Grenache -- Show Some Love!

I’ve been on a Grenache kick lately. This grape, grown…

…wait, come back! Where are you going? This is not a parody column! Get your noses out of the air and belly up to the bar.

I know, I know – your notion of Grenache may have been formed the same way mine was – commercials in the 80’s for Gallo White Grenache, a pinkish concoction (which I believe you can still get if you walk past the Boone’s) poured over ice. You know, something like this:

The commercials claimed “It will change the way you think about Gallo.” While I can’t speak to that, it certainly poisoned the way I think about the poor Grenache grape for quite some time!

Along similar lines, when the Sweet Partner in Crime and I were starting down our slippery wine-drinking slope, we used to go through Rosemount Estates Grenache-Shiraz – a dirt-cheap Australian red blend – by the virtual bucketful. At the time, it seemed perfectly drinkable, and it was a couple of dollars per bottle less expensive than the straight Rosemount Shiraz.

These days, if I recommend a Grenache to someone, about half the time they’ll look at me like I have a second head, because that’s the image Grenache has with many folks: cheap, uninteresting wine. What changed my outlook on this grape? As I’ve learned and consumed more, I’ve come to think of Grenache as the “red Chardonnay.”

Why? First off, it’s an incredibly ubiquitous grape. There are more acres of vineyard planted with Grenache in the world than any other red grape and the vines are generally quite high-yielding. These yields are a prime reason for Grenache’s bad name in the states, since a lot of those grapes landed in cheap jug wine. Forget the jugs, but remember the high yield. Because of this, winemakers can have plenty of raw material to work from, so even well-made Grenache tends to be less expensive compared to other grapes, so there are plenty of bargains to be had.

Secondly, like Chardonnay, Grenache-based wines are incredibly terroir driven. Grenache juice on its own, produces a light-styled wine, so the flavors derived from climate and soil can really shine. Good growers and winemakers, through smart cultivation, blending, and skill, can wrangle fascinating results from this grape. And they have all over the world, for years.

Finally, spring is turning to summer. Since Grenache is generally somewhat lighter in style, it makes a great red wine option when the heat starts cranking up, especially if you’re interested in something that has a little more oomph than, say, a Beaujolais. There’s a smoky undercurrent to most Grenache that just calls for food, especially grilled food.

A couple of weeks ago, K2, my Brother in Things Wine, invited me to do a tasting with him at the Party Source. I wanted to spread the word about my new grapey affection, so we ran down a series of Grenaches from around the world to educate folks on just how good this underappreciated grape can be. We put together an “around the world” Grenache tasting to show the breadth of what this grape can do.

We started our world tour in Spain, where Grenache is known as Garnacha. Many of the wines you’ll see from Spain’s Navarra region are blends that include a lion’s share of Garnacha. Garnacha is second only to Tempranillo among red grapes in the Rioja region, as well. Garnacha thrives in the Mistral winds, but rather than yielding a high-alcohol fruit bomb, it yields a lighter, smokier drink, like the Campo Vieja 2012 Rioja Garnacha. This is a quaffable wine with a very pretty floral and cherry nose. While light-bodied, it’s got good structure and finishes with lingering pepper and spice. Grilled pork, ribs, or ham would be great with this. ($18)

From there, we nipped over to Italy, specifically to the island of Sardinia. Here, Grenache goes by the alias Cannonau. The volcanic soils of Italy lend the traditional Italian minerality (which I think tastes a little “chalky”) to the finished product. Sardinian Cannonau, perhaps because of the particular terroir, has some of the highest levels of reservatrol of any red wine in the world. That’s the compound that makes red wine so good for your heart. For an example here, we had the Argiolas Costera 2009 Cannonau di Sardegna.($14) If you’re a fan of Italian wines, I’d put this somewhere between Chianti and Barbera on the “mineral vs. fruit” scale. Black cherry and licorice are the flavors I found most prevalent, but with minerality that would make it welcome next to a big plate of red sauced pasta.

