Mount Etna is one of the most visually striking wine regions in the world. Old, twisted vines grow directly out of black, crumbling lava soils, with Europe’s most active volcano constantly looming in the background. Eruptions are a fact of life here, sometimes dramatic, with rivers of molten rock, other times barely noticeable, marked only by a plume of smoke. This constant cycle of destruction and renewal defines Etna, not just geologically, but culturally and economically.
In the late nineteenth century, Etna was among the most productive wine regions in the world, with roughly 50,000 hectares of vineyards. Then came phylloxera, war, economic collapse, and depopulation driven by industrialization. The mountain fell silent for nearly a century. Its revival began in the 1990s, and while it has reintroduced Etna wines to the global stage, it has also brought deep tensions to a region that had long been overlooked.
No figure embodies these contradictions more than Salvo Foti. A winemaker deeply rooted in Etna’s traditions, Foti was instrumental in the region’s modern rebirth. In 1988, he was hired by Giuseppe Benanti to make quality wine in a place known largely for bulk production. The success of Benanti’s wines helped put Etna back on the map and opened the door for outside investors.
That attention quickly transformed the region. From just three Etna wine labels in 1988, the number has grown to well over 130. Wealth poured in, land prices rose sharply, and many local growers found themselves unable to compete. Foti has been outspoken about what he sees as a divided Etna: one rooted in local culture, native grapes, and traditional viticulture, and another driven by outside capital and external ideas.
Early on, some newcomers imposed international varieties like Pinot Noir and Chardonnay, replaced traditional alberello bush vines with wire trellising, and produced heavily oaked wines. Over time, however, many have adapted. Today, Nerello Mascalese and Nerello Cappuccio are increasingly recognized as the varieties best suited to Etna’s volcanic soils, and more producers are returning to alberello training to protect grapes from intense sun exposure.
Etna’s complexity goes far beyond grape varieties. The soils are shaped by lava flows of vastly different ages, some taking thousands of years to become viable for vines, others supporting vineyards after only a few centuries. These differences help explain why Etna wines can vary dramatically even within short distances. Increasingly, producers label wines by contrada, historic place names that function much like Burgundy’s crus, even though they are not formally defined by terroir.
While wines from the same contrada often share structural and aromatic traits, factors like altitude, exposure, and temperature create meaningful distinctions. On Etna, altitude is critical: vineyards can reach up to 1,000 meters, where ripening becomes a challenge and wines develop tighter structures and higher acidity.
Etna is also one of Italy’s great white wine regions, particularly on the eastern slopes near the sea. Here, the Carricante grape finds its highest expression, especially in the village of Milo. Wines made from 100 percent Carricante from Milo, such as Benanti’s Pietra Marina, originally developed by Foti, are known for their structure, longevity, and distinctly salty mineral character. Regulations reflect this uniqueness: Etna Bianco Superiore must come from Milo and contain at least 80 percent Carricante.
Today, Etna stands at a crossroads. The region’s global success has brought recognition and investment, but also pressure and imbalance. As Salvo Foti and others continue to argue, the future of Etna depends on whether its revival can remain rooted in the place itself or whether the mountain becomes just another brand, detached from the culture that shaped it.