A Little Bit on Grenache

You have to feel sorry for poor Grenache. It has an identity problem, rarely gets any billing, is a little wild, and sometimes you don’t even know you’re drinking it.

Grenache Noir, as it’s known in France, is called Granacha Tinta or Aragones in Spain. It can also be called Cannonau in Sardinia, Alicante in some parts of France or Aragon, as well as Lladoner, Uva di Spagna, Tentillo, Tinto, or Bois Jaune. Garnacha Tintorera is not Grenache at all. Garnacha Tintorera is really Alicante Bouschet, which is not the same grape as plain old Alicante. You see the identity problem.

Whether Grenache is first or second in acreage planted worldwide depends on which source you consulted. However, Grenache is definitely not planted in as many areas around the world as Cabernet Sauvignon because it needs a long warm growing season – many wine regions simply don’t have the climate to grow Grenache successfully.

Those of you who don’t care about the geek stuff can pass over this paragraph. Pierre Galet lists some 362 clones of Grenache – which can have implications on quality and yield. Grenache will oxidizes easily if not

treated carefully in the winery, in which case it won’t age well. Treated properly, however, it often ages extremely well; some Chateauneuf-du-Papes will age for years. Grenache grows well with goblet style pruning and non-fertile, rocky well-drained soils. This grape buds early but needs a long growing cycle to ripen properly, and the yields need to be kept low to attain quality. It also suffers from coulere and downy mildew.

For those of you who like blind tastings, Grenache is lighter in color than many varietals but high in alcohol – which is an unusual combination. Add in the lower acidity, and it will help you to identify Grenache.

On the palate, Grenache is all about strawberries, pepper, roasted nuts, and spice. This grape also shows more red fruit and white pepper than its common blending partner Syrah which exhibits more black fruit and black pepper. Then, as it seduces you with its lovely fruit, it can whack you on the side of the head with its possible production of high alcohol up to 16% and intoxicating delight. Something like a bad girlfriend I suppose. Remember, this is a low acid grape with moderate tannins, but still a little on the wild, rustic side. Defiantly not as refined and elegant as a Merlot, but oh so much more fun.

Grenache often gets hidden away with many different wine styles of blended winses using it – that identity problem again. It’s used in those wonderful Tavel roses for a brunch sipper, the big dry reds from the Rhone, and also in the fortified wines of Banyuls.

Grenache rarely gets the big label billing that a Cab or Merlot does. In the Old World it hides away on the AOC regional label. The Cote de Rhones from France must have a least 40% Grenache. Wines from Roussillon have some in their blends, and it also shows up in Vin de Pays through out southern France.

The Spanish, who have been growing it for about 800 years, hide the name under the regions of Priorat with their almost black wines and huge amounts of alcohol, blend it in Rioja, and use it in Navarra for their roses. The great Spanish wine, Vega Sicilia, uses Granacha as part of its big, wonderful blends. Too bad the bank account shudders when this one is brought home.

At the other end of the spectrum, in California’s Central Valley, they tend to beat Grenache up with over-yielding vines and then use it in jug wines, although Bonny Doon and Alban show it well with their low yields and meticulous care and attention in the winery.

Australia uses it as a blend with GSMs (Grenache, Syrah, and Mourvedre): look for Penfolds and D’Arenberg. Grenache is actually Australia’s big secret ingredient. That Shiraz you’ve been drinking probably has a little Grenache in it.

However, I think it’s Chateauneuf-du-Pape that does Grenache the best by far. This is one of the main grapes of the 13 permitted in the AOC. Vieux Telegraphe and Chateau Beaucastel are at the top end, but they each use different amounts of Grenache in their blends. At the price point, they’re so much better than

cult Cabs. For a lower price point but still good quality, look for Cote de Rhone, Gigondas, and Vacqueyras.

It’s hard to make a generalization about food pairings and Grenache, as this grape comes in many styles. Banyuls makes an outstanding match with dark, semi-bitter chocolate. I’ve actually known people who have developed such an addiction to Banyuls and chocolate they’ve phoned me late at night asking if I have a bottle stashed away somewhere. Poor souls. With the Rhone Valley think roasted or meats off the barbie. And for afternoon brunches, Tavel fits the bill – but be careful of those seemingly carefree roses because there’s a big alcohol punch hidden in the fruity strawberry flavors.

So this weekend, why not forget the Cabernet Sauvignon and the Merlot. Pull out a bottle of Grenache preferably a Southern Rhone. Call your significant other, turn down the lights put some music on, and indulge in something a little different. Mind you, if you have the Beaucastel, I will not be held responsible for what happens.

Susan’s Note: I’m also long-time fan of Grenache – although it never seems to last long in my cellar. Now here’s the problem for this weekend. I have the dark chocolate but no Banyuls. Hmmm… looks like a trip to the liquor store is in order.

And a here’s how wine guru Jancis Robinson describes this grape: Grenache is an unlikely hero of a grape. Reviled or at best ignored in much of the world, it is the grape chiefly responsible for two of the great, and increasingly celebrated, red wines of the world, Châteauneuf-du-Pape and, a more recent star, Priorat. In both Rioja and Navarra it is regarded as playing a distinctly ignoble second fiddle to Spain’s vine specialty Tempranillo.