For a change of pace, we headed down under to Australia. As I mentioned, Grenache was used in a lot of inexpensive plonk for quite some time, but in many regions, such as McLaren Vale, winemakers are exploring what this grape can do. In Australia, Grenache gains some heft on the palate and becomes much more fruit forward. A perfect example is the d’Arenberg 2009 “The Custodian” Grenache. ($13) Rather than the cherry and spice the previous wines showed, this one featured much richer blackberry and raspberry flavors, and the tannins turned much smokier. It’s quite a bold, pretty wine, in my estimation, which would be great with anything you might find sizzling on your grill.

The touchstone of Grenache, however, is in France. Grenache, along with Syrah, are the dominant grapes of the entire Rhone region. The finest (and most expensive, generally) wines in the Rhone, Chateauneuf-de-Pape, are made from as much as 80% Grenache. The less-expensive Rhone wines, usually labeled “Cotes-du-Rhone” are almost always made up of a majority of Grenache. That was no different with the wine we chose to illustrate French Grenache, the Cercius 2011 Cotes-du-Rhone, a blend of 85% Grenache and 15% Syrah. This is a rich, earthy wine that filled my nose and mouth with blackberries and a healthy dose of an earthy funkiness. It’s layered and complex with a finish that lasts and lasts. With any sort of roasted meats or vegetables, this would be a winner. ($16)

Finally, we arrived back in the States. The renaissance of Grenache in the U.S. was driven by a group of California winemakers in the 1980’s (led by Randall Graham) known colloquially as the “Rhone Rangers.” They thought certain varietals usually found in the Rhone, including Grenache, would respond well to certain California terroir. In general, California versions of these wines tend to be rounder and fruitier, and the Tablas Creek 2010 Patelin de Tablas ($19) from the Paso Robles region was no exception. This asskicker of a wine, which actually is a blend of Syrah, Grenache, Mourvedre, and Counoise, comes on strong with a full mouth of blueberries and blackberries, but also a bit of a bacony flavor through the midpalate and onto the long, fruity finish. This was easily the biggest of the fine wines we poured and was the overall favorite of the folks who stopped by the table.

So…enough with the poor reputation of Grenache! Go get a bottle and try it out. As you can see, you’ve got many variations on the theme with which to experiment. Try them out this summer and beyond. Who’s with me? 

The Alphabet Soup Project – G is for “Grenache”

A quick programming note before we get rolling. I’m going to be co-leading a wine tasting with Danny Gold on Wednesday evening (March 9, 2011) from 6:30-8:00 at the Party Source in Bellevue, KY. The cost is $20, but you get a $5 gift card. The theme is “California Wines under $15,” so come on down, grab a glass, and hang with us. Want to reserve a spot? Click here.

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I owe my earliest memories of Grenache to my folks. Back in the day, they usually kept a jug of Gallo white Grenache around for entertaining visitors. (In case you’re wondering, Mom – I never sneaked any…) Almaden, Rossi, Franzia – all of the major jug wine producers cranked out inexpensive, sweet blushes made from Grenache. White Grenache was what White Zinfandel eventually became in the wine market – a “refreshing” wine. (Gallo actually tried to market White Grenache as an upscale alternative to White Zin in the late 80’s. That campaign didn’t last long.)

Since pink, sweet wines were never really my thing, I put Grenache out of my head for a long time. Along came the Sweet Partner in Crime. In our wine-appreciation infancy, we powered through many a bottle of Rosemount Estates’ Shiraz blends from Australia. When the weather got warm, we’d replace our bottle of Rosemount Shiraz/Cab with their Grenache/Shiraz blend, since it was lighter. Once our wine preferences began to broaden a bit, our everpresent bottle of Rosemount got replaced with other stuff and Grenache again retreated to an afterthought.

Fast forward a bit. I started seeing Grenache as a varietal more and more, especially as French and Spanish wines became more common in my rack. But what is it? One way to find out…

Grenache is a high-yielding grape that’s extremely common in the world’s hottest, driest wine regions. It’s best known as the backbone of the wines of the Southern Rhone region – especially Chateauneuf-de-Pape and many Cotes-du-Rhone. It’s the primary grape in Tavel, one of the best regions for rosé in the world. In Spain, it’s known as “Garnacha” and the wines of Rioja, Priorat, and Navarra simply wouldn’t exist without it.

