Even more important than the usual description of a wine, the litany of aromas and flavors, is the emotional response it evokes. How does it make you feel?
The answer could be as simple as, “I loved it” or “I hated it.” It could be more complicated, recalling personal experiences: “It reminded me of a wonderful vacation,” or, “I can’t drink that wine, it makes me think of my ex.”
It’s crucial to seek this emotional response. Being open to how a wine makes you feel allows you to begin determining why. It may be just that you like flavors that remind you of cherry. Or it may go much deeper.
Welcome back to Wine School, where we try to peel away the assumptions about wine that so often impede confidence and understanding. Each month, we pick a different type of wine to examine together. Over the course of several weeks, the goal is to drink the wines in a relaxed, natural setting, with food, friends or family, and to pay attention to the wine itself and how we respond to it. Then we reconvene to discuss our experiences and share thoughts.
The subject is Chianti Classico, a perfect wine for evoking emotions. I say this because my own response to Chianti is so immediate. It’s a wine I love, made primarily from the sangiovese, a grape I love, and emblematic, if such a thing is possible, of the wines of all of Italy, a country I love. Good examples lead to pure joy. Bad ones make me angry. How could they mess up such a good thing?
Can a wine really express the character of a country? Sure, at least in a very general way. The wines of the Piedmont in the northwest will of course be different from those of Umbria in central Italy and those of Calabria in the southwest, to say nothing of Tuscany, home of Chianti Classico. Why, anywhere in Italy, the wines in one valley can be completely different from the wines in the next. But overall, they share some very general characteristics, which Chianti Classico epitomizes.
First of all, Italian reds like Chianti Classico tend to be high in acidity and a trifle austere, which permits them to go beautifully with many foods. In Italy, the notion of drinking wine in a setting without food is vaguely horrifying. Italian wines tend to be subtle, without the powerful, high-volume fruit flavors that can overpower food (Amarone is an exception). And they emphasize harmony and balance: Acidity is prominent but rarely shrill, fruit is present but not dominant and the sweetness implied by the fruit is often countered by an inherent bitterness. This for me captures Chianti Classico: gorgeous red cherry-like fruit with a bitter, leathery element; great acidity; and dusty, earthy tannins, all poised on a tightrope, with an internal tension that gives the wines energy.
All of these characteristics are contained within the sangiovese grape, the dominant red grape of central Italy. How they are expressed depends on where the grape is planted, how it is grown and how it is transformed into wine.
Even within the Chianti Classico region, as one reader, Bill Haydon of Chicago, pointed out, the wines can differ markedly, depending on the soil in which the grapes were grown, the microclimate and a host of other factors. In fact, the three examples of Chianti Classico I suggested, the 2011 Fèlsina Berardenga, the 2011 Montesecondo and the 2010 Fontodi, each come from a different place within the Chianti Classico zone and reflect those differences.
Each of these wines expresses the characteristics of sangiovese without interference from overt winemaking or other grapes. Now, Chianti Classico must be 80 to 100 percent sangiovese. The remaining 20 percent may include indigenous grapes in the sangiovese cohort, like canaiolo and colorino, as well as international grapes like cabernet sauvignon and merlot.
For me, grapes like cabernet and merlot change the character of Chianti. They add weight and solidity while diminishing acidity and tension. At one time, Chianti producers believed they needed to make Chianti Classico more attractive to a perceived international palate. Now, many producers who experimented with international grapes have pulled back, realizing that a worldwide audience prizes Chianti Classico for its distinctiveness, not for how it resembles other wines.
Of these three Chianti Classicos, I found the Montesecondo to be the lightest-bodied, easiest-going and most immediately expressive. Partly this was because the blend included just 80 percent sangiovese, along with 17 percent canaiolo, which contributes lightness, and 3 percent colorino, which, not surprisingly, adds color. For me, this is a classic Chianti, juicy, joyous and utterly refreshing, with pure bitter cherry flavors and a touch of dusty tannins, great with homemade pizza. It may also have been lighter because the grapes were from the cooler San Casciano commune in the northwest of the zone.
The other two were both denser wines, 100 percent sangiovese. The Fèlsina, from the warmer commune of Castelnuovo Berardenga, was riper, darker and more tannic than the two wines, earthy yet still unmistakably Chianti Classico. You could feel the effects of the sun in the wine, which will reward longer aging. The Fontodi, from the commune of Greve, was in the middle, richer, deeper and more structured than the Montesecondo, yet not as tannic as the Fèlsina. It, too, offered a juicy purity and went well with a porterhouse.
Not everybody liked the Fontodi. Dan Barron of New York described the Fèlsina as “electric.” By contrast, the Fontodi “was a puffed up, empty suit letdown.”
I love the immediacy of these descriptions. I don’t mean that they were quick judgments. During Wine School, we’ve seen how wine changes in the glass over time, how it can be transformed by food and even by mood and atmosphere. It requires time to assess. Nonetheless, wine still produces emotional responses even if they change over time, and even if they are arrived at after deliberation.
Martin Schappeit of Richmond, Virginia, found the wines hard to describe and concluded, “Chianti Classico can be puzzling and fascinating at the same time, like a game of chess.”
Isn’t that a great thing to say about a wine?
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