Showing posts with label g - Zinfandel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label g - Zinfandel. Show all posts

Sunday, November 1, 2009

Zinfandel Counterprogramming

It's a shame that zinfandel, a grape that even when rendered well does not make my favorite wines, is subjected to so much abuse by too many California winemakers. Most of these wines strike me as way overripe and overblown, and I've tasted a few that go even beyond that, as if they were chaptalized with blackberry pancake syrup. Too few producers, such as Ridge, produce more balanced renditions.

I'm happy to say that Graziano made a balanced 2004 from the Eddie Graziano Vineyard, where the grapes are grown organically. Black pepper is far and away the dominant characteristic here, and that's because the fruit is not big and bruising and overripe. The wine does have one big flaw: per the fact sheet (PDF) it was aged in 30% new, heavily-toasted oak barrels, which gives it a sweet polish that obscures the ruddier aspects of the wine much like cellophane obscures your grandma's nice couch. (And now I want more than ever to taste the Dashe L'Enfant Terrible.) But even so, this went well with spinach lasagna and a cheddar-inflected risotto cake.

Better yet and cheaper still ($14) is the 2006 Monte Rosso Primo Rosso, also made by the "Graziano Family of Wines," which is a blend of zinfandel, nebbiolo, carignane, sangiovese, and negroamaro. Its slightly sweet tannins are balanced by slightly tart orangey acidity, while the medium-bodied mouthfeel is soft yet nicely structured. There's a nice zing of black pepper to compliment the generally red-fruited flavors (esp. currant), while a darker note of slightly bitter licorice provides a welcome complication. In other words, it's more interesting and complex than its big brother, and it worked well with enchiladas.

Sunday, August 16, 2009

Zinfandel Unbound

As if to prove that California wines can be, should be, and sometimes actually are complete, I am enjoying the 2003 Caparone Zinfandel. A mucklet of sediment splats onto my countertop when I pop the cork, and as I pour I see that the wine suggests fall, a pale rose petal color that foreshadows brown. It even smells slightly autumnal, like a redwood forest on the coast, an aroma that plays well with the smell of fresh red berries, cherry medicine, tar, wood smoke, and black pepper. As I breathe it in I think of a potlatch in a plank house, which in turns makes me think I should have paired this wine with smoked salmon rather than grilled pepper steak, although that was a nice match.

Too many zinfandels founder on the shoals of thinness on the starboard side and, more often, cloying obsequiousness on the port side (pun intended). The Caparone quietly, effortlessly, sails up the middle of the strait. It serves up nice cherry fruit, bright acidity, brown earth, good presence and depth at midpalate, and solid structure. As with the (even better) Caparone aglianico it's not complex but it is complete, nicely priced in the mid-teens, and at 13.3% abv plays well with food. Even more importantly, it's comfortable in its own skin; it is not tamed; it is unbound.