New Respect for an Italian Red Eric Pfanner A Feudi di San Gregorio vineyard that is said to contain vines that are more than 200 years old. TAURASI, ITALY - While some Europeans see Greece as a deadbeat debtor, the Greeks have actually been generous donors when it comes to wine. Perhaps nowhere is this more apparent than in Campania, the southern Italian region that surrounds the sprawl of Naples. The names of the two greatest Campanian grape varieties - the red aglianico and the white Greco di Tufo - attest to their supposedly Hellenic origins. "Aglianico," pronounced al-YAHN-i-co, is a corruption of "ellenico," the Italian word for "Greek." While scientific evidence of direct links may be sketchy, local producers are convinced that these grapes were brought to Campania by the ancient Greeks. Yet now they are considered Italian - two of the hundreds of indigenous varieties that give the country's vineyards their extraordinary diversity. "This is the cultural center for the European beginnings of viticulture," said Piero Mastroberardino, who runs an eponymous winery in the city of Atripalda that has long been a standard-bearer for the wines, and grape varieties, of Campania. There are not many places that have had the opportunity to grow their original varieties in the original vineyards for such a long time. Greco di Tufo, which balances floral, honeyed aromas with a bracing acidity, is one of several intriguing whites from Campania. On a recent visit, I sampled good examples from Mastroberardino and another giant of the region, I Feudi di San Gregorio, as well as from newer, smaller outfits like Pietracupa and Cantine dell'Angelo. My focus, however, was the reds of Campania. While aglianico is generally considered one of the three noble Italian red grapes, it has gotten a lot less respect than nebbiolo, the variety behind Barolo and Barbaresco, and sangiovese, the main ingredient in Chianti and Brunello di Montalcino. But that is starting to change. Like nebbiolo and sangiovese, aglianico can be an ornery customer when young. It's tough, tannic and tarry, with ample acidity. Let it age a decade or more, though, and the wine softens and opens, revealing all sorts of previously hidden aromas, including dried flowers, plums, spices and bitter citrus. Like other serious Italian reds, aglianico also demands to be served with food - preferably a rich, meaty ragù. While many of the best producers in Campania are relatively recent startups, Mastroberardino has aglianico-based wines in its cellars dating back nearly a century, a testament to this variety's ability to age. A 1999 Radici Riserva, Mastroberardino's top aglianico from the Taurasi denominazione, or appellation, was just starting to shed its adolescent surliness when I tasted it. Aglianico is grown widely across Southern Italy, but it is in Campania that the variety reaches its greatest heights, especially around the hilltop village of Taurasi, the wine-growing focal point of the interior region known as Irpinia. Taurasi is prized for its altitude and its volcanic soils. The vineyards climb to more than 500 meters, or 1,640 feet, providing hot, sunny days and cool nights; despite the southerly location, the grapes ripen slowly, and some producers harvest well into November - more than a month after the grapes have been picked in more northerly areas, like Tuscany. Taurasi is one of the few villages in Irpinia that was spared catastrophic damage in a 1980 earthquake. It has also preserved its vineyards; one of them, owned by I Feudi di San Gregorio, is said to contain vines that are more than 200 years old. These incredible plants, which survived the plague of phylloxera, a root louse that wiped out many of the vineyards of Europe in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, look more like oak trees than grape vines. Their enormous, widely spaced trunks rise four or five meters and bear sinewy branches that form generous canopies of leaves.