This, logically, should be Pedro Ximénez (PX) under a different name, but the large plantings of Pedro Giménez in Argentina and Chile are a different variety from Spain’s PX and are probably related to the first importation of European vines in the 16th century. In Argentina it makes everyday wines which never get exported; in Chile it is grown for pisco, the local brandy.
Along with Palomino Fino (see here), this used to be the other grape of the Jerez sherry region in southern Spain. It was used for sweetening purposes and sometimes for bottling on its own as a sweet, dark, dessert sherry. But the more disease-resistant Palomino has all but replaced it, and almost all the PX used in sherry these days is brought in from the nearby Montilla-Moriles area, where it is the main variety.
Traditionally it is picked and then left to dry and shrivel in the sun to concentrate its sweetness. It is also used for Málaga, and is found across Andalucía, Valencia, Extremadura and in Portugal’s Alentejo. One legend attributes its introduction to a 17th-century Spanish soldier (called, presumably, Pedro Ximénez), who brought it from the Rhine on his return from the Netherlands. Why he thought that a vine that grew in the chilly Rhine would grow in Montilla – the hottest part of Spain – is not clear. Nor can one think of any current Rhine vine with much resemblance to PX, even allowing for the difference in climate. Still, it’s a nice story.
Gonzalez-Byass
Pedro Ximénez like this example has intense grapy flavours – but actually the wine develops very little over time, and while old versions are more concentrated the flavours are the same.
Varietal PX sherry is one of the most immediately seductive of dessert wines. It has low acidity and a thick, silky, syrupy texture; its flavour is grapy and raisiny, with only the bare minimum of acidity to prevent it from cloying. In solera it becomes dark to the point of blackness, and can be very concentrated; examples of 60 years old or more, freshly bottled, nevertheless taste very similar to, though more intense than, younger examples. It is far less successful as a table wine grape, and gives flabby, dull-tasting wines with little acidity and no character.
It is grown in Australia, but in even smaller quantities than Palomino, with which it is lumped both in the statistics and, usually, in the blending vat. Although Chile distils most of its production into brandy or pisco, Falernia in the Elqui Valley makes a tasty but hardly memorable dry white wine version. Best producers: (Spain) Alvear, Pérez Barquero, Domecq, Garvey, Gonzalez-Byass, Lustau, Toro Albalá, Valdespino.
The ‘correct’ name (if such a thing exists) for this soft, raspberry-flavoured Portuguese variety is Castelão (see here), though it is also known as João de Santarém, and in the Alentejo used to be called Trincadeira. But Trincadeira is now known to be a separate variety. Best producers: (Portugal) Bacalhõa, J M da Fonseca, Pegos Claros.
One of the many names of Chasselas (see here). It is sometimes known by this name in the canton of Geneva in Switzerland, though Chasselas de Genève is more common.
Sicilian grape grown for deep-coloured, alcoholic red wines.
Not related to Courbu, with which it shares vineyard space. It is one of the many old and obscure vines found in Gascony, in southwest France, where it is an ingredient in Pacherenc du Vic-Bilh, Béarn, Jurançon and Irouléguy. It adds richness and lemony, honeyed fruit to the blend. Courbu Noir in Béarn is not related. Best producers: (France) Arretxea, Bru-Baché, Clos Thou, Clos Uroulat, Ilarria, Souch.
Domaine Cauhapé
Petit Manseng is the main grape used for sweet Jurançon wine. The berries dry out and shrivel on the vine and the sweet is marked by apricot and pineapple richness and particularly vivid acidity.
Petit Manseng is very similar to its cousin Gros Manseng (see here) and is found in the same places – namely between Gascony and the Pyrenees in southwest France. It has smaller berries, as its name might suggest, and is more extreme in its flavours, and more difficult to handle in the winery. It is very low yielding, sometimes giving less than 15hl/ha and like Gros Manseng, able to reach high levels of potential alcohol.
It is even more suitable for sweet wines than its Gros cousin, with the grapes regularly being left on the vine to become passerillé, or shrivelled in Jurançon; Gros Manseng, of which larger quantities are at present planted, may well be more suitable for dry wines than Petit Manseng, but the latter has similar intense floral, spicy fruit and high acidity, and these flavours, together with its considerable finesse, are making it increasingly popular with growers in other regions. It is appearing more and more in Languedoc, where its acidity is prized. Elsewhere, Virginia has had considerable success with it, and both Uruguay and Argentina have a little, as does Australia. One fascinating New Zealand example is made by Churton in Marlborough. Best producers: (France) Arrextea, Bru-Baché, Cauhapé, Clos Lapeyre, Clos Thou, Clos Uroulat, Montus, Souch.
Old Champagne variety now attracting some attention. It has piercing acidity and is difficult to handle in the winery, but Bollinger, Duval Leroy, Tarlant, René Geoffroy, Moutard and L Aubry Fils all have some. Irvine Wines in Australia’s Eden Valley have some, too.
An obscure variety from Italy’s Valle d’Aosta region. It is usually blended.
Petit Verdot may be planted only in small quantities in Bordeaux, but it is often highly valued for its colour, structure and lovely violet scent – and it is proving successful in Chile, Australia, California and even Virginia, both as a useful seasoning for Cabernet Sauvignon, and an exciting wine in its own right.
Petit Verdot fell from favour in Bordeaux because it is so late ripening: it ripens even later than Cabernet Sauvignon, which makes it an impossibility for the Right Bank regions of St-Émilion and Pomerol. It is, however, found in the Médoc and especially in Margaux, where the soils give lighter wines that need the extra tannin and colour provided by Petit Verdot. Château Margaux itself has 6 to 7 per cent Petit Verdot in the vineyard, and most of it goes into the grand vin; it has wonderful scent, but it supposedly lacks elegance, so winemaker Paul Pontallier says he would never want more than 10 per cent in the blend. In the 19th century, by contrast, 30 per cent of the vineyard at Château Margaux was planted with Petit Verdot. In Bordeaux, generally, it was reckoned to reach full ripeness in only one year in five, which made châteaux in less-favoured spots somewhat wary of planting it; in the 1980s this probably changed to one year in three, and more like one in two in the 2000s.
Pontallier describes his Petit Verdot as having a banana aroma when young, and developing violet aromas later. Violets are also a keynote elsewhere: in Tuscany, Spain (where it handles the La Mancha heat well and is also grown on Mallorca), Virginia, Long Island, Chile (Errázuriz is enthusiastic about its potential), New Zealand, South Africa, and Australia. It is of rapidly growing importance in South Africa’s warmer regions. In Australia’s warm, irrigated Riverland, Petit Verdot can give even better results than Cabernet Sauvignon, with better acid retention and fresher flavours. Even Australia, however, has areas too cool to ripen it.
There is an unrelated and less good variety known as Gros Verdot, which may still occasionally be found in Argentina. Best producers: (Australia) Kingston, Pirramimma; Trentham, Zilzie; (Italy) Castello dei Rampolla; (South Africa) Simonsig; (Spain) Dominio de Valdepusa; (USA) Araujo, Benziger, Cain Cellars, Jekel, Newton, Virginia.
Virginia has proven to be a happy hunting ground for Petit Verdot. Its warm yet humid conditions seem to suit this late-ripening, thick-skinned variety. These vines are at the Afton Mountain Vineyards in Monticello AVA with the seductive Blue Ridge Mountains gracing the horizon.
A high-quality grape of the Swiss Valais, also called Arvine, which gives wines of elegance and finesse, with tense acidity and unusual minerally, leafy flavour. It demands, and gets, the best sites, and if the grapes are left on the vine until November or even December it can get noble rot. Otherwise sweet or medium-sweet wines can be made from shrivelled berries.
There are also dry versions; all age well in bottle. The vine is also found over the Italian border in the Valle d’Aosta. Best producers: (Switzerland) Charles Bonvin, Caves Imesch, du Mont d’Or.
This grape is sometimes wrongly, and confusingly, spelled Petite Syrah – confusingly because some growers in the Rhône Valley refer to a small-berried version of their (true) Syrah as Petite Syrah.
Well, Petite Sirah is not real Syrah. It is, in fact, a cross between a little grown French vine called Peloursin and Syrah, but the name of Petite Sirah has become attached to several different grape varieties all of which have been traditionally planted together in California, which is where it, or they, are mostly found today.
Petite Sirah is the same grape as Durif (see here), though it is sometimes confused with Peloursin. Petite Sirah produces tannic wines which are even darker in colour than those of true Syrah; they have a savoury, almost meaty character and dense blackberry fruit. Its powerful style has long made it a useful blending wine, especially for Zinfandel: Paul Draper of Ridge Vineyards swears by an admixture of 10 to 15 per cent of Petite Sirah in his Zinfandels.
It can also be made as a varietal if the powerful tannins are handled well: it is intense and usually rustic, but good examples can be surprisingly supple and ageworthy, lasting up to 20 years in bottle. It is at its best in Sonoma and Mendocino, where unirrigated vineyards of often very old vines produce wines of considerable depth, backbone and brutal power. Not only is the area under vine on the increase, with Lodi and Paso Robles showing interest, but the wine is becoming a bit of a cult in California: its fan club is called – wait for it – PS I Love You.
Mexico is another source of good Petite Sirah; Argentina and Brazil also have some. In Australia, it is generally called Durif. Best producers: (Mexico) L A Cetto; (USA) David Bruce, Carmen, De Loach, Edmeades, Fetzer, Fife, Foppiano, Frick, La Jota, Parducci, Ravenswood, Ridge, Rockland, Stags’ Leap Winery, Sean Thackray, Turley.
Some Rhône producers like to use this name for a smaller-berried strain of Syrah (see here). Petite Sirah, a different variety (see here), is sometimes incorrectly spelled this way.
An overpriced northeastern Italian variety which may, on occasion, be ravishing enough to justify the hype. But only on occasion, and prices are high. The wines are sweet, with apricot and peach flavours and firm, sometimes appley acidity. There may be a flowery note, too, and passito wines are full of dried apricot and candied fruit flavours. Some may be aged in oak barriques.
The most intense versions are the passito wines, made from grapes picked late and then left to shrivel before being pressed and fermented. There are also late-harvest versions, made from grapes which are picked even later in the autumn. Either way yields are tiny: the vine is prone to very poor fruit set, which is one reason why there is not much of the variety planted. It demands good sites, too, on hillsides with volcanic soil.
In the past Picolit has had periods of great popularity, long before its current fashionability: in the 18th century the wine was exported to the courts of Tuscany, Austria, Holland, Russia, Britain, Saxony and France. Best producers: (Italy) Cà Ronesca, Dario Coos, Dorigo, Livio Felluga, Davino Meroi, Primosic, Bernarda Rocca, Paolo Rodaro, Ronchi di Cialla, Ronchi di Manzano, Ronco del Gnemiz, Le Vigne di Zamò.
Picpoul or Piquepoul is found in the Languedoc region, usually in its white form, though there is also a Picpoul Noir and a Picpoul Gris. All are old varieties. Picpoul Noir is aromatic and reaches high levels of potential alcohol, but is pale in colour and doesn’t age. It is usually only found in blends.
Picpoul Blanc is noted for its high acidity (piquepoul means ‘lipstinger’) and lemony fruit, and any grape with high acidity can be an asset in the hot Languedoc climate. It used to be widely grown for vermouth. It is becoming quite popular and is particularly useful for blending, but can be delicious and lemony when in AC form as Picpoul de Pinet from around the village of Pinet near the Étang de Thau on the Mediterranean coast north of Agde. Quality of Picpoul de Pinet has greatly increased recently. Best producers: (France) la Grangette, Montagnac co-op, Pinet co-op, Gaujal, Genson, St-Martin de la Garrigue; (USA) Bonny Doon.
Félines Jourdan
Picpoul de Pinet is becoming a surprising star wine. Pale, fresh, lemony, scented with blossom, it comes from very warm conditions on the Mediterranean, which the very acid-retentive Picpoul seems to relish.
This grape, planted in Campania in southern Italy, is part of the blend for the wines Lacryma Christi del Vesuvio and Falerno Rosso, but with the increase in fashionability of Campanian varietal wines, you can now find attractive unblended versions, usually quite light and fresh for easy drinking, but with attractive red fruit and herbal scent. Best producers: (Italy) Feudi di San Gregorio, Galardi, Cantine Grotte del Sole, Luigi Maffini, Mastroberardino, Ocone, Giovanni Struzziero, Villa Matilde.
A grape found in the Riviera di Ponente zone in Italy’s Liguria region which makes sturdy wine with plenty of fruit. It is the same grape as Piedmont’s Favorita and the Vermentino/Rolle commonly found all around the Mediterranean coastline (see here).
It gains its name, which means ‘spotted’, from the appearance of the ripe grapes. Best producers: (Italy) Anfossi, Bruna, Maria Donata Bianchi, Cascina Feipu dei Massaretti, Parodi, Terre Rosse, La Vecchia Cantina, Claudio Vio.
Pignolo is found in Friuli where it seems to be having something of a revival, albeit a fairly small and quiet one. It deserves to be revived: it balances good acidity with rich blackberry and plum flavours and silky tannins, and it seems to suit barrique aging. It is not the same as Pignola, which is a black grape grown in the Valtellina region in Lombardy. Best producers: (Italy) Dorigo, Davide Moschioni, Le Vigne di Zamò.
A grape of the Loire Valley, now in decline but still blended into the reds and rosés of Anjou and Touraine. It has good fruit and adds a certain zesty pepperiness to blends, but other reds, notably Cabernet Franc, are more fashionable and have more commercial potential.
It is an old vine, and has been known since the Middle Ages; it takes its name from the Aunis priory near Saumur, and King Henry III of England imported its light red wine to England in 1246. Anyone who wanted darker coloured wine blended it with something else: the local Teinturier du Cher would have given the quickest results. Best producer: (France) Hautes Vignes.
Burgundian synonym for Pinot Gris (see here). A small amount is still grown on the Côte de Beaune and Hautes-Côtes de Beaune, where it is blended with Chardonnay and adds extra complexity and chubbiness to the wine. Odd patches survive in some pretty famous domaines, such as Simon Bize, Joseph Drouhin and Comte Senard. Rumour has it that there are still vines in the Grand Cru Corton-Charlemagne. Best producers: (France) l’Arlot, Simon Bize, Bruno Clair, Coche-Dury, Joseph Drouhin, Comte Senard.
Italian name for Pinot Blanc (see here). It is grown mostly in the northeast, and gives particularly good crisp, light wines in the Alto Adige, the Veneto and Friuli, and makes useful sparkling wines in Lombardy.
Until the mid-1980s the names Pinot Bianco and Chardonnay were considered interchangeable, and the two varieties are still interplanted in some vineyards. The grape name that then goes on the label might, in these circumstances, just possibly owe more to market forces than to strict accuracy. In which case, buy whichever wine is cheaper.
See here.
Italian name for Pinot Gris (see here). Pinot Grigio is often more highly regarded than Pinot Bianco (see above) in Italy, though the quality of the wine is at much the same level. It grows in the northeast of the country, and is picked for its acidity rather than for the plump richness that distinguishes the variety in Alsace, but the best do have a light coppery tinge and some decent nutty weight. But in general Italian wines from this grape are accordingly some of the lightest and crispest around, with delicate spice. If vineyard yields are too high, as they frequently are, this delicacy turns to blandness. This doesn’t stop Pinot Grigio being archetypal Italian restaurant wine, and some of it is really very pleasant, but it could explain why, with a little added sugar, it has been such a runaway success in the lower echelons of the export markets. New World countries generally use the title Pinot Gris. When you find a wine labelled Pinot Grigio from, for instance, Australia or New Zealand, it is usually in a lighter, fresh, not quite dry style.
See here.
A local variation of Pinot Noir found in Burgundy. Its main characteristic seems to be its rather higher crops. See here.
Pinot Meunier, or Meunier, may be related to Pinot Noir but this is unproven. The leaf looks very different and far more indented. The leaves are also downy on the underside, giving them the floury appearance from which the vine takes its name: Meunier means ‘miller’, and many of the the vine’s other synonyms – Farineux or Noirin Enfariné, or Müllerebe (see here) or Müller-Traube in Germany, right down to Dusty Miller in England or Miller’s Burgundy in Australia – derive from the same characteristic. But it is possible to find canes bearing completely hairless leaves.
It is best known as a blending partner for Pinot Noir and Chardonnay in Champagne, and it is popular with growers there because it buds late and ripens early. Both of these are useful attributes in chilly Champagne, and it is found in the cooler, more frost-prone parts, especially in the Vallée de la Marne, where neither Chardonnay nor Pinot Noir would be a safe bet. It is useful in the blend because it matures much faster than the other two wines and provides softness, fatness and appealingly round fruit at an early age: ideal for wines intended to be sold and drunk young.
Generally it is not thought to age well, and is not regarded as having as much finesse or quality as the other two grapes. As a result most producers are somewhat shy of talking about the amount of Meunier they include in their blends. The exception is Krug, which uses a fair proportion (though still much less than either of the other grapes) in its very long-lived Champagne.
In the 19th century it was the great standby of vineyards all over the north, from the Paris basin as far east as Lorraine – regions where no vineyards exist now. It is still occasionally found in the Loire and makes a pleasant smoky pale pink Vin Gris near Orléans, but there is much more in Germany, where it grows in Württemberg, Baden, the Pfalz and Franken under the names of either Müllerebe, Müller-Traube or Schwarzriesling. In Württemberg it is used for the local pink speciality, Schillerwein; it also makes white sparkling and still red in Germany. The colour is fairly light – lighter than that of Pinot Noir – and the wine is often slightly higher in acidity and smoky in taste. In Germany there is a local variant, called Samtrot, found in Württemberg.
There is some in Austria and in German-speaking cantons of Switzerland. It has been cultivated on a small scale for many years in Australia. Some bright, aromatic reds which can sometimes age well are made and it is also used in Champagne-style fizz. New Zealand and Oregon have small plantings. Best producers: (Australia) Best’s, Seppelt, Taltarni; (Canada) Tinhorn Creek; (England) Nyetimber; (France) Billecart-Salmon, Blin, Charles Heidsieck, Alfred Gratien, Krug, Laurent Perrier; (USA) S Anderson, Roederer Estate, Schramsberg.
Italian name for Pinot Noir (see here). So far Italian examples lag behind Burgundy, California, New Zealand and the best of Australia. One reason may be that many Italian nurseries offer high-yielding clones more suited to sparkling wine production. The Alto Adige region in the northeast seems to have the most potential.
See here.
Obscure Californian grape, included here because it is a synonym for Négrette (see here) and thus not a Pinot at all.
Bride Valley, tucked into a south-facing fold in the Dorset hills in southern England, grows Pinot Meunier, Pinot Noir and Chardonnay on intensely chalky soil to make delightful, fragrant sparkling wine in the Champagne style.
It’s hard to think of a region where Pinot Blanc is regarded as a star grape, though Italy’s Franciacorta comes pretty close. Pinot is widely enough grown, but seldom plays the leading role. It does well in northern Italy generally, making very nice bright, dry, creamy whites in the Alto Adige, and in Alsace, where, although the label on the bottle won’t even mention its name, much of the best Crémant d’Alsace fizz is based on Pinot Blanc. But otherwise it is one of the wine world’s genuine Cinderellas, and if there’s going to be a ball to attend, Pinot Blanc’s invitation hasn’t arrived yet.
Yet it’s got a fairly decent family tree. It’s a mutation of Pinot Gris, which is itself a form of Pinot Noir, and its flavour closely resembles a mild Chardonnay, especially in northern Italy where the Chardonnay is often in any case light, and Pinot Blanc just tastes like an even lighter version. In Germany’s Baden, Saale-Unstrut and Sachsen regions it is called Weissburgunder and often barrique-aged and in Austria’s Burgenland it makes excellent sweet botrytized wines. In Eastern Europe it is widely grown though with no great distinction.
So we’re left with Alsace. But even here it plays at best fifth fiddle to Riesling, Gewurztraminer, Muscat and Pinot Gris, and is often blended with Auxerrois – again, the two grapes look very similar. The ampelographer Galet calls the more productive Alsace version of the vine Gros Pinot Blanc, to distinguish it from other Pinot Blancs.
The New World has not taken to Pinot Blanc in any great way, and clearly prefers the greater glamour of Chardonnay. California has some, though much of what was thought to be Pinot Blanc there turned out to be Melon de Bourgogne, better known as Muscadet. Californian views about how Pinot Blanc should taste vary, so that some wines are as fat as Chardonnay while others are lighter and less assertive. Oregon and Canada have shown a bit more idea of what to do with it, and British Columbia has definitely shown considerable promise.
So, to be honest, it’s difficult to know how good Pinot Blanc could be. In a way its very lack of assertiveness, its mild but bright drinkability in a world awash with Chardonnay, is actually one of its most important characteristics.
Pinot Blanc in Alsace has a touch of spice to its round, creamy fruit, but not too much. It is not assertively spicy, or assertively aromatic. In Italy it becomes lighter and more minerally, sometimes with a reasonable pear and apple freshness. In Germany it takes submissively to new oak and makes a fair stab at a Chardonnay style with decent acidity and just enough body to cope with the wood.
Great Britain is one of the countries showing the clearest evidence yet of climate change transforming vineyard conditions. Not long ago, southern England was regarded as too cold to ripen the classic French varieties enough to make decent table wine, yet now Chardonnay, Pinot Gris and Pinot Blanc are all producing lovely examples, primarily in Kent and Sussex. Stopham Estate is in Sussex and this Pinot Blanc is fresh, light but scented with elderflower and delightfully tangy.
Rudolf Fürst
German examples can have higher acidity than most Pinot Blanc wines, especially when they are Trocken, or dry. This one is from the Franken region and while the acidity is high it has good, creamy, nutty concentration.
WillaKenzie Estate
Pinot Gris was the first white variety to make its mark in Oregon, but the cool, often damp conditions of the Willamette Valley are producing fresh, tasty Pinot Blanc too.
Once it was seen that Pinot Noir did well in Oregon’s Willamette Valley, local producers started to plant other members of the Pinot family including Pinot Blanc and Pinot Gris. This is the WillaKenzie Estate whose Pinot Blanc vines are planted on Willakenzie soil, known for its excellent drainage.
Pinot Blanc’s greatest virtue is its subtlety; but the trouble is convincing wine lovers that subtlety on its own is a quality worth shelling out money for. I see their point. ‘Subtlety’ can so easily become a euphemism for dilution and blandness. Even so, Pinot Blanc is brilliant with food: there are plenty of dishes that don’t require fireworks in the wine.
CONSUMER INFORMATION
Synonyms & local names
Sometimes called Clevner or Klevner in Alsace. Known as Pinot Bianco in Italy and Weissburgunder or Weisser Burgunder in Germany and Austria. In Slovenia and the Balkans it may be called Beli (White) Pinot.
