The first thing you notice about Sardinia is the perfume in the air—the briny countryside breeze is redolent with local herbs like citrusy myrtle and exotically spiced elicriso. On a recent trip to the region, I was instructed to pluck these herbs to smell and taste at each vineyard I visited. They were a local point of pride, valued for their culinary usage—elicriso, for example, is called “oro di Sardegna” (gold of Sardinia), and is used for everything from seasoning fish to making gin. But the Sardinian people also believe that the flavors find their way into the their wines, like electric Vermentinos, ethereal Cannonaus, robust Carignanos, and even rare bottlings of the indigenous Arvisionadu or Cagnulari.

There are records of vines being planted in Sardinia as early as 800 BCE by the Phoenicians, but the modern wine regions are relatively young. This is because the European Union, in an effort to combat overproduction in the 1980s and ‘90s, offered incentives to small farmers to pull up their vines. The upside was that new producers were presented with the opportunity to replant and better match grape variety to terroir.

It's an exciting time for Sardinian winemakers who, about 25 years in, are just hitting their stride. It’s also a dizzying time for consumers, as regions wrestle with their very identity, as they apply for (and fight over) appellation status. During my visit, I witnessed many a frustrated fist shake at the Italian government over the time it took for them to accomplish anything.

The main varieties, Vermentino and Cannonau, have DOCs that cover the entire island. For the rest, it’s lesser IGTs (Indicazione Geografica Tipica). Villages trying to distinguish themselves are faced with having to be extremely broad or very specific, and no one can agree on the best approach. Still, there are delicious wines to be had, so here are some of the wine regions in Sardinia that you should know, cellar, or drink immediately.

Northeast: Vermentino di Gallura

Let’s start in the northwest with Gallura. In 1996, Vermentino di Gallura became the island’s only DOCG (Denominazione di Origine Controllata e Garantita), Italy’s highest classification for wines that have passed a government-approved tasting. This is Vermentino territory, characterized by granite-rich soils and proximity to the Tyrrhenian Sea. The coast provides ample exposure to the Mistral wind, which cools the grapes and creates racy, mineral-driven wines with salinity and bursts of lemon, making them a perfect pairing for the local seafood.

Sassu Vini, a winery in Lura located in the heart of Gallura, makes Bianco Sassu, which is an exceptional Vermentino. The wine has mouthwatering acidity and is taut with fresh citrus in its youth, but it evolves into rich honey and almond flavors with three to five years of age. Sassu also makes a Vermentino labeled Isola Dei Nuraghi—it is fresh, salty, and pairs fantastically with local seppie con pomodori (squid with fresh tomatoes).

Northwest: Nurra, Coros, and Romangia

Between the towns of Alghero and Sassari you will find the wine regions of Nurra, Coros, and Romangia. Nurra and Coros have clay-rich soils with quartz and dolomitic limestone (referred to locally as bidialgiu), and focus on Vermentino and Cagnulari. The latter is an indigenous red grape that, depending on which local you speak to, may or may not be synonymous with Graciano. Romangia, which is composed of two villages—Sorso, on the sea, and the higher altitude Sennori—focuses on Vermentino and Cannonau.

The Vermentinos here are slightly richer and more textured than those from Gallura, and many are skin contact wines. Gian Piero Saccu, winemaker at Podere 45, uses a 72-hour skin maceration for his Alghero Bianco. Delicately balanced with herbaceous myrtle and fresh rose flavors, it’s voluptuous and sensual, just like a lazy day soaking up the Sardinian sun.

Cagnulari, a variety only grown in this region, is also worth seeking out. Winemaker Paolo Delitala of Ledà crafts one that’s intensely earthy and floral, full of violets, dusty clay, white pepper, red apple skin, and just the right amount of oak spice. For something fresh and fruity, try the raspberry-driven version by Cantina Carpante.

