Mariangela Motanari’s new balsamic vinegar traditions at La Cà dal Non

There’s a 100 year-old grapevine growing in Vignola, Italy that waves visitors in from the courtyard at La Cà dal Non. In the attic above, in her acetaia, Mariangela Montanari makes balsamico in the centuries-old tradition, but there’s something about what she does that feels modern and new. Maybe it’s that her brother grows the Trebbiano, Labrusco, Sauvignon, and Pignoletto grapes—specifically for the vinegar—in the nearby vineyards when most producers purchase fruit annually. Montanari’s vinegar production is tied to what is in the field as much as in the barrel, reflecting how the four seasons affect everything — during the hot summer microorganisms are alive and active, while in the winter, they’re dormant. Or perhaps it’s Montanari’s largely non-interventionist ways that rely on her instincts in preserving the purity of her product, and heritage.

Historically, in this region of Modena, families would fill new batteria (series of barrels) to mark the birth of a baby girl. The barrels were then given as a dowry when the woman got. This tradition has evolved over the years, (thank goodness) and now every child gets a set, for the Montanaris, they’re now on their fifth generation! I’ll never forget the musk of mulberry wood as I first stepped into Montanari’s batteria room, part of Montanari’s grandmother Demetria’s batteria. Demetria passed away a decade ago, at nearly 100 years old, but she, and Montanari’s great-grandfather Alfonso, who began the barrels in the early 1900s, are both still influencing the family’s balsamic making today.

What strikes me most about Montanari is how she coddles the past and looks to the future too. La Cà dal Non’s Balsamic Vinegar of Modena DOP, the real stuff, aged a minimum of 12 years and upwards of 25 +, slowly ferments in Montanari’s attic, while the future of her company relies on a line of other grape must-based products. She sells saba, the sugary syrup of the ancient Romans that tastes, and looks like liquid molasses, as well as blended ideas: Balsamosaba — a sweet-and-sour condiment that has a little vinegar in it. In a region that make a ton of wine (e.g. Lambrusco), Montanari is even working on an alcoholic beverage from fermented grape must.

I asked Motanari if she had any standout recipes that she makes with balsamic or saba at home. Her favorite: pollo alla Vittorio, which is pan-fried chicken thighs cooked with herbs and vinegar, named after her father. She also uses traditional balsamico to finish the broth of classic Emilia Romagna bollito misto (mixed boiled meats), or as a sauce for cotechino, a typical sausage served during Christmas. Her pan di saba, a Sardinian sweet bread with nuts and raisins prepared for All Saints Day, incorporates saba as a sweetener into the dough and is her family’s preference over Piada dei morti, a regional Romagnan sweet focaccia made for the same holiday. This just goes to show Montanari has her preferences, and although her practices may be conventional to an outsider looking in, her outward looking approach to the world of balsamic is unprecedented.