FRANCE/Alsace Adam, Blanck, Bott-Geyl, Boxler, Deiss, Dopff & Irion, Hugel, Josmeyer, Kreydenweiss, Kuentz-Bas, Meyer-Fonné, René Muré, Ostertag, Rolly Gassmann, Schaetzel, André Scherer, Schlumberger, Schoffit, Turckheim co-op, Weinbach, Zind-Humbrecht;
Burgundy Maurice Écard, Jadot, Louis Lequin, Daniel Rion.
GERMANY Bercher, Bergdolt, Schlossgut Diel, Fürst, Dr Heger, Karl-Heinz Johner, Franz Keller, U Lützkendorf, Rebholz, Schloss Reinhartshausen, Sasbach co-op, Dr Werheim.
AUSTRIA Feiler-Artinger, Walter Glatzer, Hiedler, Lackner-Tinnacher, Hans Pittnauer, Polz, Fritz Salomon.
ITALY Buonamico, Colterenzio co-op, Marco Felluga, Jermann, Masùt da Rive, Ignaz Niedriest, Querciabella, Alessandro Princic, Puiatti, San Michele Appiano co-op, Schiopetto, Terlano co-op, Vallarom, Vignalta.
ENGLAND Stopham Estate.
USA/California Arrowood, Au Bon Climat, Byron, Chalone, Laetitia, J Lohr, Saddleback, Robert Sinskey, Steele, Tyee, Wild Horse;
Oregon Adelsheim, Amity, Archery Summit, Bethel Heights, Domaine Serene, Elk Cove, Erath, St Innocent, WillaKenzie, Ken Wright.
CANADA Blue Mountain, CedarCreek, Gehringer, Inniskillin Okanagan, Konzelmann, Mission Hill, Sumac Ridge, Wild Goose.
Ten dry or off-dry Alsace wines
Blanck Alsace Pinot Blanc
Boxler Alsace Pinot Blanc
Josmeyer Alsace Pinot Blanc les Lutins
Kreydenweiss Alsace Pinot Blanc Kritt
Meyer-Fonné Alsace Pinot Blanc Vieilles Vignes
Réné Muré Alsace Pinot Blanc Tradition
Rolly Gassmann Alsace Pinot Blanc Auxerrois Moenchreben
Schlumberger Alsace Pinot Blanc
Schoffit Alsace Pinot Blanc Cuvée Caroline
Zind-Humbrecht Alsace Pinot d’Alsace
Bercher Burkheimer Feuerberg Weissburgunder Spätlese Trocken Selektion
Fürst Franken Weissburgunder Spätlese Trocken
Dr Heger Achkarrer Schlossberg Weissburgunder Spätlese Trocken
Lackner-Tinnacher Südsteiermark Steinbach Weissburgunder
Fritz Salomon Weissburgunder
Fattoria del Buonamico Vasario
Colterenzio co-op Alto Adige Pinot Bianco Weisshaus
Querciabella Batàr
San Michele Appiano co-op Alto Adige Pinot Bianco Schulthauser
Schiopetto Collio Pinot Bianco
Au Bon Climat Santa Maria Valley Reserve (California)
Chalone Vineyard Chalone (California)
Elk Cove Willamette Valley (Oregon)
Saddleback Cellars Napa Valley (California)
WillaKenzie Estate Willamette Valley (Oregon)
Where have I had my most memorable Pinot Gris? Was it in Alsace? Was it in Germany? Or in Italy, under its alter ego of Pinot Grigio? Well, these are the three most likely suspects. But might it have been from Switzerland? Might it have been from New Zealand, or Canada or Romania? Ever since I tasted a remarkable St Helena Pinot Gris ’87 from New Zealand’s South Island, I had a feeling Pinot Gris would shine there. Pinot Gris from both Ontario and British Columbia looks as though it could be the white variety that manages best to ride the ‘hot short summer, freezing long winter’ that makes Canada so intriguing yet challenging. And Romania? If you’d experienced the sumptuous, honeyed, hedonistic flavours of nobly rotten, sweet Pinot Gris from Murfatlar on the Black Sea coast, you wouldn’t be smirking behind your hand when I say Pinot Gris has the potential to be one of the world’s great white grapes, in some of the world’s most unlikely places.
But I still go back to Alsace to find what makes it tick. Here, it makes wine from gloriously sweet to dry but always mellow. And the reason no other region makes Pinot Gris like Alsace has a lot to do with climate. Alsace’s dry autumns make long hang times possible; you can pick late for dry or off-dry wines, and even later for sweet ones.
In Alsace, and indeed in Baden, just over the Rhine, it needs ripeness – at least 12.5 per cent potential alcohol at picking but usually much more – in order to have character. It needs low yields, too, to have quality: no more than 60hl/ha for good wine, or 40hl/ha for great.
In Germany, Pinot Gris does well in Baden and Pfalz, called Ruländer or Grauer Burgunder – or Pinot Gris. It usually keeps the honeyed quality but rarely reaches Alsace levels. Italy grows a lot, though rarely impressively, with the exception of a few growers in Collio and Alto Adige in the northeast. Why? Well, everyone’s making lots of money out of oceans of Pinot Grigio. That’s the same variety, minus much of its ambition. For the best Pinot Grigios, head for Croatia, Slovenia, Hungary and Romania. In the New World, especially in Canada, Oregon and New Zealand, Pinot Gris, because of its pear and apple flesh fruit, and honeyed richness, is seen as an excellent alternative to oaked Chardonnay – and it certainly is. Australia mostly focuses on a crisp, fresh Pinot Grigio style.
I adore Pinot Gris’ ability to produce fabulously honeyed wines, with the richness of brazil nut flesh and the merest suggestion of something slightly unwashed. (Don’t flinch – many of the most memorable wines have something slightly ‘incorrect’ about them.) Alsace Pinot Gris revels in spicy, musky, honeyed and exotic flavours yet northeast Italy’s copper-tinged, relentlessly popular Pinot Grigio with lightly spicy, minerally flavours makes a sort of superior glugger to go with the fritto misto. The Canadians and New Zealanders are too new at the game to court the dangerous flavours of decay, and Oregon, in the Pacific Northwest, is happy to exploit the honeyed quality of the grape, but is rapidly showing that a bright, almost spritzy style of white may actually prove to be the state’s best wine. In Oregon and New Zealand, fruit flavours prevail – pear and apple, mango and spring flowers – but the best examples always have a flickering honeysuckle scent while Switzerland, Hungary and Romania still hold on to the richer, honeyed style.
Oregon is best known for delicate red Pinot Noirs, but has rapidly made a name for itself with mellow, vaguely honeyed Pinot Gris, which many drinkers enthusiastically adopted as a reasonably full-bodied but unoaked alternative to Chardonnay.
Vie di Romans
This shows the serious side of Pinot Grigio – yellow-coloured pear and pastry-flavoured full dry wine from stony, glacial soils in sunny but cold Isonzo in Friuli-Venezia-Giulia, north-east Italy.
Cedar Creek
Pinot Gris is fast becoming one of British Columbia’s top white wine varieties. Vanilla, honey and pear flavours blend in this barrel-fermented example.
The glowing gold of autumn sunshine in the Brand vineyard above the village of Turckheim vividly suggests the luscious honeyed wine these late-harvest Pinot Gris grapes will create.
Pinot Gris grapes, shown here in the early stages of Botrytis cinerea, are more susceptible to the fungus than any other noble Alsace variety. There are two strains of the vine here: Gros Grains, which has pretty well taken over, gives much higher yields than the smaller-berried Petits Grains, which has almost disappeared. But Petits Grains gives stellar quality and the new breed of ambitious young growers won’t let it disappear completely.
CONSUMER INFORMATION
Synonyms & local names
French synonyms include Pinot Beurot or Burot (Burgundy), Malvoisie (Loire and Savoie) and until recently in Alsace Tokay-Pinot Gris. Called Pinot Grigio in Italy and in Germany and Austria Grauburgunder (for dry) and Ruländer (for sweet wines). Switzerland’s Valais calls it Malvoisie and Hungary Szürkebarát.
FRANCE/Alsace Adam, Albrecht, Barmès-Buecher, Beyer, Blanck, Bott-Geyl, Boxler, Burn, Deiss, Dopff & Irion, Hugel, Josmeyer, Kientzler, Koehly, Kreydenweiss, Kuentz-Bas, Albert Mann, Ernest Meyer, Meyer-Fonné, Mittnacht- Klack, René Muré, Ostertag, Pfaffenheim co-op, Rolly Gassmann, Schaetzel, Schlumberger, Schoffit, Bruno Sorg, Trimbach, Turckheim co-op, Weinbach, Zind-Humbrecht;
Burgundy l’Arlot; Loire Henri Beurdin.
GERMANY/dry Bercher, Dr Heger, K-H Johner, Müller-Catoir, Zimmerling; sweet Salwey.
AUSTRIA Feiler-Artinger, Gross, Schandl.
ITALY Cesconi, Livio Felluga, Lageder, Le Monde, Ronco del Gelso, Russiz Superiore, Schiopetto, Vie di Romans, Villa Russiz, Elena Walch.
USA/California Flora Springs, Long Meadow Ranch, Seghesio; Oregon Adelsheim, Archery Summit, Chehalem, Evesham Wood, Eyrie, King Estate, Ponzi, Sokol Blosser, WillaKenzie; Washington State Chateau Ste Michelle.
CANADA Blue Mountain, Burrowing Owl, Gehringer, Mission Hill, Pelee Island.
NEW ZEALAND Astrolabe, Ata Rangi, Dry River, Gibbston Valley, Greywacke, Kumeu River, Lawson’s Dry Hills, Neudorf, Palliser, St Helena, Seresin.
SOUTH AFRICA L’Ormarins, Nederburg, Van Loveren.
AUSTRALIA Tim Adams, Bay of Fires, Brokenwood, Crittenden, Heartland, Henschke, Mount Langhi Giran, Pike & Joyce, Pizzini, Primo Estate/Joseph, T’ Gallant.
Five dry or off-dry Alsace wines
Kientzler Vendange Tardive
Albert Mann Vieilles Vignes
Ostertag Muenchberg Vendange Tardive
Schoffit Cuvée Alexandre
Zind-Humbrecht Clos Windsbuhl VT
Bott-Geyl Alsace Pinot Gris
Hugel Alsace Pinot Gris
Kuentz-Bas Alsace Pinot Gris Cuvée Jeremy
Weinbach Alsace Pinot Gris
Zind-Humbrecht Rangen Clos St-Urbain
Bercher Burkheimer Feuerberg Spätlese Trocken Selektion
Alois & Ulrike Gross Südsteiermark
Dr Heger Ihringer Winklerberg Spätlese Trocken 3 Sterne
Müller-Catoir Haardter Herrenletten Spätlese Trocken
Klaus Zimmerling Landwein Trocken
Livio Felluga Colli Orientali del Friuli Pinot Grigio
Lageder Alto Adige Pinot Grigio Benefizium Porer
Ronco del Gelso Friuli Isonzo Pinot Grigio Sot Lis Rivis
Schiopetto/Poderi dei Blumeri Colli Orientali del Friuli Pinot Grigio
Vie di Romans Friuli Isonzo Pinot Grigio Desimis
Burrowing Owl Pinot Gris (Canada)
Chehalem Pinot Gris (Oregon)
Evesham Wood Pinot Gris Estate (Oregon)
Gibbston Valley Pinot Gris (New Zealand)
T’Gallant Pinot Grigio (Australia)
Pinot Noir: from Grape to Glass
Geography and History here; Viticulture and Vinification here; Pinot Noir around the World here; Enjoying Pinot Noir here
Seen through an arched Gothic window typical of those found at the Hospices de Beaune in Burgundy, Pinot Noir’s homeland, is the château at Gevrey-Chambertin, one of the Côte de Nuits’ best known wine villages. The moonlit scene is a tribute to the word Nuits. On the windowsill are various references to Pinot Noir’s many facets – the traditional silver Burgundian tastevin, or tasting cup, a Champagne cork and wire cage, a cone from the Oregon pine and a Knave of Spades to symbolize Pinot Noir’s capriciousness both in the vineyard and the wine cellar.
We should rejoice. There is now more beautiful Pinot Noir being made in the world than ever before. California, Oregon, New Zealand, Chile, Australia and Germany are all finally getting to grips with a grape that has been regarded as the ultimate challenge in the catalogue of red wine varieties, the heartbreak grape, the variety that seems to follow no rules which would allow you to produce a consistent crop of quality fruit that you could then turn into tasty balanced wine and build up a reputation for yourself. The world is cracking the Pinot Noir code.
Oh, and did I say that Burgundy is also producing more high-quality wine than ever before? Silly me. I forgot. Well, it is. Modern Burgundy has more peaks of beauty and grace in its wines than ever before, but also far, far more wines at the middle and lower rank that reliably give pleasure. And what’s the relevance of that? Until very recently – i.e. about yesterday – the success of Pinot Noir worldwide was judged on its similarity to Burgundy, which does happen to to be the original Pinot Noir centre of excellence, but which, over the centuries, had produced precious few brilliant bottles to justify the reputation either of the region or of its grape – Pinot Noir.
Yet all round the world, Pinot Noir was supposed to ape Burgundy and in most cases this led to decades of disappointment and self-delusion as even the most talented producers glumly gazed at the non-Burgundian results of yet another harvest. Until enough growers and winemakers said, Look, we don’t have Burgundy conditions. Indeed, who would want them? Damp, drab, icy winters, fickle springtimes, erratic summers which come all too often to a sudden, sodden end. Who would want that? And yet, and yet . . . So many winelovers could rhapsodize about a bottle of red Burgundy as being their most memorable lifetime red. But what is this Burgundian idea of Pinot Noir?
Is it pale, ethereal, with a scent as sweet and wistful as half-forgotten childhood summer memories hovering over the glass? Is it sensual or heady, swirling with the intoxicating excitement of the super-ripe cherries and strawberries and blackberries of the gardens of Paradise? Is it muscular, glowering, dark as blood, bittersweet as black cherries and liquorice and yet even within this brutish cave, invaded with an insidious, exotic scent? Is it any of these?
I can come up with a dozen more thoughts on what Burgundy tastes like. And then a dozen more again. I could describe these flavours to many great winemakers round the world who swoon about Burgundy and then say, But I love your Pinot Noir just as well – and it’s not like any of the Burgundy sensations I’ve related – it’s yours, it’s unique – and I love it. And, at last, that’s where we are with Pinot Noir.
One of the benefits of no one really knowing quite how to coax the best flavours from Pinot Noir is that you never know when you’re suddenly going to be faced with a delicious glass of Pinot from a completely unexpected quarter. And another of the benefits is that whereas it’s relatively simple to put a stylistic straitjacket around the two world favourites, Chardonnay and Cabernet, putting a stylistic harness on Pinot is as tricky as wrestling with an eel. While a host of talented but mainstream producers are perfectly happy to try to excel at Cabernet and Chardonnay in accepted styles, Pinot Noir attracts a much wilder bunch. A crowd who don’t like being told what to do, a crowd who don’t like a marketing manager to have more say in a wine than a winemaker. A self-indulgent crew of men and women who love flavour, who love perfume, who love the silky tactile experiences of a wine like Pinot, seductive, sultry, steamy, sinful if possible, but always solely there, solely made, to give pleasure.
And that’s why I love Pinot Noir and enthusiastically stalk it round the world. And if that isn’t a good enough reason to grow grapes and make wine – and then drink it – well, what the devil is?
You’ll find more uncertainty among growers and winemakers about what they think they should be doing with Pinot Noir than with almost any other grape. How to trellis it, prune it, crop it; when to pick it, early or late; what style of wine to make, light or dark; and using which winemaking method, new or old. Doesn’t anyone have the definitive method of producing great wine from this grape?
You only have to look at the myriad styles of wine produced in its homeland, Burgundy, and the regular changes of fashion every decade or so, to realize it’s not just the newcomers who are confused. And the grape is a most finicky traveller, its inconsistency abroad an amplification of that which it displays at home, to the fascination and despair of those who grow it, vinify it and indeed drink it.
It claims to dislike hot climates, though as an Oregon grower says of Pinot Noir in the Margaret River, Australia, ‘One has to rethink one’s biases when one sees regions that have Shiraz and Pinot Noir growing next to each other, but producing world-class Pinot.’ Too right. Certainly it is supposed to be a cool climate grape, yet some of its most exciting wines in Burgundy have come from seriously hot vintages. Everyone said that cool Oregon would be ideal for Pinot, but some of the USA’s most exciting Pinots have come from warmer California. And so it goes on. Warm climate Pinot should be jammy and flat, but isn’t always. Cool climate Pinot should be delicate and perfumed, but is equally often green and raw. This unpredictability ought to limit its spread around the globe. But everybody wants to have a go.
The truth is that everybody wants to make Pinot because, like true love, great Pinot is elusive but (perhaps) worth the effort. There is still more promising Pinot in the world than there is really great Pinot – yet the 2000s saw a vast increase in the numbers of very good Pinots from the Old and, especially, the New World. True love is commoner than it was.
This is one of the oldest cultivated vines in existence. It seems to have already been in cultivation in Burgundy when the Romans arrived, some 2000 years ago; it probably originated in either northeast France or southeast Germany, and its parents or grandparents were probably wild vines. In an era when science is solving so many of wine’s conundrums, it’s a delight to report that scientists have compiled Pinot Noir’s complete genetic code – nearly half a billion DNA letters – yet they still have no real idea where it came from. My wild romantic theories of where grape varieties come from can live to breathe another day.
The first written record of it dates from 1375, and just 20 years later Philippe the Bold, Duke of Burgundy, issued an edict banning the inferior Gamay from the Côte d’Or in favour of Pinot.
Its age is the reason for its extreme genetic instability. The Pinot family (Pinot Noir, Pinot Blanc and Pinot Gris are, to ampelographers, all the same grape, because they share the same DNA) is prone to constant mutation. On the one hand, this can be to the grower’s advantage, since it means that vines will tend to adapt themselves to local conditions; on the other hand, it makes it harder to retain the desirable characteristics in particular clones.
Its descendants are legion. Work at the University of California at Davis, in collaboration with French specialists, has determined that Pinot Noir is the ancestor of 16 modern grape varieties, including Chardonnay, Gamay Noir, Aligoté, Melon de Bourgogne (alias Muscadet) and Auxerrois, and in total it’s related to 156 varieties, and counting. Syrah, for example, is some sort of 10th cousin five times removed.
In the foreground (above) is the Romanée-Conti vineyard in Vosne-Romanée; behind the wall is Romanée St-Vivant. The desire to maintain the differences in taste given by such different but neighbouring terroirs has been a spur to the growth of biodynamism on the Côte d’Or.
They don’t waste wine at Domaine Sylvain Cathiard. Son Sebastien pours back a tasting sample of one of his exquisitely balanced Vosne-Romanées to make sure there’s enough for the next lucky visitor.
The queen of Chambolle-Musigny. Ghislaine Barthod’s subtle and scented wines from a variety of Chambolle premier cru vineyards are some of Burgundy’s most seductive reds.
The aim of most Pinot Noir producers around the world is to make red wine which rivals that of Burgundy’s Côte d’Or. That much is straightforward: there is, as yet, no other benchmark style than that of Burgundy, though both California and New Zealand are beginning to display distinctly non-Burgundian virtuosity.
It is less easy, however, to find agreement on what it is about the Côte d’Or, and about Burgundian winemaking, that needs to be imitated. Is it the soil? Is it the climate? And if so, which elements of either? And if you wanted to make great Pinot more consistently than Burgundy manages to, what should you try to improve?
Might it not be a good idea to forget about Burgundy altogether and just follow your instincts? Vanya Cullen of Margaret River said she began making her best Pinot Noir when she gave up doing anything Burgundian and just let it stew in its own juice. An increasing number of New World Pinot-makers are indeed starting to follow their own instincts – and a number of New World Pinots are starting to taste very good indeed and not at all like Burgundy.
Burgundy is cooler than Bordeaux, with a colder winter and a slightly cooler summer, and a larger fluctuation between day- and nighttime temperatures. There is a risk of frost in spring, abundant rain in May and June, and more rain in October which, if it falls just before or during the harvest, can spoil the quality of the wine. Pinot Noir is an early-budding and early-ripening variety, and sensitive to rot: slow ripening in a cool climate suits it, because its berries are particularly sensitive to heat; yet, paradoxically, it needs quite a bit of warmth to ripen properly. Even with global warming, there are generally several years in each decade when Pinot Noir fails to ripen fully on the Côte d’Or, and many of the winemaking fashions there of the last few years have been aimed at extracting more colour and flavour from this not-very-strongly coloured and delicately scented and flavoured grape.
In California, UCD for many years used to advise growers that there was nowhere in California cool enough for it. Now it has become clear that Carneros, Santa Barbara, Russian River and the Sonoma Coast can produce smashing Pinot. And the growers of New Zealand’s Central Otago point to a continental (indeed Burgundian) pattern of warm days and cool nights as being vital, rather than just a cool climate per se.
Climate change has transformed Germany’s vineyards, and Pinot Noir has been the greatest beneficiary. From being a light-bodied, frail local delicacy, Pinot Noir from the new wave of producers covers the whole gamut, from mild and juicy, to world beaters. In Alsace, just to the north of the Pfalz, Pinot Noir is traditionally hardly more than a dark rosé, but bigger, burlier examples are now commonplace.
In the foreground is Gevrey-Chambertin’s Lavaut-St-Jacques vineyard with gaps in the vines marking different ownerships of tiny plots. The wall marks the boundary of Clos des Varoilles within Les Varoilles vineyard, and the vines by the forest are Poissenot and la Romanée. All different, with various owners, and covering just a couple of hundred metres.
As Myron Redford of Amity Vineyards, Oregon, says, ‘I still think the best Pinot Noir needs a cool climate, but my definition of “cool” has been expanded. Once you are in the right climate, however, terroir in the sense of soil, exposure, drainage and microclimate become the critical factors.’
Pinot Noir in the Côte d’Or is planted on the more limy soils, though ample supplies of the clay mineral montmorillonite are found in the mid-slopes where the best vineyards are. Montmorillonite has a high cation-exchange capacity, a cation being an atom or molecule with a positive electrical charge; cation exchange is how a plant extracts nutrients from the soil. In addition, the topsoil in the Côte d’Or is shallow, seldom much more than 1–1.5m (3–5ft) deep. This aids drainage and the fractured nature of the bedrock means that vines can generally find water even in drought conditions – but where the topsoil is thinnest there can be a greater concentration of virus-spreading nematodes. (It was the problem of viruses in Burgundy that led to the popularity of virus-free clones there; see below.) The high water table towards the foot of the slope usually defines the lower boundary of the Grands Crus, the exceptions being Clos de Vougeot and Bâtard-Montrachet, both of which fail to stop in time, and which include land that is too waterlogged for top quality.
