Petite Sirah

Like Zinfandel, Petite Sirah is a Californian grape known for producing high-alcohol, fruity, extremely full-bodied wines. Again like Zinfandel, it's quite misunderstood: its origins are often confused, which leads to it not always been used correctly. It's taken me some time to appreciate the grape, but I feel serious, worthwhile versions are finally coming out of California.

the grape

Petite Sirah is known by that name in California, as well as Mexico and Argentina. It's been grown there since the nineteenth century, which is where the confusion starts. It was mostly grown as part of 'field blends' - vineyards where many grape varieties are grown - contributing tannins, fruit, and alcohol to that blend. It was also mostly grown by Italian immigrants for table wine, even though the grape has no Italian background. These field blends, based on traditional Italian practices of growing whatever was in the field, meant that no one really knew what was going into the wine. Even now, when much more is understood about the grape, 10% of grapes called Petite Sirah are something entirely different.

The name Petite Sirah also causes confusion. Introduced into California as Syrah, its name comes from its smaller berries. Petite Sirah is in actual fact a nineteenth-century French crossing between Syrah and Peloursin by a Dr. Durif. This crossing never took off in France where it is little grown; it is, however, grown in Australia where it is correctly called Durif after its maker. These wines are even bigger, fuller, and more intense than Shiraz, and provide a dark, bitter alternative to Australia's most famous export.

In California, Petite Sirah is still most often seen in blends. It may not seem apparent that Californian wines require more oomph and alcohol, but that's what Petite Sirah provides. Some wineries produce 100% Petite Sirah wines; my first impressions on tasting these were that they were far too big, jammy, and unsubtle. However, I have been increasingly impressed by some of the single-varietal wines I have tasted: big and bold, yes, but underpinned with complex bitter aromas quite different from other wines.

the wines

Chateau Montelena Petite Sirah 2009 14.5% ($35)

I visited Montelena last August and this was my first taste of a Californian 100% Petite Sirah. As big and aggressive as it was, I came away impressed by its substantial, uncompromising depth. With dark chocolate, black fruits, vanilla, and very chewy tannins, this is a wine that does not shy away.

Seghesio Il Cinghiale Petite Sirah 2010 14.8% ($38)

Seghesio are the ultimate example of an Italian-Californian winery. Established in the 1890s by an Italian immigrant, they still specialise in Italian varieties. Their flagship Zinfandel features around 10% Petite Sirah (Home Ranch Zinfandel, $58), and they make this appropriately named single-varietal (Il Cinghiale means wild boar). This is a big wine, spicy with chewy tannins and flavours of cocoa, blueberries, and black cherries. Even though Petite Sirah's origins are French, this wine feels like the wild south of Italy.

Nichelini Petite Sirah 2010 14.5% ($43)

Another producer with Italian origins dating back to the nineteenth century - Nichelini managed to work through Prohibition and are the Napa Valley's oldest continual winery. 2010 was a year with a hot spike but this Petite Sirah is more balanced compared to the Zinfandel (16.1%). Vibrant black fruits (blackberries, cherries, plums), with a spicy bitter chocolate and cocoa mouth.

m2 Petite Sirah 2009 14.9% ($33)

I picked this up in a farm shop on the Central Coast Delta near Lodi, without knowing much about it beyond its attractive label. It's from Clarksburg, a small AVA that's known mostly for its Chenin Blanc. The result is a seriously impressive wine, broad black fruits given structure by a well-integrated oakiness. I drank this with a spaghetti dish at home, further evidence of Petite Sirah's peculiar Italian nature.

Dutch Henry Petite Sirah 2008 ($60)

"Dutch Henry" was a nineteenth-century prospector and highwayman, giving his name to a canyon that lies behind this Calistoga winery that has to be visited just to meet the Airedale terriers. This Petite Sirah has big, ripe, almost jammy fruits, chocolate and coffee, but with a good structure, gripping tannins, and a grainy, oaky undertow. An impressive wine, although expensive at $60.

Quixote Petite Syrah (sic) 2002 14.4% ($110)

In the heart of Napa Valley is one of its most architecturally interesting wineries. It's also one that has always concentrated on Petite Sirah, producing serious, intense, ageworthy expressions of the grape that have fully convinced me of its potential. The 2002 is ageing extremely well: the nose is somewhat stinky, with hints of Brett, but smoky and earthy too. The palate is alive and complex, with plenty of black fruits and Petite Sirah's characteristic coffee and cocoa flavours. The acidity is still lively, the wine dark and spicy.