For Cannonau from Romangia, try Cantina Mario Bagella’s “1” Sorso (if you can get your hands on an aged bottle from 2014 or 2015, even better). Notes of concentrated red fruit grown on sandy soil make this wine meaty, yet balanced by robust tannins and lifted acidity.

Central: Mamoida

In Central Sardinia’s Mamoida, a town of only 2,500 inhabitants, Cannonau is king. The locals revere the grape and winemaking here is serious business—in fact, there’s an intense rivalry between them and the neighboring village, Oliena. And while there is no official classification yet for Mamoida (the winemakers use a mix of general DOC and IGT labeling), I have no doubt there will be one in the future because these were some of the most consistently high-quality wines I tasted.

Part of the reason may be that Mamoida is one of the highest altitude winemaking regions in Sardinia, with vineyards ranging from 2,100 to 2,800 feet, much higher than Oliena at 1,250 feet. The altitude means cooler nights, slower ripening, and Cannonau wines with more acidity, structure, and lift than those from lower sites. The 30 or so wineries here also focus on “ghiradas” or single vineyard bottlings, which is a great source of pride. And rightly so—these ethereal wines are Burgundian in their bright acidity and layered complexity, and can be cellared for ten years or more.

Try Teularju’s Ghirada Ocruana—the name translates to “frog’s eye,” a reference to the greenish metamorphic stones found in the granitic soil. The palate is fresh and elegant with juicy red fruit, fine tannins, and Mediterranean herbs. Or seek out Vignaioli Cadinu’s Rosso, a deeply hedonistic and sanguine wine with notes of pencil shavings and cedar mingling with ripe fruit.

While 95 percent of the vineyards are planted to Cannonau, five percent are parceled out for the white grape, Granatza. Antonio Mele’s Bianco is a great example of the latter, an herbaceous and floral wine that smells like ginestra, a local yellow flower that is as sweet as honeysuckle blossoms.

Southwest: Sant’Antioco

Off the Southwestern coast of Sardinia in the Sulcis region is the tiny island of Sant’Antioco. This is Carignano country, home to robust, rustic red wines. The soil is sandy and rocky, and the lack of rainfall from June through August stresses the vines and concentrates flavors. Winemakers here, who use the DOC Carignano di Sulcis, craft both red and rosé wines from old-vine Carignan grapes. Many plantings date back 40 to 70 years, with a few parcels over a century old.

Tenuta La Scogliera, a fifth-generation family-run winery currently helmed by Erica Verona, uses Carignan grapes from 80-year-old vines for the rosé called Rüzò. The wine is aged on its lees with bâtonnage (lees stirring) for about four months, giving its bright watermelon and strawberry fruit flavors added body and creamy texture.

Tenuta La Sabbiosa makes a deeper colored, savory rosé that was a great apertivo to pair with prosciutto and cheese. But their  Superiore, which they call ‘2’, really stood out. You could lose yourself in the smell alone—dark cherry fruit leather, fresh violets, smoke, and dirt—while the clean, balanced structure delivers layered flavors of balsamic and leather. Vigne Bentasali also makes great Carignan, a lively, saline version aged in stainless steel, and a rich, purple-fruited Riserva. 

I could wax on about Sardinia and its wines at length. For example, how western Sardinia’s Vernaccia di Oristano, the island’s very first DOC, makes oxidative wines from the Vernaccia grape under a layer of flor à la sherry. Or how Cantina Dessana, from the Goceano region of central Sardinia, makes a rare example of Arvisionadu, a local grape that feels very Chablis-like with its signature wine, Fauledda.

But instead I’ll leave you with the image of a steep hillside ghirada in Mamoida. There I sipped Mirto, a traditional sweet, herbal liqueur made by locals from the myrtle plant, before descending by car back into the village. Suddenly, the car stopped and the driver rolled down the window. He instructed me to lean out and pick a handful of crescione, a local flowering plant that is sharply green and a bit like arugula. I savored those flavors all the way back down the mountain.