Is Lodi Making California's Best Zinfandels?

I suppose that before I go making bold-faced statements like Lodi is making the best Zinfandels in California today, I should at least qualify it. So if you will,

1. In recent years I simply have not found Zinfandels from anywhere else in the state that have been as consistently good, i.e. Zinfandel-ish, in the $12-$19 retail price range as those from Lodi. In the restaurant business, where I’m coming from, this means wines I can sell for $6-$9 a glass, which is where most guests are now comfortable. Ergo: as drinking wines, Lodi Zinfandels rule.

2. Even in the ultra-premium $20-$40 retail price range, during the past five, six years I can’t say that there are more Zinfandels of truly exhilarating quality coming out of any other one, single AVA (i.e. American Viticultural Area) than there are in Lodi. Don’t get me wrong. True, in the sub-regions of Sonoma (significantly, the Dry Creek, Sonoma, Russian River and Alexander valleys) as well as in the Napa and Contra Costa counties, producers like Ridge, Neyers, Rosenblum, Turley, Robert Biale, Carol Shelton, and Grgich Hills (just to name a few of my favorites – lord knows, there are so many more) continue to make incredible Zinfandels. But it seems that recently in every vintage, I count about five or six bottlings from each coastal AVA that I really like; whereas I usually find a good dozen and a half Lodi Zinfandels that really turn me on. Conclusion: Lodi is starting to dominate.

3. What do Zinfandel lovers really look for in great Zinfandel? After over thirty years of drinking, buying, selling and writing about the wine, I think I’ve got it down: they want heaps of blackberry/raspberry aromas and flavors – nice and ripe, but not too raisiny or pruney – with interesting doses of peppery spice. They don’t mind big tannin and alcohol (14% to 16%) or zippy acidity, because they know that this is all part of the package; but they don’t want any of that to get in the way of the varietal flavor. Many Zinfandel lovers like discernibly sweet and/or smoky oak qualities; and many more, not much oak at all – these are matters of personal taste and brand style, unrelated to regional factors. Point being: the aforementioned ideal qualities practically define Lodi grown Zinfandels across the board. To use the parlance of today, if it’s all about terroir, Lodi’s terroir generates the flavors most Zinfandel lovers look for with an organic ease, and almost ridiculous consistency.

4. Last but far from least, it’s the fruit forward, intrinsically balanced, spice scented qualities of Lodi grown Zinfandels that make them some of the most food versatile wines in the world. As multi-food friendly as most Pinot Noirs – I kid you not. I’ve found few wines that are as much at home with beef and pork roasts as they are with Asian (soy marinades) and American (dry rubs) barbecues, chile spiced ethnic cuisines, and even seafoods from smoked oysters to grilled salmon. I’ve found delicious matches for Lodi Zinfandels in cheeses from pungent white truffled Boschetto al Tartufo and well aged Beemster Goudas, to Chili Pepper Pecorino and blue veined chèvres (like Holland’s Moulin Bleu). For further thoughts on Zinfandel/food matching, please see my Not Your Daddy’s Zinfandel.

Enough dissertation. What makes Lodi such a big deal as a growing region? First, the Lodi terroir – starting with its Mediterranean climate, strongly influenced as it is by direct proximity to the Sacramento-San Joaquin Delta, which draws cool air from the San Francisco Bay even in the dog days of summer. Recent research puts Lodi’s U.C./Davis climate classification (a measurement of average temperatures over 50° F. during the growing season) in low Region IV, similar to the Napa Valley floor between St. Helena and Calistoga. Not conducive for Pinot Noir, less than ideal for Chardonnay, but just fine and dandy for Zinfandel and Petite Sirah (the latter, Zinfandel’s most natural blending grape); not to mention, Mediterranean varieties like Syrah, Carignane, Grenache, Viognier, and even Albariño, all thriving in Lodi today.

The second most significant aspect of the terroir where Lodi’s best and oldest Zinfandel plantings are located is its alluvial deposits of deep, fertile, yet extremely well drained sand and loam. Although modern vineyard technology calls for the control of irrigation, ample rain and soil moisture retention does allow for some successful dry farming. The point being, Lodi’s vines suffer neither thirst nor excess vigor (unlike vines planted in the clay loams of large sections of, say, Napa Valley and Sonoma County).

In fact, few connoisseurs of California wine are aware of the fact that Lodi’s porous soils have always been an inhospitable environment for the infamous phylloxera louse that destroyed most of the world’s vineyards at the end of the nineteenth century. This explains why some 5,000 acres of Lodi vines still grow on their own root stocks, representing one of the largest stands of ungrafted Vitis vinifera in the world (you find similar situations in parts of Chile and South Australia). The important thing, though, is that many of Lodi’s finest Zinfandels do indeed come from ungrafted, phylloxera resistant vines fifty to over a hundred years old; and it’s these kinds of thick, gnarly trunked, head pruned bushes that traditionally yield wines Zinfandel lovers love most: with colors black as night, and flavors that are ultra-rich yet balanced, even at high octane tannin and alcohol levels.

So now am I getting your attention? Let me go further by remarking that right now there are about sixty wineries operating in Lodi today (ten years ago there were only about twenty-five), and more than half of them have extremely nice tasting rooms tucked amongst those ancient vines; although you can also enjoy complimentary tastes of many of the wines made by wineries without their own tasting rooms at the Lodi Wine & Visitor Center, adjoining an incredibly romantic, cushy hotel called Wine & Roses (that song about being stuck in Lodi again? – these days you wanna be in Lodi when you’re tired and worn).

What is even more remarkable is the fact that out of those sixty wineries, some forty of them are owned by families with roots in Lodi going back four, five or six generations to the nineteenth century. In fact, you can say the same thing about most of Lodi’s eight hundred or so independent growers, who for decades have furnished the grapes going into “North Coast” as well as “Sonoma” and “Napa Valley” wines (and in recent years, the bulk of Robert Mondavi’s Woodbridge wines).

One of the greatest of Lodi’s recent success stories is that of Michael-David Winery, owned by sixth generation Lodi fruit, vegetable and grape growers, Michael and David Phillips. There’s not a state or major city in this country where you cannot see Michael and David’s 7 Deadly Zins or Earthquake labels in the finest restaurants, retail stores and hotels, but this has occurred only within the past five years. The brothers are fond of recalling the family history; especially during Prohibition when they used to ship fifteen different grape varieties across the country, along with the instructions, “How Not to Have the Grapes Turned Into Wine.”

In fact, if you make the ninety minute drive to Lodi from the Bay Area, the first thing you need to do is stop at the Phillips Farms Fruit Stand on Hwy. 12, just east of the I-5. It’s more than a local produce stand, but also a complimentary wine bar, a “farm café” (killer breakfast and lunch burritos), and source of the juiciest, plumpest fruit pies (weighing about ten pounds each) this side of the Rockies. Don’t leave Lodi without one.

Then there is the Lodi ZinFest, a culinary experience taking place in a tree shaded oasis alongside Lodi Lake in May of each year. Before, during and after last month’s ZinFest I had a chance to taste several dozen of Lodi’s best, taking a baker’s dozen home with me to Colorado to examine even further (easy as chicken pie, of course). In order of my favorites:

St. Amant, Marian’s Vineyard Old Vine Zinfandel 2006 – I feel almost guilty extolling this wine, there was so little of it made (240 cases); although you’ll find access on the St. Amant Web site. The Marian’s Vineyard is an 8.3 acre block of the Mohr-Fry Ranch, consisting of own-rooted vines planted in 1901, and today cultivated in accordance with the strict Lodi Rules for Sustainable Winegrowing – a certification for farming practices going beyond just pest management, promoting practices enhancing biodiversity, soil and water health and human safety. There are no winemaking secrets here; just meticulous vineyard practices, and picking at peak ripeness (27.8° Brix), the 105 year old vines yielding a measly 1.5 tons/acre. An insanely purplish color gives fair warning of a perfumed, multifold concentration of berries (blackberry veering into blueberry), and an explosive, meaty presence of those jammy fruit qualities on the palate; round, succulent and mouth filling. The alcohol may seem over-the-top (16.4%,); but with nary a rough or sweet-ish edge, this wine is amazingly unPort-like, except for its phenomenally dense, layered feel.