Post-Prohibition winemakers in California grew a lot of Grenache. The sturdiness and drought-resistant properties of the vines (not to mention the high yields) made it a natural match for many of the growing areas. The wines, however, were often of the aforementioned jug variety. This began to change with the advent of the “Rhone Ranger” movement, where many winemakers started putting together high quality French-style blends in the late 1990’s.

Rarely used as a single varietal, Grenache yields a fruity, low-tannin, medium-bodied wine. The French Grenache-based wines tend to be quite earthy, since the bitterness of the tannin doesn’t get in the way of the “funk.” Spanish Grenache tends to be on the smoky side. American Grenache blends usually are more

fruit forward. Most good Grenache is be easy to drink and extremely food friendly. As a pairing, Grenache works in almost any instance where you’d normally choose a pinot noir. I’ve seen Grenache described as “pinot with a punch,” and that’s accurate – similar flavors, slightly heavier body, and a more fruit-forward flavor.

The SPinC and I did a side-by-side with a pair of Grenache-dominant wines. The first was the Writer’s Block 2008 Grenache from Lake County, California. The other was Penelope Sanchez 2009 Grenache/Syrah from Campo de Borja, Spain. The Penelope is 80/20 Grenache/Syrah and the Writer’s Block is over 80% Grenache with some Syrah and Conoise blended along. Both retail for $12-15.

Both wines improve greatly with a little decanting. The Penelope, especially, was very “tight” initially. (Javier Bardem commentary withheld…) It took a few minutes, even after some heavy swirling, for the smokiness and tannin to start balancing with the fruit. Once it had a few minutes in the air, it opened into a nose laced with herbs and vanilla. The body is light-to-medium and is well-balanced cherries, smoke, and vanilla. Those flavors all twined through a long finish.

The Writer’s Block (one of my favorite names for a wine) was heavier. Like most American wines compared to Euro-counterparts, the Lake County Grenache wasn’t as subtle and had a much “stronger” profile. Everything tasted “bigger,” even though the color of the wine itself was lighter. The nose was cherries and bubblegum with much less smoke. Very straightforward. There’s more of a “leather and cigar box” flavor on the finish. The SPinC thought it tasted like black licorice.

For dinner, we grilled some salmon and roasted some cauliflower with garlic and balsamic vinegar. When we tasted the two initially, our first reaction was that we liked the Spanish version better. The flavors in the food made the wine taste bigger and smokier. After a few bites, though, we came to the realization that we weren’t observing closely enough.

The Writer’s Block was better with the fish. There was more tannin (as would be expected from a Lake County wine *add link*), so the wine’s flavors cut much more easily through the oiliness of the fish and stood up better to the grilled flavors. The Penelope was better with the cauliflower. The roasting and the balsamic brought out the sweetness in the cauliflower, which was a much more harmonious pairing with the complexity of the Spanish entry.

Both wines were quite good. They’re excellent values and either would be fine with almost any food, short of something really heavy like a cassoulet or a meal dripping with cheese.

One last point about Grenache. I’ve mentioned grapes like Alicante and Cannonau a few times in this space as varietals with which I wasn’t very familiar. Turns out that I was more familiar than I thought – both of them are actually Grenache. Whatever name’s on the bottle, it’s well worth your time geting familiarized or re-familiarized. I’m certainly glad that I did.

(Also, for remembrances’ sake, I tried a bottle of the old Rosemount Estates Grenache/Syrah. Interesting how time changes one's view of things. Sweetish nose of blackberry jam. Lots of fruit on the palate and a little noticeable residual sugar. The finish is fruity and you sort of have to hunt for the tannins in the blend. I wouldn’t pick it for a normal tipple these days. A little knowledge can be a dangerous thing, I guess…)

 

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Quickie: In Praise of Unsolicited Recommendations

I’ll readily admit that I don’t always remember all the names of folks who come to the table when I’m doing a tasting. Talking to these folks, I often will get recommendations that I’ll try, but I often won’t get a chance to thank that person.

