Not Pinot Grigio!

Some grapes have a generally positive vibe about them – I’d say Cabernet Sauvignon and Pinot Noir fall into this group – whereas others, like Sauvignon Blanc and Merlot (yes, I still remember the film ‘Sideways’!) are looked upon more negatively.  But, perhaps, the worst reputation of all of this 2^nd group belongs to Pinot Grigio.  I even heard someone at a trade tasting once describe it as the grape for people who don’t really like the taste of wine.  Ouch!

It doesn’t have to be like that.   The problem is, to get a bottle on a supermarket shelf (where most wine is bought) for £5 or £6 requires growers to squeeze every last drop of juice out of every bunch.  This doesn’t suit Pinot Grigio – nor, indeed, any of the Pinot family (Noir, Blanc, etc) – all of which react well to lower yields in the vineyard.  Ignore this and you end up with one of the bland, dilute examples that have given the variety its poor reputation.  On the other hand, treat a Pinot well, give the grower leeway to prune harder and focus on only harvesting the best fruit and the difference can be amazing as we found when opening a delicious example from the St Michael-Eppan winery in the Alto Adige region of northern Italy.  Inevitably, the difference is reflected in the price; this one from Waitrose Cellars at £15.

The winery works with over 300 growers, many with vineyards at altitude in the foothills of the Dolomites, who supply only premium quality fruit to go into a wine of real substance.  Pale with hints of green in the glass, the typically restrained nose leads on to lovely citrus and subtle melon flavours.  There’s a surprising weight for a Pinot Grigio and a long, crisp, refreshing finish.  Perfect as an aperitif but it also had enough body and character to pair with some sea bass fillets cooked on a bed of olives, tomatoes and Mediterranean herbs.  And it wasn’t overpowered by the tasty Lancashire cheese that we enjoyed following our main course.

So, if you tend to avoid Pinot Grigio (or Pinot Gris – same grape but with its French naming), having been disappointed by insipid examples in the past, do try this.  It may just change your mind.

Oak and Tannin – Again!

Following up on my theme from last time, if I had to pick one dish that pairs perfectly with a wine showing both oak and tannin, it’s a good steak.  The proteins in the meat complement the tannins and the weight of the dish works well with a full and complex wine – and that usually involves some degree of oak influence.  And, although I’m not hung up on the ‘red wine with red meat, white wine with fish and chicken’ idea, I would struggle to find a white that matches a steak as well as a red.  Any ideas welcome, though.

So, we’re into the question of just which red to choose?  Something from the Rhône or South of France, a Chianti perhaps, an Australian Shiraz or Argentinian Malbec.   All would be fine and I can think of many other good examples.  In the end, I settled on Spain.  Not a Rioja, although many of those would work well, too; I picked a Tempranillo from Ribera del Duero, the same main grape variety as Rioja but from the high country to the west, Cune’s Roble (Waitrose, £13).

Unlike the more traditional designations (Crianza, Reserva or Gran Reserva) that the Spanish use to indicate a guaranteed minimum amount of oak ageing and a subsequent period of time spent maturing at the winery, the term ‘Roble’ doesn’t promise either of these.  And that proved to be a double problem with this wine.  The oaking was presumably relatively short as the vanilla and coconut flavouring it typically imparts was very restrained.  By contrast, the wine showed quite robust and, ultimately dominant, tannins.  Even having decanted it well in advance and paired with the steak, which normally moderates tannins, this wine (2024 vintage) still needed more time, ideally 3 – 5 years I would suggest, before being properly ready to drink.

It wasn’t a bad wine – far from it!  Lovely blackberry fruits and spice were there together with good acidity and a long finish.  It’s just that they were hiding behind the tannin wall.  A shame, as the delicious steak really deserved a more readily appealing partner.

Oak and Tannin

How does oak influence the taste of a wine?  Or tannin?  A recent tasting by Ras and Marek from Corks of Cotham (and North Street) focussed on just these 2 aspects – the former, entirely a decision of the winemaker, the other, a largely natural occurrence, although one that can be controlled to some extent either by the producer or by you, the customer.

6 wines demonstrated the impact of the 2 factors starting with Lyrarakis’ crisp, citrussy ‘Voila’ Assyrtiko from the Greek island of Crete (£17), an example of an unoaked white with no discernible tannin – a good base line from which to build.