Elsewhere in the world shallow, well-drained, low-fertility soils are generally favoured for Pinot Noir. Some focus on clay to give depth to the wine: Hamilton Russell in South Africa believes that people pay too much attention to the limestone in Burgundy, and not enough to its clay. But then Josh Jensen, maker of some of California’s greatest Pinot Noirs at Calera, high in the Gavilan Mountains in San Benito County, says he couldn’t do it without his limestone soils.
The usual density of planting on the Côte d’Or is 1m by 1m, which means 10,000 vines per hectare. Some vineyards are planted even tighter, at 1m by 0.9m, although in the Mâconnais the density can be 8000 vines per hectare. Most of the vines are Guyot pruned, though there are some trials of spur pruning high and cordon; short pruning, it is acknowledged, is the main weapon in the battle to keep yields down and concentration up. However, if you prune too short the vine ends up as a bush and the fruit won’t get enough sun. Dominique Lafon of Domaine des Comtes Lafon recommends leaving a longer cane and debudding one or two buds. ‘It is better for the canopy and for aeration. You must think of the shape of the vine; shape is more important than the number of buds at pruning, because you need aeration to ward off botrytis.’
Crop thinning, generally done after véraison so that the green berries can be removed, is seen as a temporary solution to a problem, not a technique in itself. The ideal is to get the vine in balance, so that it is not overproducing in the first place; among the best growers, 35hl/ha is seen as the ideal yield for Pinot Noir. At Domaine de la Romanée-Conti average yields are even lower, at around 24hl/ha.
In New Zealand and Oregon around 2 tonnes/ha is a generally accepted figure for producing top-quality, ripe Pinot Noir. Compare that with yields for sparkling wine: in Champagne in the excellent 1990 vintage, yields averaged 110hl/ha. Houses that own their own vineyards generally use lower yields than growers who sell their grapes. In Chile 8–10 tonnes/ha is considered low, and 12–13 tonnes/ha is not uncommon.
Pinot Noir is notorious for its clonal variation. Some clones give pale-coloured, frail-tasting wine; others give robust, jammy flavours and dark colours; some give elegance, some chunkiness; some give large crops, some small. The 1970s were a bad time for Pinot Noir clones: high yields were the object, not high quality. New generations of clones, particularly the Dijon clones developed in Burgundy, have dramatically improved the picture as they move into vineyards across the world. But change doesn’t happen overnight, and even on the Côte d’Or there is likely to be a higher proportion of the high-yielding Pinot Droit than many Burgundians care to admit. (Lower-yielding strains are Pinot Fin or Pinot Tordu.) On the Côte d’Or alone more than 1000 different clones have been noted.
But Dijon clones aren’t a panacea. Some Burgundian growers, having planted new-generation clones, found them too high-yielding and have moved to massal selection from their own vineyards for greater complexity. Others believe that complexity comes from the terroir, and that greater vine age, plus good vineyard management, tends to eradicate differences between many clones. In the sunnier New World, many Dijon clones ripen and lose acid too fast.
The view that some Australians are now taking is that there can be more difference between Pinot from the top or the bottom of a slope than between clones. Some are even reappraising the old Australian workhorse clone, MV6, with exciting results.
While good winemaking is absolutely essential for Pinot Noir, it is a curious fact that what makes a Pinot Noir wine interesting, rather than merely correct, is a series of low-level faults: aromas and flavours that are just slightly off squeaky clean. While Burgundians have generally reached this point by making their winemaking more correct in recent years, winemakers in some other countries perhaps have to become a little less correct if they are to make great Pinot Noir wine.
The norm in Burgundy is to destem all or most of the crop, and ferment a high proportion of whole berries, without a pre-fermentation crush. Only a few estates (including, it should be said, some top ones) leave the stems in. Chaptalization is accepted, and acidification not uncommon; you’re not allowed to do both, but . . .
A pre-fermentation maceration or cold soak is often practised. It usually lasts just a few days, while the wild yeasts (cultured yeast is less common in Burgundy) slowly get moving. The point of it is that at 15°C (59°F) enzymes work on the cells of the skins to produce better aromas and tannins; it can be likened to tomatoes ripening on a windowsill. It gives more depth of flavour, and more detailed flavour. After a while, fermentation temperatures usually rise to 30–32°C (86–90°F), and the total time in tank, including any post-fermentation maceration, varies from two to three weeks.
This does no great harm to the wine if done gently and properly, but an increasing number of producers in Burgundy and elsewhere don’t filter their wine.
THE CABERNIZATION OF PINOT NOIR
How light should Pinot Noir be? How rich? Winemakers have been asking themselves this question ever since the early 1980s saw much lighter, perfumed, less weighty red Burgundies take over the market. Some consumers mourned the demise of the big, soupy wines of yore. (Go back far enough and the reason they were big and soupy was because they contained a good dose of red wine from elsewhere – usually the southern Rhône or North Africa.) Others relished the elegance and delicacy of the new wines, and saw them as authentic representatives of their terroirs.
But fashion in all other red wines currently focuses on big, rich flavours – like those of Cabernet Sauvignon. To be certain of selling in the international marketplace, wines must have huge but soft tannins, massive fruit, colossal intensity. Light reds are for wimps; they don’t grab headlines, and they don’t win blind tastings.
Accordingly more and more Pinot producers feel the pressure to make big, solid wines. And it’s not just happening in California, where individual critics’ opinions carry so much weight. In Burgundy too, Cabernization is a factor. Take the fad for 200 per cent new wood. Less than half new wood is usual in Burgundy, with the weightiest wines getting more than that, and the lighter wines less. About 18 months in barrel is normal. The 200 per centers age their wines for a year in new oak, and then rack them into more new barrels. Their object, they say, is not to produce hugely tannic, oaky wines: instead they aim to produce dark, voluptuous, rich wines from perfectly balanced, perfectly ripe grapes; wines that reflect their terroir. New oak, they believe, gives better oxidation, better interaction between the lees and the wine, and slows down the aging process. It also gives deeper colours and fixes the aromas. Sure. And adds massively to the tannins along with a great thud of vanilla and spice. Only the biggest wines actually get 200 per cent new oak, but really I always thought I was supposed to be looking for delicacy and beguiling scent in a Burgundy.
Will 200% oak, like Guy Accad’s cold soak (a ‘rediscovered’ pre-fermentation maceration method), become ‘a rediscovered traditional technique’ and, in a modified form, enter the repertory? Will red Burgundy change its nature again and become a bigger, beefier wine? Only time will tell.
Pinot noir may have a wide geographic spread, but its fussiness about soil and climate means that it is, in most places, in a minority. A considerable percentage of the grapes are used for sparkling wine, and because of its current popularity, not all the vines are planted in suitable, cool sites. But, bit by bit, new, high-quality Pinot producers are appearing.
The Côte d’Or is the heart of Burgundy as far as Pinot Noir is concerned; the surrounding regions produce what is often referred to as ‘affordable Burgundy’, which is at least a tacit admission that it is neither cheap nor usually particularly good value compared to other wines. Such bottles can be very attractive, but do not expect them to taste like the Pinots of the Côte d’Or.
In the Auxerrois to the north, Pinot is light and perfumed; in the Côte Chalonnaise to the south, it is, at its best, richly fruity with good structure, but not much complexity. In the Mâconnais Gamay is the main red grape, and Pinot Noir vines are often poor clones.
In the Côte d’Or, growers’ reverence is reserved not for the grape variety but for the terroir. Burgundians do not look primarily for varietal character in their Pinot; indeed, some claim not to want varietal character at all. The vine is merely a conduit for the terroir.
But how do you express that terroir? Biodynamists in Burgundy (a growing number) believe that the overgenerous application of nitrogen and phosphorus fertilizers in the 1970s and beyond had the effect of masking the differences in terroir – a serious matter, since it is on terroir that the whole elaborate map of Premiers and Grands Crus is based. So it is not surprising that biodynamism is so influential here. It is helped by the small size of most Burgundian domaines, and by the high price of the wines, which means that the extra expense and manpower involved can be afforded and eventually recouped.
Ideally, then, each Côte d’Or vineyard should have its own recognizable flavour. To a large extent that is true – in Volnay, for example, Champans is more structured and dense than Santenots. But the large number of owners in each vineyard, with the Grand Cru of Clos de Vougeot, for example, having over 50 different growers owning vines and making wines that bear the vineyard name, means that the terroir is seen through the grower as well as through the grape. When the producer is good this adds another layer of complexity; but, inevitably, all producers are not of equal quality. The unevenness of Pinot Noir grape quality is mirrored, and indeed exacerbated, by unevenness among producers. However, standards of viticulture and winemaking have risen enormously in recent years.
The Côte de Nuits produces bigger, chewier, plummier, more solid reds than the Côte de Beaune. Even so, Marsannay reds are surprisingly scented though Fixin’s solid reds are a bit clumsy. Gevrey-Chambertin is muscular, dense, sometimes black cherry scented; Morey St-Denis, with a clutch of top-class growers, is lean yet savoury and complex; Chambolle-Musigny is all roses and violets. Vougeot can be positively chubby. Vosne-Romanée is violets and cream, Nuits-St-Georges is black cherry and chocolate but Côte de Nuits-Villages is often a bit thin. In the Côte de Beaune, Aloxe-Corton is smooth, savoury and perfumed, Savignyles-Beaune leaner, scented with strawberries; Beaune is round and soft. Pommard is chunkier, Volnay fragrant, and Chassagne-Montrachet solid and savoury.
This cold region might not, at first glance, seem to be ideal for the early-budding Pinot Noir. The grape is horribly susceptible to spring frosts here, and clonal research in Champagne concentrates on frost resistance. Plantings are concentrated on the Montagne de Reims between Reims and Épernay – even, in this marginal climate, on certain north-facing slopes. Not very steep slopes, admittedly, but it is still surprising to find Grand Cru vineyards in such a position. Perhaps the chalk reflects enough heat to warm the air, and compensate?
Pinot Noir in Champagne never reaches what any other region would describe as ripeness. The warmest, south-facing sites are usually the best, but the undulating hills offer many different mesoclimates. The village of Ay, for example, is said by local growers never to get frost in spring – or perhaps hardly ever. The Marne valley broadens out on one side there, and the cold air can slip away – unlike at Épernay, a few kilometres away, where the valley retains the cold air. The river Marne runs right at the foot of the slope, too, which is the closest it gets to any of the Montagne vineyards: at Épernay, they say, there can be fog until 10 am when it’s sunny in Ay. Picking is by hand, and Pinot Noir must be pressed carefully and quickly to avoid too much colour getting into the wine. The still wine usually has a pale pink tint, but this rarely shows in the finished wine: the colouring matter combines with the dead yeasts in the bottle after fermentation but before the wine is disgorged. And, of course, Pinot Noir is usually blended with white Chardonnay. Only a few still red wines are produced, from Bouzy, Cumières or Ay, where the wines are ripest and have the darkest colour, but they need a very warm year to shed their tartness. Blanc de Noirs – white fizz made from black grapes – is thus Pinot Noir’s best style of wine in Champagne.
Domaine de la Romanée-Conti
Just seeing the label makes my mouth water. This tiny vineyard produces Burgundy’s most treasured red – scented, cerebral and profound.
Domaine Anne Gros
Le Grand Maupertuis refers to a single plot of vines in Clos-Vougeot. Anne Gros’ style is for deep-coloured wines which are balanced and elegant.
Domaine Armand Rousseau Père et Fils
Domaine Armand Rousseau is one of the great names in Burgundy. Clos de la Roche in Morey-Saint-Denis gives wines of silky texture and lingering scent.
Pinot Noir vines on the Montagne de Reims above the Grand Cru village of Verzenay in Champagne. Pinot Noir is successful here only because Champagne needs base wines of aroma and finesse, not richness, tannin and deep colour, so barely ripe, pale Pinot Noir fits the bill nicely.
Varietal character is no more the object here than it is in Burgundy – in fact probably even less so since the grapes are less ripe. Much of the flavour and style of Champagne comes from the aging period on the lees.
No other French regions get close to the ripeness and complexity of red Burgundy. There is some Pinot Noir in the Loire, most notably in Sancerre and Menetou-Salon, where in ripe years (these have been frequent since the 1990s) it can make wines with good fruit and structure. Most red Sancerre is, however, light and made to be drunk young; to make vin de garde here you have to dedicate your very best sites to Pinot Noir rather than to Sauvignon Blanc.
Alsace Pinot is generally light but plantings, often on light, fertile soils, have nearly doubled in the last 10 years. Some wines here are now made dark and unattractively oaky. Pinot Noir from the Savoie, Bugey and Puy de Dôme regions is light and aromatic, and high sites in the Languedoc can produce pleasant wines.
Amazingly, Germany is now the third-largest Pinot Noir grower, after France and the USA. There is a red wine boom in Germany, and Pinot growers have not been slow to catch on. The best Spätburgunders (as Pinot Noir can be known here) tread a line between the traditional German pale, sweetish style and the trap of overoaking and overextraction. But when they’re good they’re very good; and very expensive.
The most successful examples, some of them world class, come from Baden, Württemberg, the Pfalz and the Rheingau, but in the latter they have to compete for the best sites with Riesling. Rheingau producer Robert Weil has some Spätburgunder in a site too hot for Riesling, but usually a grower must choose between the two grapes. Some blend, particularly in Franken, with other grapes such as Blauer Portugieser. You don’t get much Pinot character coming through, but they’re nice, ripe, cherry- and raspberry-flavoured wines.
Blauer Burgunder (as Austria may call Pinot Noir) and other reds are on the increase in the warmer Burgenland, at the expense of less-fashionable whites like Welschriesling. Many reds are blends from Zweigelt, Blaufränkisch, Sankt Laurent and Cabernet Sauvignon. Overoaking and overextraction can be a problem, but hopefully only a temporary one as growers learn how to handle oak more deftly. Burgenland also has some oddities like Spätburgunder Trockenbeerenauslese: rich, white and sweet, they are rare and command high prices – but they’re treacly, low acid oddities rather than vinous masterpieces.
Pinot Nero is hardly a new introduction here: it was first planted in Piedmont in 1825, though its pale colour and low acidity did not endear it to consumers, and its susceptibility to rot did little for its image among growers. Only in the last couple of decades have growers begun to look at better clones and better training systems (generally Guyot rather than pergola). It’s very much a northern speciality, and quite a lot goes into sparkling wine, especially in Lombardy. On the still wine front, the west-facing slopes of Alto Adige east of the river seem to be particularly successful, helped by early morning shade and plenty of sun the rest of the day: one of the challenges has been finding spots with high fluctuations between day- and nighttime temperatures. In the northwest, blends with Barbera, such as Giacomo Bologna’s Bacialè, are highly fashionable and often very good.
Domaine Michel Lafarge
Buying good Bourgogne Rouge can be just as tricky as buying Premier or Grand Cru Burgundy. This stylish example from Volnay has ripe, savoury fruit.
Producteurs de Mailly
This cooperative in Mailly on the Pinot Noir-dominated Montagne de Reims produces full-bodied Champagnes. This one is from black grapes only.
Karl-Heinz Johner
Johner is as passionate about new oak as he is about his grapes and so produces international-style Pinots from his vineyards in Baden, Germany.
Spain has one or two respectable Pinot Noirs from Somontano, and there are moves to get it added to the list of approved grape varieties in Rioja. In Switzerland it is mostly blended with Gamay to make Dôle, though varietal Pinot Noir can be light, strawberryish and quite good here. In Eastern Europe it is planted widely though not well, and few examples from Romania, Hungary, Slovakia or Bulgaria really deliver. In England it grows very well for fizz, with a few successes as a still wine.
Outside Burgundy the real Pinot Noir excitement is in the New World. So far California and New Zealand are ahead, with wines of richness and complexity, plus that elusive, fascinating fragrance and silkiness that are the most difficult to attain of all Pinot Noir’s attributes. Lesser wines settle for charm and supple fruit. Most of California is too hot for Pinot Noir, but Carneros, where the temperature is 3–5 degrees cooler than the northern part of the Napa Valley, and where the lack of rich humus in the soil produces less vigorous vines and lower yields, seems to be able to do the business. Carneros was originally planted for sparkling wines, but replanting with superior clones has transformed the wines.
Carneros wines have wild strawberry fruit flavours, without a great deal of weight, although the best are marvellously balanced; other parts of Napa can give earthier, leathery flavours. In Sonoma County, Russian River has darker, blackberry flavours and Sonoma Coast is scented and sensuous. Further south, in Santa Barbara County, Santa Maria and Santa Rita Hill can be weightier and complex, with black cherry and plum fruit.
Pinot Noir is on the increase in California and new vineyards in the rugged Sonoma Coast, producing darker colour and brighter fruit, are attracting attention. And with large companies planting Pinot hundreds of acres at a time, the potential for both quality and quantity is very exciting – though cult wineries may make Pinot Noir in smaller quantities even than Burgundy. But, helped by the film Sideways, all the wines sell.
Ted Lemon (right) is one of the most thoughtful and successful winemakers in California when it comes to this most capricious of grapes. California Pinot Noirs were initially derided in Europe for being too rich and heady. Some still are, but a new generation of producers, led by Ted Lemon, are working with growers to express the subtleties of different sites, convinced that places like Sonoma Coast or the Anderson Valley have terroir characteristics just as valid as those of Burgundy. Where possible, organic or even biodynamic methods are pursued and earlier rather than later pruning is encouraged. The resulting wines are a delight, far more delicate than you might expect yet identifiably Californian, identifiably not Burgundy. Oregon was initially hailed as Pinot’s American home given that it has a decidedly erratic climate veering towards the cool, damp and unpredictable – very much like Burgundy was the idea. California’s claim is equally valid, but with far less of a nod towards Burgundy.
Calera
In the early 1970s Josh Jensen planted Pinot Noir on limestone soil in California when the accepted wisdom was that it would never work there. He saw limestone as the key when everyone else there thought climate mattered most. He’s been triumphantly vindicated.
Some of the improvement in quality in California can be put down to better clones: some of the early clones had been developed for less warm and fertile places. Exposed to the Californian sun they produced wines that lacked silkiness and finesse. New clones, especially Dijon clones, may be better adapted, though site, vine age and grower are probably more important to the final result since many Dijon clones ripen fast and lose acid too quickly. For sparkling wines the prime sites are cool ones with shallow soil and not too much sun: Russian River, Carneros and especially Anderson Valley all produce good sparklers.
Charm and suppleness are generally the order of the day in Oregon, with a few producers making serious, structured, long-aging wine. It’s still not a confident style: Oregon growers often try to imitate Burgundy, whereas Burgundy, with supreme confidence, just tries to make good wine. And quality is still erratic. Low yields are essential for quality, and Pinot Noir tends to get the best, warmest sites. Favoured soils include a clay loam called Jory, which is well drained and has high cation-exchange capacity, and gives wines with bright cherry fruit; Nekia soil, which is fairly similar and known as Aiken in California; and a clay loam called Willakenzie, which needs both drainage and irrigation. Nekia and Willakenzie give black cherry fruit and bigger, fuller tannins. There are about 300,000 acres/121,410ha of Nekia and Jory in the foothills of Oregon – obviously not all planted.
There’s a bit of Pinot in wet western Washington and some in New York. Many feel that Canada should be a good stomping ground for Pinot Noir, but it hasn’t been easy and British Columbia probably has had the most success.
Australia started off by planting Pinot Noir in sites that were too hot, where it produced baked, jammy wines. Greater vine age, better understanding of yields and cultivation and, as winemaker Michael Hill Smith puts it, ‘lots of expensive bottles of Burgundy drunk in the middle of the night’, are all paying off. The general quality level has improved, with a few wines of exceptional quality and complexity. One of the biggest changes has been in the clones planted: the two long-established clones, MV6 and G5V15, seem to have come from South Africa, and may have originated in the Lebanon. Dijon clones are proving better at producing the light, elegant wines which Australia craves. The areas around Melbourne are in the lead, especially Yarra and Mornington. Isolated producers elsewhere make good Pinot Noir. A lot is also used, blended with Chardonnay, for sparkling wine of high quality and often fuller fruit than Champagne.
There is no shortage of cool climate regions here, and Martinborough, in the Wairarapa region at the southern end of the North Island, and Central Otago, at the southern end of South Island, have carved out reputations as Pinot Noir centres in New Zealand. Martinborough makes elegant styles from old river terraces above the flood plain, while Central Otago produces higher-acid wines of thrilling intensity. Marlborough has developed an attractive mellow style, particularly in the Southern Valleys, where the soils retain water and ripening is slower and more even. Stony soils in much of Marlborough tend to advance ripening too quickly. Canterbury, especially around Waipara, can produce sensous, weighty examples, and Nelson’s wines are silky and scented. It’s starting to be a serious challenger to Burgundy – and yes, it will turn out to have grand cru sites, too.
Chile, partly by seeking Burgundian know-how and partly by hunting out the right climates, is capturing Pinot’s elusive character at remarkably low prices. Flavour can be on the lighter side but the feeling of ripeness can be positively seductive. In terms of climate Casablanca is most producers’ favourite Pinot region, but nearby Leyda, San Antonio and Chimbarongo and, way further south, Bío-Bío are staking a claim. Other parts of the coastal hills could also be good.
South Africa is generally hotter for Pinot Noir than most competing New World wine regions, but there are some exciting coastal areas like Hemel-en-Aarde. The grape has also suffered from leafroll virus. The few producers who get it right make round, rich Pinots of considerable Burgundian stylishness.
Flowers
One of the first producers to demonstrate that the scattered, remote vineyards of the rugged but cool Sonoma Coast just inland from the Pacific Ocean could produce California’s most delicate, subtle, yet lingering Pinot Noirs.
Ten Minutes by Tractor
This single vineyard wine comes from the mould-breaking 10 Minutes by Tractor winery in Australia’s cool but sunny Mornington Peninsula, where most of the top vineyards are now vinified separately.
Greywacke
The clay-rich soils of Marlborough’s Southern Valleys are proving ideal to grow superb Pinot Noir. Kevin Judd at Greywacke makes a spicy, lush yet contemplative wine.
Viña Leyda
The rapid maturity achieved by Chile’s Pinot Noir producers is demonstrated by Viña Leyda’s production of single vineyard and single block wines in the cool, coastal Leyda region.
How well does pinot noir age? It’s a question that baffles many lovers of the grape. In Burgundy alone there are wines that will last up to a couple of decades and wines that seem hardly able to last the year. Admittedly, the two types do not usually come from the same producers, though sometimes they do come from the same communes.
Almost all Pinot Noir is delicious young; some is delicious mature. In between there is a period of adolescence, when the wine can be closed, even gawky, and can be as awkward at table as human adolescents. Watch out for that, and when it happens tuck your wine away for a couple of years: it is the only stage at which the grape does not give enormous pleasure. Otherwise you can catch its youthful fruit and perfume by opening it within months of bottling or you can wait until it is grown up and full of savoury spice.
