2010 ~ No. 9    

THEY MAKE WINE THERE?

It’s really fun to put two glasses of wine in front of someone and ask which they like best. (Yes, I am very easily amused.) The results are always surprising, as they were at a recent dinner party I hosted.

Six friends and my husband were willing guinea pigs to taste wines from non-traditional places against similarly priced French counterparts.

Here’s the lowdown.

The first pairing was bubbly, a blanc de noirs from L. Mawby in Michigan against a cremant Bourgone rose from Parigot, both made from the Pinot Noir grape. People were very clear in liking one over the other, with four preferring the Michigan wine and three the French one.

It’s funny the tricks the palate plays – while several people called the white sparkler “sweet” two others made the same comment about the pink wine!

Next up was a duo of Rieslings: Ravines 2007 from New York’s Finger Lakes and the venerable Willm from Alsace, 2008 vintage. There were all sorts of guesses for the grape: Chardonnay (including one guess of white Burgundy), Pinot Blanc, “something obscure.”

Everyone was surprised to learn they were drinking dry Riesling; they associate the grape with sweeter wines. It was challenging for people to pick a favorite – both were very solid wines – though the vote was ultimately 4-3 in favor of the Willm.

The red pairing was the best and final of the night. Inwood Estates Magellan 2006 from Texas was up against Bordeaux’s 2005 Charmes de Kirwan. Both have a base of roughly 60% Cabernet, with the balance of traditional Bordeaux varietals. The Texas wine has an additional dash of Tempranillo.

And the winner of this matchup, by a vote of six to one, was…the Inwood Estates. “A nice blend – not too much Cab” wrote one guest while another called it “very rich and delicious.” Another comment sums it up best: “TX?!!”

So let’s put away the snobbery and misconceptions about regions less familiar. To be sure, it is important to suss out the good wines. Once you do, though, you might never go back!

PETITE SIRAH

To those who love, love, love this grape, the story of Petite Sirah is one of tragedy and struggle, an immigrant shipped from home in Europe and overcoming plague and pestilence (or phylloxera, at any rate) to eventually find success in sunny California.

Though the John Wayne analogy (scroll down) takes things a bit far, the tale of this oft-misunderstood grape is an interesting one.

Around 1880, Dr. Francois Durif, a botanist at the University of Montpellier, discovered the grape and named it after himself. He knew it was derived from Peloursin, an old French varietal that was not held in high regard, but did not know the grape’s other parent.

The grape was resistant to mildew – a benefit – but it made rather undistinguished wine. As a result, it never quite caught on in France. In fact, the grape is approved for use in only one little-known AOC in Provence.

Thus cast out from its native country, Durif (the grape) was introduced to California’s viticultural community in 1884.

And this is where some confusion began. Let’s back up a second. Several years earlier, in 1878, the noble varietal Syrah – also from France – was brought to California. It was believed to be a Syrah clone with lower yields and smaller grapes, so it was logically referred to as “Petite Syrah.”

The two grapes happily co-existed in the state’s vineyards until the 1890s, when phylloxera destroyed virtually all the Syrah vines in the state. The resilient, thick-skinned Durif – they grape known as Petite Syrah - was unaffected by the louse.

This hardiness was a good thing for the grape, and it was among the first European varietals planted on a large scale to replace the native Mission grape. At this time, the name Petite Sirah became increasingly fashionable, though it usually applied to any number several dark-skinned varietals, not just Durif.

(This linguistic shortcut makes a little more sense when you realize that, historically, vineyards contained a mish-mash of several varietals, which often led to confusion about which grape was what.)

At any rate, the grape was quite popular and, during Prohibition, it was Petite Sirah that was shipped to home winemakers in the East, and it was Petite Sirah that was used to make sacramental wine.

The grape began to hit its stride in the mid-20th century. It’s hard to imagine now, but in the 1960s, 60% of Napa’s vineyards were given to this grape. It achieved its peak in 1976, when 14,000 acres of it were planted in California. Today, that number is closer to 6,000, though there are some 60 wineries that make Petite Sirah.

In 2003, DNA analysis finally revealed what was unknown to Dr. Durif. His namesake grape is a cross of the lowly Peloursin with the noble Rhone varietal Syrah.

Though the grape is planted primarily in vineyards in California, France and Australia, it is the West Coast winemakers who are working magic with the grape.

In their hands, Petite Sirah (the conventional spelling; variations are usually the whim of the winemaker) produces wines with a dark, inky color and high acidity, making them great with food – think steak, barbeque and game as well as white meats in a deep rich sauce.

In terms of taste, Petite Sirah is characterized by herb and black pepper notes that add zing to the black and blue fruit flavors. These wines tend to be quite tannic and can age well for up to 20 years.

Can The Duke say that?

CLEANING UP

Over the past few months, I have been raiding my wine refrigerator for old bottles of white wine that I knew we’d never drink to use for cooking. These were typically cheap bottles, maybe received as a sample or bought for a party and never opened.

Hey, it was an easy way to clean out the fridge. After all, if a bottle had gone bad, I could just go grab a new one.

The bottles lived up – or, rather, down - to expectations. Granted, there were not high hopes for a 2003 Chenin Blanc from South Africa. But a decent 2003 Burgundy already brown around the edges was a tad disappointing.

In fact, of the 10 or so bottles I opened, only one offered a pleasant surprise: a 2004 Hugel Gentil. This Alsace blend definitely tasted old, but in a delectable, fading gardenia sort of way. Who knew that this $12 bottle would not quite be past its prime?

Of course, this excavation also led to a wholesale reorganization of the refrigerators. (It’s a long story, but there are three of them cluttering my garage.) It was fun to discover wines that had been shoved onto the shelves and forgotten and quite satisfying to have stray bottles corralled and reunited with its brethren from the same vintages and vineyards.

So the lessons to take from this are:

(1) There is a lot of wine we all tend to hang onto that, really folks, we just need to drink!

(2) Responsibly, of course. And…

(3) Anyone out there (and by “there” I mean the New York area) who wants FWC to come in, organize your wine cellar and update your inventory can just mention this newsletter and get a 15% discount on services.