Owning this spread could easily convince you that you were a pretty important person, so it's not entirely surprising to learn (from the website, www.poderecastorani.it) that the vineyard and villa once belonged to a law professor who advised the dictator Benito Mussolini (prime minister of Italy from 1922-'43). Which doesn't seem to leave much doubt what colour the prof preferred his shirts. Il Duce also apparently visited Castorani.

Are you sure this is a selling point, Jarno?

"It's simply a strong image from the past," he replies, and there's no arguing with that.

And, more generally, the past is vital to the Trulli operation. It gives meaning and integrity to the exercise. That's why Luca Patricelli, wine maker at Castorani, trains the vines up high, so they form a tent of foliage. It's rather romantic to walk through. This tendone system has always been Abruzzo's way.

It's also why Luca uses only the region's traditional grape varieties - overwhelmingly montepulciano - rather than external intruders. But then he applies modern methods. Vinification is in steel tanks, not big old wooden vats, and goes on for an unusually long time. It's followed by a year's ageing in new wood barrels and more again in the bottle - all things for which Abruzzo folk have rarely had the patience, or cash.

The aim? It's precisely to go beyond pleasant peasant plonk, to get an expression of what the French, untranslatably, call terroir. The French, of course, would. Only they could come up with a concept covering a semi-mystical blend of particular soil, site, climate and man's millennial know-how. It's what roots a wine to a given spot ("Lends it specificity," says Patricelli), and is claimed by all great European producers.