The name comes from pecora, sheep, and the competing explanations all amount to much the same thing: the grape the flocks pecked at along the transhumance routes, or simply the variety grown where the shepherds passed between the Marche and Abruzzo. It has nothing to do with the cheese of the same name, which is worth saying because it is the first thing anyone thinks on reading the label.
By the 1970s it had all but disappeared: low-yielding, awkward, replaced everywhere by more generous grapes. The recovery began from a few surviving vines in the Marche hinterland and spread from the 1980s into Abruzzo, which now grows more of it than the region that saved it. On labels it appears as Abruzzo Pecorino DOC, often Superiore, and under the hill IGTs; in the Marche it goes into the Offida DOCG.
This is a structured white, not a light one. It ripens early and accumulates sugar, so the alcohol runs high — in our own catalogue the Pecorino sit about a point above the average of the whites we track — but the acidity carries the weight. The aromatics run to sage and anise, white flowers and citrus, with a herbal bitterness on the finish that is its signature.
A fair share ends up sparkling: the same acidity that holds the still wine together makes a credible base for the tank method, and among the bottles we follow sparkling Pecorino is now a constant.