Macchia, Voluptuous – Maley Vineyard Old Vine Zinfandel 2006 – If, like me, you’ve always preferred a more finely textured, even keeled, “claret” style of Zinfandel (although I’ve always hated the reference to Bordeaux – this is Zinfandel, for Pete’s sake), Tim and Lani Holdener’s Lodi grown Zinfandels are the ones for you. The Maley Vineyard is one of the region’s more venerated sites (a major component in Michael and David Phillips’ monster Zins, for instance), and it’s artisanal practices like block selection based upon clonal preference (Tim prefers smaller cluster clones), obsessive monitoring of deficit irrigation and canopies, cropping (less than 3 tons/acre), hand picking and sorting, micro-batch fermentations (strictly 4’x4’ containers), hand punching, and at least 50% new wood (French/American hybrids) that add up to the differences in a Macchia. If it sounds like the Holdeners make Zinfandel like Pinot Noir, that’s exactly what they’re doing: handcrafting Zinfandels not just for intensity, but also for as much elegance as any other wine type. The Voluptuous blasts off with a sweet berry jam wrapped in spicy, toasted oak aromatics; and on the palate the wine is lush, full, yet silken smooth, long and buoyant. Hard to imagine a more graceful style of Zinfandel from anywhere in the state.

Valhalla Cellars, Mohr-Fry Ranches Old Vine Zinfandel 2005 – Valhalla is one of Lodi’s new kids on the block (est. 2001), but they’ve obviously learned quickly. This is one of the more elegant renditions of the Mohr-Fry: huge nose – roasted coffee, cigar box and black pepper spices lighting up jammy blackberry aromas – and on the palate, lush flavors densely packed into a full body, amplified by rounded tannins and finely nuanced oak. Wow.

Macchia, Luxurious – Rous Vineyard Old Vine Zinfandel 2006 – If you think Lodi is all about fat, overripe wines, this is another Macchia wine that puts that myth to rest. Sourcing from one of Lodi’s oldest vineyards (100+ years), Holdener coaxes a nostril tingling mélange of floral (violet-like), sweet blackberry, plump cherry and polished oak aromas out of these grapes; and on the palate, the wine is zippy and juicy (without being tart or raisiny), and satiny smooth, the vanillin oak and lush, lively fruit mingling in an extended finish.

St. Amant, Mohr-Fry Ranch Old Vine Zinfandel 2006 – The section of the Lodi Rules certified Mohr-Fry Ranch where this cuvée was culled was planted in 1944; and although the wine is as hugely round and luscious as St. Amant’s Marian’s Vineyard Zinfandel, the slight difference is a nose tilted more towards a raspberry/black cherry pie (a sky-high one, at that), and a more velvety, sensuous, fruit forward feel (classic “Lodi”). But make no mistake: this is an intoxicatingly full throttled style of Zinfandel by any other measure.

Earthquake, Lodi Zinfandel 2006 – Michael-David’s original reserve cuvées, bottled under the Earthquake label, came from vineyards planted around the time of San Francisco’s 1906 earthquake; and 40 to 100 year old plantings (including good portions of Syrah and Petite Sirah) have continued to be the major components of their yearly blends. The ’06 achieves the powerful, multi-spiced, smoked/roasted meat qualities that have made the brand’s reputation. In other words, there is vanillin/toasty oak aplenty, but more than compensated for by palate-saturating volumes of raspberry/blackberry fruit, infused with thick yet always supple tannins. Never for the faint of heart; but then again, you couldn’t call it Earthquake if it was.

Macchia, Outrageous – Norma Ranch Old Vine Zinfandel 2006 - Another single vineyard bottling, selected from rows of 80 to 100 year old vines, meticulously managed to produce less than 2.5 tons/acre. The nose is indeed “outrageously” redolent of almost pure blackberry – wrapped in vanillin oak, penetrating the senses – and those ultra-rich flavors are polished to an uncommonly fine, silky finish. Like Angelina Jolie, a knockout in more ways than one.

m2, Soucie Vineyard Old Vine Zinfandel 2006 – m2 is Layne Montgomery and Chris Matheny, whose first crush in Lodi was in 2004. But they’ve started off with a bang, sourcing from the Soucie Vineyard, planted in 1916. I don’t know how much of this is this vineyard’s classic Lodi terroir, or how much of it is winemakers smart enough to leave well enough alone. But the wine is focused and dramatic, leading off with sweet berry fragrances highlighted by kitchen herb spices, then following through with juicy, silken textured flavors that seem to expand and intensify as it sits on the palate. For an exceptional third vintage: bravo!

Klinker Brick, Old Vine Zinfandel 2005 – Artfully blended from thirteen vineyards by this fifth generation family, who started farming in the area at the turn of the twentieth century – this wine shows the classic Lodi profile: jammy, sweet berry nose brightened by black pepper, allspice, and smoky oak fragrances; entering the palate with lush, fruit forward flavors, filling out a fleshy yet sturdy, medium-full body.

Peltier Station, Old Vine Zinfandel 2006 – Another relative newcomer (est. 2002) already producing super-charged Zinfandels; bursting out of the glass with wild blackberry, black cherry and peppery spiced aromas; medium-full, soft entry, becoming dense and velvety in the middle, the supple tannins sustaining the spiced berry flavors through a balanced finish.

Jesse’s Grove, Westwind Zinfandel 2005 – Jesse’s Grove is home to some of Lodi’s oldest plantings (the family still cultivates 120+ year old Carignane vines, yielding fantastical wines, tasting of the essence of framboise and red licorice); and their Westwind Zinfandel, vinified from 60 to 120 year old vines, envelopes the senses with thick, viscous, raspberry/black cherry fruit, layered over pungent vanillin oak. This is big, brazen, aggressive stuff, mind you; packing more of a punch than your average Lodi Zin.

Klinker Brick, Old Ghost Old Vine Zinfandel 2005 – 93 year old vines giving up less than a ton per acre, like those of Klinker Brick’s Old Ghost block, can be pretty prickly – dense to the point of obstinacy, and not at all like the lush, juicy style prevalent in Lodi. But if you can appreciate tannic muscle, you’ll certainly savor the intense, sweet berry/peppery spice concentration rising from this vinous codger. In a sense, this bottling reminds me more of some of the hillside plantings from the coast (like the Zinfandels of Monte Rosso, Howell Mountain and Storybook Mountain) than Lodi; and as such, it just might be more to your liking.

Macchia, Mischievous Old Vine Zinfandel 2006 – Of the nine or ten different bottlings of Zinfandel Macchia makes each year, Mischievous is their blend of up to five different old vine sources. In fact, it has usually been one of their most attractive cuvées; the ’06 being no different – an extremely bright, prettily scented wine showing deep seated, sweet berry Zinfandel aromas and flavors. It’s on the palate where this wine really shines – lively, zesty, finely textured qualities within a medium to medium-full body, with artful, spiced oak touches and firm yet unobtrusively rounded tannins. Lovely.

Jesse’s Grove, Earth, Zin & Fire 2006 – From vines averaging 40 years of age, this is crafted in an irresistible style, and is probably the finest $16 Zinfandel in the world. A two day cold soak prior to fermentation does the trick; front-loading gobs of blackberry jam varietal fruitiness, judiciously seasoned by the grape’s natural black pepper/clove-like spice. Soft and giving on the palate, but by no means a small thing (big 14.8% body), this is a quintessential, multiple food-friendly type of Zin that Lodi excels in.

Ugly Ducklings at the 2008 Santé Restaurant Symposium

One of Randall Grahm’s longtime favorite descriptions for the under-appreciated wines of the world is ugly ducklings. Another is heterodoxical.

In the restaurant business, we’ve simply called them “hard-to-sell” wines. The opposite might be Chardonnay, Merlot and Cabernet Sauvignon; although I daresay in many restaurants today Pinot Noir has replaced Merlot and Cabernet Sauvignon as the most popular red, and red wines in general are outselling whites, even in the hottest days of summer.

So what’s the big deal? Well, if you’re a restaurateur (or retailer) competing in a highly competitive market and have half a great notion to swing just slightly ahead of the curve – responding to market trends like Pinot Noir and reds outselling Merlot and whites as it all happens, rather than after the fact – then I think it behooves you to re-adjust your thinking on under-appreciated wines or grapes, even if Grahm’s verbal shticks have never rung your bell.

