I Cacciagalli

At the foot of Roccamonfina, an extinct volcano in northern Campania, there’s a corner of the world the ancient Romans knew as Campania Felix — the fortunate countryside. They had a point.

This is Teano, in the Alto Casertano, where I Cacciagalli takes its name from the centuries-old masseria at its heart. Here, Diana Iannaccone and Mario Basco — she an agronomist, he an archaeologist who traded excavation for fermentation — farm a living, breathing estate where vineyards share the land with heirloom Cece di Teano chickpeas, hazelnut groves, and ancient chestnut trees.

The volcano did the hard work millennia ago. Its eruptions left behind loose, sandy, mineral-rich soils that today, between 200 and 300 meters above sea level, give Campania’s native grapes something to say — and I Cacciagalli lets them say it in their own voice. Fiano and Falanghina for the whites; Aglianico, Piedirosso, and Pallagrello Nero for the reds. Nothing imported, nothing imposed.

In the cellar, the archaeologist’s instincts take over. The wines ferment spontaneously with wild yeasts and rest in terracotta amphorae — dozens of them — just as they did in Greco-Roman times, when this land first learned the vine. No additives, no fining, no filtration, and only a whisper of sulfur: simply wine allowed to breathe, evolve, and remember exactly where it came from. The house describes what it’s after in two words: wines that are eleganti e sinceri — elegant and sincere.

Visitors will find more than a cellar. The estate welcomes guests to its wine resort for tastings, meals, and slow days among the vines — volcanic Campania, poured by the people who grow it.