Lesser vintages on the Côte d’Or should often be drunk within three to eight years: if a vintage is described as ‘early drinking’, then don’t delay. Only the bigger, oakier wines are a little unfriendly in youth, as the oak hides the fruit.
Most Pinot Noirs from outside the Côte d’Or should be drunk young, within five years or so. The exceptions are the weightiest wines from regions like California’s Santa Barbara, Sonoma Coast and Carneros regions, where they last longer: a decade should not be a problem for these.
Champagne is different again: Blancs de Noirs can be sturdy wines, though their aging ability depends partly on how much Pinot Meunier the blend contains. Most focus on weight and breadth over long ageability – and most are non-vintage. So keep them for another one to two years or so after you buy them, and then get the glasses out.
There’s always something mouthwatering about good Pinot Noir; something that makes you want to go back to the glass again and again to pin down those elusive flavours because descriptions like strawberry, black cherry, game, leather, mushrooms, don’t really tell you what it tastes like. Pinot is all these things, and none of them, sliding from one flavour to another. Words like ‘complex’, ‘ethereal’ or ‘profound’ may tell you even less about what it tastes like, but sometimes they are the only words that will do.
Simple Pinot wines are the easiest to describe. Less expensive fruit-first wines from the outlying parts of Burgundy, from Switzerland, from Carneros, from New Zealand, really do taste of strawberries. They are generally low in acidity, though the north of Burgundy can be an exception here, and low in tannin. Finer examples combine strawberries or black cherries with sensuous yet focused flavours, perhaps with a touch of incense and spice, sometimes with a pungent, gamy richness to balance the fruit.
Mature wines gain flavours of leather and woodsmoke, game and undergrowth, even a touch of rotting vegetables. Primary fruit is less important, though the wines should always taste fruity and perhaps slightly sweet. But labelling a mature Pinot with a particular type of fruit is usually quite impossible; every time you think you’ve caught the precise flavour, it’s moved on to something else.
Robert Chevillon’s highly rated Nuits-St-Georges domaine produces chewy, characterful wines from old vines. He owns vines in most of the commune’s Premier Crus, and Les Vaucrains is east-facing and situated fairly high on the slopes (260–295m/850–970ft). The wines are quite austere but long-lasting. Felton Road’s Pinot Noir is one of the most famous in the southern hemisphere, and comes from vineyards amid abandoned gold mines in Central Otago on New Zealand’s South Island. It is proof that Pinot Noir can make great wine in places other than Burgundy.
The great grape of Burgundy has taken its food-friendly complexity all over the wine world. However, nothing can beat the marriage of great wine with sublime local food that is Burgundy’s heritage, and it is Burgundian dishes that spring to mind as perfect partners for Pinot Noir: coq au vin, chicken with tarragon, rabbit with mustard, jambon persillé, boeuf bourguignon... the list is endless.
Pinot Noir’s subtle flavours make it a natural choice for complex meat dishes but it is also excellent with plain grills and roasts, and with most dishes based on mushrooms. Richer examples are the ideal match for roast or casseroled game birds, and in its lighter manifestations from, say, the Loire or Oregon, Pinot Noir is a good match for salmon or salmon trout.
Synonyms & local names
Numerous synonyms. Among others, Noirien in France, Savagnin Noir in Jura,Spätburgunder in Germany and Austria, Blauburgunder or Blauer Spätburgunder in Germany, Austria and Switzerland, Pinot Nero in Italy, Pinot Crni in Croatia and Serbia.
FRANCE/Burgundy d’Angerville, Comte Armand, D Bachelet, G Barthod, A Bichot, J-M Boillot, Bouchard, Cathiard, Chandon Briailles, R Chevillon, Clair, J-J Confuron, Drouhin, C Dugat, Dugat-Py, Dujac, Faiveley, Grivot, Anne Gros, Jadot, Lafarge, Lafon, Lambrays, Dom. Leroy, Liger-Belair, H Lignier, Méo-Camuzet, de Montille, D Mortet, Mugneret-Gibourg, J-F Mugnier, Ponsot, Rion, Dom. de la Romanée-Conti, E Rouget, Roumier, Rousseau, de Vogüé, Vougeraie.
GERMANY Becker, Bercher, Fürst, Huber, Johner, Franz Keller, Kesseler, Knipser, Meyer-Näkel, Molitor, Rebholz, Schnaitmann, Stodden.
ITALY Ca’ del Bosco, Franz Haas, Haderburg, Hofstätter, Nals-Margreid.
USA/California Ancien, Au Bon Climat, Calera, Dehlinger, Dutton Goldfield, Merry Edwards, Gary Farrell, Flowers, Kistler, Landmark, Littorai, Marcassin, Peter Michael, Morgan, Navarro, Patz & Hall, Rasmussen, J Rochioli, Saintsbury, Sanford, Sea Smoke, Siduri, Talley, Williams Selyem; Oregon Argyle, Beaux Frères, Bergström, Bethel Heights, Cristom, Domaine Drouhin, Domaine Serene, Ken Wright.
CANADA Blue Mountain, CedarCreek, Norman Hardie, Inniskillin, Mission Hill, Tawse.
AUSTRALIA Ashton Hills, Bannockburn, Bass Phillip, Bay of Fires, Bindi, By Farr, Castle Rock, Coldstream Hills, Cullen, Curly Flat, De Bortoli, Diamond Valley, William Downie, Freycinet, Gembrook Hill, Giaconda, Giant Steps, Grosset, Hurley, Knappstein, Kooyong, Stefano Lubiana, Marchand & Burch, Moorooduc, Oakridge, Paradigm Hill, Paringa, Stonier, Tamar Ridge, Tarrawarra, Ten Minutes by Tractor, Yabby Lake.
NEW ZEALAND Ata Rangi, Blind River, Cloudy Bay, Craggy Range, Dog Point, Dry River, Escarpment, Felton Road, Foxes Island, Fromm, Greywacke, Kusuda, Martinborough Vineyard, Neudorf, Palliser, Pegasus Bay, Peregrine, Quartz Reef, Rippon, Saint Clair, Schubert, Seresin, Te Kairanga, Valli, Vavasour.
SOUTH AFRICA Bouchard Finlayson, Chamonix, Paul Cluver, Crystallum, Hamilton Russell, Newton Johnson, The Winery of Good Hope.
CHILE Anakena, Casa Marin, Casas del Bosque, Cono Sur, Viña Leyda, Maycas del Limarí.
Fifteen red Burgundies
Marquis d’Angerville Volnay Clos des Ducs
Albert Bichot Ch. Gris Nuits-St-Georges
Sylvain Cathiard Vosne-Romanée Malconsorts
Chandon de Briailles Corton
P Charlopin Marsannay En Montchevenoy
R Chevillon Nuits St-Georges Les St-Georges
Dugat-Py Charmes-Chambertin
Dujac Échézeaux
Faiveley Mercurey Domaine de la Croix Jacquelet
Vincent Girardin Maranges Clos des Loyères
Jean Grivot Vosne-Romanée les Beaux Monts
Henri et Paul Jacqueson Rully les Cloux
Louis Jadot Gevrey-Chambertin Clos St-Jacques
Denis Mortet Gevrey-Chambertin
Dom. de la Vougeraie Bonnes-Mares
Ata Rangi Pinot Noir (New Zealand)
Bergström Temperance Hill (Oregon)
Bethel Heights Pinot Noir (Oregon)
Cloudy Bay Pinot Noir (New Zealand)
Domaine Drouhin Pinot Noir Laurène (Oregon)
Domaine Serene Pinot Noir (Oregon)
Escarpment Pinot Noir (New Zealand)
Felton Road Pinot Noir (New Zealand)
Giant Steps Pinot Noir (Australia)
Greywacke Pinot Noir (New Zealand)
Viña Leyda Cahuil (Chile)
Peter Michael Pinot Noir (California)
J Rochioli West Block Reserve Pinot Noir (California)
Te Kairanga Pinot Noir (New Zealand)
Yabby Lake Pinot Noir (Australia)
Ashton Hills Salmon Brut Vintage (Australia)
Edmond Barnaut Champagne Blanc de Noir Brut Non-vintage (France)
Billecart-Salmon Champagne Rosé Non-vintage (France)
Egly-Ouriet Champagne Blanc de Noirs Brut Vintage (France)
Schramsberg Blanc de Noirs Vintage (California)
Pinot Noir continues to tantalize growers worldwide. For many winemakers success with it represents the Holy Grail of winemaking, as it is one of the most challenging of all the international varieties.
Most Pinot Noir from anywhere in the world other than the Côte d’Or follows the Wairarapa pattern of early drinkability, but that doesn’t mean they don’t age.
2010 was a small vintage, but the rather sunless summer produced wines of great intensity and character to drink young or, preferably, age.
Santa Barbara Pinot Noir varies in longevity. Only the most concentrated wines will improve beyond five or six years; many should be drunk earlier.
These are wines of good intensity and balance, drinkable early but great to age. Fruity and perfumed when young, the best have concentration and depth.
Dear, oh dear. I don’t know any grape variety that arouses such fierce disagreement as Pinotage. It is potentially South Africa’s national treasure – Professor Perold created it in 1925 at Stellenbosch University by crossing Pinot Noir and Cinsaut – and yet South Africans are some of its fiercest critics.
The South African wine establishment has long been obsessed with being as European as possible, even to the extent that they didn’t like being described as ‘New World’ at all – ‘We’ve been making wine since 1659’ and all that stuff. And Pinotage is triumphantly different – capable of flavours no traditional European vine possesses. At its best it’s a parade of deep, roaring flavours, oaked and unoaked, with an astonishing mixture of mulberry, damson and blackberry fruit, mixed with the November scents of marshmallows toasted over a Thanksgiving bonfire. That being said, it has proved a very difficult vine to manage. Low-yielding old bush vines can be excellent; and it needs very careful handling in the cellar to tame its wilder flavours and avoid intensive volatile esters. But nobody could agree on the best climate for it, far less the best soil.
Since 2000 quality has risen, as growers have become more focused on viticulture. They understand optimum ripeness much better now – this now goes for all grapes in South Africa. They reckon they can’t get a decent Pinotage under 14 per cent alcohol, whereas it used to be 13 per cent, or even 12.5 per cent. And the new virus-free vines which went in about then, which give riper tannins, are starting to mature. They’re getting better at handling oak, too. The American oak that often suits Pinotage is better quality these days, and better seasoned, though there is a vogue for mocha coffee-tasting oak, which creates – well, mocha coffee-tasting Pinotage.
At first Pinotage was trumpeted as offering the Holy Grail of Burgundy flavours from the Pinot Noir, and high yield and easy ripening from the Cinsaut (often called Hermitage in the Cape, hence the Pinotage name). In fact, it has never behaved or tasted remotely like Pinot Noir, or Cinsaut for that matter. But is it really the way forward for South Africa? Some say that it’s best in blends – and not necessarily as the majority of the blend, either. Its least threatening incarnation may be as rosé. But bright and juicy and red is how I like it.
One or two other countries have had a go – New Zealand, Zimbabwe, Brazil, Canada, the USA, Australia, Israel and even Germany. Only New Zealand has had much luck so far.
Good Pinotage tastes and smells like no other wine – wonderful mulberry, blackberry and damson fruit, a flicker of lava and the deep, midwinter flavour of marshmallows toasted in front of the fire. There are two problems with Pinotage. One is that it is difficult to get the full flavours and yet control its rather aggressive tannins. And, secondly, those genuinely individualistic and exciting flavours do tread a knife edge and if the winemaking isn’t really good, you can find a wine reeking of the spiritiness of gloss paint, the sweetness of candyfloss, and a volatile acidity tottering towards raspberry vinegar. But it also makes some delicious rosés, all flavoursome strawberry fruit and just the right weight.
Kanonkop has established itself as South Africa’s leading exponent of Pinotage, resolutely sticking with it and refining it during long periods of unpopularity, particularly during its most unfashionable period in the late 1970s and 1980s. It has been estimated that some 60–70% of South Africa’s Pinotage vines were uprooted during this period – including, inevitably, the sort of low-yielding, old bush vines that make the best wine. But some survived and unirrigated old vines are the key to this wine’s concentration and depth.
De Waal
CT de Waal was the first person ever to make a wine out of Pinotage – one barrel in 1941. The Top of the Hill block contains South Africa’s oldest Pinotage, planted in 1950.
Spice Route
Charles Back of Fairview founded Spice Route winery in the 1990s to utilize the old vine fruit available in the Swartland region, in particular bush vine Pinotage.
Picking Pinotage on the Warwick Estate in the Stellenbosch district. The grape is early-ripening, beating Cabernet Sauvignon to the winery by about a fortnight.
Pinotage is high yielding – often too high for top quality. Many South African winemakers have yet to be convinced by it, and prefer Cabernet Sauvignon. But there is a Pinotage Association in South Africa, which is dedicated to improving quality, and new clones, without the viruses that plagued the vine in the past, produce much better flavours. It is higher in malic acid than other varieties, and vigorous conversion of malic acid to lactic acid can result in unbalanced and infection-prone wine. Picking ripe while still keeping the pH low, seems to be important to the success of the wine.
CONSUMER INFORMATION
Synonyms & local names
The grape is known everywhere as Pinotage.
SOUTH AFRICA Ashanti, Ashbourne, Backsberg, Graham Beck, Bellingham, Beyerskloof, Boplaas, Chamonix, Clos Malverne, DeWaal, Diemersfontein, Fairview, Grangehurst, Groot Constantia, Jacobsdal, Kaapzicht, Kanonkop, Laibach, L’Avenir, Longridge, Morgenhof, Newton Johnson, Robertson, Saxenburg, Simonsig, Southern Right/Hamilton Russell, Spice Route, Stellenzicht, Stony Brook, Swartland, Tukulu, Warwick, Wildekrans; AUSTRALIA Thick as Thieves, Topper’s Mountain; NEW ZEALAND Muddy Water, Te Awa.
Fifteen full-bodied Pinotage wines
Graham Beck The Old Road Pinotage
Claridge Trafalgar Bush Vine Pinotage
Clos Malverne Reserve Pinotage
DeWaal Top of the Hill Pinotage
Kaapzicht Steytler Pinotage
Kanonkop Estate Pinotage
L’Avenir Pinotage
Laibach Pinotage
Longridge Pinotage
Morgenhof Pinotage
Neethlingshof Lord Neethling Pinotage
Saxenburg Pinotage
Spice Route Flagship Pinotage
Stellenzicht Pinotage
Warwick Estate Old Bush Vine Pinotage
Ashanti Estate Pinotage
Avontuur Pinotage
Bellingham Pinotage
Beyerskloof Pinotage
Boplaas Pinotage
Fairview Pinotage
Groot Constantia Pinotage
Robertson Winery Pinotage
Simonsig Estate Pinotage
Swartland Winery Pinotage
Topper’s Mountain
Co-fermenting Viognier and Shiraz is quite common but I’d never seen a Pinotage and Viognier label before (though some South African producers do a bit of co-fermenting). This wine comes from 900m (3000ft) high vineyards in the New England Tablelands of northern New South Wales, Australia.
This grape, found on the Dalmatian coast and on the Adriatic islands off Croatia, has close links with Zinfandel/Tribidrag, though the two varieties are not identical, as was once thought. Its similarities did, however, provide clues as to the origins of Zinfandel (see here and Primitivo, here). It may also be the case that several strains of Plavac Mali exist. Grown in torrid conditions, it achieves high alcohol (up to 17%) but is prone to low acidity and consequently, despite being able to age, a lot of bottles develop a rather fearsome rustic style. It is usually blended with other grapes, but is the only variety in such wines as Dingač and Postup. There are a number of varieties in the region called Plavac ‘Something-or-other’; ‘mali’ means ‘small’ in Serbo-Croat.
Common in both Germany and Austria for reds that are often too light, soft and sweetish to be of any interest except to the most red wine-deprived local. In Germany it is much planted in the Pfalz and Ahr regions. There’s quite a bit in Austria where it goes by the name of Blauer Portugieser (see here).
In France it becomes called Portugais Bleu – Jura has a little; in Hungary and Romania it used to be called Kékoporto, which means the same thing, and in Croatia Portugizac Crni or Portugalkja. Another name is Oporto. In spite of all this determined association with Portugal, there is no proof that it came from that country, and many authorities reckon its origins are Austrian. Indeed, most Portuguese red varieties have considerably more character than Portugieser, so it’s a bit of an affront. There is a pink (Grauer) Portugieser as well, and a green (i.e. white) one, which seem to be all part of the same family, not that anyone cares that much.
A fascinating Jura grape, early budding and early ripening and hence at danger from spring frosts, this gives pale, aromatic wines of great elegance. It’s usually blended with Trousseau or Pinot Noir or used for rosé and sometimes labelled as Ploussard. Best producers: (France) Jean Bourdy, Jacques Puffeney.
Malbec, usually known as Cot in Bordeaux, becomes known as Pressac when it is grown on Bordeaux’s Right Bank (in the appellations of St-Émilion, Pomerol and Fronsac). The name is used to some extent in the nearby appellations of Bourg, Blaye and Entre-Deux-Mers, but the variety is declining in popularity. See Malbec here.
Portuguese grape found in the Tejo and Lisboa regions. It ripens early and gives deep-coloured wines with plenty of alcohol.
A speciality (albeit on a small scale) of Italy’s Valle d’Aosta, making both still and sparkling wine. The style is lean, clean and fresh. Best producer: (Italy) Vini Estremi.
An interesting grape found in León in Spain. It has deep colour and an affinity for oak: it doesn’t go solidly tannic in new oak, which Tempranillo can. It has slightly musky but not overt fruit. It now appears in several DO wines, but ought to be more cultivated since León red wines could do with beefing up. Best producer: (Spain) Bodegas de León-Ville.
Fashionable southern Italian grape making big, burly, alcoholic wines and previously used mostly for blending. DNA fingerprinting has established that Primitivo is the same as California’s flagship variety, Zinfandel (see here), but more importantly Primitivo is the same as a very ancient Croatian vine called Crljenak Kasteljanski or Tribidrag, almost extinct and found only in a couple of minute Dalmatian plantings until its discovery in 2001 and 2002 by researchers desperate to pin down the true identity of Zinfandel.
Primitivo grows in Puglia, and if you know that map it’s not far across the Adriatic to Croatia’s Dalmatian coast. Indeed, a fair number of Dalmatians have settled in Puglia over the centuries, and some Puglian dialects sound more Dalmatian than Italian. So it’s now pretty much accepted that Primitivo came to Italy from Dalmatia (see here). It languished in obscurity in Puglia for many years, contributing colour and strength to blends and having a couple of DOCs of its own (Primitivo di Manduria is the main one), but seldom being seen outside the country. The popularity of Zinfandel has changed all that, and now Primitivo is popping up all over the place, including Australia and Chile, but it’s usually called Zinfandel.
Felline
Felline has vines dating back to the 1940s on shallow red soil on top of a calcareous bedrock. These wines are rich and dense and aged in French and American oak.
Synonym for Trebbiano (see here) grown in Umbria in central Italy. It has rather more character than most other Trebbiano sub-varieties.
See Glera here.
One of Sangiovese’s many Tuscan synonyms (see here). This one is used in the Vino Nobile di Montepulciano zone.
The usual abbreviation for Pedro Ximénez (see here).
The name means ‘Cat’s Tail’ (‘Rabo di Gato’) and other synonyms are Rabo de Asno (rabbit’s) and Rabo de Carneiro (sheep’s): all refer to its long clusters. It’s a Douro grape used for table wines (and less so for Port) because of its citrus, orange blossom, mineral flavour and its ability to retain acidity. Its thin skin makes it susceptible to mildew and botrytis.
From a cat to a ewe. The Ewe’s Tail grape is unrelated to Rabigato but is often mistaken for it. It probably originated in Portugal’s Alentejo, and gives large crops of large, thick-skinned grapes. The wine is light, pretty, won’t keep long and is usually blended.
A highly tannic, highly acidic red grape found in northeastern Italy, where its austere wine lacks the charm of other acidic reds of the region such as Marzemino (see here). However, it makes a reasonable, rasping accompaniment to pasta dishes. The grape has deep colour, not much sugar (so not much alcohol to add fat), and pretty lean fruit.
The grey skies and windbreaks may be horribly reminiscent of English beach holidays, but these are Ramisco vines for Colares wine grown on the coastal sand dunes at Azenhas do Mar, Portugal.
There are two unrelated vines called Raboso: one is Raboso Piave, which is also known as Raboso Friulara or Friularo, and the other is Raboso Veronese, which seems to be Raboso Piave’s offspring. They take their name from the Raboso river, which is a tributary of the Piave. Both varieties are planted less than they once were. It is also found occasionally in Argentina where it may add a certain zip to some of their juicy, warm-climate red wines. Best producers: (Italy) Borletti, Cecchetto, Ivan Cescon.
An oddity in today’s wine world, Ramisco is the grape of Colares, on Portugal’s Atlantic coast, where it grows in the sand dunes. Since this sand has never been infected with phylloxera, these Ramisco vines are ungrafted. The grapes have thick skins and colossal tannins and need time to soften. In time, good blackcurrant flavours are revealed but the tannis still prevail. But the Colares vineyard is shrinking and Ramisco has yet to catch the eye of winemakers from other regions. It would be nice if someone from somewhere else had a go at taming it. Australians, Chileans, South Africans . . . ? Anyone listening? Best producers: (Portugal) Adegas Beira Mar, Tavares & Rodrigues.
A northeastern Italian red grape that gives highly acidic, deeply coloured wines often with somewhat rough, green tannins, but attractive black and blueberry fruit, and sometimes slightly grassy aromas. It is best young and unoaked but can develop good dark plum depth and black chocolate bitterness with a couple of years’ aging. The grapes have good resistance to rot, but they ripen late, which is one reason for the high acidity and greenness. Despite all this talk of acidity and greenness, I’m quite fond of Refosco in its angular way.
There are various sorts of Refosco, and naturally, they’re not related. The main one is Refosco dal Peduncolo Rosso, found mostly in Friuli-Venezia Giulia and in Slovenia, though anything called Refosk is Slovenia is probably Terrano, alias Refosco d’Istria. Friuli also grows some Refosco di Faedis, which has a bit of extra tannin and acidity.
A 1967 crossing (Diana x Chambourcin; Diana is Silvaner x Müller-Thurgau) found especially in Germany but also in Switzerland and occasionally in England, Belgium and Sweden. It’s extremely resistant to cold, as you might infer, and seems to be almost bomb-proof: downy and powdery mildews and botrytis can’t do much to it, either. It makes full, supple, cherry-flavoured reds of some charm.