In the culinary world the ugly ducklings are indeed rearing their now-beautiful heads, and the signs are everywhere. You don’t have to look far. Take salads: or the one with edamame, mandarin oranges, toasted almonds and orange glazed chicken in a sesame ginger dressing – now offered at every McDonald’s across the U.S.A. What the eff? I’ll tell you what’s happening: if Americans like the taste of what they’re eating or drinking, they’re now buying it – no matter what it’s called, what it’s made of, and whether or not they know what they’re consuming.

It is not a stretch to say that American wine drinkers in general are more sophisticated than other consumers in culinary matters; and as such, predisposed to vinous heterodoxy, despite their ignoble, light beer and White Zinfandel guzzling past.

Let’s put it another way: our wine and food production industries have always known Americans are predictable, and easily swayed by advertising and fashion; but no one really said they were stupid. Sooner or later they catch on to the fact that edamame is a vegetable, Pinot Noir a fine wine, that Champagne comes from France, and Priorat and Prosecco also make mighty fine drinking.

All just a matter of time; but today, it seems, a lot sooner than before.

One of the best places for wine and culinary professionals to go every year to bolster their IQs is Manchester, Vermont, where the Santé Restaurant Symposium takes place. As wine and restaurant industry shows go, Santé magazine’s yearly thing is a low key affair (it’s Vermont, after all); but as industry shows go, it is also always a high impact affair: a powerful gathering of some of the most cerebral wine and restaurant professionals in the business, sharing information and sensory experiences among themselves. Not exactly the stuff of Devil Wears Prada. More like Sommeliers Sip Mencía, or Chefs Dig Micro-Greens – at least from what I saw in a couple of seminars.

Needless to say, this year’s Santé symposium (June 1-4) uncovered numerous wines of deliciously new import (and isn’t “deliciousness” the way we all identify all new wines and foods worth attention?) that would never have occurred to many of us in the business of selling wine and serving food twenty, ten, or even just five years ago. But then all ugly ducklings, as you might recall, turn into things of beauty.

And as it were, I took good notes; re:

UGLY DUCKLING WHITES

MandraRossa, Fiano 2007 (Sicily, Italy)

When I first sipped this white wine my mouth was watering for a salad of Asian pear, chèvre and mesclun in a honeyed vinaigrette. In retrospect, I think I might go further, dreaming of slivers of pungent Époisses de Bourgogne slathered in wild honey, or else foie gras with a rhubarb or strawberry chutney – all foods that ideally match the combination of scintillating acidity and honeyed, tropical fruitiness natural to the Fiano, a long overlooked grape known more to the ancient Romans than to Italians today. Winemaking has come a ways since Pax Romana, and modern day vineyard and winery technology applied by the highly respected Planeta family probably manufactures a purer expression of varietal fruit character: in their MandraRossa Fiano, lavender, lemon, and honeyed perfumes tinged with resiny, thyme-like notes; the slightly sharp, lemony dryness buoyed by a honeyed, white grape fruitiness on the palate. The best part? An average retail price of only $9 to $11. Sip up!

Bodegas Aura, Verdejo 2006 (Rueda, Spain)

Doug Frost MS/MW says he usually finds “stony dust” and pear-like perfumes in white wines made from Spain’s native Verdejo grape. I usually find more citrus – lemon and orange peel – mingling with the minerality; and in the Bodegas Aura ($17-$20 retail), the citrus is augmented by both dried peach and slightly green-leafy, herbal nuances. Very fresh, pure (unfettered by oak), and pleasing. The body is light-medium in weight, and the citrusy flavors are crisp without being sharp, dry and silky textured. An effortless match with a salad of bacalao (Portuguese style dried salt cod) in a mild vinaigrette, as it would anything with mildly tart sensations (seviche, adobo, ponzu salmon, Southeast Asian stir fry, etc.). Verdejo, in other words, is a wine for the type of multicultural foods we all love to eat today.

Martin Códax, Albariño 2007 (Rias Baixas, Spain)

Whites made from the Albariño grape have been a relatively recent, and most welcome, sight on many wine lists today. Some liken it to a “light-weight Viognier,” which is not just insulting, but also absurdly inaccurate. The Albariño makes flowery scented wines (like Viognier as well as Riesling), but with stone fruit (i.e. peach or nectarine) as well as flinty, minerally notes that you almost never find in Viognier. Classic Albariño tends to be lighter in weight than a Viognier, but is also decidedly crisper in acidity – two qualities giving it a distinct advantage over Viognier in terms of seafood versatility (which is not to say Viognier is not as food-worthy – it’s just different, asking for meatier matches). In any case, the Martin Códax ($14-$16 retail) has consistently been one of the more multifaceted Albariños in the American market these past few years, showing not just peach and lemon/citrus perfumes, but also lavender and violet-like fragrances, the varietal minerality manifesting itself more within a refined, tart edged length of medium body. A wine that practically screams for grilled oysters, flash seared certified American Wild Shrimp, or white fish in herb infused oils or vinaigrettes; and why resist?

Sella & Mosca, Terre Bianche 2003 (Sardinia, Italy)

Made 100% from Torbato, a white wine grape of ancient lineage, introduced to Italy and South-West France from Spain (where it is no longer cultivated) several centuries ago. If you prefer a crisply dry white that tastes more of terroir than fruitiness, this may be for you. Laura De Pasquale MS describes Torbato’s fruit character as being like apple skin and peach; but in the Terre Bianche, the nose is more of sweet lavender and orange peel, with slightly saline/briny, chalky notes, driven further on the palate in a zesty, light-medium body, smoothed over by a silky viscosity and traces of vanillin oak. At $19-$22, a relatively good value; exceptional if you prize palate-slaking, European qualities.

UGLY DUCKLING REDS

Domini 2004 (by Jose Maria de Fonseca; Douro, Portugal)

Now that Port has fallen slightly out of favor in the U.S. market, look out for more new, robust, vigorously flavorful, outrageously well priced table reds coming out of Portugal, made from the same grapes that go into classic Port. In the case of the Domini – a blend of Touriga Franca, Touriga Nacional and Tinta Roriz, retailing between $12 and $18. Black color and opulent nose – sweet black fruits in a box of vanillin oak – and if you dig a little deeper, a taste of leather and stony, granitic terroir on the palate, merging in a fleshy, medium-full body, thickened by round, polished tannins.

Quinta do Crasto, Touriga Nacional 2005 (Douro, Portugal)

Touriga Nacional is perhaps Portugal’s most revered grape, and this bottling drives it home: vivid purplish ruby leading to even more vivid, exhilarating blueberry, blackberry, and dried plum aromas, with violet-like floral notes. On the palate, the fruit intensity is couched in layers of velvet, big and voluptuously round on the palate. Undoubtedly, it is as much the grape as the ancient winemaking techniques (beginning with foot treading in traditional, shallow lagares, allowing for a whole cluster/berry fermentation that accentuates primary fruitiness) that frames this wine. Sensational with a Puerto Rican influenced risotto of pork with crispy pork rind. However which way you enjoy it, even at $60-$70 it is well worth the experience.

L’Ostal Cazes, Estibals Minervois 2005 (Languedoc, France)

Jean-Michel Cazes of Château Lynch-Bages is one of many “outsiders” who have been recently lured into the Languedoc by its ideal terroirs and Mediterranean climate; and his team of Bordeaux winemakers is now making one of Languedoc’s finest wines. The Estibals is a blend of mostly Syrah and Grenache, with a little Carignane, and it’s fruitful: a sweet berry nose tinged with violet and pungent garrigue (terroir related notes of lavender, thyme, rosemary and wild scrub). Unlike so many Minervois style blends that disappoint you with either weak, plodding flavors or coarse, drying tannins, the L’Ostal grabs you from the start with snappy, lush, juicy blackberryish flavors, floating on the palate with freshness and elegance. Retailing for just $15-$18, this is one wine that has resuscitated my once dying faith in South-Western French reds.

