TUSCAN IRIS

Hello Alessandro, welcome back to the Narici spotlight. Tell us how Lavanda del Chianti came to be, and how iris entered your story.

Well, we started in 1962 with my grandfather, who was both a physician and a pharmacist. Out of passion, he founded the Lavanda del Chianti brand — which still carries today a historic label created by Vittorio Zani, a Sienese painter from the early twentieth century and the same artist who designed the symbol of the Monte dei Paschi di Siena. Even back then we had important clients: Manetti & Roberts, for whom we mainly produced lavender aftershave.

My father, an internist, revitalised the company in the nineties, expanding into cosmetics, perfumery, and more recently liqueur production — we also sell raw materials to distilleries and liqueur makers. I am a pharmacist and represent the third generation.

As for iris: it has always been with us. We are at 635 metres altitude, on very calcareous, stony, well-drained soil — ideal conditions for aromatic plants. We have always grown both, deepening our knowledge of the plant over time and refining our processing methods. Today we have a large distillery for essential oils and a separate laboratory for the production of absolutes.

Tuscany has a centuries-old history with iris. What can you tell us about that connection? Any interesting anecdotes?

Iris pallida is closely tied to the history of Florence — it is the lily, the city’s symbol. Now, the Florentine lily is technically white, but iris pallida typically has a pale violet-blue colouring, and this is the species cultivated for perfumery. There is always a bit of a double play between the official symbol and the actual plant.

Areas such as the Valdarno have historically been among the most important for the cultivation of Tuscan iris. The soil there is slightly different from ours — more sandy — but equally well-drained. The main difference is that here, on the calcareous hills of Chianti, we have to fence our fields because of the porcupine: it is the only natural predator of the rhizome, possessing a specific enzyme that neutralises its toxicity, and it eats it quite willingly. In the Valdarno this problem does not exist — they have open fields. For us, it is a constant battle.

Which iris species are grown for extraction? How important is terroir?

The main species for perfumery is iris pallida. There is also iris germanica, which has a deeper, more vivid colouring. It should be said that a number of varieties exist as a result of human hybridisation — those with striking colours, large flowers, imposing stems — but these tend over time to lose their acquired traits and revert to their ancestral form when planted close to one another. The colouring fades back to pale, and the rhizome changes too. This is something that would warrant thorough laboratory study; the phenomenon is real but not yet fully understood.

In cultivation for extraction, varieties must therefore be kept well separated, precisely to prevent hybridisation from compromising the quality of the botanical material. We use only the original iris pallida for our extractions.

Terroir is fundamental. Iris, like almost all aromatic plants, cannot tolerate moisture in the soil: the rhizome tends to rot. We are fortunate — we sit on one of the highest hills in Chianti, with very calcareous, stony soil that guarantees excellent drainage. There is no waterlogging, and the iris feels extremely at home here. We have received very positive feedback from perfumers who have purchased our botanical material specifically for its excellent characteristics.

Can you describe the cultivation cycle of iris, from planting to harvest? Does flowering matter for extraction?

The cycle is a long one: iris is planted in the ground and after three years — not before — the rhizome has multiplied sufficiently to be harvested. The harvest period is August. The plant flowers at the end of April, early May — a brief flowering of around fifteen days — then goes into full vegetative growth during the summer months. After harvest, the youngest parts of the rhizome — the cuttings — are removed and replanted in September for the next cycle; indeed, by January and February the first leaves are already beginning to develop.

Flowering, beautiful as it is, has no direct bearing on extraction: what matters is the rhizome. After harvest, the rhizome is mechanically washed in drum mixers and then “sbarbucciato” — that is, the secondary roots are removed by hand using a small knife. At this point, two products can be distinguished: the black, which retains its bark, and the white, which is peeled and decorticated. It goes without saying that the white is the more prized.

Both are then sliced in a mill and sent for aging.

Let’s talk about aging and extraction: from the white to the finished product, what are the most critical stages? What are the differences between butter, absolute, and resinoid?

Curing is the most critical and the longest phase of the entire production chain. Three years is the usual figure — already a considerable amount of time for a business that needs to generate revenue. We do something far more extreme: we have cured our iris for up to twenty years.

It is something “monstrous” from an economic point of view — you are tying up capital for two decades — but the product you obtain is on a completely different level. Over time, the irone content in the rhizome increases progressively, and irones are the molecules responsible for the characteristic scent: that something powdery, talcum-like, indefinable that is the signature of iris in perfumery.

For extraction we work exclusively from the peeled white. The product we obtain is an iris absolute. It has a brown, ochre-tending colour — not heavily marked despite the long curing — and a scent I would describe as powdery and talcum-like. The machines we use have been built by us over the years: in 64 years of activity, we have optimised every phase of production. The details of the process remain a trade secret.

The yield is not high. It is an inevitably costly product. Butter, resinoid, and absolute differ in their extraction processes and yield products with different olfactory characteristics and levels of tenacity — which is the “best” always depends on the application: in perfumery, there is no absolute answer in this sense.

Dried botanical material has many other destinations as well: ground into powder, it is sold to the liqueur and distillery industries for alcoholic infusions. It is also used as a direct fragrance material in potpourri. And — a lesser-known fact in Italy — in Germany the rhizome is traditionally used to make teething rings for infants: it has a mild anaesthetic and anti-inflammatory effect on the gums, and being plant-based it is non-toxic. This tradition does not exist in Italy, but it is an ancient and fascinating use.

Is there something that connects you to iris in a particularly personal way — a memory, an emotion?

What strikes me most is its dual nature. The rhizome is extraordinarily tough — it does not die easily; it is an immense reserve of energy. In February, when snow may still be falling, it already has its first buds pushing through the ground. If a frost burns its leaves, you can be sure the root beneath is still alive. It has a remarkable strength.

And then there is the flower: so fragile, so brief. All that energy accumulated underground, and the flower lasts perhaps fifteen days. If it rains, it wilts. I have always found this apparent contradiction between its resilient yet so ephemeral nature to be a compelling metaphor for life.