If you liked this or the Beaucastel worked, scroll up to the top right hand corner, enter your e-mail, and click on subscribe. Susan Boyce and Frank Haddad

Crazy for Spanish Wines: Tempranillo Meets Toro

We have both been busy lately – a little too busy actually and, regretfully, not much of it to do with wine. The wine shelves are almost bare, dirty laundry piling up, and unanswered emails clogging our inboxes.

However, somewhere in the blur that has been this summer, I did manage to attend – survive might be a more accurate description – an intensive weekend seminar with Pancho Campo (left) and Javier Arana (right) from the Wine Academy of Spain. This was one jam-packed weekend of learning more about Spanish wines. Trust me, there is nothing quite like tasting a big, bold Rioja red at nine o’clock on a Saturday morning. Susan would have been in heaven.

The classes ran an exhausting eight hours a day over Saturday and Sunday. During the two days we learned about the climate, topography, history, food, and culture of Spanish wine regions – all 20-plus of them. We tasted more than 45 wines including a couple of big, fat reds from Toro, one of Spain’s lesser-known regions. Made from Tempranillo (that here the Spaniards call Tinta de Toro), these wines are huge and tannic and cry out for roast pig on a spit.

On Monday, we subjected ourselves to a multiple-choice exam and a blind tasting exam – six wines, five questions on each wine. The multiple-choice questions were difficult, but the blind tasting… well excruciating is probably a slight understatement. Several of the 23 participants are working sommeliers already, one woman teaches the entry level WSET training, others have years of experience in the wine industry – all agreed this was the toughest course they’d ever taken.

I passed and am now an official Spanish Wine Educator. But one thing I learned, I’m definitely going to have to drink more Spanish reds.


SUSAN'S NOTE:

Shell-shocked is how I’d best describe Frank on Saturday evening after the first eight hours. He was up at 5:00 am the next two mornings to follow the time honoured tradition of cramming – every book on Spanish wines off the shelves and open.

I still haven’t quite found an accurate descriptor for how he appeared after emerging from the exam, but he was positively vibrating. For several days, he’d just shake his head and look a bit – well, stunned is what comes to mind – every time he poured a glass of red wine and stared into its depths. He was convinced he’d failed the blind tastings miserably.

About a week later, we were at a wine event where we ran into four of five of the participants from the class. Now you have to appreciate, Frank is extremely diplomatic, so it took a few minutes of conversation before he actually asked the first woman how she thought she’d done on the blind tasting – this was, after all, a well respected local sommelier and wine rep with many years of experience. She flashed a devil-may-care smile, threw her hands up in the air, and announced “I blew it – totally, absolutely, completely blew it.” She proceeded to list off the mistakes she’d made. As we walked toward the next table, Frank raised his eyebrows ever-so-slightly and mutter “humph” – that was it, just “humph.”

By the time we’d talked to two more people who had apparently also made significant numbers of wrong calls, Frank was looking much more chuff. The “humph” was replaced with “well, I’ll be damned.” In the end, though we’re still waiting for the actual certificate, the Academy sent an email to say he’d passed with a significantly above average mark on the theory and a solidly above average one on the tasting. Okay, so if he doesn’t boast, I’ll just have to do it for him. But you can be sure I’ll be reminding him frequently that to fill the lack in his education, we need to raise a few more glasses filled with Spanish reds – especially those big, fat, tannic Toros that we’re still trying to track down.

FYI: The seminar was a joint effort between the Society Of Wine Educators and the Wine Academy of Spain and was offered in Los Angeles, Seattle, San Francisco, and Vancouver. If you missed it, we’ve heard it will soon be offered on the East Coast.

1996 Prado Enea from Bodegas Muga

Sometimes we figure we just need a treat – no special occasion, just a treat for the sake of it. One such evening a couple of weeks ago, we popped the cork on a bottle of 1996 Prado Enea from Bodegas Muga.

“Massive fruit, subtlety, maturity, complexity, and elegance” was the descriptor in John Radford’s classic book The Wines of Rioja. Massive fruit indeed. The aroma was like jumping feet first into an ocean of dark, luscious berries without a life preserver – but then, who’d want one when you’re surrounded by this much heady fragrance?

“The notes from the winemaker said ‘medium depth’,” Frank volunteered, naturally having already done the research. “So why do I want to say: oh go on, learn to toot your own horn?”

We soon discovered this wine stands up to even the ISO glasses. Chocolate and a subtle note of leather began to emerge as the evening wore on, but it was the contemplative nature we perhaps enjoyed most – feeling the heart and soul of the winemaker and the soil.

At one point, Frank brought out two Amarone/Burgundy glasses just because. His eyes went wide as he sniffed. “Oh god, if you thought this was in your face berry, it’s slap your cheek berry out of these ones.” Still, we agreed it was also a bit sloppy on the tongue and went back to our Riedel Tempranillo stemware.

No question, this is a wine to linger over. It needs conversation more than food but goes well with either. One to remember.

THE DETAILS:
- Prado Enea Gran Reserva 1996
- 80% Tempranillo, 20% Garnacha, Mazuelo, and Graciano
- Aged for 12 months in wooden vats, 36 months in oak barrels, and at least 36 months in bottle
- This bottle cost $63 and was found at our local BC Liquor Store

THE TRIVIA:
- Bodegas Muga employs four full-time coopers to repair and rebuild their 18,000-litre tinas as well as to look after the bodega’s casks
- All wines are in oak – this wine producer uses no stainless steel, fiberglass, or concrete tanks
- The bodega was founded in 1932 when most people were sitting back waiting for the next upturn in Spain’s economy