We expect tannin from red wines but the currently fashionable (but ancient) technique of ‘orange’ wines – white wines made with the juice left in contact with the skins, in the same way you would make a red wine – can produce a tannic white as evidenced by Tiko’s Kisi from Georgia (£23).  Unusual and very much an acquired taste (or not!).

I’m not generally a great fan of oaked Chardonnays but Atamisque’s bottling from a high altitude vineyard in Argentina’s Mendoza region (£21) had a beautiful balance between fresh lemon and grapefruit flavours and coconutty oak from 10 months in new American oak barrels.  Very drinkable and food-friendly.

2 of the reds showed the extremes of oak and tannin perfectly.  L’Artiste’s unoaked Gamay Noir from the Loire, not Beaujolais (£15), was quite simple in style but just so juicy and quaffable with the grape’s typical lack of tannin adding to the attraction. A total contrast to the final wine, Perelada’s 5 Finques from Catalonia (£21), an intense, spicy black-fruited wine aged for 12 months in a mixture of French and American oak and still, despite already being 6 years old, showing strong tannins from old vines and thick-skinned varieties such as the blend of Cabernet Sauvignon and Syrah.  For me, a wine to be kept a few years for the tannins to integrate.

A different take on a wine tasting but one that showed the effect of these 2 particular aspects of wine flavouring very well.

It’s Chile Time

There are now so many different wines made across the world that it’s easy to ignore regions, countries – or even whole continents.  I’m trying to put that right and be less Europe-focussed at present, perhaps prompted by the main feature articles on the wines of South America in the current edition of Decanter magazine and, perhaps, by the delicious Pais I blogged about a couple of weeks ago.  For whatever reason, last weekend turned out to be Chile time in our household – one white and one red.

The former, Matetic’s EQ Quartz Chardonnay from the cool, coastal San Antonio Valley (Wine Society, £16) was delightfully clean and fresh with peachy fruit enhanced (but not dominated) by being fermented in French oak barrels.  A lovely wine and perfect with creamy sauces but…  Nothing about this wine said to me ‘Chile’.  This was just one more to add to the vast ranks of very drinkable, lightly oaked Chardonnays from wherever when I was hoping for something more distinctive.

Which is exactly what I got from Ignacio Recabarren’s Pinot Noir from the similarly cool Casablanca Valley (Wine Society, £18).  Not a lot on the nose but, once we tasted it, we enjoyed mouthfuls of ripe, juicy blackberry fruit that went on and on into a long, savoury finish and paired perfectly with one of our favourite dishes, pan-fried duck breasts cooked with a sauce of cranberries, spices and balsamic vinegar.  In this wine, the Pinot Noir was clearly recognisable but it was not like anything you’d find from Burgundy or from New Zealand.  Here was something that truly offered a different taste; whether it was typical of Chile – I don’t know, I haven’t tried enough examples but, based on this, I’m keen to keep tasting. 

Chile is just one of the countries covered in this month’s Decanter.  I must get some Argentinian and Uruguayan wines in stock soon so that I can really say that I’ve read and inwardly digested the whole magazine.

Not Only New Zealand

One of the great wine success stories of the last few decades has, undoubtedly, been New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc.  It has emerged from nowhere to feature on every supermarket or wine merchant’s shelves.  Its pungent, gooseberry-leaf nose and tangy palate isn’t to everyone’s taste, but, if you’re not a fan of that style, don’t let that put you off Sauvignon Blanc altogether. 

Instead, look back to the grape’s origins in France (the Loire and Bordeaux), where the wines produced from the variety are generally much more restrained.  Yes, the trademark high acidity and citrus or gooseberry flavours are still present, as anyone who has tasted a Sancerre, a Sauvignon de Touraine or an Entre Deux Mers, for example, will confirm, yet, somehow, in a more mellow way compared to wines from New Zealand.  And, in my view, much more food-friendly as a result.

Domaine Guenault’s Les Racines du Soleil (Wine Society, a bargain at £11.95) is, perhaps, not entirely typical, being much richer, mouth-filling and peachier than many Sauvignons thanks to 12 months ageing while remaining on its lees (the dead yeast cells that can add a delightful savoury character to a wine).  Quite deeply coloured – almost a pale gold – and with a lovely smooth, clean palate, impressive complexity and great length.  A fine match to any dish – fish or poultry – in a creamy sauce and perfectly drinkable on its own as an aperitif.

