Thomas Cottrell is Bellevue Club’s wine consultant and the owner of La Cantina Wine Merchants.
What is it about Zinfandel? Why is it that this most distinctive American wine gets no respect? Why do collectors spend big bucks on powerhouse Cabernets and Syrahs, while avoiding Zins whenever they en-counter them? Even the recently demeaned
Merlot seems to have a higher standing in the vinous world. It’s all simply so wrong. After all, the American wine industry was founded and thrived for years on this grape. It was the backbone of California’s “Burgundy” and “Claret” dating back to the gold rush days. Until the modern age of
California winemaking began in the 1960s, most of the wine that Americans drank was heavily based on
Zinfandel. There are three good reasons for this. The first is Zin’s tendency to produce large, healthy crops. Second, it doesn’t require the usual system of support wires and posts; the plants stand alone, around three feet in height, in what is called “head pruning.” Last, and most important, Zin just tastes good, whether produced in the light, fruity style that may remind you of Beaujolais or the big, chewy approach that’s almost too intensely flavored to pair with food. And what does Zin taste like?
(At this point I pause to remind you that we’re not talking about White Zinfandel here. Zinfandel is red, red, red—robustly so. White Zin is a blush wine created by the folks at Sutter Home back when the white wine craze hit circa 1973. It was a great way for them to use all those red grapes up; the juice, after all, is white—it’s the skins that give the wine color.) According to the folks at ZAP (Zinfandel Advocates and Producers), a noble organization in my opinion, most tasters will find some combination of the following in a glass of Zin, depending on where the grapes were grown and what the winemaker did to them: blackberry, raspberry, boysenberry, cherry, cranberry, strawberry, black currant and plum. Interspersed among all those fruit flavors would be: black pepper, cloves, anise, herbs, cedar and chocolate. How can you resist?
Apart from the sheer deliciousness of the wines, there’s the intriguing story or, more accurately, the mystery of the grape. Simply put, Zinfandel is the historic wine of the United States because of its great success in
California, not because it’s a native American grape. In fact, the first reference to Zin goes back only as far as the 1820s when a Long Island nursery owner brought the grape to this country from Austria. It first made its way to California only in the 1850s. Yet there’s no grape grown anywhere in Europe named Zinfandel!
It took until 1994 and the advent of DNA tracking before we learned conclusively that Zinfandel and a relatively rare grape called Primitivo in Italy are one and the same. Yet the mystery continues—we’re not al-together sure where this Primitivo came from. The most recent evidence supports the idea that it came to Italy from Croatia, just across the Adriatic Sea. But the research goes on. I have a number of favorite Zinfandels, wines that I rely on year in and year out. I especially enjoy the various bottlings of Ridge and their experiments blending Zin with a multitude of Mediterranean grapes. Rosenblum has turned out a succession of fine offerings from old vineyards scattered around the Bay Area. And Cline continues to amaze with delicious, bargain-priced Zins (and Rhone varieties as well).
Most recently I’ve tasted a few bottles that I thought memorable, for different reasons. A new charmer from the Don Sebastiani group is the 2004 Mia’s Playground “Old Vine” Zinfandel (Russian River Valley, $13)—a soft, gulpable red that displays a hint of every fruit flavor listed above. No doubt the screwcap keeps the wine so delightfully fresh-tasting. Very much in the same style—classic, in other words—is a Gallo product (trust me here): 2004 Rancho Zabaco “Dancing Bull” Zinfandel (California, $10). Smooth yet lively, it is available widely ... and cheaply. I always keep a few bottles around the house, especially in warm weather, because you can chill it for 30 minutes and have a delicious red that really hits the spot. Almost a year ago I discovered the small winery Four Vines that produces several different Zins, all of which I enjoyed, all priced at $20. Their 2003 “Sophisticate” (Sonoma County) is an
elegant, polished style that will please the most tough-nosed Zin-hater. The 2003 “Maverick” (Amador County) may be hard to find, but is worth the search because of its rich, complicated flavors and impressive length. Lovers of the bigger-is-better school should seek out the 2003 “Biker” (Paso Robles); this dark, brooding monster was definitely “born to be wild.” Save it for your boldest dishes. Four Vines has several other Zins, including some blends. They’re all worth trying, as are Zinfandels in general—there are so many and they are so varied. With our quintessential American meal, Thanksgiving, coming soon, think seriously about serving a quintessential American wine with the old bird. Start doing your research immediately.