A modern (1939) German crossing of no great quality, Reichensteiner has Müller-Thurgau (see here) for one parent and a crossing of Madeleine Angevine (see here) and Early Calabrese, which sounds like a cabbage but is actually an Italian grape, for the other. It is resistant to rot and reaches high sugar levels but has dull flavours which, though not exactly resembling a Calabrese cabbage, have swathed themselves in the neutrality of the Müller-Thurgau, though with even less aroma. Most of Germany’s Reichensteiner is in the Rheinhessen; there is also some in New Zealand and some in England – none of it is memorable. Best producers: (England) Chapel Down, Denbies, St George’s, Stanlake Park.
A synonym for Riesling (see here).
An alternative spelling is Rhine Riesling.
An alternative spelling of Roditis (see here), a pink-skinned grape grown pretty much all over Greece.
An attractive Friulian grape from northeast Italy that combines good acidity with a certain nutty flavour but lacks much aroma or fullness. Quality is generally good, although there is not much planted. It grows on hillsides in the Collio and Colli Orientali zones, as well as in Slovenia across the border, where it is called Rebula. Ribolla in Greece is unrelated, and it can give more lemony, flinty wines. Best producers: (Italy) Primosic, Matjaz Tercic, Le Vigne di Zamò.
A synonym for Schioppettino (see here).
A 1921 crossing of Silvaner and Riesling. It is mostly grown in Franken in Germany, and is actually one of the better modern crosses, although it’s a bugger to grow. One massive plus is that it can make brilliant sweet wines when affected by botrytis, but since it finds it difficult to both rot and keep a crop, and anyway ripens very late and holds on to a fairly nippy acidity, plantings are not increasing.
Riesling: From Grape to Glass
Geography and History here; Viticulture and Vinification here; Riesling around the World here; Enjoying Riesling here
On the banks of the River Mosel stands the town of Bernkastel, directly behind which climb steep Riesling vineyards, just like the ridged green stem of the traditional Mosel wine glass. The intricate ironwork shop signs typical of the Mosel region were surely originally inspired by coiling vine tendrils.
How many years have I sat and listened to wine experts passionately promoting the claims of Riesling to be the world’s greatest wine grape? Whatever that means. And for how many years have I thought, well, yes, up to a point, maybe, but, but . . . ? And how often have I thought OK, I’ll replace a New Zealand Sauvignon with a Clare Valley Riesling in some public tasting I’m holding, or replace a Chablis with a dry Riesling from the Wachau in Austria or the Rhine in Germany – and then extol the wine’s virtues, but I can see I’m not really getting through to half my audience. Oh, they’re perfectly interested in the Riesling, but they’d rather be tasting a Sauvignon or a Chablis, and when the tasting is over and they charge off to get a glass of something to drink – it’s far more likely that they’ll be demanding the Sauvignon than the Riesling.
So does that mean the Sauvignon is a better grape than the Riesling? No. No more than a bunch of wine experts saying that the Riesling is far superior to the Sauvignon is necessarily valid. They grow in different places, favour different climatic conditions, and set out to produce different styles of wines. But actually, both can do a fair range, from intensely dry to intensely sweet. The Riesling is better at off-dry to fairly sweet styles, but then the Sauvignon is much happier at being fermented in a normal-sized oak barrel than the Riesling is.
Riesling at its best is about purity, about a limpidity through which it may well be possible to almost taste the stones and the soil of the vineyard. This experience is very exciting, and would be wrecked by an attempt to ferment or age the wine in new oak. Which has meant that some of the enthusiasm for Riesling is engendered by those who don’t like the flavour of new oak in their wines. Fair enough. The few new-oaked Rieslings I’ve had have been pretty weird and completely unrecognizable as Riesling, so I’ll certainly support the view that new oak and Riesling is an abomination – all that tingling acidity and orchard-fresh fruit is lost. But the flavour of new oak on many grape varieties is not an abomination – it’s a delight. Chardonnay, Sémillon, Chenin Blanc, Verdelho, Viura and many others take to oak-aging with gay abandon and generally excellent results. And the world loves them for it.
And here’s another thing. Did you notice that word in the last paragraph? Chardonnay? Hmm. In some people’s eyes, Chardonnay is the great Satan; the ruthless colonizer and destroyer of the world’s vineyards and the world’s palates. Riesling lovers, in particular, bridle at the runaway success of the easy-going, crowd-pleaser Chardonnay, and chunter among themselves that Chardonnay is a little slip of a thing, a flibbertygibbet with no depth and no complexity.
Well just as lovers of great art, great music, great literature don’t expect the whole world to share their taste – in fact, they’d probably be mortified it did – it’s probably time for Riesling lovers to stop objecting to the Andrew Lloyd Webbers and the John Grishams of the wine world and to become more smug in their Riesling devotion, to accept that Riesling isn’t a flavour that everyone likes, to boast that it doesn’t take kindly to dumbing down – as Chardonnay does. They should quietly be proud of the fact that in a wine world that spent the best part of a generation worshipping at the feet of rich, broad, super-ripe alcoholic wines, but which has, at least in white wines, begun to pine for something more elegant and restrained – they should be proud that Riesling has always stood for elegance, with its mouthwatering acidity, its icy cool perfume, and its array of mineral and citrous flavours.
And if the world suddenly wants more wines of a Riesling character, it won’t be easy to provide them. Riesling has always been very choosy about where it can grow successfully. Wine companies have tried to plant it in easy conditions, to overcrop it and make it in industrial volumes. It hasn’t worked. Even now, most of the Riesling grown in the world is dull and bland, resolutely refusing to be made into a crowd pleaser. Frankly, there’s only just enough top-quality wine available for those of us who crave it as it is.
In the final decades of the 20th century Riesling suffered a fall from grace of epic proportions. One hundred years earlier the greatest German Rieslings had commanded higher prices than even the finest red Bordeaux; now just a glimpse of a German label was enough to deter many consumers even from taking the bottle from the shelf. Germany had, by the mass production of ever cheaper, ever poorer-quality wines, succeeded in getting the full force of wine snobbery turned on it. Riesling, Germany’s finest grape was, in fact, an innocent victim, because the dismal parade of flaccid Liebfraumilchs and Niersteiner Gutes Domtals rarely had a single Riesling berry in them. Merely to be German was, in some markets, enough to damn the grape.
Riesling (and especially German Riesling) has, however, benefited from its years in the wilderness. In Germany Riesling has got drier, been through a painful stage of skeletal thinness, and emerged better balanced than before. The same is true of Austria.
In Australia the profound wines of the 1950s and 1960s gave way to lighter, less interesting ones as attention shifted to Chardonnay and winemakers ceased to regard Riesling as a serious grape variety. That has changed again, and the Rieslings of the Eden and Clare Valleys rank as benchmark styles of the grape, along with those of Germany and Alsace.
The third benchmark style, that of Alsace, has both suffered and benefited from a lack of mass consumer interest. Styles have changed less here, which is great when it comes to those committed winemakers determined to produce fine wine. But cooperatives and merchant houses dominate proceedings here and too many of their wines are lean, lemony – and not all that cheap. They should take note of the competition.
Elsewhere in the world, Riesling has not created many waves – largely because so many New World leaders are basically hot countries with conditions too warm for successful Riesling. But Australia has worked out how to do it, so expect exciting things from other New World producers. To date, New Zealand, Washington, New York, Canada and Chile have produced some delightful, scented citrus styles.
Riesling is probably the offspring of the Weisser Heunisch vine, which was widely grown in Germany in the Middle Ages, and which is also, remarkably, the parent of 75 other German vines as well as, under its French name Gouais Blanc, Chardonnay. A vine called ‘Russelinge’ is marked on an Alsace map of 1348, but more certain is a Rheingau invoice of 1435, when the grape is spelled ‘riesslingen’ – the modern spelling doesn’t appear until 1552, in Hieronymus Bock’s Latin herbal: it grew in the Mosel, the Rhine and around Worms. There is also a Rote, or Red Riesling, a pink-berried version of Riesling; some has recently been planted in Hessiche Bergstrasse and Rheingau.
Riesling’s quality seems never to have been in dispute. But it was a luxury variety, grown by those who could afford its relatively low yields – mostly the Church and the aristocracy. Until the mid-18th century half the crop was taken in tax, making the high-yielding Elbling usually preferable; only after this tax was removed did Riesling begin its takeover of the Mosel. However, it had already begun to be planted as the sole variety in some vineyards – this was in itself a novel idea – starting with Schloss Johannisberg in the Rheingau in 1720–21.
In Alsace it was likewise admired but not widely grown. From 1870 to 1919, under German rule, Alsace was used for bulk wine and higher-yielding varieties were preferred, and Riesling plantings began to increase again only after 1919 with Alsace’s return to France.
German immigrants took it to the New World. By the 1850s it was established in South Australia. Riesling made many of Australia’s finest whites before being eclipsed by the Chardonnay surge of the 1980s. Now it’s triumphantly back. By 1857 it was established in California and by 1871 in Washington State.
Autumnal Riesling vines in the Goldtröpfchen vineyard above Piesport in the Mosel Valley. Goldtröpfchen is a suntrap: the Mosel does one of its U-turns here, and provides a broad, sweeping slope where Riesling can ripen. However, the north-facing vineyards across the river have little hope of ripening their fruit and traditionally were usually planted to other crops.
Egon Müller makes stupendous wines from his Scharzhofberg vineyard, including some of Germany’s greatest classic sweet wines. Here Egon is checking a bunch of shrivelled, nobly rotted Riesling.
The Nahe’s reputation is as a producer of wines balancing the racy freshness of the Mosel with the grapier richness and scent of the Rheingau. These are the vineyards of Oberhausen and Schlossböckelheim.
Despite being geographically diverse, Riesling is genetically rather stable. It does not mutate with the ease of the varieties in the Pinot family, and while there are some 60 different clones commercially available to growers in Germany (including the startlingly aromatic N90, grown by some innovative growers in the Pfalz and elsewhere) most of them are not hugely different from each other. The choice of clone is seldom a major factor in determining the style of the wine where Riesling is concerned.
Riesling wines can, however, exhibit a remarkable number of different flavours, from smoke to peach, from earthiness to petrol, from slate to spice to dried apricot. It reflects its vineyard more transparently than almost any other grape.
The ability to translate the vineyard into the glass through the medium of winemaker and vine is what makes Riesling so endlessly fascinating to wine lovers. Growers in the Mosel region of Germany speak of the minerally flavour of wines from the village of Wehlen; of the blackcurranty note that comes from Piesport clay, of the steeliness of Traben-Trarbach’s blue slate. In the Nahe region, wines from the Traiser Bastei vineyard at the foot of the Rotenfels cliff can, in good years, express the fieriness of Riesling grown in red slate. In Alsace, where the whole Grand Cru system of 50 top vineyards means anything only if there is a difference imparted to the wine by different terroirs, the soils which Riesling prefers are principally sandy clay and loam. However, it seems to be able to adapt to most soil types, providing they are well drained and offer the sheltered, sunny position it likes.
To reflect its vineyard site to greatest advantage, and to produce wine with the best balance, the Riesling needs two things: a long, slow ripening season, and low yields.
Harvesting Riesling in the Würzgarten vineyard at Urzig in the Mosel Valley. Riesling in the Mosel is trained in a particular and labour-intensive way, with one stake per vine. The stakes must be embedded in the solid rock beneath, itself no easy task. But then, standing without falling over the cliff isn’t easy either.
Riesling is normally considered an early-ripening variety: only in Germany, where crossings like Müller-Thurgau can beat it with even greater speed, is it considered late-ripening. In a warm climate it ripens too early and quickly to have much interest: it acquires none of its characteristic complexity and tastes rather dull and flat. The vine’s hard wood makes it highly resistant to winter cold, which makes it useful in New York State and Canada, as well as in the chillier parts of Germany, and it buds late, which gives it some resistance to late frosts. Its frost resistance means that winter pruning can begin early.
In the Mosel Riesling is nevertheless at its northern limit of cultivation in Europe, and must, if it is to ripen, have the sunniest, most sheltered sites; the angle to the sun of the steep vineyards is crucial if the vines are to benefit from every possible ray. In the Mosel Riesling can find itself too enveloped in mists coming off the river if it is planted at the foot of the slopes, and too cold if it is planted above about 200m (660ft). In South Australia the Clare and Eden Valleys, while they are on the face of it considerably warmer than the Mosel (Shiraz flourishes here, as well as Riesling), have such convoluted topography that many variations of soil, altitude and exposure are possible. Rainfall is low and nights are cool, and altitudes can rise as high as 400m (1320ft).
In Germany Riesling is considered low-yielding, simply because it appears so beside such prolific, cash-cow grapes as Müller-Thurgau. The latter can produce 300hl/ha; the turning point at which Riesling on the Mosel begins to produce much lower quality is somewhere between 120 and 150hl/ha. By most standards that is extremely high, and while Riesling yields are certainly higher in the Mosel than, say, in the Rheingau, top growers will seldom admit to making more than 50–70 hl/ha. There seems to be little difference analytically in the wine from high and low yields but the taste and texture are dramatically different.
Elsewhere, up to 60–70hl/ha is not uncommon, though winemakers in warmer climates may press less juice out of the grapes to avoid coarseness in the wine. Warmer climates give thicker skins, which can impart bitter-tasting tannins and phenols to the juice: Riesling from South Australia may have skins up to seven times as thick as Riesling from the Rheingau.
Riesling’s compact clusters of small berries make it susceptible to coulure and grey rot, both of which are exacerbated by cold, wet, cloudy weather – and both of which can reduce yields.
The main discussion here is over the relative merits of wood and stainless steel. Stainless steel is favoured, both for fermentation and for aging, by those who seek a fresh, youthful briskness in their Riesling. When fermented and stored in steel Riesling has crystal clarity of fruit and can have an almost antiseptic cleanliness. When large, old wooden barrels are used the flavours are quite obviously different. The gentle oxygenation that occurs in old wooden barrels softens the edges of the wine and adds complexity though perhaps reducing perfume. The choice is a stylistic one, with the steely style generally being seen as more modern.
Here there is less argument. A few producers use new oak barrels for fermenting and/or aging the wine, but only a minority. Riesling’s acidity and floral perfume just don’t go with new oak, and far from gaining complexity from the association, its beauty is smothered.
The only new-oak-aged Rieslings that are at all successful are those with plenty of weight. These tend to be from the Pfalz or from Baden, where warmer temperatures give greater alcohol and extract, and where the wines are likely to be fermented to dryness. (The more flowery style of Riesling made elsewhere in Germany loses everything in new oak.) In theory, Alsace Rieslings also fit the dry, weighty template, but while there have been a few experiments, Alsace growers do not generally favour new oak for any of their wines. Experiments with new oak elsewhere in the world tend to prove them right.
Blended Rieslings are rare – not least because the tradition in both Germany and Alsace is of varietal wines. It is also true that Riesling is one of the few grape varieties that are complete in themselves, and need no improvement from others – to add another grape variety to Riesling even in small quantities means losing aroma, complexity and finesse.
Having said that, it can on occasion blend remarkably well, particularly with Pinot Blanc, for wines that combine finesse with weight. And it is in itself useful as a blender. Because of its high acidity, early picked Riesling can massively improve the balance of other grapes grown in warm conditions – Gewürztraminer or Muscat perhaps, or Semillon in the Barossa. It is also suitable for use as a sparkling wine, but has fallen out of favour partly because of the dominance of the Champagne blend – Chardonnay and Pinot Noir – in fizz production, but also because of the poor quality of much German Riesling-based Sekt. Carefully made from rather underripe, sharp fruit, sparkling Riesling can be delicious.
Harvesting Riesling for Icewine at Henry of Pelham estate in Ontario. Climate changes in Canada over the last decade mean that this harvest takes place about a month later than it used to.
RIESLING AS A SWEET WINE
This is one of the rare grapes that will make sweet wines which dazzle just as much as its dry ones. The reason is the grape’s piercing acidity, which balances even the most intense sweetness so that a wine with 50 grams (1¾oz) of residual sugar can taste light, refreshing and even delicate.
Rieslings may be made off-dry or sweet by simply stopping the fermentation (by adding sulphur dioxide, centrifuging the wine or chilling it) or (where the law allows) by adding Süssreserve – sweet unfermented grape juice. The method chosen affects the flavour: the sugar in a ripe grape is composed of roughly equal amounts of glucose and fructose. The glucose ferments before the fructose, so if you stop the fermentation the residual sweetness is fructose – and fructose tastes more fruity and refreshing than glucose. If you ferment the wine to dryness and then add Süssreserve, you don’t gain that extra dimension.
Fine sweet Rieslings are made with the help of Botrytis cinerea, or noble rot, the fungus that shrivels the grapes and concentrates their sweetness and acidity. Botrytis-affected wines usually come from Germany, Austria, Alsace, New Zealand and California. For German growers they are a flagship, though not always a profitable one. An estimate from the Rheingau puts the cost of producing a bottle of Trockenbeerenauslese (TBA) at Ä255 – around Ä50 more than its selling price. Another estimate is that it takes one picker one day to pick the grapes for a single bottle of Beerenauslese, and one picker one day to pick the grapes for half a bottle of Trockenbeerenauslese.
Yet another sweet style is possible where Riesling thrives in cold climates. For Eiswein/Icewine the grapes are picked frozen solid, when the night-time temperature plunges to –6°C (21°F) or lower. These low temperatures may not occur until January, but the wine nevertheless bears the vintage date of the previous year. When the grapes are pressed the water is left behind in the form of ice, and intensely sweet juice runs (very slowly) from the press. Some growers like to have some botrytized grapes in their Eiswein, while others prefer the purer flavours that come from having no botrytis-affected grapes.
Canada produces more Icewine than any other country – even more than Germany. By the late 1990s it made some 50,000 cases a year and brought Canada international attention. Oregon, Michigan and Luxembourg also make some.
Riesling producers around the world have two Old World prototypes to copy (or, alternatively, to rebel against). There is the flowery Germanic style, or the weightier, winier example from Alsace. So far only Australia has succeeded in establishing a home-grown style of equal stature, and its wines are more like those of Alsace than those of Germany. The Germanic style appears in watered-down versions elsewhere – showing, perhaps, how difficult it is to get right.
Rieslings from Germany depend on acidity as taut as piano wire, yet they can be as seemingly delicate as a butterfly. The fruit can be intense yet ethereal, the residual sugar (if there is any) must be integrated and honeyed, and if the alcohol is low, the extract must be sufficient to give the wine balance.
That, admittedly, is not the pattern all over Germany. In the South – in the Pfalz and Baden – the wines are drier and weightier, with more substance. But they should still have that taut, knife-edge balance. The further north you go, the more apparently ethereal the wines become. Wines from the Rheingau and Nahe have more weight than those from the Ahr or the Mosel; and within this latter region, wines from the Saar and, especially, the Ruwer, seem ever more delicate. The paradox of German Rieslings is that, like a consumptive operatic heroine, they appear to be ready to collapse in the first scene, yet are in fact quite capable of lasting the full three Acts and singing half a dozen physically demanding arias into the bargain. These frail-seeming Rieslings are fit, lithe athletes – and potentially some of the longest-lived wines in the world.
To fulfil their potential as the wine world’s marathon winners, Rieslings need concentration. In the Rheingau the average yield is around 100–140hl/ha on the flatter land nearer the river, and perhaps 50–65hl/ha on the less fertile slopes. On a good soil, with good vineyard management, it is probably possible to raise the yield to 85–90hl/ha without quality problems – but that is in an ideal year, with sufficient sun and rain. The Rheingau doesn’t always get enough sun. In the Mosel yields are generally higher, in spite of the exceptionally poor soil: 180hl/ha is not uncommon, and yields of this magnitude do not produce concentrated Riesling. Quality-conscious growers do not allow their vines to yield as generously as this: most quote an average yield of 50–70hl/ha, with the figure going down to 35hl/ha for very old vines. (The Rheingau equivalent might be an average yield of 45–50hl/ha from a top grower.)
More strictly selected wines like Auslese (made from selected clusters), Beerenauslese (from selected berries) and Trockenbeerenauslese (from selected berries that have been shrivelled by botrytis) are lower again.
Why should yields in the Mosel, where the soil in the best vineyards consists of nothing but flat shards of slate balanced on a steep hill, be so much higher? One reason is that Mosel Riesling sells for less in Germany than its counterpart from, say, the Pfalz, so growers are not prepared to sacrifice any quantity. Yet the Mosel demands greater effort: 1ha (2.5 acres) of vineyard in the Mosel requires 1200 hours of work per year. In the Pfalz, 800 hours is average. In the Saar and Ruwer, where the climate is even less promising than that of the Mosel, yields are lower. The regions are close together, but even half a degree centigrade can be the difference between losing part of your crop to frost and escaping, or between reaching, or failing to reach, an acceptable ripeness in your grapes.
There are few people with more energy and more desire to communicate their passion about wine than Ernie Loosen. He produces stunningly pure Riesling from Bernkastel, Graach, Wehlen, Ürzig and Erden.
Acidity is the key to German Riesling. It is also the key to understanding the differences between the major regions of Germany. Wines from Franken, where the summer is hotter, though shorter, are balanced at a much lower level of acidity than wines from the Mosel or Rheingau. Accordingly, they have less residual sugar.
Dr Loosen
Ernie Loosen makes his most memorable wines from the Erdener Prälat vineyard, with its red slate and probably the Mosel’s hottest suntrap.
Gunderloch
In the Rheinhessen the Nackenheimer Rothenberg vineyard is also red slate; Gunderloch’s TBA from here is one of the most thrilling from anywhere in Germany.
Leitz
Josef Leitz makes some of the Rheingau’s purest Rieslings using large old oak casks for maturing his wines.
View over the town of Thann from the Clos St-Urbain vineyard on the hill of Rangen, Alsace’s most southerly Grand Cru. Owned by Zind-Humbrecht, it is famous for Riesling. Here the grapes may be left on the vines until well into November. Thann is home to a local cult of St Urbain, whose litany prays for ‘deliverance from the devastations of storm and frost’. The original chapel was built at the end of the 15th century, but destroyed in the revolution of 1789. The current chapel seen here was built in 1934.
In the warm Pfalz, residual sugar levels of as low as three grams per litre (very dry, in other words) are common, and acidity is likewise relatively low. In the Rheingau, a wine with 10g/l residual sugar, and acidity to balance, tastes only off-dry. That level of sugar in Franken would taste positively sweet. In the cold Saar, where acidity is higher, a wine with 40g/l sugar may taste as dry as a Rheingau with 10g/l.
Likewise, the type of acidity is important. Malic acid and tartaric acid taste totally different. Malic acid tastes raw and green like unripe cooking apples; tartaric tastes citrus, more intense, but riper. As a grape ripens, and its sugar content increases, so the total acidity in that grape decreases. But tartaric acid builds up while malic acid falls. At 40° Oechsle, the point at which the grapes begin to soften, Saar Riesling will have about 40 grams of acidity, all of which is malic. At 80° Oechsle – Kabinett level in the Saar – there will be about 10 grams of acidity, of which five will be tartaric. At 90° Oechsle – Saar Spätlese level – there will be eight grams of acidity, of which six will be tartaric. But to get this much riper acidity, you have to pick late: in cool years Saar growers may wait until November to pick. Picking earlier can produce wines with rawer acidity.
