Soave: The Wine You Forgot You Loved

There are wines we all remember—bold reds with impossible-to-pronounce names and white wines with personalities so loud they practically order for you at dinner. And then, there’s Soave. The quiet one. The wallflower at the wine party. The bottle you used to drink, vaguely remember liking, and then promptly ghosted for trendier options like Albariño or Picpoul.

But here’s the thing: Soave never left. It just got better while you were off flirting with overpriced orange wines in natural wine bars that smell like wet goat. It slimmed down, cleaned up its act, and started hanging out with serious winemakers. This isn’t the bland bottle your aunt brought to Christmas in 2004. Soave’s got nuance now. Depth. Class. Actual character.

Made mostly from Garganega (remember her from our last post?), Soave is what happens when a grape with quiet confidence meets volcanic soils and stops trying to please everyone. It’s not shouting for your attention. But it deserves it.

So, let’s revisit this underrated classic. Because Soave wine is making a comeback—and it’s about time we started drinking like we actually have taste.

The Wine That Fell Off and Got Back Up Again

Soave used to be a big deal. Like, top-selling Italian white wine in the world big deal. In the 1970s, it was everywhere—synonymous with classy dinners, polyester suits, and restaurants where the prawns still had their shells on. It had the kind of fame Pinot Grigio can only dream about. And then, like all things that become too popular too fast, it got… bad.

Producers cashed in, started mass-producing the stuff, and watered down the magic. Soave became the Barry Manilow of wine: overly familiar, slightly embarrassing, and only ever appreciated ironically. By the 1990s, it was the punchline of white wine jokes—if anyone mentioned it at all.

But the grape didn’t change. Garganega was still out there, quietly doing her thing. And a handful of small, quality-obsessed winemakers never gave up on it. They trimmed their yields, moved back to the volcanic hills of Soave Classico, and started making serious wine again.

Now, Soave is having a quiet renaissance. You won’t see it hyped on TikTok or poured by influencers in Santorini. But in the right hands? It sings. And not in that Barry Manilow way. More like vintage Amy Winehouse—rich, complex, a little bitter, and completely unforgettable.

Cheap, Cheerful or Criminally Misunderstood?

Soave’s biggest problem? It’s been typecast. Thanks to decades of cheap plonk flooding supermarket shelves, people assume it’s still the white wine equivalent of elevator music: fine, harmless, utterly forgettable.

But Soave is a genre, not a single track. Yes, there’s cheap Soave that tastes like lemon squash diluted with tap water. But there’s also Soave that’s lean, mineral, almond-kissed and subtly floral in a way that makes you pause mid-sip and mutter,

“Wait… that’s really good.”

The issue is that the name “Soave” appears on everything from lifeless litre bottles made by industrial-scale producers, to terroir-driven masterpieces that sommeliers hoard like vintage vinyl. So when someone says, “I don’t like Soave,” what they usually mean is,

“I had one crap bottle from the Co-op in 2011.”

Let’s set the record straight. Proper Soave—especially the ones from the Classico zone—is a serious wine that can pair with everything from seafood to passive-aggressive family dinners. It has grip. It has texture. It has acidity. And unlike some wines we could name, it doesn’t rely on oak to seem sophisticated.

So no, Soave isn’t just “cheap and cheerful.” It’s more like affordable and misunderstood. Which, coincidentally, is how most of us describe ourselves on dating apps.

What Actually Is in a Bottle of Soave Wine?

Wine law, in Italy, is a bit like assembling flat-pack furniture without instructions: confusing, occasionally infuriating, and somehow still stylish. So let’s break this one down simply.

To legally call itself Soave, a wine must be made with at least 70% Garganega. The other 30%? That’s a choose-your-own-adventure story featuring other local grapes like Trebbiano di Soave, Chardonnay, or Pinot Bianco. Sometimes these extras help round out the wine. Sometimes they just dilute the good stuff. (We see you, over-ambitious blends.)

The best producers often go 100% Garganega, especially in the Soave Classico or Soave Superiore DOCG zones. That’s when the wine really shines—pure, mineral, citrusy with notes of almond, green apple, and a quiet confidence that says,

“I don’t need your approval. I’m from Veneto.”

And because Soave’s vineyards stretch from flat plains to steep volcanic slopes, the wine in your glass might be vastly different depending on where it was grown. Hills mean character. Plains mean quantity. You can guess which one ends up on Ryanair flights.

So when buying Soave, always check for:

• Classico (grown on the original hillside zones = more flavour)

• Superiore DOCG (more ageing, more structure)

• Single-vineyard or producer-specific labels (less mass-produced)

Because if you’re going to fall back in love with Soave, it might as well be with the real deal.

Soave Classico vs Not-So-Classico: Know Your DOCs

Italian wine labels are about as straightforward as assembling IKEA furniture blindfolded. So when you’re faced with Soave, Soave Classico, Soave Superiore, and Soave DOCG… it’s no wonder most people just grab the cheapest bottle and run.

Let’s demystify it.

• Soave DOC: The catch-all. Includes wines from the flatlands and the hills. Think of it as the “entry-level” Spotify account of Soave—ads included.