The wine comes from one of the less well-known Appellations of the central Loire, Chenonceaux, just east of Tours on the Cher river – possibly hence the price.  The vineyard has excellent exposure the sun on south-facing slopes of free-draining clay-limestone and flint soils – ideal for perfect ripening of the Sauvignon grapes and contributing to the generosity of flavour.

Lovers of New Zealand Sauvignon may be surprised at what they find but, hopefully, not disappointed.  For me, this is a prime example of the ‘other’ style of this fashionable variety.

500 and Counting

I doubt whether many wine lovers will recognise the grape name Pais but it holds a special place in the minds of wine historians.  For the variety, also known as Criolla, is thought to be descended from vines raised from the seeds of grapes imported by the Spanish conquistadors.  That dates its arrival in Central and South America to the first half of the 16^th century and means that it has been grown across Mexico, Chile and Argentina for almost 500 years without a break.  The same variety, under another local name – the Mission grape – found its way to California a couple of hundred years later, where it remained an important variety until almost wiped out by the spread of phylloxera in the 1880s. 

So, with that long history in the Americas, why is it not better known?  Initially, it was mainly used to produce wine for use in church services – never very high quality – and, subsequently, for much of the time, the focus has been on basic, everyday wines, leaving the better-known international varieties, such as Merlot and Malbec, to satisfy more demanding consumers.

Yet, carefully handled, Pais can produce something very attractive. Clos de Luz’s Agras (Wine Society, £13.95) from 100 year old vines grown in Chile’s Almahue Valley is a good example.  Quite pale in colour with a pleasant nose of red fruits.  More of the same on the light- to medium-bodied palate alongside some subtle hints of oak from 10 months’ ageing in medium sized old oak barrels.  The style is slightly rustic but the wine is very drinkable and food friendly – a lamb stew or perhaps some sausages would go well.  The 2023 vintage we opened is perfect for drinking now; I wouldn’t keep it too much longer. 

But I will be looking out for other examples of Pais (or Criolla) as adventurous South American producers realise how to get the best from this ancient variety.

Wine for 12th Night?

The Canary Islands are a popular destination for British holidaymakers attracted to a climate offering warmth and sunshine, even during the winter months.  But, with the Islands’ position off the west coast of Africa at latitudes in the upper 20s, few would expect to find any interesting local wines.  Yet they’ve been making wine there for centuries and, although virtually unknown now in the UK, were so popular in Shakespeare’s time, that he even mentioned them by name in Twelfth Night!  

Some (Shakespeare-loving!) friends of ours have visited the Islands often so, when I saw a bottle of Canaries wine on the Wine Society’s list, I thought it would be worth buying and to invite them over to share, as well as an opportunity for me to taste something new.  Piedra Fluida’s Listán Negro (£17) is a lovely soft, plummy red made from 80 year old pre-phylloxera vines grown 600m up on the island of Tenerife.  The altitude helps keep the wine fresh and the brief ageing in French and American oak barrels gives a savoury character with good complexity and length.  The 2021 vintage we tasted was still quite youthful with hints of tannin so no need to drink up quickly.  We partnered it with a Chicken and chickpea stew – a recipe from the Canaries that we found online – and it went really well, but lamb or duck would be equally good.

As for the grape variety Listán Negro, we know very little for certain.  It is thought that it was once cultivated on the Spanish mainland and brought to the Canaries from there, but there is no record of it still being grown commercially in Spain – or indeed, anywhere else in the world.  It thrives in the volcanic and mineral-rich soils of the islands and local producers use it to make a variety of different styles from the Merlot-lookalike we enjoyed to something lighter and more akin to a Beaujolais. 

But with few being exported, it looks like a trip to the Canaries for a little research is the only option! 

Bring Me Surprises

We love sharing delicious food and interesting wine with special friends and, with the custom of the visitors bringing a bottle (or two!), it’s always good to see what they have chosen when we’re hosts.  Most of our friends will bring something they enjoy that they know to be attractive and reliable but, just occasionally, someone brings along a bottle that is either new to me or, at least, something I haven’t tasted for a long time.

This was certainly true recently when some very good friends brought along a bottle of Westcott Vineyards Pinot Noir from Canada’s Niagara Escarpment region.  This was a real left-field choice as, although I’ve tasted the occasional Canadian wine in the past, notably a couple of sensational Ice Wines, it’s rare to find them on the shelves here and so our friends’ bottle was particularly welcome.

