Wine affairs
By Todd M. WernstromChange has again firmly taken its place as the No. 1 thing to be for or associated with in this seemingly never-ending election cycle. As always, being thought of as an agent of change trumps experience, compassion, intelligence and honesty - in short, any attribute one might want in the leader of the free world. But for all the exhortations, the new frontier we are urged to venture to generally isn't that new. It should come as no great surprise that this pattern of false promise repeats itself in the more fanciful world of wine.
That there is a brave new wine world out there hasn't truly moved most of us - consumer nor critic - to seek it. East, west, north and south of just about any point of origin of place or grape, there are sublime wines made in superlative venues by serious practitioners. Reams have been written about discoveries from Austria to Uruguay, aglianico to ugni blanc (better known as trebbiano). But more often than not - in fact, a lot more often than not - we choose to fill it to the brim with our red and white standbys. Cab and Merlot, Chardonnay and Sauvignon Blanc, are, for better or worse, our chosen ones (Syrah/Shiraz and Pinot Noir, and Pinot Gris, mostly Grigio, are next in the polling, it seems).
Even that pied piper of critics, Robert Parker, hasn't been able to rid us of our habits. If it's true that he has trumpeted loudly Bordeaux, Super Tuscans, Burgundy both white and red, culty Cal Cabs and Chards, and others in the Big Four category, it's just as true that he has spilled lots of ink vouching for Sagrantino (that's from Umbria, by the way), Tempranillo, Garnacha and Malbec, among many, many others. This isn't to say that his acolytes don't load up on all his 90-plusers no matter how esoteric the provenance. They do, and will.
But in virtually any and every category that counts - volume of production, cost, distribution, press coverage and, most important, consumption - the usual suspects are tops. The Sisyphus-like struggle undertaken by the advocates for some cherished varietal other than these most common ones may not exactly be pointless, but it is misdirected. The enlightened ones, those for whom, for instance, a delicate dry Riesling or Chenin Blanc from Savennières epitomize the very essence of the wine experience, might consider keeping their enlightenment to themselves. History is replete with examples of the excesses of proselytizing. It's time to just let them drink their Merlot.
Rather than continue to try to convert the unconvertible, here's a modest proposal: An occasional one-night stand with a total stranger might be just
the thing to freshen a stale palate. Your steady probably won't even know you've "strayed."
Those of you who have long felt that there is nothing better than your big glass of buttery Chardonnay are probably just as tired of hearing about the virtues of Albariño as its supporters are of lobbying you. How about one night you pick up a bottle of Fiano di Avellino from Mastroberardino or Feudi di San Gregorio instead? Fiano, arguably Italy's best white grape, can have the body of Chardonnay, some of the nuttiness of white Burgundy, but little of the sweetness of many California versions. I'm not suggesting that you switch allegiances, just that you try it once.
For the Kiwi Sauvignon Blanc devotee, kerner, a little-known variety of Germanic origin, can result in wines with the crispness of SB with none of the associated shrillness. It might not be easy to find, but Manni Nössing's would be worth looking for; it's only one night, after all. Or the aforementioned Savennières would work as long as it's the current release; once this version of Chenin gets on in age, it becomes one of the world's most compelling, nuanced dry whites, something that most Sauvignon Blanc drinkers probably wouldn't expect.
Red stand-ins are even easier to come by. Despite its undisputed place at the very top of the red grape hierarchy, there are a few places where cab will never be king. Northeast Italy is one of them. There, you're more likely to come across oddities like lagrein (la-grine), pignolo and refosco (the cab that does grow there is typically franc, not sauvignon). These three varieties, though distinct, share some common attributes: food-friendly acidity, potential for richness and balance, and beautiful earthiness. Practitioners of note include Girlan, Josef Niedermayr and Josephus Mayr (lagrein); Dorigo (pignolo); and Dorigo, Livon and Zamò (refosco).
Because my proclivities are decidedly more of the French and Italian varieties, I'll offer a few more that have fairly highly recognizable names but are made with grapes that are mostly not. Amarone and Châteauneuf-du-Pape have nothing to do with each other grape-wise, but wine-wise they both offer the big red drinker an even more intense experience than can just about any Cab (and most certainly, any and all Merlots), no matter how extracted.
Corvina might just be better known as a flaky-fleshed, saltwater fish than as the main ingredient of Amarone. Grenache will always be second fiddle to shiraz in Australia, but not so in the Southern Rhône where it is the unquestioned star. Both grapes (and their blend mates) result in minerally, concentrated reds that practically ooze kirsch-strength red and black fruit - Amarone leans toward cherry; Châteauneuf toward licorice-scented blackberry. Wood and tannins are typically less in evidence than they are for big ticket Cabs, their often-silky texture showing that they are all the better for it.
I can honestly say that I've never had a bad Amarone or Châteauneuf (not that I recall, anyway, given that their alcohol levels routinely clock in at 15-plus), so you're in fairly safe territory for your one-night fling. Names like Beaucastel and Vieux Télégraphe are high up on any Southern Rhône-fancier's list; Janasse and Château de la Nerthe should be as well. (Note to Chardonnay drinkers: Whites from this part of the Rhône are often spectacular, with all the body you're used to and far more fragrance to boot.)
As for Amarone, my current fave is San Rustico's (the Valpolicella is nearly of Amarone strength and character, too, traits usually ascribed to the brilliant Bussola and Dal Forno wines). Allegrini's is about as safe a choice as one can make. Cesari, Viviani and Zenato make stunning versions.
There are, of course, endless numbers of other options, both white and red, and I'm sure that many of us have our own favorites. Perhaps instead of fighting to get friends and family to see the light, we might just coax them into sneaking a taste.
Knowing that there's no obligation to hook up again makes it a completely guilt-free experience. And they might just find that a bit of cheating on their regular is palate expanding.
Todd M. Wernstrom is the executive editor and frequently writes about French and Italian wine.