La Lecciaia Cabernet Sauvignon 2017

Cabernet Sauvignon from Tuscany, Italy

Purchase Price $18.99

James Suckling 92, ElsBob 91

ABV 13.5%

A beautifully clear ruby to garnet red with red and black fruits and a touch of spice. On the palate the cherry flavors come home, showcasing a medium to full body, mildly tannic wine with remarkable balance and structure. This wine should improve 5-6 rating points alone if you let it breath 30-60 minutes.

An excellent table wine at a remarkable price. Current pricing from $20-30.

Trivia with Literary License: Long before Cabernet roots worked their way into the slopes of Montalcino, the ridge above La Lecciaia stood as a contested frontier between Siena and Florence. Florence was rising toward its Renaissance artistic peak; Siena was already descending into its long twilight, its fame dimming after centuries of brilliance. In the late summer of 1502, when the dust of Cesare Borgia’s campaigns drifted across central Italy, the hills around the modern vineyard, then fields of grain and olive trees, would have felt its renown beginning to pass out of sight. Couriers rode the ridgelines, mercenaries threaded the valleys, and rumors traveled faster than horses. Borgia, son of Pope Alexander VI, brilliant, corrupt, and blood‑stained; was stitching Romagna, Umbria, and the Tuscan borderlands into the patchwork of his imagined and desired kingdom.

For a moment, it almost worked. With his father’s money, troops, and papal legitimacy, Cesare Borgia came closer than any condottiere of his age to forging a new principality in the heart of Italy. But fortune and fate interceded. Pope Alexander VI died suddenly in 1503, and Cesare himself lay bedridden with malaria, too weak to seize the reins of power. The new pope, Julius II, moved swiftly: stripping him of titles, seizing his fortresses, and unleashing the enemies he had once imprisoned. His fall was swift and complete, but Machiavelli kept him alive for the ages, immortalizing him in The Prince. His life became a cautionary tale. A rise and ruin that reads like a Renaissance tragedy worthy of Hamlet. Borgia had chased destiny with a bloody sword, all without honor.

Crossing this same landscape comes Leonardo da Vinci. Drawn by the promise of designing ideal cities with resources to bring them to fruition, he entered Borgia’s service in the summer of 1502 as Architect and General Engineer. For a brief moment, Borgia’s appetite overlapped with Leonardo’s visions of a symmetrical, ordered world shaped within the folds of his expansive mind. Leonardo traveled across central Italy inspecting fortresses and terrain, producing his famous Imola map. A masterpiece of precision and imagination; one of the first in Europe to apply true orthographic projection to a fully measured city plan.

By November or December of that year, Leonardo likely encountered the true nature of his patron. Although accounts are cloudy, in December 1502 Leonardo, Machiavelli, and Borgia’s captains were together in the Adriatic coastal town of Senigallia. There, Borgia enticed his captains with words of friendship, then had them strangled or stabbed within minutes. An act of theatrical brutality carried out in the very building where Leonardo was said to be working. The episode left a lasting impression on both the artist and Machiavelli.

Leonardo left no written record of that night, but he departed Borgia’s service almost immediately afterward. The timing is unmistakable. It is not difficult to imagine a world in which Leonardo remained in the employ of Borgia, and how his contributions to humanity might have taken a darker, narrower turn. As Paulo Coelho writes in The Alchemist, “when you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it.” Leonardo stepped away just as the universe showed him a fork in the road and nudged him from the darker path.

Michelangelo, Medici, and Florence

Tomb of Lorenzo II de Medici and below lying on the sarcophagus two sculptures ‘Dawn and Dusk’ in Medici Chapel, Florence, Italy

Florence, the Medici family, and the Renaissance are inextricably linked, forming a vibrant nexus of world-shaping brilliance and energy. After Lorenzo the Magnificent’s death in 1492, Michelangelo emerged as the towering figure of art and beauty during the High Renaissance, spanning the late 15th and early 16th centuries.

Michelangelo’s unparalleled artistic mastery endured for nearly fifty years beyond his death in 1564, yet with the passing of Ferdinando I de’ Medici in 1609, Baroque masters like Caravaggio and Bernini ascended as Europe’s preeminent talents.

Michelangelo navigated a delicate balance with the shifting demands of his Medici patrons, fiercely defending his artistic vision while securing payment, often with friction. The expectations of the Medici popes, Leo X (1513–1521) and Clement VII (1523–1534), frequently clashed—both in timing and creative intent—with his ambitions. This tension, happily, fueled his masterpieces, including the Sistine Chapel ceiling (1508–1512) and the Last Judgment (1536–1541).

The image depicts the Tomb of Lorenzo II de’ Medici, a work Michelangelo sculpted between 1524 and 1531.

Source: The Medici, Michaelangelo…Florence, Essays by Acidini…2002. Graphic: Tomb of Lorenzo II de Medici, Michelangelo, 1524-1531. CAHJKT iStock Photo Licensed.

Brunelleschi’s Dome

Filippo Brunelleschi, a goldsmith, engineer, and relatively inexperienced architect, completed the largest masonry dome in the world in 1436—a record that has never been broken. The world now knows it as Brunelleschi’s Dome, which sits atop the Cathedral of Saint Mary of the Flower in Florence, Italy.

When completed, the dome was 52 meters (171 feet) high, with an exterior diameter of 45.5 meters (149 feet) and an interior diameter at its base of 41 meters (135 feet). The base of the dome sat above the crossing of the Cathedral, which was 55 meters (180 feet) above the ground. Atop the dome was a lantern measuring 21 meters (69 feet) in height, bringing the entire Cathedral structure to a remarkable 128 meters (420 feet). While it was not the tallest structure in the world at the time—Lincoln Cathedral in England, at 160 meters (525 feet), held that distinction—it was certainly an impressive architectural feat.

Trivia: Brunelleschi developed an ingenious mechanical lift to raise materials up to the dome. The modern world knows what that device looked like and how it worked because a young Leonardo da Vinci sketched the hoist when he was apprenticed to the Florentine painter Verrocchio beginning in 1466. Due to that sketch, Leonardo was sometimes mistakenly given credit for inventing the hoist.

Source: Brunelleschi’s Dome by Ross King, 2000. Graphic: Brunelleschi’s Dome by National Geographic, 2013-2019.