Bodegas Zabrin, Atteca 2006 (Calatayud, Spain)

This wine would not be so ridiculously good if not for its ridiculously good price ($13-$15 in most retail markets). Made from eighty to one-hundred year old vines of Garnacha (a.k.a. Grenache, the workhorse grape of Southern France), the nose is hugely rich and sweet (like fresh chocolate covered berries) and enlarged by smoky French oak; soft, round, medium-full, spiced berry qualities on the palate, tied down by firm tannins, making for a good, savory yet dry finish.

Dominio de Tares, Bem bi Bre 2004 (Bierzo, Spain)

Dominio di Tares makes a battery of reds from the native Mencía grape; grown in the terraced, high elevation, slate encrusted hills of the Bierzo region (towards Spain’s northwest tip, just north of Portugal) for eons, and once thought to be a mysterious remnant of the Cabernet Franc grape (in all likelihood, untrue). Lower priced variations – like Dominio de Tares’ Baltos Mencía (about $18) – are soft and plummy, with zesty acidity, a drying minerality and cocoa powder tannins. From eighty year old plantings, the Bem bi Bre ($40-$50) kicks it up at least a couple notches: intense, juicy aromas of raisined berries and a granitic minerality, inundated with a burnt leaf oakiness that combines with tannin charged fruit on the palate to forge long, sturdy, velvet textured flavors of wild berries, steeped plums and sprigs of peppermint. If there ever was a grape awaiting “discovery,” Mencía is it.

Casar de Burbia, Tebaida 2005 (Bierzo, Spain)

If you make great wine, even from an under-appreciated grape like Mencía, the collectors and hoity-toity restaurants eventually find you out, and place you in their precious trophy rooms. The Tebaida is even now such a rarity; “just” $65, and a blockbuster at that. Oodles of sweet blackberry emanate from the rim with penetrating, stony graphite qualities. Viscous, musclebound flavors are corded with supple tannin, the liqueur-like fruit qualities wrapped in smoky tobacco leaf, finishing strong, almost sweet. Are the stony notes derived from Casar de Burbia’s terroir, or is it just Mencía being Mencía? That information may already be unavailable to the common man; but if you find out, please drop this one a line.

Planeta, Cerasuolo 2006 (Sicily, Italy)

Made up of 60% Nero d’Avola, a robust native Southern Italian grape, rounded out by 40% Frappato. De Pasquale describes this lusciously soft, exuberantly Beaujolais-like red as a “basket of baby cherries,” which just about sums it up. I also found gingery spice nuances in its aroma and flavor; wrapped in a plump, pliant medium body, fresh and lively despite a soft acidity and negligible tannins. At $16-$20, this makes an exotic, easy drinking red, especially with charcuterie and lush, semi-soft cheeses with the usual fruit preserves. Throw in a side of lobster, a pound of cayenned crawfish or rock salted pulled pork, with or without the barbecue – you’ll find few wines as resilient enough to handle it all.

Zisola, Nero d’Avola 2006 (Sicily, Italy)

It is significant when the Mazzei family, who’ve been making wines in Tuscany (re the famed Castello di Fonterutoli) for more than six centuries, ventures into Sicily to produce wines made 100% from the Nero d’Avola grape. This is the third vintage of their Zisola, and it has progressed into something wild and electrical – vivid black/purple color, and a deep blackberry nose, steeped in bitter chocolate and roasted coffee. The body is big, densely textured, strapped with tannin, and spiked by zesty acidity and cracked peppercorn spices. De Pasquale sensibly suggests meats like charred beef ribeye with twists of black pepper, and I’d go so far as to suggest roasted green or red chile peppers – there is plenty enough wild berry fruit and spice in the Zisola to smooth over even hot sensations, providing there is enough fatty meat to digest the sturdy tannins. Another thought: cardamom and juniper berried pot roasts; whatever the case, at $24-$28 you’ll get more than enough bang for the buck in each bottle.

Àn/2 Anima Negra 2005 (Mallorca, Spain)

The island of Mallorca off the eastern coast of Spain is now known for more than its lush life and beaches; evidently, also for a red wine connoisseurs of exotica are praising for its lithe, lively, Pinot Noir-like delicacy, combined with Syrah-like color and spice. Àn/2’s Anima Negra (“black soul”) comes from a fifty year old vineyard planted to indigenous Mallorcan grapes (the Callet and Montenegro-Fongoneu), blended with a small proportion of Syrah. Think of all the variations of spiced foods possible in this: floral, sweet berry perfume smacking of raspberry, with intriguing gunflinty nuances resulting from the merging of the native grapes with toasted French oak; the smoky raspberry flavors lifted by zesty acidity and mild tannin, kissing the palate and finishing with a flourish of spiced, herb-leafy fruit. At $16-$19, Mallorca easily comes to you.

Condes de Leganza, Crianza 2004 (La Mancha, Spain)

This 100% Tempranillo from La Mancha summarizes all the reasons why the grape may very well become the “next big thing,” especially if West Coast plantings come to fruition (there are promising new plantings of Tempranillo in California’s Sierra Foothills, Southern Oregon and Eastern Washington). Sweet wild berries leap from the glass, with leafy, herby, minerally notes. On the palate, the Condes de Leganza is velvety smooth, medium-full with rounded tannins, thickly layered yet buoyantly fruity. All this for the earth-shattering sum of $12-$14. Why drink anything else?

Coto Real, Reserva 2001 (Rioja, Spain)

Produced primarily from the Tempranillo grape (about 80%, with Garnacha and Graciano), this is a Rioja lover’s dream red: starting with a plummy, lush berry aroma, almost maple-like in intensity and sweetness, framed by breathy earthiness and rose petal notes; the lush, round flavors compelling the palate in the entry, and then thickened by supple tannins, finishing long, dry, yet almost impossibly sweet and mouth-watering. Retailing for $45-$55, but worth its singularity of experience.

Finca Sandoval, Syrah 2005 (Manchuela, Spain)

The Syrah grape is not exactly an unknown entity; but in Manchuela – an ancient sub-region of Spain’s La Mancha plateau, just south of Madrid – the famous French grape has been acclimated to totally new environs. Like the great Syrah based reds of France as well as Australia, Finca Sandoval’s first vintages (only since 2001) have been purplish, almost black as night, dense and burly in body, with strapping tannins failing to contain a mountain of meaty, perfumed, black fruit flavors. Where it differs from French and Australian Syrahs is its own, protruding terroir – a solid, minerally, almost iron-like core, subtly aromatic, and gripping on the palate – marking this as one of the world’s more exciting expressions of the grape. $34-$39 average retail for this unique experience.

Jean-Luc Colombo, Cornas Les Ruchets 2005 (Northern Rhône Valley, France)

What is this classic, 100% Syrah based (by AOC law) French red doing in an “ugly duckling” story? Because Cornas is probably the most under-appreciated source of great Syrah in the world. So disrespected that even the mayor of Cornas recently suggested that most of its vineyards might be better off pulled and turned into condominiums (thank goodness, those plans were called off). Consumption doesn’t seem to be a problem – as one of France’s smallest appellations, there never really is enough Cornas to go around (barely 16,000 cases produced each year) – but rather the toll taken in the tilling of these spectacularly steep, crushed granite and limestone slopes, lashed by the brutal mistral, and demanding nothing less than a vigneron’s heart, soul, and bloodied offerings (in Celtic, Cornas is indeed “burnt earth”). Jean-Luc Colombo’s bottlings of Les Ruchets (a ninety-five year old grand cru) retail for around $75; but by all rights, it should be $175. But even collectors of “cult” Cabernet Sauvignons are usually dismayed by the impenetrably black, punishing, ungiving character of Cornas; there is nothing “sweet” or winsome about it. In the case of his ’05, the modernist Colombo at least instills a hint of violet and morsel of raspberry into the nose – but buried beneath whiffs of granitic terroir, scrubbed with oily, shrubby garrigue and green olive-like herbiness. On the palate, the wine is burly and brickish; and although the tannins are neither hard nor astringent, they definitely drive the palate, all but obliterating the flavor of classic Syrah juice – chewy, violet scented, black fruitiness – seeping into the finish. As Cornas goes, this may be as Syrah-like as they come; and as Syrahs go, a monument unto itself.

