By Amy Pigeon
There are lunches—and then there are invitations into a place. Nothing about it announced itself loudly—and that’s exactly what made it special.
Ours began behind closed doors, in the private dining room at TOCA inside the Ritz-Carlton Toronto, where the noise of the city softened into a low hum and the table before us felt less like a setting and more like a stage. The room was intimate, sun filtering in just enough to warm the wood, glasses already catching light like quiet anticipation.
We were greeted not with formality, but with familiarity. The team from Profile Wine Group welcomed us like old friends, and at the centre of it all stood Giovanni Silvestri—brand manager for Casale del Giglio, a native son of Lazio, and the unmistakable voice of Gambero Rosso in Canada. There’s a certain cadence to the way Italians speak about their home regions—part pride, part poetry, part persuasion—and Giovanni carried all three with ease. You believed him not because he insisted, but because he felt it.
And what he wanted us to feel—deeply—was Lazio.
Beyond Rome: A Region Rewritten
For most travellers, Lazio begins and ends with Rome.
The Colosseum. The Vatican. Carbonara and chaos and cobblestone dreams. But beyond the Eternal City lies a landscape that few outsiders truly know—rolling hills, volcanic soil, coastal breezes, and a winemaking tradition that has quietly existed in the shadow of its more famous neighbours: Toscana and Piemonte.
“Lazio has always been there,” Giovanni explained, “but it hasn’t always been seen.”
Historically, the region leaned toward bulk production—wines made for volume, not voice. But in the last few decades, a shift has taken root. A return t indigenous varietals. A rediscovery of identity. A movement toward quality over quantity, led by producers like Casale del Giglio who chose to ask a simple but radical question:
What actually belongs here?
Founded in 1967 just 50 kilometres south of Rome, Casale del Giglio was built on experimentation. In 1985, they began testing 57 grape varieties—an ambitious research project to determine what would thrive in Lazio’s unique terroir. The result wasn’t imitation of Tuscany or Bordeaux, but something far more compelling: a reawakening of Lazio’s own voice.
Among those rediscovered grapes was Bellone.
Bellone: Lazio’s Quiet Revelation
If you’ve never heard of Bellone, you’re not alone.
An ancient white grape native to Lazio—particularly the coastal areas of Anzio—it dates back to Roman times, when it was believed to be one of the wines consumed by the empire itself. For years, it lived quietly, overshadowed by more internationally recognized varietals. But in the hands of producers like Casale del Giglio, Bellone is being reintroduced not as a relic—but as a revelation.
And then we tasted it.
The Anthium Bellone Lazio IGT arrived in the glass with a golden hue that caught the light like late afternoon in Italy. On the nose—soft tropical fruit, citrus, a whisper of salinity. On the palate—structured, textured, alive. There was something almost coastal about it. A memory of sea air. Of sun on stone.
it may be my new favourite wine.
There was a purity to it. A clarity. The kind of wine that doesn’t try to impress you—but quietly does.
And that, in many ways, is Lazio itself.
A Table Set in Two Worlds
The lunch unfolded like a dialogue—between Toronto and Italy, between past and present, between plate and glass.
Chef Alessandro Panattoni curated a menu rooted in Roman tradition, each course designed not to overshadow the wine, but to listen to it.
We began with a playful nod to the pillars of Roman cuisine: miniature arancini, each one a tribute—Amatriciana, Cacio e Pepe, Gricia, Carbonara. Crisp, golden, nostalgic. Paired with the Bellone 2023 Bianco Lazio IGT, it was an introduction not just to flavour, but to philosophy: simplicity, elevated.
The agnolotti with coda alla vaccinara followed—rich, slow-braised oxtail folded into delicate pasta, finished with pecorino romano and celery leaf. A dish that felt like Trastevere on a Sunday afternoon. Then, a refined Cacio e Pepe, where TOCA’s signature four-pepper blend added layers of warmth and complexity, mirrored beautifully by the Anthium 2024 Bellone.
By the time the pollo alla romana rivisitato arrived—tender, braised, aromatic—we had moved into red territory. The Cesanese Lazio IGT.
If Bellone is all light and lift, Cesanese settles deeper into the glass.
Deep ruby in colour, the wine opened with notes of red berries, spice, and earth. Indigenous to the hills southeast of Rome, Cesanese is one of the region’s most important red grapes—long overlooked, now finally stepping into its own. There was structure, yes, but also elegance. A rustic refinement. It didn’t compete with the dish—it completed it.
We ended, as all Italian meals should, with something sweet but restrained:
crostata di mandorla, paired with Radix Bianco Lazio IGT. Understated. Balanced. Timeless.
The Real Objective: A Return to Place
But this lunch wasn’t just about food. Or even wine.
It was about repositioning a region.
About inviting people—Canadians, travellers, dreamers—to look beyond Rome and discover the Lazio that exists in its countryside. Through agriturismo, through vineyard visits, through the kind of travel that slows you down and roots you in place.
Because if Tuscany is a postcard known to the world, Lazio is a story still being written.
And Casale del Giglio is holding the pen.
As we left the table, glasses emptied but minds full and bellies full, I kept thinking about something Giovanni said:
“We’re not trying to be better than anyone else. We’re just trying to be ourselves.”
And maybe that’s why it all felt so compelling.
Because in a world obsessed with recognition, there’s something deeply romantic about rediscovery.
And in that quiet, golden glass of Anthium, I think I found a piece of Lazio worth returning to. – VV
Photography courtesy of Steve Blackburn at YYZ Events