Such was the case with this Sella & Mosca 2005 Cannonau di Sardegna Riserva. This wine was recommended by a very knowledgeable woman I spoke with in the Covington DEP’s, but I have absolutely no memory of her name, unfortunately.

Cannonau is a grape grown mostly in Southern Italy (this one’s from Sardinia, surprise, surprise…). It makes generally light reds that can resemble Chianti, but there’s not usually so much of a chalky quality. She told me, “Just try this. It’s not spectacular, but for the price and an Italian meal, it’s killer.”

Well, I tried it. I made ribollita the other night and cracked open this bottle. It turned out to be a wonderful pairing.

So, many thanks to you, whoever you were. I sure appreciated your insight – just as I’m happy to take recommendations from any of you out there who have some ideas. Have a couple of columns coming down the pike based on just those, so stay tuned…

The Alphabet Soup Project -- "B" is for Blush

When in doubt...pink.

Words to live by when you're considering food pairings. Few things go better with...well...everything than rosé. As I've pointed out in the past -- I'm not talking about white zinfandel here. White zin is perfect for making sangria or if your hummingbird feeder has run dry. (And we'll get back to this in a moment.) Otherwise, just stroll on by and get to the real stuff.

A quick refresher -- almost all rosé starts as red wine. Red wine gets its color through a process called maceration. Maceration occurs during the fermentation process. With most red wines, the grapes are crushed and the resulting empty skins are left in contact with the juice as fermentation begins. The resulting heat and production of alcohol causes the coloring agents in wine, called anthocyanins to leach from the skins. The tannins in wine also come from this process. The longer the contact, the darker and more tannic the wine. For many big, dark red wines, this process may take as long as a month.

For rosé, however, the skins are left in contact with the juice for only a matter of hours or a couple of days at the outside. At this point, a winemaker wishing to make rosé has a couple of options. The most common process is simply to move the wine into another container at this point, discarding the skins and allowing fermentation to continue normally.

Another process is called saignée, where a winemaker trying to create an intense red wine will bleed off some of the juice at an early stage of maceration. The remaining juice has more concentrated contact with the skin, creating a stronger red. The bled-off pink juice is then made into rosé. A winemaker can also blend red and white wine to make something pink -- but this is rarely done other than in the process of making true rosé Champagne.

For the record, White Zinfandel came about in the mid-70's. Sutter Home winery was making rosé from Zinfandel grapes by the saignée method. One batch had a "stuck fermentation" -- which means that the yeast died before fermentation was complete. They put this half-fermented, sweet juice aside. The wine was sampled not long afterwards, people liked the sweetness, and White Zinfandel was released large-scale on an unknowing populace. High schoolers everywhere rejoiced.

As I noted in the Vine's early tendrils, pink is not a flavor -- but the ubiquitousness of White Zin scared a lot of people away from ordering one of the best wine values out there. As you'd figure, the flavor of rosé tends to be on the light side, but even the small amount of tannin in rosé can contribute to an interesting structure. When I say that you can drink rosé with almost anything, I'm quite serious. Salads kill wine, generally -- but rosé can hold its own. Almost any kind of fish, chicken, pork, or veggie preparation (as long as it's not in a big cream sauce) will work. Some of the bigger rosés can even handle red meat.

While it's traditionally a summer wine (especially some of the light, delicate ones from Provence), I'll have at a bottle of the stuff any time of year. We generally keep a couple of bottles around for when we want a pairing but can't exactly come up with something perfect. You can file rosé under "good enough" for any occasion. Here are a few I've tangled with recently:

Argiolas 2008 Serra Lori Rosado -- This was the rosé that we had with Thanksgiving dinner, and it was the first Italian rose I think I've tried. It hails from Sicily and largely made from a varietal called Cannonau. The nose is friendly, full of candied apples and flowers. It's got solid acidity and good weight on the palate. The finish is acidic with a whip of orange zest and a little lingering stringency. This isn't delicate wine by any stretch, instead providing a very firm structure and nice acidic balance. It's a hearty glass that reminded me of many Spanish roses, if that's your cup of tea. With the leftover turkey and beans from our Thanksgiving meal, it was an absolute champ. ($14)

