Love of the land and of good wine have always been part of the Tombacco family. It’s like a genetic trait that’s passed on through generations…
Since my grandfather Batista, born in 1899, decided to turn his dream into reality and become an agricultural entrepreneur. He had come back from the front as poor as when he’d left, so much so that, at the moment of asking for the hand in marriage of the girl who was to become my grandmother, he had nothing to offer but his cap. However, he never gave up: with tenacity, stubbornness and a little ingenuousness, he managed to scrape together, bit by bit, the necessary money to set up his business.
The choice of land, the careful cultivation of the vines and the processing of the grapes in order to obtain results of a superior quality meant that the company which had started small grew quickly, then grew larger and larger, eventually becoming known throughout Italy and then also abroad.
Involved in this development over time arrived two of his sons, like Batista each driven by the same passion and the same stubbornness : first my uncle, then my father, following the path imagined by my grandfather, feeding the dream that has been passed today into the hands of my brother and me.
We too have inherited from our grandfather, Batista, both passion and stubbornness, and we too have had to fight to follow our little spark of ingenuousness, and it’s that which has brought us here, on the Claudius Augustus road, to add to its magnificent history our own small contribution. A road of imposing connections, built upon the orders of a general to the
Emperor Augustus so as to connect Venice to the planes beyond the Brenner pass, and finally finished by the Emperor Claudius in 47 AD.
It’s precisely in homage to that date that we decided to call our company 47 Anno Domini, and thanks to the fact that it grew up here, laying down roots in a land that has been for centuries a thoroughfare of goods and entire populations, our vineyards somehow draw on a special power. We’re convinced of it, and in certain autumn evenings the scent of mature grapes that comes from the rows of our vines seems to bring with it the sound of slow rolling of wagons headed towards the Danube...