From the hills of Avellino in Campania, Mastroberardino has long been the reference point for serious southern Italian whites. In the right hands, Fiano di Avellino isn’t delicate in the fragile sense — it’s layered, textural, and built around slow reveal rather than instant impact.

The 2024 sits in that tradition. It opens with pear skin, lemon oil and green melon, then drifts into something more aromatic: acacia, chamomile, a touch of toasted hazelnut. Beneath that is the signature of Avellino’s volcanic soils — a dry, stony line that keeps everything in check.

On the palate it has presence without weight. There’s a soft, almost creamy mid-palate that never tips into richness, because the acidity keeps pulling it forward. That tension between roundness and cut is what defines it: one moment generous, the next precise and almost strict.

It’s not trying to impress quickly. It builds. Give it air and it starts to show more detail — citrus peel, saline edges, a faint herbal bitterness that lingers just long enough to keep you coming back.

A wine that feels more like structure than aroma, more about shape than fruit. Quietly confident, slightly restrained, and all the better for it.