Louis Jadot 2008 Gamay Rosé -- While we're still running with "firsts," as I mentioned, I'm quite used to seeing rosés from France. I was picking up a Beaujolais, and this pink bottle caught my eye. A rosé...from gamay? Gamay is same grape that comprises Beaujolais. Since Beaujolais is such a light red anyway...I was very curious what the rosé would yield. Well...it was pretty much exactly what I expected -- an extremely light rosé. I thought it had about the weight of a pinot gris. Like a pinot gris, it had plenty of acidity. There's a little of that familiar gamay/Beaujolais flavor in the middle and especially on the finish. It's a very drinkable wine that would go with any kind of light food, but I'd probably think of it more of an aperitif, especially once the weather warms up. At $10, it's a decent enough value if you're looking for a change of pace with your pinkness.

E. Guigal 2008 Cotes-du-Rhone Rosé -- The Rhone region is the home to one of my favorite rosés, a big fruity pink wine called Tavel. Tavel is one of the few wine areas that strictly produces rosé from blends of traditional Rhone grapes -- largely Grenache, Syrah, and Cinsault. With the increased interest in pink wine, some Rhone producers using similar grapes to make reds are using saignée to make less expensive rosés with Tavel-like characteristics (and to make their reds more intense). Guigal makes plenty of very decent Cotes-du-Rhone, so I thought their rosé from there might be interesting. The nose was of a general melon persuasion, which moves to a full, wall-of-flavor feel. It's not subtle -- you get a blast of tart/alcohol/fruity all at once. Now, this isn't necessarily a bad thing. It makes for a very solid food wine, especially with things like roasted fish & vegetables. We roasted red snapper filets, purple cauliflower, garlic, and carrots in lemon juice and olive oil (not all in the same pan, mind you). The straightforward pink wine handled all the flavors wonderfully. However, it did make me curious how the actual Tavel would stack up.

The Guigal 2006 Tavel was available, so a bit later, we tried that. This Tavel could almost pass for a light red. It's really a pretty looking wine. The fragrance is very delicate. I first smelled roses when I got a whiff of it, but as it opens (definitely let it breathe a bit), melon and cranberries emerge. The body is solid and aromatic -- and has a complex balance of fruit and acidity. The finish is dry and a bit tangy. Where the CdR rosé wasn't subtle, the Tavel most certainly was. The weather got unexpectedly warmer, and we had the Tavel with a trout, orange, and fennel salad. Subtle flavors melded with subtle flavors for a meal we could linger over. The CdR is around $10-12. The Tavel is around $20.

Back to the Boot

I'm still getting the hang of Italian wines.

When "in the know" wine folks talk about the "finest wines in the world," the debate generally centers on Italy and France. Wine connoisseurs talk about Italian wines' unmatched complexity, the wonders of aging for decades, the depth of flavor, the sheer artistry that is the ancient craft of winemaking in Italy.

The first time I tasted Barolo, the Italian "wine of kings," I nearly choked. THIS is supposed to be the best wine in the world?" Granted, I've come a long way. As time's gone by, I've worked on my learning curve of appreciation for the -- shall we say -- interesting flavors of Italian and French wine.

Also, like many people, I usually considered Chianti (as I did at the Vine's early roots) when ordering or making Italian. Of course, there's a lot more to Italian food than the familiar Tuscan recipes we often see, so don't paint yourself into a corner -- all due respect to Chianti, of course.

When the SPinC and I did our first Italian wine and food pairing cookfest, we discovered many Italian wines are either very affordable or very expensive -- there's not a lot in between. Finding wines that are decent, drinkable, and affordable is a challenge. In the $10-15 range, there's surprisingly little. You've got your very inexpensive wines, and then you've got your garden variety Barolo, which will run you $50 or more. (Although I found a very decent Barolo at Trader Joe's for $25 that was divine with a roasted lamb steak.) Research is necessary.