Looking back at my tasting notes for the Petite Sirahs I have encountered since August, the recurring words are "big," "chewy," and "cocoa." Expect big tannins, high alcohol, and unavoidable fruits; once you appreciate these elements, however, you understand its ageability, power, and depth. Not wines to be messed with, nor dismissed casually.

 

Rosés

Refreshing, easy to drink, and often forgettable, rosé is not a style of wine I drink, or even taste, much of. It is, however, an important category. The French drink more rosé than they do white wine. Consumption in the US, which drinks more rosé than any other country after France, accounts for 13% of wine, a figure which rises year after year. There's an increased emphasis on quality dry rosés too, over cheap sweet blush wines - sales of premium rosé were up by nearly 40% in 2013.

For all these reasons, it was very useful to have a tasting of five very different rosés with a group of Diploma students this week. This is the random order we tasted the wines in.

California, White Zin, Sancerre, Provence, Navarra

the wines

Saved Magic Marker 2013 (California) ($15)

I don't think I have ever had a blend like this: 31% Grenache, 30% Pinot Noir, 20% Cabernet Franc, 10% Sangiovese, 6% Chardonnay, 2% Malbec, and 1% "Tokai Fruilano" (a grape from north-east Italy once called Tocai Fruilano, also known as Sauvigonasse, and now simply called Fruilano). It's nice to see a Californian producer embracing the art of blending, but this is taking it to extremes.

This was a decent alternative to White Zin (see next wine). A very similar colour, with aromas of strawberries, sweet melon, and a pleasant herbal, white flower perfume, and, most importantly, a dry finish.

Beringer White Zinfandel NV (California) ($7-8)

In Champagne, non-vintage wines are a good thing. In still wine, they are not. "America's favourite White Zinfandel" is typical of its type. One of the many errors the 1970s are responsible for, White Zin removes all the qualities from California's archetypal grape to produce an overly sweet, low alcohol (9% in this case), extremely fruity wine. These fruits are not fresh and attractive, but confected and candied. One member of the tasting group used the term "artificial strawberries." There are plenty of bad or indifferent wines I understand the popularity of, but White Zin is not one of them: too sweet to go with food and too sweet and confected and not acidic enough to be refreshing on its own.

Domaine des Côtes Blanches 2013 (Sancerre) ($20)

As famous as Sancerre is for its Sauvignon Blanc, it also produces a certain amount of rosé from Pinot Noir. Much paler in colour and with a much more complex and appealing nose than the two Californian wines featuring delicate red fruits of cranberry and strawberry, with blood oranges and jasmine. Likewise on the refreshing palate, with some green olives and a light liquorice finish. This was a very good rosé at an attractive price point: delicate and refreshing enough for a summer's day, but substantial enough to accompany a barbeque.

Domaines Ott Château de Selle Coeur de Grain 2013 (Provence) ($45)

Provence is the French home of rosé - light, pale wines knocked back by the region's many tourists in the hot afternoon sun. 35% of France's appellation rosés come from Provence, and it's Provence that is leading the fashion for dry rosés. As pale as Provençal rosé traditionally is though, this wine was something else: in a blind tasting I would have had this down as a white wine and it wasn't immediately clear what made it a rosé until we learnt that it's a blend of Grenache (50%), Cinsault (30%), Syrah (15%), and Cabernet Sauvignon (5%). It was, however, my favourite of the five wines. A slightly stinky, farmyard nose with mushrooms, apricots, and melons. The mouth was surprisingly full-bodied given its colour, with tropical fruits and white pepper and vanilla spices. This wine was outstanding, though very unusual.

Señorio de Sarria Viñedo No.5 2013 (Navarra) ($20)

Navarra has the potential to make great wine, from the Rioja grapes Garnacha and, to a lesser extent, Tempranillo, as well as Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot which have long been planted there. However, the region is better known for its rosé (rosado), usually made from Garnacha. This wine was almost as bad as the White Zin. A deep, unattractive pink-red colour, with aggressive aromas of watermelon, candied sweets, peardrops, and overripe strawberries. These obvious fruity aromas were not compensated by any redeeming qualities. Spain is my favourite wine country, but sometimes it does not do itself any favours.