In the sunnier, more sheltered Mosel, the grapes are riper and the acidity is more likely to be the riper-tasting tartaric acid: nine grams of acidity in the Mosel can taste very different from nine grams of acidity in the Saar. Levels of the different types of acidity can determine the picking date of Riesling in Germany as much as sugar levels.
Although there is little clonal variation in Riesling compared to other vines, it is nevertheless true that the commercially available Riesling clones in the 1960s and 1970s were geared to high yields rather than high quality. The change to better, lower-yielding clones began in the early 1990s; by 2010 it was estimated that about one-third of German vineyards had been replanted to better clones.
Riesling is on the increase here, but is choosy about where it is planted, preferring the hilliest, most sheltered sites. This might seem curious, given that Alsace is so much further south than much of Germany; but many of Alsace’s vineyards are on the flat plains rather than on the steep, church-dotted hills beloved of photographers of the region. Soils on the plains are richer and more fertile, and while they should not be dismissed out of hand – good viticultural practice can produce expressive wines here – Riesling in less skilful hands can be thin and anaemic, or heavy and flat.
On the best hillside sites, particularly in the hillier Haut-Rhin in the south of Alsace, Riesling comes into its own. (There are 50 Grand Cru sites in Alsace; their names are a fair guide to the best sites, but not all the best wines are Grand Cru, and not all Grand Cru wines are worthy of the name.) The soils Riesling likes best here are sandy-clayey loams that warm up quickly in spring, although it is less fussy about soil than it is about aspect; key vineyards include Brand, Clos Ste-Hune, Elsbourg, Hengst, Kaefferkopf, Kastelberg, Kirchberg (Ribeauvillé), Kitterlé, Osterberg, Rangen, Schneckelsbourg, Schoenenbourg, Sporen and Zahnacker. But the geology of Alsace is so convoluted that soil types often change within the same vineyard: hence the habit of some top Alsace growers of picking such parcels separately and vinifying them as separate cuvées. Such cuvées may be blended later out of commercial necessity, but tasting them from barrel shows that Riesling in Alsace reflects its terroir just as clearly as it does across the Rhine in Germany – as long as the yields are not too high.
Koehler-Ruprecht
This estate makes weighty, dry wines: this Auslese Trocken has 12.5% alcohol, and the structure and extract to go with both meat and fish dishes.
Domaine Albert Mann
The steep, south-facing Grand Cru Furstentum vineyard produces beautifully delineated yet ripe Riesling for Domaine Albert Mann.
Domaine Paul Blanck
Fastidious winemaking at this estate means that umpteen different Riesling cuvées are kept separate – with a detectable difference in taste.
Permitted yields in Alsace are overgenerous: 100hl/ha for the basic AC wine and 55hl/ha for Grand Cru. Wines cropped at that level have little character and no concentration; serious growers quote around 50hl/ha for AC wine and less for Grand Cru.
Why does Alsace Riesling taste so different from German Riesling – different even from the Rieslings of the Pfalz, only just to the north? One reason is the soil: the predominantly calcareous, clayey soils of Alsace give a fuller character than does the slate of, say, the Middle Mosel. Another reason is their higher alcohol: Rieslings here commonly have over 12.5 per cent alcohol, and may be chaptalized. They often spend longer in old barrels, too, which gives them greater roundness. But above all they are French wines, with the indefinable but recognizable French imprint. They are ‘winier’ wines than German Rieslings, lean and austere in youth but rich, honeyed and even petrolly in maturity.
They are also generally dry, although Alsace growers are notoriously cavalier about residual sugar levels. It is impossible to predict from a label whether an Alsace wine will be bone dry or medium. Vendange Tardive, or late harvest, wines may be dry or semi-sweet: Rieslings in this category must attain 95° Oechsle (220g/l sugar at picking). The much rarer Sélection de Grains Nobles wines are always sweet, and must have reached 110° Oechsle (256g/l sugar) at harvest.
Riesling is on a roll in Australia, although, since it only occupies a tiny percentage of total plantings, its current popularity may never amount to more than a mini-roll. Until Chardonnay overtook it in the early 1990s, Riesling was the most planted white grape in Australia, reflecting the belief current among many growers at the time that if you took a noble grape variety you could plant it anywhere regardless of climate or site and get great wine. It was (and still is) grown in many regions that were (and are) far too hot for such an early ripener; the resulting wines gave the variety a bad name.
Australia’s best known Riesling region, the Clare Valley, has enjoyed substantial growth since the early 1990s but Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot and Shiraz between them have more than doubled over the same period. Investors in Clare, as elsewhere in Australia, are hypnotized by reds.
Clare is, on the face of it, a region far better suited to reds. Its climate is almost Mediterranean, but its topography makes it more adaptable than it would seem. Far from being a single valley, Clare is a series of gulleys, with hills rising to over 400m (1320ft) to the east and west. This already gives significant variations in temperature. In addition, nights are cool and rainfall is low, and the free-draining soils – which include red soil over limestone and shaley slate – allow for great variations of wine style. Watervale is traditionally the finest part of Clare for Riesling, though the Polish Hill River only a few miles north gives quite different wines with finesse and a certain mineral character. Clare’s stylistic affinities are with Alsace.
The great 1970s Rieslings from Leo Buring set a standard in Australia which is still inspiring winemakers three decades later. Such wines are lean, even apparently rather simple in youth: many are drunk in their youth because their crispness and freshness are attractive then and seem to promise nothing more. But with time the acidity softens, the palate deepens, and they develop flavours of buttered toast and lime and a melting honey richness – and sometimes a whiff of kerosene; they emerge into maturity as some of the richest, most complex dry white wines in the world. And all without a hint of new oak.
Jeffrey Grosset (right) has made a name for himself as the producer of some of the world’s greatest cool, steely, yet scented Rieslings, from grapes grown in Australia’s Clare Valley at Polish Hill and Watervale. Polish Hill Riesling has a minerally finesse due to the height of the vineyards – over 450m (1480ft) – and a slatey soil reminiscent of Germany’s Mosel Valley.
Riesling was first planted in South Australia by the Silesians who settled in the Barossa Valley in the 1840s, bringing with them their brass bands, Würst and Lutheran churches, all of which still flourish there. There is some Riesling grown in the Barossa itself, but most has moved to the cooler hills of the Eden Valley, just above the Barossa to the east, or to the Clare Valley, a couple of hours’ drive to the north.
Mount Horrocks
Mount Horrocks makes appetizingly limey Rieslings from terra rossa/limestone soil, and it ages to a toasty richness.
The Australian style of Riesling varies from light and delicate to more powerful, but all share winemaking techniques of no oxidation, low-temperature fermentation in stainless steel, and early bottling. What you get is the unalloyed character of the grape.
In the Eden Valley the wines are more scented and immediately beguiling than in Clare; plantings have moved up here into the hills from their traditional place on the valley floor. Coonawarra and cool-climate Victoria makes some good examples. Tasmania’s are fragile and delicious, and Great Southern and Frankland River in Western Australia are showing good, citrus form, particularly when made in a relatively low alcohol style. Some sparkling Riesling is also produced.
The finest sites for Riesling are the granite, gneiss or mica-schist terraces of the Wachau, where the climate is cool and the soil free-draining, and irrigation is both necessary and permitted. However, it accounts for only a small percentage of total Wachau plantings, and has only attained even that amount since the Second World War. It demands, and gets, the best spots: they include the Steinertal, Kellerberg, Schütt and Loibenberg in Loiben; the Tausendeimerberg, Singeriedl and Hochrain in Spitz; and Steinriegl, Achleiten and Klaus in Weissenkirchen. Alcohol levels are usually over 13 per cent – sometimes too high, so that the wines lose aroma. They often have a firm, minerally core and arresting, taut but spicy fruit and scent.
The styles, and soils, of the Wachau continue into the western part of Kremstal; elsewhere in Austria Riesling is more prevalent, and usually good, though less racy. The hilly region of South Styria, however, produces wine with good taut acidity, and Vienna itself makes some appetizing examples. Most Austrian Riesling is made dry: there is a little botrytis-affected Riesling made in that haven for botrytis, the shores of the Neusiedlersee, but it is vastly outplanted there by the totally different Welschriesling.
Riesling was introduced to the country in the early 1970s and is steadily on the increase. The cool climate is ideal for making wines of greater lightness and delicacy than are produced in Australia, and acidity levels are good, but all too often, except for a few thrilling and scented wines from South Island, the wines inexplicably lack excitement. That is not the case, however, with the late-harvest sweet wines, which have great concentration and raciness. Marlborough is a leading area for both sweet and dry styles, with Canterbury and Central Otago also good; Nelson also has a reputation for dry and late-harvest Riesling.
While dry Rieslings here are of good quality and weight, it is the sweet Icewines for which Canada, and in particular Ontario, is most famous. They have greater breadth than German Eiswein, and balance slightly less finesse and complexity with greater weight and an impressively direct sweetness.
Riesling has been enthusiastically uprooted in California, though plantings still exist across the state, with good wines from Mendocino, Napa, Monterey and Santa Barbara. Oregon makes some pleasant examples, but Washington State has become a real Riesling expert in recent years, its reputation greatly helped by the involvement of German Riesling wizard Ernie Loosen in joint ventures. The same can be said of the Finger Lakes in New York State where sharp, citrussy, scented styles are probably the USA’s finest. There are a few sweet botrytis examples in the USA.
The vine is found widely in Europe, though west of Alsace only Spain has the occasional patch. Luxembourg makes dry, delicate versions and northeastern Italy produces good-quality wines that vary from light and aromatic in the Alto Adige to fuller but still dry in Friuli. There are substantial plantings in Slovenia, Croatia and the Czech Republic, also in Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Moldova, Russia, Tajikistan, Turkmenistan, the Ukraine and Uzbekistan. Riesling is planted in generally warm sites all over South America – but Chile is now having success in cool San Antonio and Bío-Bío. South Africa suffers from the same problem but lacks the option of exploring ever more southerly sites. China’s Riesling has traditionally been quite good.
Bründlmayer
Bründlmayer makes some of Austria’s most succulent Rieslings in Langenlois just north of the Danube. Heiligenstein is an exceptional south-west-facing site.
Steingarten
Steingarten is an isolated, exposed, sloping, stony soil in the hills above Australia’s Barossa Valley. Its tiny yields of Riesling give wine of startling, impressive austerity.
Mission Hill
Canada’s biggest claim to fame is Icewine. Riesling and Vidal are the two main grapes. Both the breezy Niagara Peninsula in Ontario and the steep lake side slopes of the Okanagan Valley in British Columbia are ideally suited to its production.
Undurraga
Tangy, citrussy Riesling, from a tiny windswept site near the Pacific Ocean in Chile, shows the potential of the grape in South America’s coolest vineyard sites.
How long can Riesling age? Some Rieslings, it seems, can age almost indefinitely. It is possible to taste German Rieslings from the 1940s and 1950s that are still in fine fettle and, curiously, these are not always wines from the best vintages. Sometimes the high acidity levels that go hand-in-hand with cooler vintages have helped to preserve the wines into old age.
The question of aging Riesling is tied up with that of acidity. The acidity of many German Rieslings (in particular those of the cooler regions like the Saar) makes them taste lean and ungenerous in extreme youth. Taste them at this stage and you may well decide that Riesling is not for you. It is impossible to emphasize too strongly that good Rieslings should have bottle age: four to five years for a Kabinett, five to seven for a Spätlese, six to 10 for an Auslese, and 10 years plus for Beerenauslesen, Trockenbeerenauslesen and Eisweine. Simple QbA wines can be drunk a year or two after the vintage.
Dry (trocken) German Rieslings have a slightly different aging profile. They don’t last as long as Rieslings with residual sugar, and become drinkable a little earlier.
Alsace Rieslings similarly need age – three or four years for simple AC wines, four or five years or more for Grands Crus, and at least five – ideally 10 or more – for Vendange Tardive wines. Austrian Rieslings are drunk young in Austria, though the best wines of the Wachau can improve for six or eight years. Top Australian Rieslings from the Clare or Eden Valleys will improve for perhaps 10 years, and last for 20.
The adjectives that can be used to describe the flavour of this grape are as varied as the terroirs in which it grows. Slate soil gives it a characteristic smoky tang; in other soils it may taste minerally, steely, tarry, earthy, flowery or slightly spicy. Peaches and green apples are common descriptors; quince is also found, as is honey and citrus peel. Riper wines may taste of apricot or even pineapple. Australian Riesling often tastes of ripe limes and toast. Aged Riesling may acquire a characteristic smell of petrol or kerosene; this may not sound appetizing but is delicious. Look also for honey and marzipan and uncooked buttery shortbread, and buttered toast.
Botrytis cinerea, or noble rot, typically gives Riesling a dried apricot flavour, or one of honey, almonds or even raisins. Eiswein/Icewine, where it is made with unbotrytized grapes, has an icy smell literally like that of fresh snow; other aromas and flavours suggest lemons, peaches, apricots, passionfruit, pineapples or baked apples combined with high acidity.
Riesling is supposed to display the flavours of its particular vineyard site more than almost any other variety. Dr. Loosen agrees and makes finely textured, precisely focused wines from an array of great vineyard sites on the Mosel river between Graach and Erden. His Kabinett styles are low in alcohol, delightfully fruity, yet streaked with acidity and a positively rocky minerality. Jeffrey Grosset is based in South Australia’s Clare Valley, and his Rieslings have equal intensity in a drier, limes-and-toast style that nevertheless give off a seductive perfume when young, and keeps their citrussy tang, when both young or old.
Good German Spätlese Rieslings have the acidity to counteract the richness of, say, goose or duck, but the endless permutations of sweetness, dryness and weight in German wines mean that you do have to think out your food and wine combinations rather carefully.
For example, a well-aged Mosel Kabinett or Spätlese will be perfect with trout, or with smoked fish pâté. The Rheingau Halbtrocken equivalent will be good with fish in creamy sauces, though a traditionally sweet Rheingau Spätlese may well be too sweet for most dishes. But only the weightiest Auslesen and upwards should be attempted with desserts, and then only with desserts that are not oversweet. An Auslese from the Mosel will be too light for almost all desserts, and will be best drunk on its own.
Alsace Rieslings are far more food-friendly, and will partner everything from onion tart to spicy chicken dishes – and both Alsace and Australian Rieslings are perfect with Chinese and Thai food. Any dry Riesling with crisp apple or lime acidity will be a good match for salads.
Synonyms & local names
Also known as Johannisberg Riesling, Rhine Riesling or White Riesling and in Italy as Riesling Renano. Don’t confuse with Laski Rizling, Olasz Rizling, Riesling Italico or Welschriesling.
GERMANY/dry Rieslings Bassermann-Jordan, Georg Breuer, Bürklin-Wolf, Busch, Christmann, Heymann-Löwenstein, Klaus Keller, Knipser, Koehler-Ruprecht, Künstler, Leitz, Rebholz, Sauer, Wittmann, J L Wolf; non-dry Rieslings Diel, Dönnhoff, Gunderloch, Haag, Haart, Heymann-Löwenstein, Karthäuserhof, von Kesselstatt, Kuhn, Künstler, Dr Loosen, Maximin Grünhaus, Molitor, Müller-Catoir, Müller-Scharzhof, J J Prum, St-Urbans-Hof, Schaefer, Schäfer-Fröhlich, Schloss Lieser, Selbach-Oster, Weil, Zilliken.
AUSTRIA Alzinger, Bründlmayer, Hiedler, Hirtzberger, J Högl, Knoll, Loime Malat, Nigl, Nikolaihof, F-X Pichler, Rudi Pichler, Prager, Schloss Gobelsburg, Schmelz.
FRANCE/Alsace J-B Adam, Beyer, P Blanck, Boxler, Deiss, Dirler-Cadé, Hugel, Josmeyer, Kientzler, A Mann, Muré, Ostertag, Schoffit, Trimbach, Weinbach, Zind-Humbrecht.
USA/New York Anthony Road, Fox Run, Dr Konstantin Frank, Ravines, Red Newt, Hermann J Wiemer; Oregon Chehalem; Washington State Chateau Ste Michelle (Eroica), Long Shadows.
CANADA Cave Spring, CedarCreek, Chateau des Charmes, Flat Rock, Quails’ Gate, Tawse, Thirty Bench, Vineland Estates.
AUSTRALIA Tim Adams, Jim Barry, Bloodwood, Leo Buring, Castle Rock, Larry Cherubino, Crabtree, Eden Road, Forest Hill, Frankland Estate, Freycinet, Frogmore Creek, Gilberts, Grosset, Henschke, Houghton, Howard Park, Jacob’s Creek (Steingarten), Kerrigan & Berry, Kilikanoon, Knappstein, KT, Peter Lehmann, Mesh, Mount Horrocks, Petaluma, Pewsey Vale, Seppelt, Three Drops.
NEW ZEALAND Auburn, Cloudy Bay, Dry River, Felton Road, Foxes Island, Framingham, Fromm, Mt Difficulty, Mount Edward, Neudorf, Pegasus Bay, Te Whare Ra, Villa Maria.
CHILE Casa Marín, Cono Sur, Viña Leyda.
SOUTH AFRICA Paul Cluver.
Eight classic German non-dry Rieslings
Georg Breuer Berg Rottland Auslese
J J Christoffel Urziger Würzgarten Auslese
Dönnhoff Oberhäuser Brücke (Germany)
Gunderloch Nackenheimer Rothenberg Auslese Gold Capsule
Toni Jost Bacharacher Hahn Auslese
Karthäuserhof Eitelbacher Karthäuserhof Auslese Long Gold Capsule
Dr Loosen Wehlener Sonnenuhr Auslese
Willi Schaefer Graacher Domprobst Auslese
Paul Blanck Furstentum Vieilles Vignes (France)
Bründlmayer Zöbinger Heiligenstein Alte Reben (Austria)
Ch. Bela/Egon Müller Riesling Stúrovo (Slovakia)
Koehler-Ruprecht Kallstadter Saumagen Auslese Trocken (Germany)
Emmerich Knoll Dürnsteiner Kellerberg Smaragd (Austria)
Franz Künstler Hochheimer Hölle Auslese Trocken (Germany)
Leitz Rüdesheimer Berg Rottland (Germany)
Schoffit Rangen Clos St-Théobald Alsace (France)
Trimbach Clos Ste-Hune Alsace (France)
Weinbach Schlossberg Cuvée Ste-Catherine (France)
Tim Adams Clare Valley Riesling (Australia)
Casa Marín Miramar Riesling (Chile)
Chehalem Riesling (Oregon)
Larry Cherubino Wall Flower Riesling (Australia)
Dry River Craighall Riesling (New Zealand)
Felton Road Riesling Dry (New Zealand)
Fireside Estate Estate Riesling (Canada)
Grosset Polish Hill Riesling (Australia)
Howard Park Riesling (Australia)
Long Shadows Poet’s Leap (Washington State)
Neudorf Moutere Riesling (New Zealand)
Orlando Steingarten Riesling (Australia)
Thelema Riesling (South Africa)
Neethlingshof Noble Late Harvest (South Africa)
Ngatarawa Alwyn Reserve Noble Harvest Riesling (New Zealand)
Franz Prager Ried Achleiten Riesling TBA (Austria)
Reif Estate Riesling Icewine (Canada)
Horst Sauer Escherndorfer Lump Riesling TBA (Germany)
‘You can’t be a winemaker with Riesling,’ says Mosel producer Johannes Selbach Oster. ‘With Chardonnay you can have a recipe. With Riesling you decide what you are going to do and it turns out differently.’
Riesling is one of the longest-lived of all white grapes. Some Australian examples from Clare and Eden Valleys are made to be cellared far longer than this chart shows.
Germany has had a run of very good vintages. Riesling Ausleses go through a closed period before emerging into maturity.
A long growing season, with a lot of cool weather, produced Rieslings of intense ripeness yet fantastic acids for long maturation.
Most Clare Rieslings are at their peak within five years. A few, however, are meant for longer aging and will go on improving way beyond that time.
A synonym for Welschriesling (see here), Hungary’s Olasz Rizling and Croatia’s Grasevina, a grape which is unrelated to the true Riesling of the Rhine and Mosel, and the sooner people start calling it by names like Grasevina, the better for its and for Riesling’s reputation. But at the moment it is known as Riesling Italico in Italy, where it is far more widely planted than Riesling, and is found mostly in Friuli and the Veneto and other parts of the northeast. It has even spread further south to the Colli Bolognesi in Emilia-Romagna where the Vallania family at Vigneto delle Terre Rosse makes a delicious late-harvest wine as well as a flowery dry white from Riesling Italico blended with Riesling. Actually in the province of Treviso it is called Rismi.
Riesling Italico wine is light, flowery or nutty, and quite crisp. It’s not on the same plane as true Riesling, but it has its attractions as an everyday wine with moderate perfume. Best producers: (Italy) Mazzolino, Pieropan, Vigneto delle Terre Rosse.
Italian synonym for Riesling (see here) – the name is a translation of Rhein Riesling. It is outplanted in Italy by the lesser, and unrelated, Riesling Italico (see above) or Welschriesling (see here), and is mostly found, like Riesling Italico, in the northeast. The wines tend to be light and crisp, without much complexity. Best producers: (Italy) Paolo Caccese, Schiopetto, Le Vigne di San Petro, Villa Russiz.
A synonym for Müller-Thurgau (see here), dating from the days when the parents of this undistinguished grape were believed to be Riesling and Silvaner/Sylvaner. They were, in fact, Riesling and Madeleine Royale.
Müller-Thurgau is known by this name in Switzerland, even though Dr Müller, who was responsible for the grape, came from the Swiss canton of Thurgau (the crossing was made in Germany). New Zealand has also sometimes preferred this name, and used to make what was probably the world’s best Müller-Thurgau from it.
A synonym for Müller-Thurgau (see here) used in Luxembourg, where it is widely planted, and occasionally in England. It can produce pleasurable pale whites.
Every grape variety should have somewhere it can excel, even if its reputation is largely shabby. Rivaner, aka Müller-Thurgau, makes delightful, delicate wines on the banks of the Moselle River in Luxembourg.
Welschriesling (see here), under its various synonyms of Olasz Rizling and Laski Rizling, has been pressured to take this name to distinguish it from the superior Riesling.
Synonym for Riesling-Sylvaner (see here), and thus for Müller-Thurgau (see here).