Myths, Chocolate & Other Sweet Mysteries of Life

Oh, to be blissfully unimpeded by thought or effort when matching wine with food. There’s nothing wrong with the “drink-whatever-you-like” approach when it comes to that. Not much different than when it comes to cooking: whenever you’re hungry, just open up a can of your favorite food or stop by the nearest fast food joint on the way home.

But if you give what you want to eat some considerable thought – weighing the proportions of herbs and spices, picking out the exact fresh ingredients you need – you know darn well that you can prepare something far better than what you can get from a can or drive-through. Just like if you give the wine for your dish some thought, weighing the components in each to make the most sensible choice, you can get a match that can turn an everyday meal into a repast worthy of Lucullus.

Most of us end up following at least a few general guidelines, beginning “white wine with fish, and red wine with meat.” Fair enough. Except for the fact that in numerous circumstances red wine tastes perfectly delicious with fish. So much for rule #1. Then there are numerous other “rules” that you can actually still read about in books or hear in conversation that also hold little water. So here’s what I say: forget the “rules.” Although it might be helpful to understand why and when they work, you also need to understand why and when they don’t work.

But first, let’s throw out these commonly repeated myths often passed as rules:

That “Great” Wines Make the Greatest Food Matches – In actuality, almost the opposite is true. Because I can’t put it any better, I’m going to let Kermit Lynch (quoting from his Adventures on the Wine Route) explain this to us:

When a woman chooses a hat, she does not put it on a goat’s head to judge it; she puts it on her own. There is a vast difference, an insurmountable difference, between the taste of a wine next to another wine, and the same wine’s taste with food…

Test it yourself. Take two impreccable wines, the Domaine Tempier Bandol rosé… and a bottle of Château Margaux, which many critics consider the finest Médoc of the day. Compare the two side by side. Award points. Do not be surprised if the Margaux wins handily. Now serve the same two wines with a boiled artichoke and rate them again. The Margaux is bitter and metallic-tasting, whereas the Bandol rosé stands up and dances like Baryshnikov… which is the better wine? Which wins?

That Lighter Style "Food Wines" Are Excuses for Weak, Inferior Wines – Nonsense. If you take a look at the wines of the world with the longest track records in the context of regional cuisines – Chianti in Tuscany, Sancerre in France, Rioja in Spain, and even the various pink, white and red wines of the French and Italian Riviera – you can see that they're all light, easy to drink, and relatively lacking in the taste of oak and the feel of high alcohol which characterizes most of the "serious" wines of today. Just because a wine is light in body and flavor doesn't make it inferior. The fact is, lighter, less expensive wines are most likely to go better with food – which in the average consumer's book would make them "better."

That Big "Oaky" Chardonnays Don't Go with Food – There are actually a lot of dishes with which a fuller bodied wine with the rich taste of oak – a vanillin or creamy, often smoky or even charred taste – would do a lot better than a lighter, pure fruit style of wine. Smoked or wood grilled meats, for instance, love a smoky, oaky wine. California style Chardonnays tend to be quite full and richly oaked to the point of creaminess (or as they say, “buttery”) – perfect for your everyday roasted chicken, dripping in naturally buttery, fatty juices. Then there are pork roasts, braised veal, sautéed sweetbreads, wood grilled swordfish, salmon in poaching broths… the list of oaky Chardonnay loving dishes goes on and on. In fact, there probably is no better wine for a holiday turkey – especially if cooked in a charcoal or wood roaster and stuffed with Chardonnay friendly sage, bread crumbs, and even seafood sausages or oysters – than any number of these "big, fat mamas," as David Rosengarten once described California's unsubtle style of Chardonnay.

That Higher Acid Wines Are Best with Food – Wines with crisp, lemony sharp acidity are indeed wonderful for food; especially if you're having plainly cooked fish that an acidic white wine can zest up like a squeeze of lemon. But put that same fish in a buttery sauce or rich, creamy or slightly salty shellfish stock reduction, and all of the sudden a high acid wine tastes thin and puckery, and the dish tastes oily and filling. In other words, low acid wines have as much a place with food as high acid wines. In fact, low acid wines are what Mediterranean gastronomy is all about! When you look at them, most of the wines of Italy and Southern France are fairly low in acid, and "fat" with fruitiness -- which only makes sense with foods driven by the taste of olive oil, plump beans and nostril tingling garlic.

That Sweet Wines Interfere with the Taste of Food – In many cases, yes. But in many other cases -- a sweet/sour/salty Chinese dish, chili spiked Thai food, a sugar laced barbecue sauce, or even a pizza with sweet tomatoes and caramelized onions – wines with a touch of sweetness, such as Riesling or even White Zinfandel, are a better balanced match than completely dry wines. Especially when dishes are really hot and spicy – in which case, slightly sweet wines can cool and freshen the palate like no others.

That Salads and Vinaigrettes Are Bad for Wine – Leafy greens tossed in harsh, acidic cider vinaigrettes are no good, with or without wine. But vinaigrettes made with soft, round, aromatic fine vinegars – such as balsamic, sherry, or rice wine vinegars – actually enhance, and liven up, the taste of wine. Throw in lush, vine ripened tomatoes, crunchy sweet onions, and salty, sensuous chunks of Roquefort, and you've got a fine match with off-dry Riesling, a fruity Chenin Blanc, or a well chilled pink wine made from Grenache, Zinfandel or Pinot Noir. With fresh herb crusted goat cheese, it's hard to beat a crisp, dry Sauvignon Blanc. Throw whole grain mustard into the dressing, and top things off with shredded duck or slivers of cold beef, then light, fragrant reds such as Pinot Noir and Beaujolais (made from the Gamay Noir grape) come into play. The bottom line is that when it comes to salads, the choice of wine is as endless as what you put in them.

That the Richest Foods Need the Richest Wines – This thinking will take you only so far. It works for red meats – Cabernet Sauvignons, for instance, are just right for fatty beef and lamb dishes. But when you slow cook red meat, achieving more intense, caramelized, complex flavors, a round, soft, even feminine Pinot Noir beats out a big, brash Cabernet Sauvignon or Merlot any day. For things like lobster, shrimp, crab and other sweet shellfishes, fairly light dry whites – such as Fumé Blanc, Pinot Blanc, or Pinot Gris/Pinot Grigio – tend to make a fresher combination than thick, heavy Chardonnay based whites from California or Burgundy in France. With spicy hot Asian foods, full bodied, dry style Gewürztraminers from Alsace or California usually taste harsh and bitter; whereas a delicate Riesling or a medium sweet, low alcohol Italian Moscato is more likely to out the flavor, rather than raw heat, of exotic, spicy seasonings.

That Chocolate Is an "Enemy" of Wine -- While not a card carrying member of the champagne-with-chocolate club, I say that anyone who hasn't had a Tawny Port with dense, bittersweet chocolate just hasn't lived. It's true that typical, sweet chocolates wreak havoc on things like bone dry champagne and sweet white wines, but sweet red wines handle – in fact embellish – the taste of chocolate with aplomb. Other sweet reds of this type include black, juicy Banyuls from France, rare Recioto di Valpolicellas from Veneto, and the occasional "varietal" Ports (such as Justin's Cabernet-based Obtuse) and “Late Harvest” Zinfandels from California

But wait, there’s more…

CHOCOLATE & DRY RED WINE MATCHES

Does chocolate necessarily require just sweet red wines to make a good match? In recent years I have been tackling that question in earnest, experimenting with a number of chocolate matches wit wines going beyond sweet reds, and have found that dry red wines can indeed make delicious matches providing these factors…

• The chocolate is made with the addition of zero or little sugar, plus zero to almost minimal amounts of the usual “fillers” (like milk, butter or eggs) to dark chocolate bases.