Although the Provence wine was the best of the five, it did not feel like a rosé. The Sancerre was the best example of what rosé can and should be like: a pale orange, with nice red fruits, herbal and lightly spicy, and refreshing enough to be drunk on its own as well as with food. Rosés with deep pink colours are, I conclude, to be avoided. 

Vin Jaune

As someone who loves sherry, I have always wanted to taste Vin Jaune, an historic drink from the French region of Jura which has many similarities with fino. Like fino, it's aged under a layer of yeast for many years in old oak barrels, giving it complex, oxidative qualities.

the region

Jura lies on mountains next to Switzerland and is France's smallest wine region by far, covering just 2,100ha (0.3% of all French vineyards). The largest production is of its sparkling wine, Crémant de Jura. White wine is made from either Chardonnay or a local grape, Savagnin, while red wine is made from Pinot Noir or two other local, historic grapes, Trousseau and Poulsard. The area is cool and wet, so it takes care and skill on the winemaker's part to make quality red wine that isn't too dilute. The whites are rich, nutty, and intense, and often best served at warmer temperatures than the lighter reds. A series of extraordinary wines are made, including Vin de Paille ("straw wine" - sweet wine made from grapes dried on straw mats), Macvin du Jura (a blend of grape juice and grape spirit), and Vin Jaune. 

the drink

Vin Jaune (literally, "yellow wine") accounts for just 6% of Jura's small production and is not easy to find. It's perhaps most known for its similarities to sherry, but its history has developed separately and there are notable differences between the two drinks.

Vin Jaune, which is always a vintage wine, can only be made from one grape, Savagnin, which imparts noticeable tangy, spicy characteristics on the wine; the grape also has high acidity, important for the ageing process Vin Jaune undergoes. The wine is fermented as normal, undergoing malolactic fermentation, before being transferred into large old oak barrels the following spring or summer or even later. The wine cannot be released until the January six years after the harvest (so a wine from 2006 could not be sold until January 2013).

Vin Jaune ageing under la voile

It is these years in barrel which give Vin Jaune its unique qualities. Where the wine is stored - underground, in a loft - and at what temperature affects the eventual nature of the wine. For fino, the barrels are not filled to the top, leaving space for the oxygen in the air to interact with the wine to create the layer of yeast that sits on top (flor in Spain; la voile in France). With many Vins Jaunes, the barrels are filled almost to the top which means that the layer of yeast takes time to form as the wine naturally evaporates into the air.

The wine is bottled in the unusually shaped clavelin, a 650ml bottle which holds 620ml of wine - the volume of wine said to be left from a litre of wine after evaporation. This is the only bottle of this size allowed under EU regulations; apparently US regulations forbid its importation, but the Vin Jaune I drank was in one of these bottles.

Château Chalon is one of Jura's AOCs; the wines of Jura have tremendous ageing potential

the wine

The wine came from the wonderfully-bearded Jacques Puffeney, known as "Le Pape d'Arbois" ("The Pope of Arbois," an AOC in Jura), and was from the 2006 vintage, the youngest available. It had a hazy golden colour and a naturally high alcohol of 14% (Vin Jaune is not fortified). Like fino, the nose was noticeably oxidative but the aromas were quite intense, with tangy citrus fruits, baked apples, and almonds, and a rich woody texture. The palate was heavy and rich, with really intense spices and dried fruit flavours.

Given the oxidative nature of the wine, it's difficult not to compare it to sherry. It looked and smelt a lot like a fino, but the palate was much more like a palo cortado with the rich, intense dried fruits and spices. The dense, oxidative woodiness would be off-putting to many, but is its very appeal.

I was certainly not disappointed with the Vin Jaune. Intense and heavy, yet fresh and lively, the wine was complex and unique. This may not be a wine that sits comfortably with modern sensibilties, with its funky woody nose and ageing requirements, but that makes it stand out all the more. It's a wine that speaks of its history, its origin, and the dedication of the winemaker. The spicy, nutty, creamy flavours also make it a perfect food pairing, particularly with the dishes of the Jura such as sausages, chicken, mushrooms, and cheese.

the cheese

Jura also makes Comté cheese, a natural food pairing with Vin Jaune. While production of Vin Jaune is small, that of Comté is much larger - 130,000 cows are used to make 1.45m wheels of Comté cheese each year. Like wine, types of cheese are protected by an appellation system, and the Comté AOP accounts for 26% of all of France's appellation cheese production.

