Marglin on Taste

Zinfandel (”zin” for short) is a red grape that’s made into two kinds of wine: red zinfandel and white zinfandel. For years, most zin grapes were poured into “white” zin, a bubble-gummy, pinkish liquid popular at art openings and student parties. (White zinfandel still remains a party wine for the younger set; as one savvy waitress I know observed, “When customers order a glass of white zinfandel, I automatically card them. Period.”)This public image meant that until the late ’80s, few wine producers put much effort into creating fine red zin. It was a hobby wine, not widely sold. Public attention was focused on other red-wine grapes: merlot, cabernet sauvignon, pinot noir.

Unlike those vinifera (the technical term for the great European grape varietals), zinfandel is a purely American wine. Its origins may be uncertain — some say it was imported from Yugoslavia or southern Italy; others claim the East Coast — but this much is certain: almost no zinfandel wines of any merit are being made outside California.

A good red zin is a tremendous experience. With its bold flavors, zinfandel can be paired with a variety of foods, and it’s appropriate anywhere from one’s porch to the most posh restaurants. It is a high-alcohol wine (averaging around 14 percent alcohol), with intense fruity accents. When tasting a red zinfandel, try to pinpoint what fruits the wine conjures up: often it will be berries, though sometimes dark cherries or pomegranates come to mind.

Versatility is red zinfandel’s strong suit. Red zins pair well with strong flavors; plenty of chicken dishes and most red-meat dishes take kindly to their lush, lively flavors. Serve zinfandel with dinner, and you’ll be amazed by how smoothly the wine makes the shift from appetizer to appetizer, and then to entree. Even dessert won’t completely destroy the jammy flavors of a top-notch zinfandel (and there are some good “late harvest” zins, even higher in alcohol, that drink almost like port and are served with dessert).

Zins are drinkable when they’re young, and I’m positively ecstatic about two recent vintages of red zinfandel: 1994 and 1995. The Wine Spectator recently gave the 1995 vintage an overall score of 96 out of 100, and the 1994 was just behind at 95 points. Those are impressive numbers.

In terms of location, Napa and Sonoma counties still lead the way in producing yummy red zins, but two other California counties — Amador and San Luis Obispo — are the source of some excellent wines. Two wineries to seek out are Renwood, in the former, and Ridge, in the latter.

So if you want to try a big, eclectic, fruity wine that pairs well with fish, poultry, and all manner of red meat, a bold young zinfandel may be the way to go. And though you may not find it being served at parties quite yet, when it comes to dining out, zin is definitely in.

Correction. To err is human, to forgive di-vine. So, thanks to Marcel Lachenmann, an attentive reader, who pointed out that the Château de la Greffiere is grown in Burgundy, and not in the Loire, as I stated in my chardonnay column.

The following recommendations give a sense of the range of zinfandels on the market. (Note: dollar amounts are approximate per-bottle retail prices. Although these wines are widely available, call your retailer to check if stock is in.)

*** Rabbit Ridge Sonoma County 1995 Sonoma County Zinfandel ($13.99)

Silky smooth with a slight strawberry finish, this solid blend hints of licorice. Rabbit Ridge generally makes high-quality, affordably priced wines.

**** Hendry Mt. Veeder Brandlin Ranch Zinfandel 1994 ($18.99)

A friend of mine swears that grapes grown on a hillside are the secret to truly great red wine. Grapes for this wine grow on eastern Mount Veeder, where old vines luxuriate in cool, moist air, 1000 feet above the Pacific. Go there.

**** Ridge Zinfandel Paso Robles 1995 ($22.50)

Ridge, long known for exceptional cabernets, specializes in single-vineyard wines. From the Dusi Ranch in San Luis Obispo County, south of San Francisco, this spicy concoction is a wicked treat. It packs tons of blackberry flavor and opens up vistas of delightful summer twilight flavors. Beguilingly complex.

