A day in San Marzano Oliveto

San Marzano Oliveto isn't one tidy village but a scatter of hilltop hamlets, medieval towers still standing over the vine rows, right on the line where Barbera and Moscato share the same slopes. There's no old town to stroll for hours here — the day is about the wine, a proper lunch, and the views between the two. Here's how we'd spend it.

Morning — a tasting among the vines

Start up the hill at Carussin, where ten donkeys graze the slope below the cellar and the family's most-poured Barbera, Asinoi, is named after them. This is the Ferro family — Luigi and Bruna in the vines, sons Luca and Matteo now pouring — farming organically and by the biodynamic calendar. Book the donkey vineyard walk and natural-wine tasting ahead; it starts in the old cellar and, weather permitting, carries on out into the rows for a merendino with the animals. It's a working farm, not a showroom, and the welcome is the point. One thing to plan around: they're closed Sundays.

Prefer a cellar and a table of cheese to a field of donkeys? Cascina Guido Berta runs a warm family tasting in a cool underground cellar — Guido might come in straight off the tractor — with salami, focaccia and the Canto di Luna Nizza, and unusually for these parts they open weekends too. For something more ambitious, Tenute RaDe pours Barbera and Nizza alongside a rare Timorasso and an Alta Langa metodo classico that sits years on the lees; their cellar tour runs by appointment, though they shut at the weekend, so it's a weekday call.

Lunch — the long one

Down the hill to Del Belbo da Bardone, the reason a lot of people drive to San Marzano at all — over a thousand reviews and still mostly locals at the tables. This is Piedmontese cooking done properly: the carne cruda, tajarin under white truffle in season (shaved at the table, and cheaper by the gram than plenty of places nearby), and the meat cart that regulars have followed for twenty years. Save room for the local Brunet chocolate pudding. The wine list is deep and the sommelier will happily steer you to a Nizza that drinks well above its price. Book ahead — it fills.

Afternoon — the castle piazza and a vineyard frame

Walk it off up in the old centre, where the Castello di San Marzano Oliveto shares its cobbled square with the parish church — no wasted steps between them. The castle is mainly a wedding and events venue now rather than a museum, so you come for the piazza itself and the view: hills in every direction and, on a clear day, Monviso standing up white on the horizon.

Then a short drive out to the Vigna Le Rose viewpoint, a simple wooden frame set at the edge of Franco Mondo's Le Rose vineyard — the sort of stop that takes five minutes and stays with you longer. If you'd rather be in the landscape than looking at it, book the storytelling horseback trek that rides from a local stable toward Moasca, actors telling the castles' stories along the way, ending on a picnic and a tasting. Beginners are welcome; it runs spring to autumn and wants at least five riders.

Aperitivo — bubbles in the old centre

As the light goes, drop into the Franco Mondo wine bar in the heart of the village — the tasting room of the Franco Mondo winery, a family house on Via Umberto I since 1945. The action's out in the courtyard on a warm evening: a glass of their Alta Langa spumante at a markup far gentler than most, a board of local cheese and salami, no rush. If you'd like to taste the range at the source instead, VIV up the hill makes lively natural wines — orange skins, pet-nat — and pours six of them for around €20, any day but Sunday.

Dinner — refined, among the vineyards

End the day at Relais dell'Arbiola, a country kitchen set in its own garden with the hills falling away on every side. Chef Tony cooks a regional tasting menu and Roberto runs the room quietly and well; take a seat on the terrace if the evening's kind. One honest word: it's the priciest table on this day and the menu price isn't always spelled out up front, so ask when you book. Then let the hills go dark and the day close where it spent most of itself — among the Barbera.