Comté must be aged for at least four months before sale, and is often aged for longer. Although hard, the cheese has a lactic creaminess with nutty, vegetal flavours. The cheese I chose to have with the Vin Jaune was Marcel Petite Fort St. Antoine, a producer who ages 100,000 wheels of cheese in a large converted underground fort. On its own, the cheese's mature character can be hard to take, but the rich, creamy intensity of the Vin Jaune softened those flavours. Likewise, the nutty aromas of the wine interacted nicely with those of the Comté and the creamy nature of the wine brought out the cheese's lactic qualities.

Both the Vin Jaune and the Comté were expressions of local history, tradition, and culture, working perfectly with one another to make the experience even greater. It may be a while until I can afford to drink Vin Jaune again, but I cannot wait until the next time - maybe alongside some sausages and mushrooms.

Essential further reading: "Jura Wine" by Wink Lorch (£25/€30/$40)

Lagunitas

Such is the widespread success of the American craft beer scene, it's easy to forget just how new a phenomenon it is. Many of the established craft brewers started with a homebrewing kit in the garage; Sierra Nevada's Ken Grossman did just that less than forty years ago. Likewise Tony Magee, founder of Lagunitas. A failed print media sales rep, Magee moved to California from Chicago in the early 1990s, unemployed, in his early 30s, and wondering what to do with his life. To keep him occupied, a family member gave him a 5 gallon (19 litres) homebrewing kit for Christmas. After just ten batches of intermittent success, Magee was so enthused by the project he bought a new, and much larger, kit able to produce 200 gallons (750 litres), and set up his own brewery.

Magee's original bottling machine

Hearing the stories of Magee's first attempts to brew is heartening for anyone thinking of starting their own business, whether a brewery or anything else. He was forced to find a space to brew his beer after a batch boiled over and destroyed the kitchen stove two days before Thanksgiving. Having moved to the back of a hardware store in the small town of Lagunitas on the California coast, Magee suffered another huge and embarrassing setback. Not realising the pipes led to an anti-septic tank, Magee washed leftover sediment down the sink. The dormant yeasts in the sediment reacted with the waste in the tank to ferment, creating carbon dioxide. With no release valve, the carbon dioxide built up in the tank until the pressure caused the tank to explode, flooding the town with fermenting shit. As our guide at the Lagunitas brewery joked, this is still the recipe for Bud Lite.

Despite these inauspicious beginnings, Lagunitas is now one of the most successful craft breweries in the US. They have just opened a new brewery in Chicago, which will bring total production capacity to 1.4m barrels a year. The brewery is staying true to its roots though, maintaining its smaller facilities in Petaluma where they've been since 1999 (having moved from an even smaller base across the road). There's a relaxed, very friendly vibe at the brewery, which offers free tours and has a tap room to sample their range of beers - as with most US craft breweries, the number of styles of beer made is extraordinary.

the beers

Pils (6%)

A pale straw colour; a yeasty, bready nose with citrus fruits. Crisp and refreshing, with a dry finish.

Fusion 24 Couch Trippin' (5.7%)

Perhaps my favourite of the beers I tasted. An amber brown colour; sweet chocolate and caramel aromas, with malt and black tea. Not too hoppy, with a nice peppercorn spiciness on the mouth.

New Dogtown Pale Ale (6.1%)

The first beer that Lagunitas bottled. A classic Pale Ale, with grapefruit and pine nut aromas and a dry, hoppy finish.

IPA (6.2%)

The archetypal California IPA, first brewed in 1995. Widely available in supermarkets and bars, this is one of my go-to beers. It's hoppier, maltier, and spicier than the Dogtown, refreshing with a spicy and slightly sweet finish.

Brown Sugga (10%)

A beer that came about by accident, when Magee wrote down the wrong recipe; brown sugar had to be added afterwards to start fermentation. An amber colour; sweet caramel, toffee, and molasses aromas on the nose, with a hoppy, malty, nutty mouth. A good combination of hops and sweetness.

the eclectically decorated and furnished tasting room

This is just a small selection of the beers Lagunitas make; there are plenty of seasonal beers on rotation - strong and sweet at this time of year - and the brewery is experimenting with barrel ageing. As long as the facilities in Chicago don't make Lagunitas lose touch with its laidback origins, it will remain one of my favourite, most versatile breweries.