Travels with Delia: Marsala

Imagine a recipe that goes something like this: first take some very rich, fertile soil that happens to be in a strategic position – a place where most of the seafaring world passes by, pops in or conquers and settles at various stages of history. So the recipe reads: begin by bringing in some Ancient Greeks to plant their vines and olives; then from Ancient Rome bring in wheat, corn and other grains; add to that citrus groves and rice fields from Arabia, along with a generous import of exotic spices, coupled with trees that grow sweet almonds and pistachio nuts. Some ripe, red tomatoes planted by Spaniards are also a great addition here. Now all you need to do is mix it together well and wait a few centuries while it grows, develops and flourishes, and what you end up with is a Mediterranean island (the largest), a mere 140 kilometres from the coast of North Africa.

What you first catch sight of from the air are its dark and mysterious mountains. Geologically it's a separate section of a continuous chain involving the Appennino mountains to the north and the great Atlas mountains of North Africa to the south. There are long coastal plains, but sometimes the great mountains drop straight down into the sea, which by contrast sparkles vivaciously and for some reason seems to have its own special colour – as if dark sapphires and pale aquamarines have somehow been combined. Sicily is without doubt a land of contrasts, and if the dark, smouldering presence of Europe's largest volcano, Mount Etna, reminds you that this is the land of The Godfather, then the sea, the beauty of the landscape, the flowers and the gentle nobility of a people with a passion for wine, food and celebration will almost banish it from your mind.

We are guests of the Pellegrino family, who have made some of the finest Marsala for three generations. The most surprising thing we discover about the history of this amazing wine is that it was invented – wait for it – by an Englishman.

Yes, it's true. His name was John Woodhouse, a great wine connoisseur with a special love for Sicily. In 1773 he landed in Marsala, tasted the local wines and knew there would be a market for them in Britain. He began to make wine from the vines that flourished in this area, which boasts the hottest summers and the warmest winters in all Italy. In order to export his rather special wine back to England, he added some alcohol to it to help it survive the long sea voyage. The wine responded to this fortification so favourably that he then set about producing a fortified wine which he felt could rival both sherry and Madeira in the European market.

The Cantina Pellegrino is directly opposite the family mansion, which is a beautiful and stately terracotta villa with avenues of palm trees and Italianate statues. The winery itself is built around a courtyard, where today we are lucky enough to be able to watch the age-old skills of local coopers who are banging away, coaxing iron hoops round the oak panels to make traditional barrels. Inside the cellars the rows of barrels themselves – some small, some huge and imposing – remind me of abstract works of art sitting in the cool, hushed atmosphere, giving a mysterious expression to something. As we move through from one area to another, all around us are attractive museum pieces – a colourful, hand-painted wooden cart that once carried grapes; an old wine press – everywhere there is evidence of a great love and pride in the whole tradition of winemaking.

When the grapes come in from the vineyards they are first crushed, and the juice obtained from everything, including skins and crushed stems (the 'must'), is then cooked. The skills employed in this process are crucial, as is the control of the fermentation process, which the winemaker determines by arresting the fermentation at precisely the right moment by the addition of alcohol or brandy, which immediately kills the yeasts.

After the cantina we head for the vineyards, where teams of pickers with sun-creased faces are collecting the last loads of the day before a sudden shower puts paid to their work. In this vineyard we come across an agronomist who happens to be out inspecting some vines, and he gives us the final word on what makes Marsala so special. 'Here in this part of Sicily we have an old proverb that says, “the vine cultivated in the sirocco [wind] is the best”. We have a particular microclimate here. Marsala is a windy place and the sirocco takes the moisture off the grapes and keeps them dry. When you take away the humidity from the grapes, you remove the fungus and bacteria that cause disease.'