Italy, a land where every corner tells a story—whether it’s the Tuscan hills, where cypress trees sway like metronomes to the rhythm of the land, or the piazzas of Rome, where history hums through marble fountains. It’s a country where the air itself feels symphonic, alive with the echoes of old operas and the scent of grapes ripening under the Mediterranean sun. But when you think of whisky, Italy seems like an unexpected guest at the concert. Whisky is supposed to belong to Scotland, where mist curls through ancient glens, or to Ireland, where the rolling green fields whisper secrets to the barley. Yet, like a well-timed crescendo in an unfamiliar key, Puni Distillery has arrived—an Italian masterpiece nestled within the Alps, quietly composing a new melody in the world of whisky.
Imagine the Vinschgau Valley, framed by the towering Alps that loom like maestros over a silent orchestra. The peaks seem to direct the very wind, commanding it to sweep through the valley, carrying with it the whispers of glaciers and the purity of untouched streams. It is here, where the air bites with an alpine chill, that Puni Distillery conducts its own performance. It’s not just making whisky; it’s composing a symphony, one where Italian artistry blends with whisky’s time-honored tradition.
And then there’s Puni Alba, a whisky named for the Italian word "dawn," signifying the beginning of a new day—an apt metaphor for what this distillery is creating. Alba is a whisky that breaks through the fog of convention like the first light of morning streaming over the mountains. Where Scottish whiskies might be content with barley, Alba takes things a step further, incorporating a trio of grains: local rye, wheat, and barley. It’s like watching three dancers on stage, each moving in unison yet bringing something unique to the performance. This trinity forms a mash bill that feels as if it were born not just of nature but of art itself.
The process, too, is a ballet of elements, one where copper pot stills gleam like the sun rising over a golden horizon. As the grains begin their transformation, it’s as though each drop of liquid is infused with the essence of the land—the towering peaks, the crisp air, the flow of water from the Stelvio National Park. Yet, this whisky doesn’t age in silence like its Scottish cousins, lying dormant in mist-shrouded warehouses. No, Italy’s seasons command a different tempo, with summers that coax the whisky forward and winters that pull it back, much like a conductor urging his orchestra through the swells and falls of a grand overture.
And then come the casks, like actors waiting in the wings, each one with a story to tell. Puni Alba begins its maturation in Italian wine barrels, soaking up the sunlit warmth of the grapes that once rested there. But its true character emerges during its time in second-fill bourbon barrels, once home to the wild, peaty whiskies of Islay. This is where Alba’s complexity deepens, like a plot twist in a play—unexpected, yet perfectly timed. The Italian sweetness intertwines with the rugged peat of Islay, creating a whisky that is as multifaceted as an opera’s final act. You can almost hear the distant echo of crashing waves, the wild Islay wind, blending with the soft hum of an Italian vineyard at dusk.
As you raise the glass to your nose, the first notes of this whisky’s melody are revealed—an overture of dark fruit and honey, mingling with a faint undercurrent of smoke. On the palate, it’s like tasting a story unfold. First, there’s the lush fruit, as ripe and full as a Tuscan harvest. Then, a touch of grassiness, earthy and grounding, pulls you into the alpine terroir. But just when you think you’ve settled into its rhythm, the whisky crescendos—a sudden flare of spice, like the peal of trumpets in the middle of a quiet symphony. The finish is long and peppery, a final burst of energy that leaves a lingering echo, much like the last chord of an aria, hanging in the air even after the singer has left the stage.
But Puni is not a one-act show. There’s also Puni Nova, the distillery’s other star, and its narrative unfolds with a different kind of grace. If Alba is the opera, rich and dramatic, then Nova is the ballet—a whisky that pirouettes across your senses with lightness and finesse. Aged in American oak and finished in French Limousin oak casks once used for cognac, Nova feels like a whispered secret, one shared only with those who know how to listen. Its aroma is delicate, with notes of citrus and soft apples, a prelude to the flavors that follow—floral and fruity, with just enough sweetness to keep things interesting.
On the palate, Nova’s dance begins. Pears and vanilla take the lead, twirling elegantly before handing the stage to a more subtle, spicy undercurrent. The finish is crisp, almost ethereal, like the sound of leaves rustling in a gentle autumn breeze. It’s a whisky that doesn’t demand your attention but rewards it all the same, much like a quiet moment in a ballet, where every movement is infused with meaning.
Puni Distillery, in many ways, is like a sculptor chipping away at the boundaries of whisky-making, revealing something new beneath the surface. Its sleek, modern architecture—soaring and geometric—stands out in the alpine landscape, yet feels perfectly at home, like a piece of avant-garde art that somehow makes perfect sense in a centuries-old gallery. The distillery’s design reflects its philosophy, where tradition and innovation meet. The copper pot stills, a nod to whisky’s storied past, share space with cutting-edge technology that looks toward the future, much like a painter blending the old masters with bold, new strokes of color.
With Puni, whisky becomes more than a drink. It becomes a dialogue between the past and the future, between Scotland and Italy, between the wild and the refined. It’s a liquid postcard from the Italian Alps, a reminder that whisky, like any great art form, has the power to transcend borders and rewrite expectations.
When you get a chance to pour a dram of Puni, close your eyes. Imagine the towering peaks of the Alps, the distant hum of Italian arias, and the wild winds of Islay swirling together in harmony. In that glass, you hold not just whisky, but a symphony—a symphony that is just beginning to play.
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Words by AW.
Photos courtesy of Puni Distillery.
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