- Two Thumbs Way Up
- Rich aromas of black cherry, dark chocolate, coffee, violets and clove. Big flavors of blueberry, dry cherry, milk chocolate, black licorice and a distinct black pepper note on the long finish.
Recently on a sweltering day at the pool bar, I was pouring this lady a sample of a muscadet from France’s Loire Valley. Before she even tasted the wine, she made one of those scrunched-up, bad-tasting medicine faces where you barely stick out the tip of your tongue.
I assured her that I was not pouring muscadine, as I rightly guessed that is what she heard. “Muscadine is a grape native to North America,” I said. “Muscadet is from a completely different family of grapes native to Europe and Central Asia.” Relieved, she tried the crisp, white wine and decided on having a whole glass.
As reported in these columns several weeks ago, America is now tops in the world as far as wine consumption, edging out France by a mere couple hundred million bottles. While second-place France can boast a myriad of native grapes that we’ve come to love, such as chardonnay, pinot noir, chenin blanc, syrah, sauvignon blanc (and the list goes on), alas, we can claim only the likes of muscadine, scuppernong and a smattering of hybrids as our own.
Now, if you love your North Carolinian scuppernongs or cynthianas from Missouri or even our Georgia-grown muscadines, good for you. But, please excuse me as I clumsily say: gimme dem “real” wine grapes!
While we don't have any true European-style—otherwise known as vitis vinifera—grapes, we do have an adopted child. His name is zinfandel.
Credit: Gil Kulers
Credit: Gil Kulers
In the mid-1800s, Italian immigrants dragged this grape across the continent and planted it abundantly in California. Some of these old vines are still producing grapes, by the way. Its origins can be traced to Croatia and the southeastern tip of Italy, but most people will acknowledge that zinfandel is “our” grape.
Approximately 10 percent of California vineyards are planted to zinfandel. More than 80 percent of those grapes go toward the production of white zinfandel, the light-bodied, blush wine with a hint of sweetness. The remainder finds its way into brawny red blends that are gaining in popularity these days. It is also produced straight up, where it can show off its unique, muscular flavors of dark berry, plums and black pepper.
Like a protective parent, American winemakers get proprietary when it comes to zinfandel. Even winemakers who don’t make zinfandels are likely to crack open a bottle on Thanksgiving or Fourth of July—holidays with a particularly distinct American accent. If you happen to mention to them that big, red zinfandels don’t exactly pair well with a lot of foods or that they often are pretty high in alcohol, you might get a raised eyebrow and a few questions about your patriotism…or worse.
A few of the red zinfandels that I offer a patriotic salute to come from Dry Creek Vineyard, Ravenswood (especially the single-vineyard offerings), Frog’s Leap, Seghesio Family Vineyards and Ridge Vineyards.
In recent years, I’ve been smitten by Artezin zins made by Randle Johnson, an, ahem, iconoclastic winemaker who has been making wines in California and Argentina for more than 30 years. Often as not, his wines, like those of the above-mentioned wineries, have an elegance and balance to them. They may have elevated alcohol levels, but you’d never say they tasted alcoholic.
So before you light up the grill and sneak over to Alabama for some “real” fireworks for next week’s Fourth of July celebrations, make it your patriotic duty to pick up a bottle of zinfandel. And whether it’s pink or dark purple, your country thanks you.
Gil Kulers is a sommelier and maitre d’ for an Atlanta country club. You can reach him at gil.kulers@winekulers.com.
Note: Wines are rated on a scale ranging up from Thumbs Down, One Thumb Mostly Up, One Thumb Up, Two Thumbs Up, Two Thumbs Way Up and Golden Thumb Award. Prices are suggested retail prices as provided by the winery, one of its agents, a local distributor or retailer.
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