchase a bottle of 25-year Giuseppe II, named for Italo’s father. It’s my tribute to an Italian family with centuries-old traditions…plus, a ready supply to enjoy more noble fruit of the Pedroni family’s vines.
Many thanks to Modenatur, the local tourism organization, for arranging our tour of Pedroni as media guests.
