CORMÒNS, Italy —

Borders in Europe are interesting places. Where countries collide, their languages, cultures, foods and wines commingle in surprising ways.

After traveling from Tuscany — the land of Chianti, the quintessential Italian red — to Friuli, in Italy's extreme northeast corner, I found an Italy that few Americans know; an Italy that might easily be mistaken for another country entirely. Friuli's tangled history, its steely/floral white wines and its Austrian-influenced Adriatic cuisine make it unique.

For anyone who favors the flavors of terroir over barrique; who loves racy, minerally white wines scented with herbs and flowers; and who above all savors the match of such wines with fresh seafood and shellfish, Friuli is a dream come true.

Josh Hanson, whose import company Small Vineyards specializes in hand-crafted Italian wines, says that Friuli is "arguably Italy's best white wine region. It has the most truly world-class promise," he believes, "for wines that are not alcohol bombs or overly extracted."

The impossibly lush, verdant landscape is bordered by the Austrian Alps on the north and the Adriatic Sea on the south. Friuli's eastern edge twists and turns through steep, vineyard-cloaked hills and bucolic meadows, ultimately extending in a shore-hugging sliver south to the lovely city of Trieste.

Around each bend in the road all along the way is Slovenia. Friulan towns bear double names, and the region's best grapes and wines straddle the border, much as Walla Walla's vineyards spill into Oregon with no discernible change in style.

Friuli seems to harbor more than its share of iconoclasts, and winemakers such as Josko Gravner, who ferments his otherworldly wines in amphorae and releases them years later than his peers, attract the attention of visitors from the press by virtue of their strangeness.

But the real cutting-edge winemaking is happening at properties such as Schiopetto, Marco Felluga and Venica & Venica. No amphorae here.

Instead, the dedication to producing white wines of surpassing freshness with immaculate, expressive aromatics has led winemakers to invest in specially-designed fermentation tanks unlike any I've seen in the world.

"It's a lot of expensive technology that allows us to control the fermentation temperature and get more extraction," explains Giampaolo Venica, who learned winemaking working at California's Au Bon Climat, among other places. Venica & Venica wines, currently seeking distribution in this market, are exceptionally complex, vivid and speckled with fresh cut herbs. Their single vineyard sauvignon is certainly one of the finest in the world.

Roberto Felluga (son of Marco and nephew of Livio) echoed many of the same sentiments when he told me that the three most important things in winemaking at his Russiz Superiore winery were controlling the temperature, keeping the fermentation clean (anaerobic), and pressing the grapes as softly as possible. Here, too, the goal is freshness, particularly in the wines' aromas.

Friuli, like other areas in the regions north and northeast of Venice, is best known for its fine pinot biancos and pinot grigios. There are also good chardonnays, orange-scented malvasias and a pleasantly chunky local white called Ribolla Gialla.

But in tasting after tasting, I found myself returning to the searingly crisp sauvignons (here the blanc is dropped from the name), which seem to mix the minerality of Sancerre with the lime and citrus of New Zealand; and the Tocai Friulanos. These are fragrant, sweetly pungent wines mixing sweet grass and green-apple flavors with a seductive mineral streak.

The Friulan wines I most admired were macerated and fermented in stainless steel. New oak, if used at all, was a very light seasoning at most.

Expressing the multifaceted, complex white wine aromas is the paradigm. These wineries go to great lengths to avoid burdening wines with fruit that is over-ripe, oxidized or oak-saturated, believing (quite rightly) that these are the things that kill complexity.

Recent vintages have been a rather odd mix. The standout vintages of 2001 and 2004 book-end the cold, wet 2002s and the inordinately hot, tropical 2003s. Unfortunately, it is these middle vintages that are most likely to be found currently in the Seattle market. But even here, the best producers met with success, and their wines are well worth seeking out. Some good names to look for: Conte d'Attimis-Maniago, Felluga (both Livio and Marco), Jermann, Edi Keber, Paolo Meroi, Miani, Raccaro, Schiopetto (not to be confused with Schioppettino, which is the name of a red grape), Sirch, Toros, Venica & Venica and Russiz Superiore.

The mix of Italian and Slovenian nomenclature can be a bit confusing, but it's worth struggling with pronunciation to find wines of such clarity and elegance.

The sauvignons are priced comparably to Sancerres and the better New Zealand wines. The tocai, which my sources explain is a type of sauvignon known as sauvignonasse (sauvignon vert) cost roughly the same.

If you can find the 2001s, they are drinking beautifully. The 2002s are less fragrant and complex; the 2003s riper, rounder and a bit stolid. When the extraordinary 2004s begin arriving later this year, grab all you can.

You will find that they are especially fine when served with seafood and shellfish. In Friuli, they are made to stand up to the local asparagus, and they do about as well as any wine could.

Paul Gregutt is the author of "Northwest Wines." His column appears weekly in the Wine section. He can be reached by e-mail at wine@seattletimes.com.