Frascati

Frascati is the kind of wine that’s been quietly pouring itself into Roman glasses for centuries, never asking for applause, never needing the spotlight. It’s the liquid equivalent of a summer breeze—light, refreshing, and so quintessentially Italian that sipping it without at least a plate of something garlicky feels like a missed opportunity. Yet despite its ancient roots and loyal local following, Frascati still doesn’t get the global love it deserves. Maybe because it doesn’t shout. Maybe because it’s just too comfortable being itself.

Let’s rewind. Frascati is a white wine that comes from the volcanic hills just south of Rome, a region with a winemaking history that predates Julius Caesar and probably involved a few drunken poets in togas. The wine takes its name from the town of Frascati, perched charmingly in the Castelli Romani, where emperors once escaped the chaos of the city and modern-day Romans still head for a long lunch in the sun. It’s one of Italy’s oldest wines, and it once had the Roman elite utterly smitten. These days, it’s more likely to be found alongside a plate of pasta alla gricia than at an orgy in a marble villa, but it hasn’t lost its charm.

The grapes that go into Frascati are mostly Malvasia (both Bianca di Candia and del Lazio), often blended with Trebbiano and Greco. Malvasia brings the fruit and florals, Trebbiano adds the acidity and freshness, and Greco throws in a bit of structure, like someone who shows up to the party in actual shoes. The result is a wine that’s dry, crisp, sometimes slightly nutty, and often smells like white flowers and almonds had a polite conversation over a citrus salad.

Frascati comes in a few versions. The classic Frascati DOC is typically light and meant to be drunk young, preferably with a Roman sunset in the background. Then there’s Frascati Superiore DOCG, a more serious version with stricter rules and a bit more body. You’ll also find Frascati Spumante (bubbly), and Cannellino di Frascati, a rare sweet version that’s basically a dessert with better manners.

What makes Frascati special isn’t bombast or bravado. It’s balance. It’s made for food, for conversation, for the kind of meals that start with antipasti and end with espresso and gossip. It’s fresh without being sharp, aromatic without being perfumed, and it doesn’t try to compete with the food—it just supports it, like a great host who keeps your glass topped up without interrupting your story.

Speaking of food, Frascati is a natural with the local Roman fare. Cacio e pepe, amatriciana, carbonara—any of the holy trinity of Roman pastas are better with a glass of the local white. It’s also excellent with fried things: artichokes, courgette flowers, suppliè. Seafood, salads, grilled vegetables—it plays well with almost anything that isn’t drowning in a heavy sauce. Even pizza bianca with mortadella finds a friendly companion in a chilled glass of Frascati.

Health benefits? Well, like most dry whites, it’s relatively low in alcohol and sugar compared to other options, and it’s often made without oak or manipulation. The simplicity is the appeal. There are antioxidants, sure, and polyphenols if you want to sound clever, but really, Frascati’s greatest contribution to wellness might be the way it slows you down. You don’t chug Frascati. You sip it while picking olives from a bowl and trying to remember the Italian word for napkin.

As for myths, there are a few. Myth: Frascati is too simple. Truth: It’s refreshingly uncomplicated, which is not the same thing. Simplicity, when done well, is elegance. Myth: It’s only good in Rome. Truth: It’s absolutely best in Rome, yes—but decent bottles travel well. Myth: It can’t age. Truth: Most shouldn’t, but a good Frascati Superiore can surprise you with a year or two of mellow evolution.

Finding Frascati used to be a challenge unless you had a Roman auntie or an obsessive Italian wine merchant. These days, it’s creeping into more adventurous wine shops and Mediterranean restaurant lists. Superiore DOCG bottles are the ones to watch for—if they mention old vines, volcanic soils, or have a label that looks like it hasn’t changed since 1973, that’s probably a good sign.

Frascati is never going to be the headline act. It doesn’t need to be. It’s the wine that shows up on time, does its job, and makes everything else feel a little more Italian. If you’re looking for something bright, unfussy, and effortlessly charming, consider this your Roman holiday in a glass.