Useful, all-purpose white grape found throughout the Russian Federation, especially in Georgia. Indeed, if we think of Georgia as one of the birthplaces of winemaking, there are unsubstantiated claims that Rkatsiteli seeds were found in clay jars going back to 3000 BC. If you’re of a religious frame of mind, it is suggested that Rkatsiteli was the first vine Noah planted when the flood subsided, though I rather like the dry humour of world-famous wine geneticist Dr José Vouillamoz when he states, ‘there is no botanical, archeological, historical nor genetic evidence for these assertions.’ Faith? Now, that’s another matter. Anyway, it is high-yielding, resistant to winter cold and high in acidity; the latter quality helps to make it (relatively) resistant to bad winemaking.
It is used for pretty well everything, including fortified wines and brandy, in most of the ex-Soviet states. There’s loads in Ukraine, Bulgaria (it’s the most planted white variety in both these countries), Romania and Moldova, though less nowadays in Russia itself. China, though, seems to like it, under the name of Baiyu. Visiting Western winemakers have seen it as having the potential for reasonably good quality, and it can produce wine with a quite powerful flavour of quince jelly or baked apple peel. My favourite examples are the baked apple peel examples from New York and Virginia. Best producer: (Moldova) Vitis Hincesti; (New York) Frank, (Virginia) Horton.
High-acid Greek white grape which used to be thought to be the same as the Ribolla of north-eastern Italy (see here) and the Rebula of Slovenia, but which has now shown to be of a separate variety. In Greece it is found in the Ionian islands, and especially Cephalonia, where it grows ungrafted in limestone soils and gives lemony, almost chalky wines with plenty of character and weight, particularly when grown in mountain vineyards that can go as high as 300m (1000ft). Best producers: (Greece) Calligas, Gentilini.
Gentilini
Gentilini makes a pale dry Robola with a fleeting perfume of orange blossom from ungrafted vines on the steep limestone-strewn slopes of Mount Ainos.
A pink-skinned, Greek grape with good acidity, especially when planted on cooler, north-facing slopes rather than on flat land. It often forms part of the Retsina blend, along with Savatiano (see here). There are numerous different strains, including some redder-skinned ones, which produce more complex, interesting wine. The wine is best young, and has good acidity even in warm spots. Also spelt as Rhoditis. Best producers: (Greece) Kir-Yianni, Kourtakis.
The same grape as Italy’s Vermentino. As Rolle it’s found in many blends in France’s Provence, Rolle seems to mix happily with Roussanne, Marsanne, Viognier, Grenache Blanc and other local grapes. It makes characterful, aromatic wine with good acidity and adds freshness and bite to many. It is the main grape of Bellet, a wine that is hard to find in neighbouring Nice, never mind elsewhere. Rolle is also important in Corsica and Languedoc-Roussillon but doesn’t seem to be the same variety as the Ligurian Rollo in northwest Italy. Best producers: (France) Bellet, Commanderie de Peyrassol, la Courtade, Crémat, Gavoty.
White grape used for Cour-Cheverny, a Loire Valley appellation created in 1993 along with that of Cheverny. White Cheverny is made from Chenin Blanc, Chardonnay and Sauvignon Blanc, but Romorantin, which is found nowhere else, has its own AC. Plantings are on the decline, as the grape does not have any very distinctive character. When made traditionally it is a fierce, almost entirely unattractive wine, and when made in a modern, hygiene-conscious, stainless-steel style the examples I have so far tasted have seemed emasculated and forgettable. So if I had to choose between forgettably dull or memorably horrific, I think I’d choose the memorably horrific. Best producers: (France) le Chai des Vignerons, Huards, Philippe Tessier.
Rondinella is part of the Valpolicella blend. It lacks the elegance and aroma of Corvina, Valpolicella’s main grape, but is well coloured and perfumed. It is disease-resistant and a reliably large cropper. It doesn’t reach enormously high sugar levels, but it dries very well so is a useful part of the Amarone blend.
Early-ripening vinifera x amurensis hybrid becoming very popular in Europe’s chilly north – Denmark, Sweden, England et al. Deep-coloured, rather coarse wine, best blended with Regent.
Roriz, or Tinta Roriz, are the names by which Tempranillo (see here) goes in Portugal’s Douro Valley, where it is one of the most popular of the five varieties recommended by the port authorities. It is said to have been first planted at the Quinta de Roriz in the Douro in the 18th century. It produces large clusters of thick-skinned berries, and rich, tannic, intense wines with plenty of mulberry fruit and attractive floral fragrance, though fairly low acidity. In the Alentejo it is called Aragonez and produces fairly rich, mulberry-flavoured wines for drinking young. Also important in Dão, Tejo and Lisboa. Best producers: (Portugal) Quinta dos Carvalhais, Quinta do Côtto, Quinta do Crasto, Esporão, Casa Ferreirinha (Barca Velha), Niepoort, J P Ramos, Quinta dos Roques, Quinta de la Rosa, Casa Santos Lima, Sogrape, Quinta do Vale da Raposa.
Rose-scented, deep pink Muscat grape occasionally found in Trentino-Alto Adige in northern Italy, where it is also called Moscato Rosa. Produces both sweet and dry wines. See Muscat here.
Probably Liguria’s most characterful dark grape variety, Rossese is actually several varieties, all different. There’s Rossesse di Dolceaqua, which in Provence becomes Tibouren and is rather good, and there’s a raft of white or pink-skinned versions. Rossese Bianco, which is the same as southern Italy’s Griollo, is also rather good. There’s a different Rossese Bianco in Piedmont, another Rossese Bianco in Liguria, Rossese Bianco di San Biagio in Liguria and Rossese Bianco di Monforte in Piedmont. All unrelated, of course. Rossese di Dolceaqua is used mostly for rosé blends in France but for varietal light reds in Liguria, although the unrelated Rossese di Campochiesa can also be used. You’d be forgiven for mistaking one for the other in the glass: both have bright, crunchy raspberry and strawberry fruit with herbal notes. You’d also be forgiven for thinking ‘life’s too short...’
Anfosso
You don’t see much Rossese di Dolceacqua outside the confines of Liguria in northwest Italy, and each example I’ve tasted has been different to the next.
Red (rather than black) grape grown in Italy’s Valtellina region in Lombardy, usually for blending with Nebbiolo. It has high acidity and ripens late.
Pink-skinned grape found almost only in Austria’s Thermenregion south of Vienna. Its wines are full, even sturdy, with high alcohol, and it has a big spicy bouquet. It is generally made off-dry or sweet, and is blended with the slightly superior Zierfandler (see here) for the long-lived, spicy white wine called Gumpoldskirchner, named after the eponymous town. Best producers: (Austria) Karl Alphart, Johann Stadlmann, Harald Zierer.
Portuguese grape grown primarily in the southern Alentejo region for gently aromatic, light whites but present under different names throughout Portugal. Pleasant when young, but seems to fall apart and oxidize quickly. It is also called Alva or Síria in northern Portugal, and is known as Códega in the Douro Valley. Over the border in Spain, it’s called Doña Blanca, amongst other things. Best producers: (Portugal) Quinta do Carmo, Esporão.
Sometimes it’s not such a bad thing to be given up as a lost cause. Ever since I can remember, I’ve been reading that, of the northern Rhône twins, Roussanne has far more style and elegance and class than Marsanne, but that it was a tricky, finicky, inconsistent beast of a vine and so was being uprooted in favour of the gutsier Marsanne. And it was. So the obituaries continued to flow from every vinous pen – Roussanne is wonderful: Roussanne is doomed.
Well, maybe Roussanne was pushed to the brink, but we’re now seeing a typical fashion-led revival of interest in Roussanne – interestingly, at the same time people decided that Marsanne is a pretty decent vine as well. And now that we can taste some examples of pure Roussanne, it becomes clear that it does possess an almost herbal minerally perfume and surprisingly elegant texture for a warm climate wine. Yet it is easy to see why, from the grower’s point of view, Marsanne rather than Roussanne dominates in Hermitage, Crozes-Hermitage, St-Joseph and St-Péray – because Roussanne yields irregularly, is prone to powdery mildew and rot, and doesn’t like strong winds. It also ripens late, and is prone to oxidation in the cellar.
Only a few producers, notably the Perrins of Château de Beaucastel and Jaboulet, still favour it, even though new clones have alleviated some of its worst problems: this is why Jaboulet’s top white Hermitage and Crozes-Hermitage are so bright and scented, as is Beaucastel’s Vieilles Vignes white Châteauneuf du Pape. Those who persevere love the finesse it adds to blends and its ability to age: it is excellent young, at three to four years, but then can enter a dumb phase, from which it emerges at seven or eight with greater depth and complexity. In Châteauneuf Marsanne isn’t allowed, and Roussanne adds backbone and interest to Clairette, Bourboulenc and Grenache Blanc, but only occasionally is it a varietal wine. It likes a long growing season, and too much heat can send the alcohol up beyond 14 per cent and the wine out of balance. Some Languedoc-Roussillon and Provence examples are very exciting, particularly with a little judicious oaking.
In Savoie Roussanne (known there as Bergeron) can have an attractively glacial peppery, herby scent. Rhône Rangers in California like the grape. There is also some grown in Liguria, Tuscany, Australia and South Africa.
The flavour of Roussanne is intense but nevertheless elusive and intriguing. It is reminiscent of pears or aromatic herbal tea, floral in youth and nutty and winey with age. If picked underripe it has high acidity. However, wines picked at less than full ripeness do not age as well; and fully ripe Roussanne manages to be both low in acidity and long-lived. Some of the white Hermitages of old have aged even better than the reds.
Château de Beaucastel’s Châteauneuf-du-Pape Blanc Vieilles Vignes is, unusually for the appellation, made from 100% Roussanne. The normal bottling is about 80% Roussanne. Yields are low here at around 20hl/ha. The oak influence on this wine is extremely restrained – it is vinified half in stainless steel and half in one-year-old barrels and has superb aging potential.
Alban Vineyards
Based in the cool Arroyo Grande district of Edna Valley, John Alban is one of California’s leading Rhône specialists. Roussanne is a difficult grape to grow and vinify but this wine is laden with honey notes.
D’Arenberg
A typically whimsical label from d’Arenberg – they didn’t pick their first crop of Roussanne because the grapes were covered in tiny money spiders. This is nutty, melony and rich, but made without oak.
Tablas Creek is a joint venture established by the Perrin Family of Château de Beaucastel in France’s Rhône Valley. The objective has always been to show how suitable the Rhône varieties are to California’s relatively warm conditions, as epitomized by Paso Robles on California’s Central Coast. Roussanne has been one of its great successes, usually blended in the classic Rhône manner, with Marsanne, Grenache or Picpoul but sometimes kept separate to show just how minerally yet scented its wine can be.
CONSUMER INFORMATION
Synonyms & local names
The grape grown in Provence as Roussanne du Var is unrelated, and although Roussanne is sometimes known as Roussette in the northern Rhône Valley, it is not the same variety as the Altesse (alias Roussette) of Savoie. Also known as Bergeron in the Vin de Savoie cru village of Chignin.
FRANCE/Rhône Valley Beaucastel, Belle, Chave, Clape, Clos des Papes, Yves Cuilleron, Delas, Florentin, Font de Michelle, la Gardine, B Gripa, Guigal, Jaboulet, la Janasse, Jean Lionnet, Pradelle, Remizières, Marcel Richaud, Sorrel, Cave de Tain co-op; Languedoc Dom. Alquier, Cazeneuve, Chênes, Clavel, Estanilles, Lascaux, Mas de Bressades, Mas Bruguière, Nages, Prieuré de St-Jean de Bébian, La Truffière; Provence Borrely-Martin, Rabiéga, Trévallon; Savoie Quénard. USA/California Alban, Andrew Murray Vineyards, Bonny Doon, Cass, Donelan, Fetzer, Quivira, V Sattui, Sobon Estate, Tablas Creek, Truchard; Washington State DeLille, McCrea Cellars.
AUSTRALIA D’Arenberg, Giaconda, Mitchelton, St Huberts, Seppelt, Torbreck.
SOUTH AFRICA Fairview, Ken Forrester, Rustenberg, Simonsig.
Ten Rhône Valley wines
Ch. de Beaucastel Châteauneuf-du-Pape Blanc and Châteauneuf-du-Pape Blanc Vieilles Vignes
Domaine Belle Crozes-Hermitage Blanc
Chave Hermitage Blanc
Clos des Papes Châteauneuf-du-Pape Blanc
Yves Cuilleron St-Joseph Blanc Coteaux St-Pierre
Font de Michelle Châteauneuf-du-Pape Blanc Cuvée Etienne Gonnet
Ch. la Gardine Châteauneuf-du-Pape Blanc Vieilles Vignes
Domaine de la Janasse Châteauneuf-du-Pape Blanc
Marcel Richaud Côtes du Rhône les Garrigues Cairanne
Domaine Alquier Roussanne/Marsanne
Ch. de Cazeneuve Coteaux du Languedoc Pic St-Loup Blanc and Coteaux du Languedoc Pic St-Loup Blanc Grande Cuvée
Domaine Clavel Coteaux du Languedoc Blanc
Ch. de Lascaux Coteaux du Languedoc Pierres d’Argent
Mas de Bressades Roussanne/Viognier
Mas Bruguière Coteaux du Languedoc Blanc
Ch. de Nages Costières de Nîmes Réserve du Château Blanc
Prieuré de St-Jean de Bébian Coteaux du Languedoc Blanc
Domaine de Trévallon Blanc
Alban Vineyards Edna Valley Roussanne (California)
Cass Roussanne (California)
Bonny Doon Le Sophiste (California)
D’Arenberg The Monkey Spider (Australia)
Mitchelton Viognier/Roussanne (Australia)
Sobon Estate Amador County Roussanne (California)
Tablas Creek Roussanne (California)
See Altesse here.
A Bulgarian crossing of Nebbiolo and Syrah, this has low acidity, without much resemblance to either. It also has 50% more anthocyanins (colouring matter) than Cabernet, and is best drunk young.
Widely grown in the hotter parts of California. It’s a crossing of Alicante Ganzin with Tinto Cão, and the point of it is not flavour, of which it has hardly any, but deep and stable colour. It has dark purple juice and is widely used for concentrate, particularly for the Mega Purple brand which is used (perfectly legally) to darken more high-priced Napa reds than you might imagine.
A 1936 crossing of Carignane (Mazuelo) and Cabernet Sauvignon, produced in California. The idea was to combine the heavy cropping of the former with the elegance and complexity of the latter. In this it was only partly successful, since whatever Ruby Cabernet’s qualities may be, elegance and complexity are not among them. It was intended for hot climates, and was heavily planted in the Central Valley, though the few examples produced in cooler spots seem more successful. It is mostly blended. In both Australia and South Africa its ability to produce high yields of dark wine with a rather earthy flavour yet decent black fruit has made it popular for fortifieds and for bulking up blends cheaply. Best producers: (South Africa) Daschbosch, Goudini, McGregor.
Seldom-seen red Piedmontese variety, also spelt as Rouchet, making interesting, florally aromatic pale reds with good tannin structure and sometimes penetrating acidity. It has its own DOC in Castagnole Monferrato south of Asti. Best producers: (Italy) Bava, Biletta.
A flavoursome Portuguese variety still found in older vineyards in the Douro, though it is not one of the approved five varieties. It’s also found in Dão for rosé and sparkling, and rather more so in Beiras, where on the best sites, from low-yielding vines, it can produce remarkably good quality. Known as Tinta Pinheira in the Dão, and as Castellana over the border in Galicia.
Loimer
Fred Loimer has built a remarkable, futuristic ‘box’ of a winery in the traditional Austrian region of the Kamptal. Conditions are warmer here than in the nearby Wachau and Rülander can be picked super-ripe. This label is for a 14% Halbtrocken Auslese.
Antonelli
Sagrantino can be a monumentally tannic red wine, but in the best examples the haunting dark flavour of cherries swirled in smoke makes the challenge worthwhile. There are a few sweet versions which are worth a tentative try.
Pinot Gris (see here) in Germany may take either the name of Rülander or, increasingly, be called Grauburgunder (see here). The name Ruländer comes from Johann Seger Ruland, a wine merchant from the Pfalz region, who propagated the variety in the early 18th century. Like Pinot Blanc, it is genetically identical to Pinot Noir. Today in Germany it is grown most heavily in the warmer, more southerly wine regions, especially Baden, and also the Pfalz and Rheinhessen. In Baden it is usually known as Grauburgunder, and the wines are usually fermented dry. It produces quite weighty, fat wine; the aroma is mushroomy and earthy, with a modicum of runny honey. It’s slightly spicy but less so than Alsace Pinot Gris.
In Austria, where it may also be called Pinot Gris, it makes rich, substantial wines in the Burgenland region and drier, lighter ones further south in Steiermark. In the more fashionable cellars of Austria and Germany it may be fermented in barrique to make big, ripe, dry honeyed wines. Best producers: (Austria) Loimer; (Germany) Salwey.
This French white grape is still just about found in the département of the Yonne in northern Burgundy, where it is grown for Crémant de Bourgogne, the local Champagne-method fizz, but you’re a bit more likely to taste it in Saint-Pourçain, where it’s called Tressallier. But I wouldn’t go out of my way, because its virtues are high productivity and equally high acidity – fairly basic ones as virtues go.
That it is grown in the Yonne is a legacy of the days, in the 18th and 19th centuries, when, before the advent of the railways, the region was an important producer of wine for Paris. High-yielding varieties were the most prized by the growers, and lower-yielding Chardonnay was confined to the Chablis hills. Now Sacy is finally on its way out, having in the 21st century at last fallen victim to market forces.
This Italian red grape, found around Perugia in Umbria, makes intense, tannic and strongly fruity wines with typically Italian cherry and smoke flavours, which used to be considered good for convalescents. It has its own DOCG in Montefalco, and its popularity is rising. The rarer passito wines from dried grapes are more powerful than the straight dry red versions. Some may be blended with Sangiovese in the DOC Montefalco. Sagrantino used to be written off as being austerely tannic, but better vinification has helped round out the fruit, and it is clear that this is a grape with a good deal of personality. Sagrantino has been planted in Australia, as the craze for Italian grapes continues, and there’s every reason to believe it could work in California and Argentina. It should also be more widely planted in Italy. Best producers: (Italy) Adanti, Antonelli, Arnaldo Caprai, Colpetrone, Rocca di Fabri.
A synonym for Ugni Blanc (see here), especially in the Charente département in western France.
Scheurebe (see here) is sometimes known by this name in Austria’s Burgenland region, where it is used for high-quality sweet wines. Best producers: (Austria) Alois Kracher, Johann Münzenrieder.
Cultivated by Torres as an old Catalan vine as part of its research into rare varieties. It turns out to be either Cinsault or more likely, Mazuelo (Carignan). It’s perfectly possible that the same name gets used for both vines, though Cinsault is barely planted in Spain. The Catalan authorities have settled on Mazuelo as the correct name, and DNA analysis one of these days will prove the matter one way or the other. It’s a very late-ripening vine which can be very productive if grown on fertile soil: Torres grows it on slopes to curb its vigour. It’s low in tannin and not very dark, but if the grapes are allowed to raisin on the vine it gives jammy, marmalady flavours; without this raisining process it seems to lack character.
See here.
A Tuscan synonym for Sangiovese (see here).The thing that excites everyone about Sankt Laurent is that it can produce velvety, richly fruity reds with a strong similarity to fully ripe Pinot Noir. The trouble, then, is that everyone tries to prove Sankt Laurent is some sort of earlier-flowering, earlier-ripening Pinot Noir. Leading Austrian producer Axel Stiegelmar even said it was a seedling of Pinot Noir – in other words both its parents were Pinot Noir, but, as happens with vine seedlings, it did not reproduce true to type. Well, genetically it seems to be a long way off Pinot Noir, but no one has yet come up with much more detail than that it probably originates in Austria – which, since most of the best Sankt Laurent I’ve tasted has been Austrian, sort of takes us back to where we started. But it is certainly like Pinot Noir – though perhaps even more like good Gamay – in its soft-centred, juicy cherry fruit.
The wine is best drunk young, and may not age well – but so what? It’s a complete delight when it’s young. It is particularly popular in Thermenregion of Austria and in southern Burgenland. With Blaufränkisch it is a parent of Zweigelt, Austria’s most popular red grape.
Germany has quite a bit and it is one of the few red varieties to find any success in the cool climate of the Czech Republic and Slovakia. I suspect it would do well planted also in areas like southern England and Canada. Best producers: (Austria) Paul Achs, Gernot Heinrich, Juris (G Stiegelmar), Willi Opitz, Hans Pittnauer, Joseph Umathum.
Josef Umathum makes a speciality of Austria’s own black grape varieties – Sankt Laurent, Zweigelt and Blaufränkisch – in his vineyards sloping down toward the warm, shallow Lake Neusiedl in Austria’s Burgenland region. The lake never gets deeper than 2m (6ft) and the humid conditions also favour production of fine noble-rotted sweet white wines.
A dark-skinned, pink-fleshed, low-yielding variety originally from Georgia, and also very important in Moldova, Ukraine and parts of Russia, as well as Armenia and Bulgaria. It produces wines high in tannin, colour and acidity, which need time in bottle to soften to any degree of friendliness. It is late ripening and needs some warmth, or its acidity is too high for comfort; in such cases it is best blended. But I believe that as winemaking improves and they get their vineyards sorted out, we are going to find that Saperavi is a superb grape, indeed a classic grape just waiting for its moment in history to leap centre stage and do the jellyroll. Already I’ve seen 20- to 30-year-old examples from places like Moldova that had the style and perfume of a distinguished old Pauillac. Now that’s high praise.
The Magarach research institute in the Crimea has crossed Saperavi with Cabernet Sauvignon to produce Rubinovy Magaracha, which seems to have some potential; it has also crossed Saperavi with Bastardo (from Portugal) and produced Magarach Bastardo. This latter is intended for fortified wine production. Which is all great fun. But I want to see Saperavi cherished and encouraged in all its own glory, and in the not too distant future, I’m sure I will. Best producers: (Australia) Gapsted; (Moldova) Vitis Hincesti.
Sangiovese: from Grape to Glass
Geography and History here; Viticulture and Vinification here; Sangiovese around the World here; Enjoying Sangiovese here
Sangiovese means literally the ‘Blood of Jove’. Nice to think that this Roman god left off seducing mortals and dropping thunderbolts to give his name to this vine. Almost certainly of Tuscan origin, Sangiovese is still central Italy’s most important grape. Florence, the heart of Tuscany, lies beyond and Keats’s nightingale has strayed from Provence as this grape seems to give more truly ‘a beaker full of the warm south’.
I’m a bit of a late convert to Sangiovese and its charms, but as any true ‘born again’ will tell you, the bug gets you far more potently if you come to it late. And I mean really late – like in the last 10 or 15 years. All through the 1970s and ’80s when France was effortlessly the leading quality producer, and when the New World was still in its wine infancy, Italy as the globe’s biggest wine producer did have a chance to wow the world with its most famous wine – Chianti, which is based on Sangiovese – but it failed to take the challenge seriously. Most people, me included, rarely came across Chianti except in raffia-covered flasks: you always ordered them in Italian trattorie and never anywhere else.