• Soave Classico DOC: Now we’re talking. These grapes are grown on the original hillside vineyards around the towns of Soave and Monteforte d’Alpone. Volcanic soils, better drainage, smaller yields. It’s where Garganega struts her stuff.

• Soave Superiore DOCG: This is Classico’s older, fancier sister. More structure, a little more alcohol, a bit of bottle age. The wine must meet stricter rules, like longer ageing and lower yields. But DOCG on a bottle doesn’t always mean better—sometimes it just means more paperwork.

• Recioto di Soave DOCG: Dessert wine made from dried Garganega grapes. Sweet, golden, and about as common as a humble sommelier. Worth trying if you like your wine with a bit of sugar and spice.

If in doubt? Buy Soave Classico. It’s the sweet spot between complexity and value. And most importantly, it’s the one that still tastes like it has a soul.

What Does Soave Wine Taste Like When It’s Good?

Bad Soave tastes like someone stirred lemon rind into a puddle and bottled it. Good Soave? That’s an entirely different story.

At its best, Soave wine is an exercise in understated elegance. It doesn’t hit you over the head with pineapple or oak. It whispers. It smoulders. It shows up in linen and knows how to make risotto without showing off.

Expect:

• Citrus: Lemon zest, mandarin, the occasional wink of grapefruit.

• Almond: A defining marker. Not sweet marzipan—more like that moment almond milk tastes almost interesting.

• White flowers and chamomile: Soft, aromatic, like your flatmate’s expensive hand soap.

• Minerality: That stony, almost salty sensation from volcanic soils.

• Bitterness: A touch of green or almond-skin bitterness on the finish. Very Italian. Very grown-up.

The texture is usually light-to-medium-bodied, dry, and crisp with enough acidity to make it food-friendly but never sharp enough to burn your eyebrows off.

If you’ve written Soave off as “boring,” chances are you’ve only met its worst self. Try a bottle from a small Classico producer and watch it rise like a phoenix from the Tesco clearance bin.

When to Drink Soave and When to Pretend You’re Out of It

Soave wine is situational. Like Crocs. Sometimes perfect. Sometimes deeply inappropriate.

Drink Soave when:

• You’re eating seafood, light pasta, or pretending you know how to cook Italian.

• You want a wine that plays the background track—not the lead guitar solo.

• You’re outdoors, it’s warm, and Sauvignon Blanc just feels too predictable.

• You’re trying to impress someone who knows wine but isn’t a show-off.

• You’ve emotionally committed to the “drink white in winter” lifestyle. (Respect.)

Avoid Soave when:

• You want a wine to get into a full-on shouting match with your steak.

• You’re drinking with people who believe “dry” means “tastes like vodka.”

• You’re in the mood for a wine so oaky it might as well be furniture.

Soave isn’t trying to be everything. It’s not here to prove anything. It’s here to chill. Serve it slightly cooler than room temp (8–10°C), pair it with literally anything Mediterranean-adjacent, and let it do what it does best—be delicious without drama.

How to Spot a Banger Soave Without a Degree in Viticulture

You don’t need a wine diploma or a Venetian grandmother to sniff out a great Soave. You just need to dodge the industrial plonk and spot the clues. Here’s how:

Look for “Classico” on the label

This means the grapes were grown in the hilly, original zone. Expect flavour. Expect effort.

Single vineyards or named cru

Words like “Monte Carbonare,” “Calvarino,” or “La Rocca” = high quality. These aren’t your average £5.99 bottle.

Vintage matters

Drink young (1–3 years from bottling) for freshness. Go older (5–10 years) only if it’s a reputable producer. Or if you’re reckless and adventurous.

Avoid “Soave Novello” or anything in litre bottles with plastic corks

Unless you’re into the wine equivalent of a Wetherspoons breakfast.

Know your producers

Look out for: Pieropan, Inama, Suavia, Gini, Tamellini, and Pra. If you see any of these names, just grab the bottle and back away slowly.

If in doubt? Ask the wine shop for Soave made with 100% Garganega. If they look confused, leave immediately.

Soave Wine: Still Got It, Actually

Here’s the twist in this redemption arc: Soave wine never stopped being good. We just stopped paying attention.

Overshadowed by Pinot Grigio’s club banger energy and Chardonnay’s comeback tour, Soave sat patiently in the background like that one friend who actually listens when you talk. It was never trendy, never flashy. But it was always delicious—at least when made by people who gave a damn.

The best Soave wines today are thoughtful, mineral-driven, food-friendly marvels that don’t need to shout to be heard. They come from volcanic hills, from families who’ve been growing Garganega since before we started arguing about screw caps. They don’t try to be fashionable. And that’s exactly why they should be.

So here’s your permission slip to love Soave again. To reclaim it from the recycling bin of forgotten wines. To say, proudly, “Yes, I do like Soave,” and watch people tilt their heads in impressed confusion.

Because Soave wine isn’t boring. It isn’t passé. It isn’t cheap unless you want it to be. It’s just criminally underrated—and ready to make your fridge cooler again.