{"id":11259,"date":"2025-06-01T12:04:10","date_gmt":"2025-06-01T10:04:10","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.cantele.it\/teresa-manara-the-chardonnay-that-bears-her-name\/"},"modified":"2026-02-13T13:40:51","modified_gmt":"2026-02-13T12:40:51","slug":"teresa-manara-the-chardonnay-that-bears-her-name","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.cantele.it\/en\/teresa-manara-the-chardonnay-that-bears-her-name\/","title":{"rendered":"Teresa Manara, the chardonnay that bears her name"},"content":{"rendered":"\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\"\"\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t
\n\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\r\n\t\t\t
\r\n\t\t\t\tBlog \/<\/a><\/span> <\/span> Teresa Manara, the chardonnay that bears her name<\/span>\t\t\t<\/div>\r\n\r\n\t\t \t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t
\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t
\r\n\t\t\t\t\t
\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t
<\/i><\/div>\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\r\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t
\r\n\t\t\t\t\t
\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t
<\/i><\/div>\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\r\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\r\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t

Teresa Manara, the chardonnay that bears her name<\/h2>\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t

Teresa Manara Chardonnay is one of the wines we feel most deeply connected to. For two reasons\u2014both simple, both profound. It was the first white wine in Puglia to be fermented in oak. And it carries our grandmother\u2019s name.<\/p>

Even after all this time, seeing a bottle on a table with the words \u201cTeresa Manara\u201d still gives me a feeling I can\u2019t quite explain. Because Teresa was a reserved woman. She didn\u2019t seek the spotlight. She stayed on the sidelines\u2014but from there, you could tell she was the one holding everything together.<\/p>

I believe she would have appreciated the tribute. Even if she\u2019d probably have responded with a faint smile and a glance that said, \u201cWhat have you come up with this time?\u201d<\/p>

Those who drink<\/em> this wine often know the story. They know it was my father, Augusto, who wanted to make a white wine that was different\u2014at a time when almost no one in Puglia believed it was even possible.
But very few know how it all really began.<\/p>

In the 1950s, my grandparents moved to Salento. He was from Veneto, she from Romagna. They had met in Imola, where they lived for a while, before deciding\u2014against the tide\u2014to move south. A kind of reverse migration: from the north to a land that, back then, promised little but had so much to give. They brought with them their traditions, their flavors, their solid, hard-working idea of family. The rest, they learned here. While many were leaving in search of opportunity, they made the opposite journey\u2014with no certainties, but with a clear purpose: to build something.<\/p>

Toward the end of that decade, my father left to study oenology in Conegliano Veneto. He was the first in the family to formally study wine. My uncle Domenico chose a different path\u2014economics. A choice that would prove essential years later, giving structure and future to what would become our family winery. During that period, my father would occasionally come home for Sunday lunch. They were sacred moments, with well-defined roles: my grandmother, true to her Romagnolo roots, made fresh pasta and Bolognese rag\u00f9. My grandfather set the table and chose the wine. No one made decisions alone, but everyone knew Teresa had the final say. A quiet form of matriarchy\u2014and it worked.<\/p>

One day, at lunch, she said: \u201cI\u2019d like a white wine today.\u201d My grandfather, used to choosing between red and ros\u00e9, looked at her, puzzled: \u201cTeresa, we\u2019re in Puglia. We make red wine. Maybe ros\u00e9.\u201d She didn\u2019t react. She kept stirring the rag\u00f9 and, without changing tone, replied: \u201cWell then, I\u2019ll ask Augusto. Just one. Just for me.\u201d<\/p>

That sentence, dropped casually between tagliatelle and silence, lingered. My father didn\u2019t say anything that day\u2014but he held onto it.<\/p>

It took forty years. And when he finally created the white wine he had always imagined\u2014elegant, deep, with just the right character\u2014he and Uncle Domenico decided on the name: Teresa Manara.<\/p>

Our grandmother never got to taste it, sadly. But somehow, the wine resembles her. It carries something of her quiet strength. Her understated presence. I\u2019m not sure if it\u2019s a wine of memory or a wine of vision\u2014maybe it\u2019s both. But every time we pour it, it feels like that sentence, spoken in a kitchen half a century ago, is still waiting for an answer.<\/p>




<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t

\n\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t
Share <\/h6>\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t
\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t
\r\n\t\t\t\t\t
\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t
<\/i><\/div>\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\r\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t
\r\n\t\t\t\t\t
\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t
<\/i><\/div>\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\r\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\r\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\r\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t