Although Chianti was supposed to be predominantly Sangiovese, antiquated wine laws meant that a substantial proportion was just as likely to be white Malvasia or Trebbiano. That didn’t make for a very exciting red. There were some other local red grapes – Canaiolo is quite good – but the laws were so lax that much of the remaining blend was likely to be a great big soup of high strength, jammy this and that, trucked in from Puglia or Sicily to add – well, I suppose to add colour, alcohol and flavour, however rough. When you’ve got badly cared-for vineyards of a late-ripening variety like Sangiovese, diluted by high acid Trebbiano – well, you’re looking at a rather unsavoury, harsh rosé if you’re not careful, and a dollop of wine soup from the South could hardly make it any worse.
My first moment of enlightenment came on the side of a country road south of Florence one spring time. We’d stopped off in a village to buy some wine. ‘Chianti?’ the man asked. We nodded. ‘Where’s your bottle?’ Sorry, didn’t know we had to bring our own bottle. ‘Okay, okay.’ He found us a reasonably clean litre vessel, went out the back – and squirted a jet of bright red fluid into it, charged us almost nothing – and off we went. My first mouthful of this fantastic, slightly spritzy, sweet-sour red wine, cherries and cranberries, redcurrants and a splash of fresh thyme, was a revelation. This was Sangiovese? If nothing else, it made supreme picnic wine.
Then during the 1980s, a few leading lights in Tuscany surveyed the rampant success of Bordeaux and the abject failure of their own Tuscan wines whose names – Chianti, Brunello di Montalcino, Vino Nobile di Montepulciano – were widely known but equally widely despised, and set in train a massive movement for change. They were driven by high ambition and extreme seriousness. Bordeaux, with its glittering ranks of Classed Growths and international favourites, was the target, and for this reason a lot of Cabernet Sauvignon was planted in Tuscany. As it happens, Cabernet makes excellent wine blended with Sangiovese, but it usually dominates the blend, and the mood in Tuscany nowadays is to maximize the quality of Sangiovese without any help from the French interloper even though its help was crucial to kickstart the new era. So the lead grape has to be Tuscany’s own Sangiovese. It needed a lot of thought and investment in the winery and work and investment in the vineyards as new quality clones and new trellissing systems and vine layouts have replaced the chaotic Tuscan sprawl.
It has been a remarkable success. Even the most basic Chianti has improved – yes, even the ones in the fiaschi or flasks, but at the top end, the Tuscans have embraced modern winemaking and extensive investment in things like new oak barriques and low-yielding vineyards and have produced a string of Italy’s most challenging and ageworthy reds. Not remotely New World in softness or richness – but with real class, imbued with Florentine arrogance and an austere haughty beauty that makes no effort to seduce, demanding rather that you make the effort to understand. As producers ease off on the new wood, the flavours more and more reflect the earth, the character, the history of Tuscany. If you’re one of those red wine lovers who like a little pain with their pleasure, Tuscan Sangiovese is increasingly the place for you.
Is the 21st century going to be the Italian century? Well, in grape terms it is possible. The 20th century saw the spread of all the great French grapes around the globe and the startling success of many of them. Cabernet Sauvignon, Pinot Noir, Syrah/Shiraz and Merlot have had many breathtaking successes. And yet the world is still thirsting for more red varieties and of the many possibilities, Sangiovese from Tuscany is probably the most famous. It is not, however, the most readily adapted to travel. It is a sensitive grape at the best of times, and needs far more attention to site, clone and yield than does Cabernet Sauvignon: plant it carelessly and you will be rewarded with wine that bears no resemblance to the great Tuscan reds, and very little resemblance to anything you’d really want to drink.
Yet the future could be bright. This is a grape that only started being taken seriously in its native land some 30 years ago: progress there has been dramatic. We are now well into a new phase, and new clones and more care over the hows and wheres of planting have the potential to produce some fascinating wines in California and Australia in the future. However, it’s not proving easy.
Sangiovese is not a grape for everyone, nor everywhere. It likes warm climates, but its vigour needs to be controlled; and if it is not treated with sufficient sensitivity the flavours in the finished wine will be harsh and unattractive. It has naturally high acidity, high tannins, but somewhat fugitive colour, and it is only now beginning to shine in friendly environments like Australia or Argentina. It is getting its chance to prove itself internationally because we are going through a period of enthusiasm for all things edible and drinkable from Italy. Slowly, the odd impassioned genius is unlocking the secret. If Sangiovese doesn’t succeed, there’s a queue of other red varieties – from Italy, but also from Portugal and Spain – awaiting their turn.
We know Sangiovese’s parents now: one is Calabrese di Montenuovo and the other is Ciliegiolo. The first, as its name suggests, is from Calabria, and is almost extinct now, and the second is an old Tuscan variety. Sangiovese itself is pretty old, and its first documented mention by name is in 1600. Its number of attested synonyms (29) indicates a long history and a wide spread: it’s found, under different names, in Sicily, Corsica, Calabria, Puglia and Campania as well as Tuscany. Its origin might well lie in the South.
Sangiovese means ‘Blood of Jove’, and the vine is certainly as changeable as its namesake. It is genetically as varied as Pinot Noir, and so it is most useful to think of a broad spectrum of styles and qualities, with no clear dividing line between them.
The Sangiovese grown, as Brunello, in the Montalcino zone is not a separate clone: in fact around six different clones have been identified in Montalcino. (Montalcino cooled on the idea that its Sangiovese was unique when it was pointed out that in that case the clone could be planted elsewhere, and there could be a Brunello di Puglia.)
Sangiovese goes by different names in other parts of Tuscany, and its personality is difficult to pin down: neither the Prugnolo Gentile of Montepulciano nor the Morellino of Scansano have much uniformity. Nor does that of Emilia-Romagna: Tuscan growers in the 1980s blamed their problems on the Sangiovese di Romagna that they had planted in the 1970s, but there is enormous clonal variation in Emilia-Romagna as well. Indeed, some of the newest clones being selected and planted in Chianti originate there. But the difference is that now clones are being selected for colour, flavour and concentration of fruit, not high yields. Great vintages like 2010, but also less-favoured years, are showing the startling improvement already made with Sangiovese and the best is yet to come.
Vineyards are often interspersed with olive groves in Chianti, and here in the south of the region, in the commune of Castelnuovo Berardenga, the land is more gently sloping than in other parts of the Classico zone. The local climate is also a touch warmer and the style of wine consequently a little richer.
Renzo Cotarella has one of the most important wine jobs in Italy as the chief enologist for Antinori, whose empire spreads out from Tuscany to Puglia in the south and Piedmont and Franciacorta in the north.
Even the most innovative of producers may want to employ a consultant. Here the dynamic Federico Carletti (left) of Poliziano in Montepulciano shares his thoughts with enologist Carlo Ferrini.
In some ways Sangiovese is a most obliging grape: it will produce light, juicy wines or big, complex ones according to where it is grown and how it is cultivated. But in other ways it is both demanding and inconsistent: it is early budding but late ripening, so likes a warm growing season, and in the marginal regions where it produces its finest quality it may do so only in four or five years out of 10. The Italians would like to think of Sangiovese as their equivalent to Cabernet Sauvignon. Up to a point it is. The top examples age really well, and love to be aged in oak. And just as most top Cabernet wines are blended with something else, so far for every great varietal Sangiovese there are probably more wines that are great blends. Work in the vineyard and winery is aimed at more focused fruit, increased intensity and colour, softer tannins and less aggressive acidity.
You’ve got to have a fair amount of warmth for this late-ripening variety, but too much warmth does not produce the best Sangiovese. In Italy it won’t ripen well north of Emilia-Romagna – though this is because of rain, not because of temperature – and in Emilia-Romagna earlier-ripening clones are necessary to dodge the October rains. In Tuscany, where so far all the finest Sangiovese wines have been made, it is less reliable a ripener in Chianti than further south in Montalcino, where the nights are warmer and rainfall notably less. In Chianti it requires the best south- or southwest facing slopes, and altitudes of between 150m and 550m (500 and 1800ft), and the paucity of ideal sites means that only some 10 per cent of the region is actually given over to vineyards. September rains, too, can spoil a vintage, and they do so several times a decade.
In Montalcino it will even ripen on north-facing slopes; these certainly produce lighter, more elegant wines than sites on Montalcino’s south- and southwest facing slopes, but the grapes ripen nonetheless.
In the south of Tuscany, the Maremma, a lot of Sangiovese is being planted for the rich, broad character it acquires in the hotter climate and shorter growing season. But here too much alcohol and too little aroma can be a problem.
Trying to duplicate the extremely varied climates of Tuscany in California and Australia is proving something of a headache. Tuscany’s climates are more markedly continental than those of Australia, but likely regions include Langhorne Creek, Strathalbyn and Port Lincoln in South Australia, and Karridale and Margaret River in Western Australia: these are as warm as Tuscany, though not as continental. Better matches of climate could include Canberra and Young in New South Wales, the western parts of the Great Dividing Range and Heathcote in Victoria, and Stanthorpe in Queensland.
The variety has failed to take California by storm, though many winemakers feel that, so far, Sangiovese has simply been planted in the wrong places and in the wrong way. Exposing the clusters to too much sun seems to give poor results; Marchese Piero Antinori, who realized Sangiovese’s full potential in Tuscany in the 1970s (see caption, opposite) and who bought Atlas Peak Vineyards in the foothills of the Napa Valley in 1993, points to the greater intensity of sunlight in California as a possible factor. Until California’s great Sangiovese sites have been identified, Sangiovese wines are not going to rise above the ‘interesting; must try harder’ standard.
The soils of Tuscany are as varied as the climate and altitude. The heart of Chianti Classico is a highly desirable, friable, shaly clay called galestro; the lesser Chianti zones of Colli Senesi and Colli Aretini are clay; towards the coast the soils are lighter and sandier. Further south in Montalcino galestro alternates with limestone alberese: these two soils, in Tuscany, produce the best wines, with good body and flavour.
Vines near Tavernelle in the Brunello di Montalcino region of Tuscany with the hilltop town of Montalcino in the distance. Vines are grown up by the town at heights of 500m (1650ft) on galestro soil and give the most scented and elegant wines, but they are also grown on clay soils in Val d’Orcia to the south at altitudes nearer 150m (500ft), giving heavier, more powerful wines. Although there is an increasing move towards single estate wines, many producers blend grapes from the different altitudes and soils.
In the New World insufficient attention has been paid to soil. Leaving aside the vexed question of terroir, Sangiovese is a vigorous variety which needs a lot of work to keep it in balance, so you don’t want too fertile a soil. When planting is done on fertile land, the temptation might be to increase dramatically the density of planting in the belief that this will keep the vine in check, but this approach may result in a positive jungle of foliage and no sunlight getting to the grapes at all. The vigour of the soil is crucial in determining the density of planting Sangiovese.
In Tuscany planting densities have been rising steadily in recent years, with the Chianti 2000 research project advocating densities of 7000 vines per hectare or more. The traditional density in Chianti was 2700/ha: ‘We planted vineyards for tractors, the opposite of what they did in France’, says consultant winemaker Dr Alberto Antonini. ‘If you go to 5000/ha you get an improvement in quality at the same yield per hectare. I have experimented with densities of 10,000/ha, but I find no improvement in quality from 5000/ha upwards. But you need very poor soil for high density, or you get problems of canopy congestion, and shaded fruit. For Sangiovese you need open canopies with good filtered light and fruit distribution, and reasonably low yield per vine. Density must depend on the soil, the vigour and the rainfall. You can’t generalize.’ The only generalization it is possible to make is that Sangiovese requires more attention in the vineyard – more cluster thinning, more selection, more careful canopy management – than Cabernet Sauvignon or Merlot of the same quality.
Here, too, it is difficult to make worldwide generalizations, except to say that reasonably low yields produce better quality than high ones. But what counts as reasonably low varies with the site, the vigour of the soil and the climate.
In Chianti, most estimates put 1.5kg per vine as the maximum for quality (that is equivalent to 7.5 tonnes per hectare at 5000 vines per hectare). In Tuscany Sangiovese is not considered very prolific, largely because recent work has been aimed at reducing fertilizers, restricting yields and planting less vigorous clones and rootstocks. In California it is said to grow like a weed, even on poor soils; in southern Italy and in Emilia-Romagna, too, it is vigorous. It is certainly less self-regulating than Cabernet Sauvignon, and if yields exceed 10–12 tonnes/ha quality is likely to suffer. But the vine is so varied, and the conditions in which it grows are so equally varied, that what is true for one spot may not be true for another. Certainly Argentina manages to get a very pleasant fruity red with a slight bitter twist from yields far higher than those tolerated in Tuscany.
When Marchese Piero Antinori launched Tignanello in the early 1970s, he set Tuscany on a new course. He blended Sangiovese with a significant percentage of Cabernet instead of the usual Chianti grapes, and all the wine was aged in small oak barrels.
Modern Tuscan winemaking is aimed at softening the tannins of Sangiovese, and at getting those tannins ripe in the first place. Picking dates are 10 days to two weeks later than they used to be, which helps achieve better ripeness; and the length of the post-fermentation maceration on the skins, which had shortened to 7–12 days, has now lengthened again to three or four weeks. This gives greater polymerization of tannins – as does the (illegal) use of oak chips and the (legal) running of the wine into new oak barriques for the malolactic fermentation.
Barriques are not universal in Tuscany: the traditional aging of Sangiovese is in large oak botti of five or six hectolitres upwards in size. Most producers use a combination of different woods, sizes and ages of cask. Chestnut is often found in traditional cellars, but I’ve yet to see a new chestnut barrel. Sangiovese does seem to suck up the sweet vanilla of new oak with gay abandon, but the resulting wine mellows very attractively with age.
BLENDING SANGIOVESE
Varietal Sangiovese wines can be superb: witness Fontodi’s Flaccianello della Pieve. It is more traditional, and probably still more common, however, for Tuscan Sangiovese to be blended with something else: Canaiolo Nero, Cabernet Sauvignon, Syrah, Merlot, what you will. Primitivo, Montepulciano and Nero d’Avola are also said to be added, though not legally, since these are not Tuscan grapes, and their addition would involve trucking wine up from the South. But why add other grapes at all? Why can’t Sangiovese stand on its own?
The answer lies partly in the climate of Chianti, partly in the character of the grape, and partly in the long gradual decline of Italian viticulture, which has only been arrested and reversed in the past three decades.
Chianti is relatively cool, and rain is likely to descend just as the grapes are nicely ripe. In such circumstances Sangiovese will benefit from the extra colour and flesh and softness provided by another variety. Its colour is also a factor: it is a bit short on a group of colour-giving substances called acylated anthocyanins, so here, too, other darker grapes can help.
The reason that Cabernet Sauvignon entered the equation was because of the low reputation of Sangiovese both at home and abroad in the 1970s. To make world-class wines in Tuscany it seemed to be necessary to employ other grapes, and Cabernet Sauvignon had all the perfume, finesse and complexity that Sangiovese seemed to lack. It also had global renown as the great grape of the top red Bordeaux wines. In the 1980s a raft of super-Tuscan vini da tavola appeared, blending Sangiovese with Cabernet in every possible percentage.
At the same time Tuscans were busy studying their vineyards and their winemaking. What they learnt about Sangiovese convinced them that it could be a great grape in its own right, and it did not need to be dominated by Cabernet Sauvignon.
But while varietal Sangioveses will increase from the warmer parts of Tuscany, in Chianti the climate demands the option of blending. In that respect, it is just like Bordeaux.
What should Sangiovese taste like when it is grown outside Italy? If New World producers shun the bitter-cherry and tea-scented styles of Tuscany, what will they replace them with to make the wine distinctly different from Cabernet and Merlot? Well, they’re not really sure in most cases, so Sangiovese flavours worldwide are pretty haphazard and top Chianti flavours still seem to be the goal of many experimenters. But the most successful wines still keep the Tuscan graininess yet wrapped in ripe fruit.
Sangiovese in Tuscany has evolved over the past 35 years. For all the excitement about Cabernet Sauvignon, and the worry that Italian flavours were being drowned in a rush of Francophilia, Sangiovese has emerged more serious, better understood and more polished, with a distinctive Italian bitter-sweet savoriness to the fruit. It has also emerged confusingly varied in taste.
The most traditional styles emphasize the herb and bitter cherry flavours we have always associated with Chianti and other Sangiovese-based reds; the most international styles stress plum and mulberry flavours, and use new oak barriques for extra richness and spice. In between these extremes every possible permutation is being made.
The blend of grapes also varies: Chianti may now be made with 100 per cent Sangiovese, or it may include an admixture of other grapes, which may be Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, Syrah, Canaiolo Nero or other softening varieties. (Chianti has no fewer than seven subzones, of which Chianti Classico and Chianti Rufina produce the best, most substantial wines. Colli Fiorentini wines are lighter and fresher, Colli Senesi wines can be solid and rustic, and wines from the three remaining zones, Colli Aretini, Colline Pisane and Montalbano, have no distinctive character.) In Carmignano a percentage of Cabernet is called for in the DOCG regulations; for Vino Nobile di Montepulciano, where quality has only recently caught up with Chianti and Montalcino, 20 per cent of Canaiolo is supposed to be added, and perhaps sometimes even is. Only in Brunello di Montalcino must the DOCG wine be made entirely of Sangiovese – and usually is.
For the consumer, therefore, predicting the likely style of a Tuscan red is increasingly difficult. The raft of super-Tuscan vini da tavola which emerged in the 1980s did little to help the confusion: each had its own blend, its own fantasy name and its own style, even if that style was similar to that of several other super-Tuscans.
But it is unreasonable to complain of confusion when it is the mania for experimentation by producers that has given us the current massive leap in quality. The Chianti 2000 research project, which involved the universities of Pisa and Florence and the Chianti Classico consorzio, was very valuable, but it has also been outstripped by the work of individual estates, who have been doing their own work on clonal selection, planting density, cultivation methods, rootstocks and soil selection. And the improvement we have seen so far is primarily the result of better viticulture and better selection in old vineyards: good selected clones have only been available in the past 10 years: as Dr Alberto Antonini put it, ‘The word “clone” didn’t exist in Italy 20 years ago’. He believes that 50 per cent of the possible improvement in Tuscan Sangiovese is yet to come.
Most of the Sangiovese in Italy is concentrated in the centre; it is officially recommended in 53 provinces from Piedmont southwards, and authorized in a further 13, but it plays a progressively smaller part the further one strays from Emilia-Romagna and Tuscany.
In central Italy it is the workhorse red grape, producing everyday wines as well as world-class ones, and it may be made into rosato wines, sweet passito ones and even into Vin Santo. Umbria’s finest examples include Torgiano, where Sangiovese may be blended with Canaiolo, and Montefalco Rosso, a blend with the local Sagrantino grape; in the Marche there is Rosso Piceno, blended with the Montepulciano grape. In Romagna all varietals come under the umbrella of Sangiovese di Romagna, which covers all conceivable qualities, up to and including some slick international barrique-aged versions. In the South it is mostly blended.
It looked as though Sangiovese would take off in California on the back of the ‘Cal-Ital’ movement at the turn of the century, but it hasn’t really got going. Some examples are OK, but more have been notable for their ambitious pricing than their quality to justify it.
Until the 1980s the only Sangiovese in the state was a small patch in Alexander Valley left over from pre-Prohibition days: the arrival of Tuscan innovator Piero Antinori (see caption, here) at Napa Valley’s Atlas Peak in 1986 was the catalyst that set Sangiovese on its current somewhat rocky path. Antinori points out that Sangiovese is not easy to grow even in Tuscany; many Californian growers would ruefully agree that it requires far more work in the vineyard than they had bargained for and plantings since the early 2000s have been minimal. The total in 2013 was 1868 acres (755ha), most of it in Napa and Sonoma.
Fontodi
Fontodi makes exemplary Chianti Classico, but Flaccianello is 100% Sangiovese from a single vineyard of old vines, aged in new oak.
Antinori
The wine that ushered in the modern era in Tuscany, Tignanello is a single-vineyard, barrel-aged blend of 80% Sangiovese with Cabernets Franc and Sauvignon.
Biondi-Santi
Biondi-Santi is one of the most famous of old Italian wine names and its dense astonishingly long-lived reds first drew attention to Brunello di Montalcino.
It’s tobacco we have to thank for Victoria’s King Valley becoming the most important region for Italian varieties in Australia. Italian immigrants came over in the 1950s to grow tobacco – you can still see tobacco drying sheds in the valley. But as demand for tobacco dropped, many of them converted to grape growing. Pizzini are the leading growers and wine producers, and their Sangiovese vines give a wine with Australian juiciness matching Tuscan austerity. And if Sangiovese makes the perfect picnic wine, the Pizzini family seem to agree.
There is far from being a definitive style of California Sangiovese. Most of these wines have attractively bright fruit, cherryish and spicy, but they can be rustic or, alternatively, thin and lean. Cabernet or Merlot in the blend often helps the flavour, but too many California Sangioveses are already being made to taste too much like overoaked Cabernet.
Napa is generally hotter than Tuscany, and Tuscan-based consultant winemaker Dr Alberto Antonini believes that it is essential to extend the ripening period for as long as possible so that the tannins get fully ripe: sugar ripeness is no problem, and these wines often have 14.5 per cent alcohol compared to Tuscany’s 12–12.5 per cent. Site selection and vineyard management will be crucial if we are to see any improvements. Washington State should also do well, but there are few good examples. Perhaps they’re still struggling with site selection.
If interest in Sangiovese has failed to gain momentum in California, it is on the rise in Australia. Growers here seem to be taking a more planned approach to the grape – principally through better site selection and some decent clones – than was sometimes the case in California. Partly this is because Australia, as the world’s driest continent, is accutely aware of the impact of climate change. Developing vineyards of warmer climate varieties like the Italian Sangiovese to begin replacing some of the cooler climate French varieties is a matter of increasing urgency. Both large and small wine producers are taking Sangiovese seriously, with some exciting results.
Mexico has some Sangiovese, though it hasn’t produced any outstanding examples yet. Some Sangiovese is being planted in Chile, though producers there may be only at the beginning of a learning curve, starting with the question of which clone to plant and, even more importantly, where.
Argentina has a reasonable amount since waves of Italian immigrants often brought their Italian vine varieties with them. There haven’t been any exciting top-level, oak-aged wines yet – largely because the quality revolution leaders here reckoned that other more international grapes would offer better rewards and recognition for less effort and headscratching. But some very nice juicy young reds are now appearing which manage to offer that characteristic bitter cherry kernel twist at the finish.
Poliziano
Poliziano is a leading light in the rejuvenated Vino Nobile zone in southern Tuscany. Asinone is its single-vineyard wine.
Seghesio
The Seghesio family are no newcomers to California: they’ve been growing grapes there for over a century. These Sangiovese vines were planted in 1910.