• The chocolate might contain the bitter shavings of raw cacao

• The chocolate is flavored with wine-friendly, scented ingredients

Withal, I have found that hand rolled or truffle molded chocolates made in this fashion can compliment an amazing range of dry red wines, as well as some sweet whites. A few particular favorites:

• Framboise laced chocolate with silky, raspberryish Cabernet Franc or Cabernet Franc based blends (suggestions: Lang & Reed’s Napa Valley “Premier Étage” or Justin’s Paso Robles “Justification”)

• Hazelnut specked chocolate with refined, woodsy Tuscan Sangiovese (suggestions: Avignonesi’s Vino Nobile di Montepulciano or Castello di Fonterutoli’s Chianti Classico)

• Espresso bean chocolate with lush, nut nuanced Amarone (personal choice/favorite: La Colombaia’s Amarone della Valpolicella)

• Raspberry flavored chocolate with big, thick, luscious, berry/jammy Zinfandels (suggestions: Lodi grown Zinfandels like Jesse’s Grove’s “Earth, Zin & Fire,” Earthquake or Macchia)

• Mocha flavored chocolate with tobacco-smoky, earthy, berryish Spanish Tempranillo based reds (suggestions: Remirez de Ganuza’s Rioja or Tinto Pesquera’s Ribera del Duero “Crianza”)

• Milk chocolate with shaved raw cacao, with fuller, black fruit toned Pinot Noir (suggestions: Radio-Coteau’s Sonoma Coast or Tandem’s Sonoma Mountain Pinot Noir)

• Black chocolate with shaved raw cacao, with velvety, fruit forward, medium weight Cabernet Sauvignon (suggestions: Faust’s Napa Valley or Justin’s Paso Robles Cabernet Sauvignon)

• White chocolate with key lime, with fragrantly sweet Moscato (suggestions: Saracco’s Moscato d’Asti or St. Supery’s California Moscato)

Sound like a party to you? Works for me!

Wine, Cheese & Culinary Debauchery

They say that cheesemaking goes back as long ago as 9,000 BC, when animals were first domesticated for their milk. Milk is turned into cheese by an enzyme known as rennet, originally found in the lining of calves’ stomachs. Seems some ancient dude decided to carry his milk in such a skin, checked it out a little later and I’ll-be-a-bull-bucker, he “discovered” cheese.

Like cheese, wine is the product of a natural fermentation, and at which point in history the first wine and cheese parties were being held is anybody’s guess. But we do know that like the great cheeses of the world, the great wines of the world became clearly identified with specific regions of origin quite some time ago. There is Stilton from England, Parmigiano-Reggiano from Italy, Roquefort and Époisses de Bourgogne from France; just like there’s Rioja from Spain, Chianti from Italy, and Bordeaux and Bourgogne from France. Hallelujah, pass the biscuits.

The relationship between wine and cheese, in this sense, is historical and sensory to the point of spirituality: you don’t have to understand it to know it works. Certain wines are likely to taste better when consumed with the lush, solidified combination of milky sensations, acids, salt and amino acids of certain cheeses. Vice versa, the alcohol, acidity, sugar and tannin of certain wines not only helps the palate break down and digest the sensory components of certain cheeses, a well chosen wine can bring out distinctive, subtle flavors in a cheese otherwise not noticed without the wine.

So what are the best wine and cheese combinations? I don’t think anything is “best,” but there certainly are a lot of good, fun, practical matches. The subject of wine and cheese, of course, has been tackled in many places, and my own conclusions are based upon tastings upon tastings over the years, with small groups of friends, one, two, sometimes as much as a dozen at a time.

Some of my favorites:

Chèvre (French or Regional American)

Goat’s milk cheese is made everywhere in the world, but the historical match is Loire River Chèvre with the white wines vinified purely from Loire River grown Sauvignon Blanc. Combining Chèvre and Sauvignon Blanc is like a lesson in Wine/Food Matching 101: a mingling of sensory similarities – the lemony acidity of the grape balancing the sharply acidic taste of goat’s milk, and earthy flavor of Chèvre amplified by the minerally, often flinty and herbal taste of Sauvignon Blanc.

Sancerre and Pouilly Fumé are the Loire’s best known Sauvignon Blanc producing appellations, but you may find even better matches in lesser known, idiosyncratic growths such the strongly earthy whites of Cheverny, the citrusy light taste of Quincy, and the tart/silk juxtapositions found in Menetou-Salon.

Needless to say, Sauvignon Blancs and goat cheeses are made all over the world, and the combination generally works across the board, often with serendipity. I find, for instance, handcrafted Chèvres from Tennessee, Georgia, California and the Big Island of Hawaii to be generally milder in acidity and earth tones than French Chèvres like Valencay and Crottin de Chavignol, yet almost perfect with the more mildly acidic, floral and fruit driven Sauvignon Blancs of, say, California. For the fruity yet more strongly herbal style of Sauvignon Blanc grown in New Zealand, you can take your pick: French Chèvres tend to do a better job of rounding out the tart, green qualities of New Zealand Sauvignon Blancs, but domestic Chèvres tend to delineate the fruity, often mildly sweet qualities of New Zealand Sauvignon Blancs.

And with a little more brevity:

Herbed or Peppered Chèvres (U.S.)

The ever-popular variations of Chèvres – coated with everything from cracked black pepper (Laura Chenel’s classic Peppered Chèvre) to earthy red peppers (Bonnie Blue’s Southwest Chèvre), and from pungent Italian herbs (rosemary, oregano and dried garlic) to fragrant variations of “French” mixtures (thyme, marjoram, basil, rosemary, sage, bay, lavender, et al.) –

drastically alter your choice of wine. Cultural matches – Chianti Classico, Montepulciano or Montalcinos with Italian herbed Chèvres, and Bourgogne Rouge, Pinot Noir or Chinon with French herbed Chèvres – are both logical and spot-on. With peppers, it can be even more fun: what can be more predictably delicious with black peppercorn goat cheeses than black peppery California Petite Sirahs or Zinfandels? With pungent, earthy Southwest style red chile coated cheeses, peppery yet perfumed Syrahs from anywhere in the world?

Feta (Greece)

Although we do not really sit down with plates of plain Feta, we use this quiveringly soft, briny, earthy goat’s milk cheese often enough in our dishes to consider the sensory ramifications of its pointedly sharp and salty taste. As with any food high in acidity and saltiness, the natural matches are wines with moderate degrees of residual sugar and/or fruitiness. Off-dry Rieslings (particularly zesty Mosel-Saar-Ruwers) and Chenin Blanc based Loire River whites (Vouvray for fruitiness, Savennieres for dryness) are the easy ones; although since many New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc as well as Pinot Gris bottlings are finished with whispers of residual sugar, they do a surprisingly good job as well of rounding out the tart, salty taste of Feta.

Havarti (Denmark)

Here’s a match rarely entering the minds of wine and cheese lovers. Whereas Chèvres are tart and earthy, Havarti is soft, creamy, almost sweet and springy with fruitiness – a natural with most California grown styles of Chardonnay precisely because of their creamy, lower acid, soft, almost sweet, springy, fruitiness.

Gouda & Smoked Gouda (Netherlands)

From the Dutch city of Gouda, this famous cheese is firm yet very creamy in taste, developing a crunchy (from protein crystals), caramel-like sweetness as well as faintly nutty, mushroom-like notes well before it hits the market. Fruity California Chardonnays are an easy match; the sweet vanillin, French oak notes manufactured by more serious producers made all the more lush and textured by the cheese. But an even better match may be the Chardonnay based whites of France with Smoked Gouda. And it doesn’t have to be high priced Meursaults or Montrachets, because moderately scaled appellations like Petit Chablis, Saint-Aubin, Mâcon and Pouilly-Fuissé do a perfectly fine job of bringing out the nutty, earthy nuances of Smoked Gouda.

Bufala Mozzarella (Italy)

By itself, this soft, round cheese, packed in its own liquified whey – at their best, enjoyed within days after production – invites any soft, round, fruity white of low to moderate acidity. Pinot Grigio and Frascati are naturals, but so are most Chardonnays from around the world.

Smoked Mozzarella (Italy)

For me, the smoky variations of Mozzarella positively scream for round, fruit driven Chardonnays fermented and aged in distinctively toasted barrels. Char on char, like blonde on blonde; wham, bam, thank you, ma’am. Yet while sharper on the palate, the flinty qualities of French grown Sauvignon Blancs always mix and mingle easily with the smoky flavors of this style of Mozzarella; the wine’s acidity accentuating the cheese’s fresh, milky flavor and texture with contrast rather than similarity.