When I think about buying Italian wine, I keep a few simple things in mind:

1) Italians are foodies. They have been for millennia. They're also fiercely territorial. If you ever get into a food conversation with just about anyone of Italian heritage, they'll tell you the food on "Nonna's table" was REAL Italian. As I've mentioned before, people make wines that go with whatever they happen to be cooking -- so if you know the menu, choose accordingly. Italian wines, like French wines, are generally named for the place they're made, so let that be your guide.

2) Just as Italians made wine to complement the food they were making at the time, they also made their wine to go best with food. I have yet to run into many Italian wines that I would have as a "drink at the end of the day" wine. Put them with the right food, and squisto!

3) Decant, decant, decant. Italian wine is built to age, so when you open it, you need to let it wake from its slumber. A good rule of thumb for the wines we'll be looking at is to crack the bottle 20-30 minutes before you pour.

Here are a few alternatives:

Ruffino 2005 Orvieto Classico ($7-10) -- Orvieto is in Umbria, one of Tuscany's neighboring provinces. Umbria is entirely landlocked, about in the "calf" of the boot. Foodwise, Umbria is known for pork products like salami and prosciutto, lots of vegetables, and earthy additions like mushrooms and truffles. The city of Orvieto is known largely for its white wine. One of the first wine books I really looked at was by Kevin Zraly. He said, "The Italians traditionally do not put the same effort into making their white wines that they do with their reds…and they are the first to admit it." But there's money in the global white wine market continues to globalize, and the Italians are taking advantage.

The Ruffino has a nice nose -- light and floral with a scent of honey. It's fruity, slightly citrusy, but not incredibly dry -- in the ballpark of a rich Sauvignon Blanc. It had a refreshing finish with a little citrus tang and smooth flavors of melon. Like Sauvignon Blanc, this would be a very food friendly wine. Foodwise, think about light pork or rich chicken dishes, meaty fishes, or even salads. The acidity in this wine would be able to stand up to things like asparagus.

Pala Triente 2004 Cannonau Di Sardegna ($11-13) -- That's "Sardinia" to we barbarians. I've heard a lot of people confuse Sardinia and Sicily. Sicily is the island perpetually getting booted. Sardinia is the island halfway up the boot off the Eastern coast. While the cuisine of Sardegna is steeped in fish, much of it is hearty and savory, both with meat (roast boar on a spit is a national tradition) and vegetables (stews and soups with earthy vegetables and beans).

This wine is largely (95%) made from the Cannonau grape, known to the rest of the world as Grenache -- the other 5% is other native varietals. Interesting to note -- this is a macerated wine. Maceration is the same process the French use to make Beaujolais. The result is a very interesting red. When poured, it's extremely light and the nose is very fragrant. It reminds me of a Beaujolais cru. The flavor is very Italian -- earthy, with berries calling for food. The finish then turns a little bit dry. We had this with a spicy chicken chili. You could certainly have it with a red sauced pasta, aged cheese, or fish in a nice sauce.

Michele Chiarlo 2004 Barbera D'Asti ($12-14) -- First off, the "Asti" does not refer to sweet champagne here. It's a town in the Piedmont province in northernmost Italy nestled against the Alps (Piedmont translates as "the foot of the mountains"). The Piedmont produces much of the very expensive wine I mentioned earlier. The nebbiolo grape is used to make Barolo and Barbaresco, the most prized wines of Italy. Fortunately, some of the "lesser" wines are more than adequate. Piedmont cooking is very earthy. Truffles are a major export of the area. Lots of cream, butter, garlic, and cheese find their way into the meals. Olives and rice are also produced in quantity.

I find the Barbera produces a wine like a fruity, amped Cotes-du-Rhone. There's a nice nose on this wine. It's a slightly alcoholic, very fruity, floral experience. The flavor is full of bright fruit -- like a cross between Beaujolais and a Cotes-du-Rhone. The finish is easy and fruity -- cherries and blackberries. We tried this with a pasta with an olive tapenade and seared tuna -- it was wonderful, just as it was with some chocolate covered dried fruit we had. Pair it with just about anything that includes some of the above ingredients and you'll be just fine. Also, like Beaujolais or Cotes-du-Rhone, you could drink it on its own.

Until next time…buon' appetito!