My enthusiasm for wine is extreme. Fortunately, I get to drink a lot of it. Given the way wine loosens the tongue, I happen to think that everyone who likes drinking wine should feel comfortable talking about it. And that’s what this space is for.First, some demystification: if you like wine, you don’t need to know lots of fancy words and descriptions, and you don’t need a thousand bottles in your cellar. All you really need is a smidgen of knowledge and some trust. Learn to trust your own instincts and taste buds, because you’re the only one experiencing the unique interaction of the wine with your mouth, heart, and, yes, head.

I view this column as a conversation about wine, so let me encourage you to respond: tell us what you liked, and what you disagreed with, what we’ve missed and what changed your life. (You can e-mail me at dave@taste.com.)

We’re going to begin with the world’s most popular white-wine grape: chardonnay. The popularity of chard (pronounced “shard”) has created a backlash in recent years: some drinkers proudly refer to themselves as ABC (Anything But Chardonnay) people. These chardon-naysayers find the wine too popular, the flavor too generic. Some claim California chards have too much oak, others allege that chardonnay generally does not have enough acidity to stand up to many foods.

But chardonnay, even the cheap kind (as in “Bartender, I’ll have a glass of chardonnay”), is extremely approachable. Drunk young, it lets you taste the sunshine. With some age, nuances and complexities come out that can make it the most sublime drinking experience on the planet. (Chardonnay, for example, is the only grape used in the great white Burgundies.)

Noteworthy and eminently drinkable chardonnays are being produced all over the world — in the US, Spain, Italy, Australia, New Zealand, South Africa, and Chile. Still, when it comes to value, California chards often win. For under $20, you’ll be quaffing a wine better than anything the Romans or Greeks ever put in their goblets.

Speaking of quaffing, my thinking is that chardonnay, like revenge, is best served cold. Real cold. The best white Burgundies, the Montrachets and Meursaults, may want only slight chilling, but chardonnay at room temperature can often be overwhelming. It tends to be a big wine, filling your mouth with powerful fruity flavors (often balanced by powerful oak and wood notes); when the wine is cold, some of those abundant flavors are restrained. Let the wine arrive gradually at its full potential in your glass. Don’t hesitate to feel the bottle when it’s presented to you in a restaurant, or to ask for an ice bucket or a marble wine sleeve. (I don’t recommend dropping ice cubes into your glass, I’ve done it in a pinch.)

The key to choosing a chardonnay is deciding whether you want a heavier wine, with lots of oak and butterscotch flavors, or the leaner, crisper version currently in vogue.

French chards tend to be on the leaner side, more spare and subtle, seamless and silky; American and Australian chards tend to be heavyweights, with huge waves of oak and powerful acidity. The fruit notes — be they pineapple, melon, lemon, or whatever — fairly leap out. The biggies can be harder to pair with food; if you’re at a restaurant, ask a server about the characteristics of the chardonnays on the wine list. Believe me, there are loads of great values out there. And you will never be embarrassed drinking any of the wines listed below.

A note on my ratings: they’re highly subjective, and range from no stars (better you should drink antifreeze) to five stars (life is great!). The prices listed are for retail stores; bottles are, of course, subject to availability, though the price shouldn’t increase. These are not restaurant prices, which can vary widely.

*** Chateau de La Greffiere Macon La Roche Vineuse (Loire) 1995 ($9.99)
Old-vine chardonnay in the Loire valley? You bet. Mellow and balanced, a great wine that opens in the glass. A sleeper.

*** De Loach Sonoma Chardonnay Russian River Valley 1995 ($14.99)
Known more for reds than for chard, De Loach hand-harvests grapes for this supple, oaky chardonnay. Less fruit than I like, but balanced; pleasant butterscotch aftertaste makes for a dandy. Delectable with pasta or shellfish.

***1/2 Landmark Overlook Chardonnay 1995 ($19.99)
Crisp and lean, with a supple, zesty finish. I will match it against any under-$20 chardonnay in the world.

**** Jed Steele “Steele Cuvée” 1995 ($21)
You’ll find Steele on wine lists at restaurants all around town, including the Good Life and Mistral. Plenty of oak and vanilla. Real smooth.