Although the grape was likely used in winemaking during the height of the Roman Empire, sangiovese was not identified as such until nearly a thousand years later. According to Darrell Corti of Corti Brothers Wine Merchants in Sacramento, a 16th-Century list of the wines known in Italy made no mention of it, even though it listed other wines of Tuscany. Sangiovese may have been known by other names through the ages, but it wasn't until 1600 that Gian Vittorio Soderini mentioned sangiogheto in his Coltivazione Toscana delle viti e d'alcuni alberi.

"This very sudden appearance [of a principal grape] is unusual," Corti notes, "appearing full-blown on the wine scene just at the time of the beginnings of deliberate plant hybridization."

By whatever name and by whatever history, sangiovese is now grown extensively in central Italy and forms the basis for Brunello di Montalcino, Chianti, Vino Nobile di Montepulciano, Torgiano, Montefalco, Rosso di Montalcino and other wines.

While Brunello may be the grape's most elegant expression, most of the world knows it from its more humble Chianti heritage. A wine once denigrated for its plebeian nature, Chianti has undergone significant changes over the last 20 years, some due to improved techniques and some due to winemakers convinced that sangiovese — once freed of the legal shackles of arcane laws — could produce a world-class wine.

Led by their modern-day saint, Piero Antinori, a band of true believers convinced the Italian government that great Chianti could only be produced by relaxing the prescriptive formula penned by Bettino Ricasoli in the 19th Century. Ricasoli's recipe called for the use of white grapes in the Chianti blend, which most winemakers now believe diluted the palate effect of the red sangiovese.

While waiting for the Denominazione di Origine Controllata (DOC) to change its laws, Antinori made a blend of cabernet sauvignon and sangiovese, called it Tignanello, and skipped the "Chianti" designation on the label, accepting the DOC's lowest classification of vino da tavola. It was so good that others soon followed with their own blends and practically raised the vino da tavola category to exalted status. These non-DOC concoctions came to be known as Super Tuscans and are now recognized as a class of fine wines in their own right.

The progress made by the Super Tuscans left the Italian government with little choice but to revise the DOC laws regarding Chianti, relaxing the requirement for other grapes and allowing the use of previously unapproved varieties like cabernet sauvignon. In so doing, they changed Chianti's image from a quotidian wine cradled in a peasant's straw basket to one of international stature with more concentrated color, deeper flavors and greater aging ability.

Sangiovese, surprisingly, has enjoyed a long, albeit anonymous, life in the New World. Filippo Mazzei was commissioned by Thomas Jefferson to bring Italian vignerons and grapevines to America in the 1770s. Since sangiovese was already a prime producer in Tuscany, Mazzei's homeland, many historians assume he must have brought it to Virginia. Agoston Haraszthy imported thousands of European vines to the United States in the 1860s, and sangiovese's reputation by that time ensured its place on Haraszthy's list. "San Giovetta," according to Corti, was number 399.

Around 1900, Italian Swiss Colony arranged to import Italian varieties, including those used in Ricasoli's Chianti blend, and planted them in California. The Italian Swiss Colony mentioned the planting of a "chianti" vineyard in 1903, which likely included sangiovese. The records of Haraszthy and Italian Swiss Colony provide the earliest references to sangiovese in America, yet nearly a hundred years would pass before this romantic grape would truly blossom here.

Edoardo Seghesio planted a vineyard of sangiovese at the turn of the 20th Century in an area of Sonoma County which the Italian immigrants fondly called Chianti. When Seghesio's heirs rediscovered this vineyard in the 1980s, they found that all the grapes in Ricasoli's Chianti blend were planted there. The family brought the vineyard back to life and made a wine called Chianti Station. "Chianti is what they knew," says Ted Seghesio of the early immigrants. His great grandfather's wine was a familiar and welcome reminder of their homeland. Today, the Seghesio's vineyard represents sangiovese's American legacy.

Until the recent past, few American winemakers had the access to sangiovese that the Seghesios enjoyed. The grape's fortunes, however, have turned. Its reputation has scaled such heights that it is seducing vintners from Virginia to California, from Los Angeles to Washington State. It has mustered such intrigue and excitement of late that Atlas Peak Vineyards sponsored the first International Sangiovese Symposium at its Napa Valley property in July.

