Vines on volcanic soil are hard to grow and their grapes are hard-won, but it all combines to produce wines with a very particular sense of place

Good stories need jeopardy. Take The Princess Bride, one of my favourite films, which I recently introduced to my mildly terrified children. It’s a cult love story of high peril: Westley, believed dead, sets out to win back Buttercup (forced into marriage with another) on a quest involving pirates, duels, torture, a miracle and a battle of wits over a goblet of poisoned wine. There is struggle, magic and, ultimately, emotional reward. You’ll need to stay with me here: volcanic vines, too, tend to have a rocky journey, albeit with happy results for the drinker.

My ears perk up at the term “volcanic wine”, despite being less a style than a geological category. Volcanic soils take many forms – ash, basalt, obsidian, pumice, tuff – and interact with climate, altitude, water availability, grape variety and farming to produce wines with a very particular sense of place. Often, they have little in common with each other; a deep, rich nerello mascalese from Mount Etna’s north side bears little comparison to a light, leathery listán negro from Tenerife, say. And yet I’m sure there is something – perhaps it’s more a feeling than a taste – that I get from wines from volcanic terroirs. “It’s a hard thing to get across,” agrees importer Nic Rizzi of Modal Wines, “but they do have an extra tension.”

A historical adventure deep in the very heart of pasta country in southern Italy unexpectedly unearths a sauce with roots in Senegal

About 30 kilometres south of Naples, the town of Gragnano is surrounded by the Monti Lattari mountain range – the limestone backbone of the Sorrento peninsula. Historically, a series of natural springs fed into a larger stream called Vernotico, which flowed down the mountainside, passing through what was at the time the small village of Gragnano.

The natural slope of the terrain was fortuitous, because it allowed for the construction of a sequence of mills, which started in around 1263. During a visit to Gragnano last month, local historian Giuseppe Di Massa explained how it all worked; how gravity drove the flow of water from one mill to the next, in order to power vertical millstones – a system created for the inconsistent flow. The valley, with its clever water system, became known as the valley of the mills; its role milling grain, which arrived at the nearby port of Castellammare di Stabia, a vital operation to Naples and surrounding towns.

This article was amended on 30 October 2026 to correct misspellings of pasta makers Garofalo and Ducato d’Amalfi.