I didn’t really know what to expect from the wine as I uncorked it.  In the back of my mind, I had the view – possibly from the Ice Wines – that the Canadian climate was on the cool side for vine growing and so, perhaps, their Pinot might be fairly light, lean and crisp, much like an example from Alsace.  But I was very wrong!  This was rich, mouth-filling and characterful with plenty of typical, earthy, red-fruited Pinot flavours, good length, a hint of oakiness and a perfect match to the duck pie we served as the main course. 

Next day, I looked at my World Wine Atlas to understand how such a wine could come from that part of Canada.  The explanation was clear: my geography was lacking!  The Niagara Escarpment, south of Lake Ontario, is on the same latitude as Nice in the south of France and, while not enjoying similar warmth to the Mediterranean, the region has a climate akin to Dijon at the northern end of Burgundy’s Côte d’Or, the home of some of the world’s best Pinot Noir.

So, long may friends keep visiting and bringing wines that I might never have bought myself especially wines that challenge my preconceptions!

Say Cheese!

Cheese and wine are often thought of together but, with thousands of different cheeses and, probably, even more different wines, you might wonder if there any pairings that work particularly well – or are best avoided?  Like most lovers of both, I have my own ideas on this, but a recent cheese and wine tasting at the grandly named L’Affinage du Fromage, a local cheese specialist, gave an interesting opportunity to explore further.

Considerable thought had obviously gone into the evening which featured 5 Italian wines, each recommended to go with a pair of cheeses. I’m sure there were many opinions as to how well the matching went but, for me, the standout was the first combination we tasted.

I generally like crisp, white wines with soft cheeses and St Bede, a delicious example with a bloomy rind made in Norfolk in the style of a Camembert was a delight alongside the fresh, vibrant Corte Sermana from Lugana on the southern shores of Lake Garda.  Just across the lake is the lovely village of Bardolino, famous for fruity, lighter styles of red and Raval’s bottling was teamed with a Taleggio, a semi-soft cheese from Lombardy and a Tomme de Normandie, slightly firmer and tangier in nature.  Perhaps the former went a little better with the wine, but, personally, I’d have chosen a rich white with both.

Onto the harder cheeses – an Ossau Iraty and a slightly disappointingly dry Pecorino – and here I agree that the red, a medium-bodied black-fruited Calabretta Nerello from the slopes of Mount Etna, was a lively foil for both.  And then, all too soon, our last pairing which included a delicious blue – a mountain gongonzola – teamed with Corte Lenguin Recioto della Valpolicella, a delicately sweet wine made with dried red grapes.  I’m a great fan of sweet wines with blue cheeses and, while this combo worked well enough, something sweeter might have been even better.

So, a tasting as interesting as I anticipated, proving, once again, that cheese and wine can be perfect partners – or not – depending on your own taste.

Brunello’s Little Brother

Brunello di Montalcino is one of Italy’s iconic wines – and for ‘iconic’, read ‘expensive’!  Even the (always good value) Wine Society’s own label example is around £30 and, if you want a bottle from one of the top producers, then think £50 easily, perhaps £100; the sky’s the limit.  So, what’s the attraction?  A big, powerful, chunky, alcoholic red with lovely Sangiovese character and plenty of well-integrated oak notes.  The downside (apart, that is, from the cost)?  Good Brunello needs time to develop and harmonise all these flavours so you need to wait at least 10 years from the vintage before drinking, otherwise you’ll be overwhelmed with a mouthful of tannin and miss the best of the wine.

There is, happily, an alternative, giving you hints of the same style but in a wine that’s ready to drink sooner and without having to take out a 2^nd mortgage for a bottle.  Forget the ‘Brunello’ part of the name, the words you need to look out for on the label are ‘Rosso di Montalcino’.  This is, effectively, Brunello’s little brother, considerably more approachable and friendly and often available for well under £20.

Majestic have one from the 2023 vintage on their list from Il Patrizio for £16.  Still worth decanting in advance to get the best of it but, paired with, say, a nice steak, this is drinking very well now (and will be for some time to come).  Quite pale (as Sangiovese wines often are) and with not much on the nose, it is when you start tasting that the flavours come through.  Quite full-bodied (14% alcohol), with leathery, cedary, earthy flavours to the fore, together with some cooked plums suggesting a wine older than its 3 years although still with noticeable (but not intrusive) tannins.  Definitely a food wine although, surprisingly, when I finished the little that remained in my glass later in the evening, some attractive dark cherry fruit appeared which was missing earlier.

So, if this is your style of red, do try a good Brunello some time for a special occasion, but, in the meantime, don’t ignore its little brother.