Brie & Camembert (France)

I’ve found that cheese and wine lovers are willing to go in at least three different directions with these lush, pungent, often fickle soft ripened cheeses: Fruity New World Chardonnays match the soft, buttery texture of these cheeses; whereas stonier, terroir driven Old World Chardonnays (from Burgundy as well as South Africa) round out both the creamy and earthy notes of these cheeses. Sauvignon Blancs (from anywhere in the world), on the other hand, offer the minerally/herbal notes to moderate the earthy, ammonia-like notes of Bries and Camemberts, on top of a sharply contrasting acidity that freshens the palate, keeping the runny, buttery taste of Bries and Camemberts from tiring the senses.

Triple Crème (France)

Here begins a life of decadence; at least for me, having always been enthralled by how well some of the biggest, oakiest, and correspondingly most expensive California Chardonnays match with the richest and most lavish of soft ripened cheeses – Triple Crèmes such as the plump, white crusted Brillat-Savarin, the high octane Boursault, or the lush, sensual Explorateur. In this case, these over-the-top cheeses (defined by its having at least 75% butterfat) merely share the similar excess of rich, fat creaminess that make Chardonnays so attractive, yet are just mild enough in flavor to allow the sweet apple-like fruitiness of the grape shine on through.

Boursin (France)

The intrinsic spiciness of classic Pinot Noirs is absolute dynamite with one of the most flavorful of world’s seasoned cheeses: ultra-creamy, snowy white Boursin from France’s Normandy region. Boursin comes in two flavors – “Garlic & Fine Herbs,” and “Pepper.” I particularly like the lush, fruit forward, sweetly perfumed styles of American grown Pinot Noirs for the pungently herbed, peppery tastes of these cheeses; while Boursin is the only cheese I know with the softness to match the lush yet snappy texture of American grown Pinot Noirs, yet retain the intensity of flavor to consistently smooth out the any excess tannin while amplifying the grape’s fragrant complexities.

Manchego (Spain)

Once fromagers begin aging their products for six months or longer, cheeses such as the sheep’s milk Manchego become deeper, firmer and more complex: essentially becoming cheeses for red wines, given the depth derived during red wine production (i.e. fermentation with skins and longer aging processes). Fresh, tangy, yet mature, mildly salty, faintly sweet, crunchy Manchego is one cheese that adapts to almost any red of medium to high tannin, lower acidity and some degree of wood aging. In this sense, Rioja, Ribera del Duero, Merlot, Cabernet Sauvignon, and Bordeaux style blends will seldom be difficult matches, although Manchego does have a tendency to take a little stuffing out of of slightly sharper, more lightly pigmented reds like Beaujolais, Pinot Noir and some of the simpler Sangiovese based wines of Tuscany.

Parmigiano-Reggiano (Italy)

Because of its high amino acids, we usually think of Parmigiano as more of a condiment than an eating cheese; which is a shame, because there is nothing like shavings of Parmigiano with glasses of deep, sturdy, aggressively oak aged reds made from any of the Bordeaux varieties (Malbec, Merlot, Cabernet Franc, Petit Verdot and Cabernet Sauvignon) bottled as varietals or blends. Of course, deeper, denser Tuscan reds such as Brunello respond readily to the deep, fruity/nutty, crystallized taste of Parmigiano, which brings out a sweetness in oak and tannin laden wines not otherwise perceived by the palate. The Italians themselves, as it were, are fond of serving Parmigiano -Reggiano with the light, lithe, lively sparkling wines of Veneto called Prosecco; in which case, you'll find a similarities of textures (the crunch of the cheese, the crispness of the sparklers) and sweetness (the whispers of sweetness in Prosecco coaxing out the sweet crystal taste of the cheese). Big red, light sparkler... it's all good.

Cheddars (International)

Practically all the world’s great aged Cheddars – from English Farmhouse to Canadian Diamond, and domestics like the Sharps of Vermont and Tillamook in Oregon – possess even firmer, tangier, but also deeper caramelized butter flavors that do amazing jobs of smoothing out the rough, boisterous edges of young to middle aged reds manufactured from Cabernet Sauvignon and other high extract, generous tannin grapes. By the same token, the sharp, saturated taste of many Cheddars may smother the nuances of the same reds if well matured (cellared fifteen years or longer), but how many of us are actually drinking this on a regular basis anyway?

Blue Cheeses (International)

Generally speaking, the salty, sharp, and yes, moldy, taste of the great blue veined cheeses of the world respond best to the great sweet wines of the world – easy as pie, and as pleasing as pineapple sauce on a ham. After that, the preferences become personal. Many swear by French Sauternes with France’s ewe’s milk Roquefort (most other blue cheeses are made from cow’s milk), although I like the somewhat rounder, smoother, nevertheless rich and tangy blue cheese quality of Iowa’s Maytag Blue even better with these golden, full bodied blends of late picked Sémillon and Sauvignon Blanc. Denmark’s Danablu is just as silky as the aforementioned, but my instinct is to pull out a zestier, flowery, dried apricot-like late harvest Riesling (German, Californian, or Australasian) rather than a Sauternes to match its somewhat sharp, briny bite. The Brits reach for a well aged Vintage or Tawny Port when they unwrap their Stilton – magnificently deep, creamy, yet “mellow” in its blue-cheesiness – although I have been surprised by how equal to the match with fortified reds Italy’s Gorgonzola can be, for all its mild, buttery, crumbly sensations.

In fact, Gorgonzola with more moderately alcoholic, lusciously sweet reds such as Italy’s Recioto di Valpolicella, Banyuls from France, and the occasional Late Harvest Zinfandels from California… so good together, why don’t you just go ahead and shoot me where I sit with my plate and wine stained fingers!

Great Plonk & Ideal Syrah Food Matches

By now, everyone who appreciates good wine has been long aware of the fact: South Australia produces some of the greatest red wines of the world, and its centerpiece is the rich and unruly Shiraz (otherwise known as Syrah in the rest of the world).

Without a doubt, the Barossa Valley, McLaren Vale, and Coonawarra are the three best known regions for Shiraz production in South Australia. Because of the fame of these districts, we are also beginning to see other wines from this state which bear less familiar regional distinctions; such as Clare Valley, Eden Valley, Langhorne Creek, Padthaway, Limestone Coast, Adelaide Hills, and the least known of all, Kangaroo Island.

But even Kangaroo Island – only recently cultivated to wine grapes – is already producing wines of serious import. Meaning, Shiraz based reds that knock your socks off, and blends of Shiraz with Cabernet Sauvignon or Grenache that fuse power with grace.

In my two visits to Australia I never did get to cross the chilly waters south of Adelaide to Kangaroo Island, but I have gotten many a good, hard look at bottlings exemplifying what makes South Australian wines the way they are.

Perhaps the biggest advantage that South Australia has over other wine regions of the world is its wealth of old vines planted on their original rootstocks. Virtually all the vineyards of Europe and the U.S., by contrast, were wiped out by phylloxera – a root louse which continues to wreak havoc even up until today – by the beginning of the 20^th century, and had to be replanted on non-vinifera rootstocks.

Much of South Australia, on the other hand, has been unaffected by phylloxera. And so to this day, many of its original, ungrafted plantings of Vitis vinifera – vines of 75, 100, and even over 125 years of age – continue to produce wines of enormous concentration, buoyed by the natural balance of low yield, moderate leaf canopy and bunch growth typical of old vine viticulture.

What I have also always found pleasantly surprising about Australia is its sea of young vines – vineyards less than ten years of age – producing beautifully intense wines almost right out of the box. While varied, the districts of South Australia tend to be warm and very dry. In other parts of the world this may translate into thin, overripe wines.

However, South Australia's vineyards are largely made up of extremely shallow, gravelly, clay dominated soils layered over hard pans and hillsides that vine roots have difficulty penetrating -- the type of highly limiting, low vigor conditions that wine grapes tend to love. Vines in McLaren Vale, for instance, are typically grown in just six to twelve inches of topsoil; the vineyards located right alongside deeply carved quarries that yield blue colored gravel used for concrete. No wonder McLaren Vale is often singled out for such dense, gnarly, powerfully fruited wine!

