TRAMIN, Italy — A small, picturesque Tyrolean village just south of the city of Bolzano, the village of Tramin is not counted among the world’s great wine destinations. Yet if you’re on the hunt for great lagrein, then eventually you’ll find your way to Tramin, specifically to the winery of J. Hofstätter. Because this winery, now run by Martin Foradori Hofstätter, 36, makes what is arguably the world’s finest lagrein.

Even Mr. Hofstätter laughs amiably at the phrase “world’s finest lagrein.” “I mean, how much lagrein is there?” he asked. “And how many people have heard of it?” The answers are: not much and almost no one.

Lagrein is a red grape variety indigenous to Italy’s Alto Adige/Südtirol region, which borders the Austrian Alps and has been the scene of considerable political and cultural conflict. German is the native and much-preferred language in the zone, even though everyone now also speaks Italian, which is a school requirement starting in the first grade.

Everything, including the official name of the region, is Solomonically divided into two languages. This was partly the price, and consequence, of a carefully crafted peace between the Italian state and the decidedly Austro-centric South Tyroleans.

The area was a geopolitical football, originally part of the Austro-Hungarian empire, which was ceded to Italy after World War I. Subsequently seized by Germany during World War II, it was returned to Italy at the end of the war. The ensuing cultural and political friction was so intense, involving decades of separatist violence, that Italy, in what might be called subversive accommodation, granted the region extensive political autonomy, as well as offered massive economic aid as an incentive to peaceful acceptance. It worked. A recent newspaper poll showed that 54% of the population would not wish the zone to return to Austria even if it were possible.

Lagrein, for its part, is not a matter of local dispute. The only question is whether and how to plant more. One of Mr. Hofstätter’s colleagues, Christian Werth, 45, oversees what might be called the epicenter of the lagrein culture, the Benedictine monastery called Klosterkellerei Muri-Gries.

Within the walls of this venerable monastery now surrounded by the urban bustle of Bolzano, Mr. Werth has identified dozens of clones or strains of lagrein in the monastery’s vineyard. The grape, for all its heritage in the area, is still in surprisingly small supply. He said that in 1990 there were 618 acres of lagrein, while today there is no more than 840 acres.

This is surprising because lagrein is one of the world’s most inviting red wines. A deep, almost opaque blackish garnet, lagrein is a rich red that delivers intense, inviting scents of blackberries and blueberries along with hints of nutmeg, anise, and violets. Often there’s a distinct minerality thanks to the limestone soils commonly found in Alto Adige/Südtirol.

What’s more, despite its formidable appearance, lagrein is almost shockingly smooth down the gullet as the variety is not especially tannic. Also, it has a bright acidity that allows it to pair beautifully with meats of all kinds, as well as game.

Mr. Hofstätter, for his part, is doing all he can to bring lagrein to world attention. He does this by making an extraordinarily rich single-vineyard lagrein from his Steinraffler vineyard ($45), as well as a fine lagrein without a vineyard designation ($25).

But it’s the Steinraffler vineyard bottling, with its basso profundo opulence, that can seduce palates to the beauty of lagrein. Aged in small French oak barrels, the vanilla scent of new oak marries nicely with lagrein’s blackberry scent. Think of a fruit cobbler with a pastry crust endowed with the tiny seeds of a vanilla bean and you won’t be far off.

A tasting of multiple vintages of this exceptionally rich, dense, dimensional red makes one wonder why Mr. Hofstätter, and others, don’t produce yet more of such beauty.”It’s because it’s insanely expensive to buy land here in Alto Adige,” he said with unconcealed exasperation.

As we looked out over the narrow valley from a high-elevation vineyard perch, Mr. Hofstätter pointed to several large processing plants scattered about the valley floor. “You see those big buildings there? They’re apple processing cooperatives. The coops control everything here in this region. They get huge subsidies, which means that the apple and grape growers are living in a kind of economic fairy tale that has no real connection to the real marketplace.”

With this, Mr. Hofstätter hopped on what was clearly a favorite hobbyhorse about the economic inequities of subsidized agriculture. “I bought a one-hectare [2 1/2 acres] vineyard last year. You know what it cost me?” he asked, his voice rising. “350,000 euros.” That works out to about $176,000 an acre, which is about what a choice parcel in Napa Valley might ask. “Yet the wine from that vineyard sells for less than $10 a bottle from the cooperative. It makes no sense,” he said, almost shouting in frustration.

Still, Mr. Hofstätter perseveres. “I love lagrein. I think it’s a fabulous red wine. And I’d like to make even more of it, if I can find the right vineyards.”

This is an opinion echoed by others in the area, such as Mr. Werth of Klosterkellerei Muri-Gries, whose own “Abtei Muri Vyd.” (abbey walls) lagrein is one of the benchmarks of the zone.

According to Mr. Werth, lagrein is still embryonic. “We need more lagrein vineyards,” he said.”And we need yet more investigation about the right clones. It’s amazing that, for such an old variety, how very new lagrein really is around here.”