The event, at which I participated as a panelist, brought together luminaries like Piero Antinori, Roberto Stucchi of Badia a Coltibuono, Professor Cesare Intrieri of the University of Bologna, Paolo di Marchi of Isole e Olena and Vittorio Frescobaldi of Castelgiocondo with America's brightest Sangiovese producers for a day of debate and education on America's new darling grape.

Sangiovese's history in America is spotted with numerous incidents of "suitcase importation," an extra-legal means of importing the grape and spurring its cultivation in California. Atlas Peak's experience is perhaps the most unique: A shipment of vines was brought in through legitimate channels and labeled, "Case of Vines," but U.S. Customs officials misread the marking as "Case of Wine" and let it pass without quarantine.

Corti calls sangiovese the "most fashionable grape variety without a well-defined prototype." But today, nearly 70 wineries produce wines that include significant proportions of sangiovese. The tonnage of California sangiovese crushed in 1996 was double that crushed in 1995, and the plantings of as-yet non-bearing vines indicate that the next few years will witness a similar increase in tonnage.

America's top-flight Sangiovese producers include Atlas Peak (an Antinori/Wine Alliance partnership venture), Dalla Valle, Ferrari-Carano, Leonetti (Washington State), Mondavi, Seghesio and Swanson. A number of others are producing more than respectable Sangiovese bottlings, including Cosentino, Charles Krug, Gabrielli, Montevina, Robert Pepi, Venezia and Viansa.

Some non-Italian producers, including Belvedere, Cambria, Chappellet, Clos du Val, Iron Horse, Shafer and Silverado, have gotten into the Sangiovese act, too, and are faring well with the grape.

The proprietary names are as colorful as the wines themselves and include Chianti Station (Seghesio), Colline di Sassi (Robert Pepi), Il Palio (Martin Brothers), Il Tesoro (Cosentino), Pietre Rosse (Dalla Valle), Siena (Ferrari-Carano),Thalia and Piccolo Toscano (Viansa). Shafer's Firebreak is so-named because the vineyard that hosts the sangiovese was planted to serve as a firebreak to protect the home-stead against another of Napa's fierce fire storms.

The blends range from a grace note of sangiovese blended with cabernet sauvignon to full-throated, 100 percent varietals like that of Amador Foothill, Atlas Peak, Dalla Valle and Venezia. The styles range from the tea-like character of pinot noir, to the claret nature of some full-bodied, fruity wines, to the austere, earthy personality of a traditional Chianti. This breadth of style is reminiscent of the versatility of zinfandel, inasmuch as sangiovese shares zinfandel's willingness to take on the character intended by its producer and grower. And while this range offers a variety of opportunities for consumers, there should be no question that the grape, as it is vinified in this country, is acquiring an American character. As Paolo de Marchi of Isole e Olena points out: "If my son grew up in California, he would have the same genetic make-up, but he would be very different. It is the same with grapes."

Many winemakers believe that what the market needs is an American Sangiovese, not an American Chianti. An attempt to make an imitation of the classic wine from Tuscany would miss the point. Rather than expending their energies on replicating the wines of Europe, producers here have come to acknowledge the attributes of New World viticulture and are now fashioning wines that maximize those advantages. But, even within the scope of New World styles, winemakers should still look to the consumers for direction.

What have the consumers seen — and liked?

Most Americans, when quizzed about their reactions to Sangiovese, will claim they've never tasted it. Baby Boomers grew up on spaghetti floating in red sauce. Perhaps their parents gave them an occasional sip of that pleasant, brickish red wine in the straw-covered bottle. The families and friends who shared a bottle of Chianti in the neighborhood spaghetti houses of the 1950s and '60s didn't know — or care — that the wine was made from sangiovese grapes.

But the Baby Boomers grew up to be wine lovers. Spaghetti became pasta, humdrum red sauce yielded the stage to the more dramatic Alfredo, marinara and pesto sauces, and that simple little Chianti in the candleholder bottle underwent a complete makeover.

The sangiovese vineyards of early California and the vines harvested by Italian Swiss Colony and Agoston Haraszthy produced light-hearted, innocuous wines. Today's American Sangioveses, however, are proving that they belong in the pantheon of American viticulture.

Dick Rosano writes on wine, food and travel for several publications, including Country Inns and The Washington Flyer.