The proof, as always, is in the pudding; and in the U.S. we are seeing a broader range of these top quality South Australian brands than ever before. For a good introduction, here are a few of my favorites:

PURE SHIRAZ

Mollydooker, “The Boxer” South Australia Shiraz - After many years of working with the incredible wines of Sparky and Sarah Marquis (famed for Fox Creek, Henry’s Drive, Marquis Philips, et al.), I only recently learned that their last name is correctly pronounced as mar-kwis. This, even after having visited with them (in 2001) in South Australia to find out the “secret” behind the consistent high-flying intensity and pure velvet textures of their wines, virtually across the board. What can I share? There is no secret – just a smart, meticulously detailed approach to winemaking from the ground up. Mollydooker is the couple’s most recent venture, and the silly thing about the “The Boxer” is that its plush, juicy, wham-bam quality is no less intense than Shirazs selling for two, three times more. Expect pungent American oak (vanillin-coconut notes) along with typically Aussie, round, fruit-bomb flavor; but its price (as little as $14 retail in some markets) makes it a one of the world’s greatest wine values.

St. Hallet, "Blackwell" Barossa Valley Shiraz - To the Aussies, everything is bloody this and bloody that; the first drink of the day is a heart-starter; and when it's a good one, evidently it's good-on-ya. I'm beginning to see the pattern; as this bloody red, sinewy wine certainly gets your heart pumping with sweet and lush aromatic qualities that later dive bomb onto the palate like raspberry napalm. Like their footy (football), this style of winemaking is strictly "Australian Rules."

Peter Lehmann, "Stonewell" Barossa Valley Shiraz - Typical of the Australian style, the Stonewell is not shy in the oak department. Yet the immensely rich, sweet pepper and violet-on-leafy-green fruit fragrances seem to suck in smoky/vanillin wood like a black hole; in the same way that the wine's brawny, tannic structure is absorbed by layers of juicy, concentrated fruit flavors.

Henry's Drive, Padthaway “Reserve” Shiraz - Henry's Drives exhibit great power but never without a deft sense of balance – like this one, charged up with sweetly perfumed, juicy, briary, black pepper and allspice-like fruit, going full blast in the nose, and giving a layered, meaty, gripping, yet miraculously round and pliant feel on the palate.

Dutschke, "St. Jacobi" Barossa Valley Shiraz - This wine comes with a heavy metal jacket of tannin (non-tannin lovers need not apply), while also epitomizing the compelling strengths of South Australian style Syrah – luscious, smoky oaked fruit aromas punctuated with spice steeped plums and cracked peppercorn nuances, followed by full, almost fat, yet massively structured, velvety flavors that go long into the black night.

Clarendon Hills, "Hickinbotham Vineyard" Shiraz – This pure Syrah, from a spectacular, higher elevation, rolling hillside estate, combines the blunt, brutish, clobbering structure associated with South Australia with a sumptuously rich, oily, satisfyingly lush taste. Does it mean that it's conflicted? No, it means that a wine lover needs to take it for what it is; and if you can handle its brash, full throttled character – and the Parkerized $70+ price points – you'll greatly appreciate its richly fruited, meaty, nostril tingling qualities.

Wild Duck Creek, “Springflat” Heathcote/Victoria Shiraz - Another ultra-ripe, almost raisiny black and plummy aromatic style, with strapping tannins lending a mouth watering note to a thick, round, juiciness on the palate. “Over the top,” you might say, but no doubt just right for hardcore Shiraz drinkers.

Fox Creek, McLaren Vale "Reserve" Shiraz - Is it any wonder that the most extreme style of Australian Syrah is now considered the finest? Praise the lord and pass the toothbrush, as this wine is black as a dungeon, with purple stained tones. The nose is huge – a sweet, billowing concentration of blue and red berry Syrah qualities, practically sensed by the eyelids – followed by opulent flavors bursting through a powerful, iron clad structure bolstered by gripping tannins.

Torbreck, “Runrig” Shiraz – In the heart of the Barossa Valley, Torbreck cultivates a stable of powerful, Shiraz-dominated, dry farmed vineyard bottlings, but the Runrig is the sum of the estate’s best parts. Proprietor David Powell describes it as “Vintage Port-like,” and that’s as good a description as any. Its size seems to go far beyond its typical 14.5% structure, and it breaks the scale with blackberry and dark roasted coffee intensity, stirred up with drops of marmalade and the slap of leather typifying the house style. If there’s any one Australian wine worthy of its $100-plus price point, this is probably it.

SHIRAZ/GRENACHE/MOURVÈDRE BLENDS

Classic McLaren, "La Testa" Grenache/Shiraz/Cabernet Sauvignon - This brand is aptly named, as it demonstrates the classic South Australian blend that takes the best of the Grenache (a white peppery, sweet raspberry fruitiness), Shiraz (black pepper and violet perfumes plus strapping, meaty structure) and Cabernet Sauvignon (black licorice and blackcurrant liqueur-like concentration) grapes, and combines all of this into a big, burly, yet round and seamless structure, enthralling the senses as much as intellect.

d'Arenberg, McLaren Vale "d'Arry's Original" Shiraz-Grenache - Don't think of this as a masterpiece, but as a kinder, smoother, seemingly effortless two-way blend by one of South Australia's most dependable producers. Here the sweet strawberry nose is shot through with black peppercorn and black fruit perfumes, tinged by sweet dill-like, leafy-herbal notes. On the palate, the d'Arry's is fruity and round, happily supported by the taste of warm oak and smooth tannins.

Grant Burge, "The Holy Trinity" Grenache/Shiraz/Mourvèdre - This bigger priced behemoth of a red offers stupendously aromatic fruit – smoky oak, plummy-sweet fruit, black leather, black pepper and star anise-like spice – as well as a deluge of thickly tannic, yet sweetly layered flavors. If you're easily undone by a big wine's deleterious effects, I suggest you stay clear; otherwise, you're likely to see angels.

Torbreck, Barossa Valley "Woodcutter's Red" - A sweetly oaked and concentrated (yet perfectly big and dry), juicy rich blend of three classic Southern French grapes – mostly Grenache, and usually equal proportions of Shiraz and Mourvèdre. Thick and chunky on the palate, a propensity towards leathery brett nuances, yet with sweet cassis-like flavors that slip and slide fairly easily across the palate despite an animal-like girth and generosity.

Charles Melton, "Nine Popes" (Grenache/Syrah/Mourvèdre) - This rare, New World classic hums like a street symphony – sweet raspberry, breathy oak, and soft yet muscular textures -- which gel into a thick, powerful, heady finish. Stops the heart, then gets it pumping again.

SHIRAZ/CABERNET SAUVIGNON BLENDS

Scarpantoni, McLaren Vale "School Block" Shiraz/Cabernet Sauvignon/Merlot - Not all South Australian ultra-premium wines of today are ultra-premium priced, and neither are all of them tempests in a teapot. This one, in fact, is a calm, cool, and collected $15-$18 wine (terrific value!); a velvety textured blend of rich chocolate, brown spice, soft leather, and ringingly bright, cassis-like fruit, stretching round and smoothly across the palate.

ADW, "The Hattrick" - The Hattrick is winemaker Tony DeLisio's (who also crafts the Classic McLaren wines) vinous equivalent to a Triple Crown, combining mostly Shiraz with Grenache and Cabernet Sauvignon from three different regions, and it's usually phenomenal – a powerful nose, spraying black pepper and lush, sweet black fruit all over the place, following up with a magnificently full, thick preponderance of Shiraz flavor, hitting the palate with both hip-hop style and classical grace.

Parson's Flat, Padthaway Shiraz/Cabernet Sauvignon – Parson’s Flat’s original winemaker/architect, Sparky Marquis, loves to talk in terms of "matrix" and “synergy” when discussing his endeavored flavor profiles. It all becomes clear, however, when you taste a wine like this, which takes off on all cylinders. A huge, heady nose – aromas of black and green pepper, smoke, succulent black fruit, and an entire forest of leafy, woodsy trees – plus its full, fleshy, chocolaty, black fruit and glycerol textured flavors, lashed against thick, brawny, muscular tannins.

Wolf Blass, "Black Label" South Australian Cabernet Sauvignon/Shiraz - While dominated by vanillin, slightly dill-like, charred oak aromas, this classic brand delivers a sumptuously round and intense harmony of Cabernet (blackberry liqueur) and Syrah (peppery spice) flavors; stuffed to overflowing, yet coming across as fine and elegant on the palate.