Vines have been cultivated for winemaking for thousands of years, so we've already identified all of the world's potentially great grape varieties, right?
Wrong. Way wrong, and I'll bet that there are at least a dozen grapes that will be regarded as top-tier cultivars a century from now that are, today, virtually unknown.
If this sounds implausible to you, you might reflect that Spain's Albariño and Argentina's Malbec--now considered genuinely great wines--were barely up on anyone's radar a decade ago. And if you're still not persuaded, I've got another fascinating case in point for you: Carmenère from Chile.
I have been tracking Carmenère's progress for almost ten years now, and went on record predicting its inevitable greatness in 2003. However, only last week did I finally taste the rendition of Carmenère that settles the issue once and for all. More on that in a moment. First, it is important to consider the remarkable sequence of events in Carmenère's loss, recovery, and resurgence as one of the world's most noble varieties.
The Carmenère grape is hardly new, though it was extremely obscure before being rediscovered less than a decade ago. It was widely planted in Bordeaux in the early 18th century, particularly in the Medoc. Along with Cabernet Franc, Carmenère is credited with establishing the reputations of some of the Medoc's best estates.
However, Carmenère fell into disfavor with vignerons because of its tendency to coulure, a problem resulting in the loss of berries shortly after flowering in the early portion of the growing season. Too often, excessive coulure reduced Carmenère's yields to levels that proved intolerable to growers, many of whom were already replacing it with other grapes when phylloxera infestation devastated Bordeaux's vineyards late in the 19th century.
When replanting began, financially distressed growers could not afford to gamble with varieties that wouldn't produce consistent crops, and Carmenère was spurned in favor of others. To this day, there are no commercially significant plantings of Carmenère in Bordeaux, though a few producers are now planting it again (largely due to the promise shown by the variety in Chile).
The grape avoided extinction late in the 19th century by jumping a ship for the New World shortly before the phylloxera crisis hit France. When vineyards were established in Chile between 1850 and 1870, much of the plant material was imported from Bordeaux, and Carmenère was included. Lots of it was planted, and the vines did well in the climatic conditions of central Chile, but over time its distinct identity was lost.
Vineyard layouts and planting records were not particularly systematic during the 19th century in most countries, and Chile was no exception. Since Carmenère slipped into global obscurity after its removal from Bordeaux, it is not surprising that Chilean vintners lost the connection between the vine and its name.
Most Chilean growers mistook it for Merlot, or more precisely for an unusual clone of Merlot. Carmenère actually has more in common with Cabernet Franc (for which it was widely mistaken in northern Italy), but Franc was extremely rare in Chile and therefore not a candidate for confusion.
Because Carmenère is really quite distinctive as a plant, as a grape and as a wine, it was never thought simply identical to Merlot. Carmenère's leaves are clearly different than those of Merlot vines, and they turn bright red in autumn, so everybody knew that they were looking at something other than run-of-the-mill Merlot when encountering it in vineyards. Eventually, it came to be called "Merlot selection" or "Merlot Peumal," a geographic reference to a valley south of Santiago where lots of Carmenère was grown.
The process of re-identification was triggered by the red wine boom of the early 1990s. Novice wine drinkers turning to reds tended to prefer wines with less hardness and tannin than they found in Cabernet Sauvignon, and thus Merlot became the grape of the moment. Chilean producers expanded plantings to meet the rising demand, and much of this was done with cuttings from their own vineyards.
As this effort was underway, French ampelographer Jean-Michel Boursiquot was brought to Chile as a consultant, and it was he who recognized Carmenère for what it truly was. Boursiquot's identification was confirmed by DNA profiling (which works on material from any living being, plants included) in 1997. The following year Carmenère was officially recognized as a distinct variety by the Chilean Department of Agriculture.
This development enabled Chilean vintners to bottle wines under the Carmenère name, which in turn led to increased attention to how it could best be handled in vineyards and wineries. It is now understood that Carmenère is extremely slow to ripen, and that it must be picked not with the early-ripening Merlot but, rather, even later than the late- ripening Cabernet Sauvignon.
Much is still being learned as Carmenère's performance is being fine-tuned in Chile. Ignacio Recabarren, who makes the world's best Carmenère for Concha y Toro (bear with me...I'm getting there!) reports that great strides have been achieved by getting it planted in optimal soils (which should neither be too rich nor too poor), training the vines properly (vertical shoot positioning, or "VSP" seems most promising) and monitoring the ripening process. Ripening must be thorough to avoid weedy, vegetal or minty aromas, yet the ripening must occur relatively slowly to keep the grape's juice in balance so that it doesn't need to be aggressively acidified during the vinification process.
It is not surprising that a decade or so has been required to show Carmenère's full potential, as literally dozens of variables play a role in the equation yielding a finished wine. Indeed, it is far more surprising that Carmenère has gotten so good so quickly. When I visited Chile for the third time in March of 2003, my tastings persuaded me that greatness was assured for the grape as a lead player. Interestingly, however, Recabarren was still on the fence at that point, and he confided that he wasn't sure that Carmenère wouldn't end up as an important blending component rather than a source for great varietal wine.
That difference in our predictions has much less to do with me being ahead of the game than with Recabarren's careful circumspection as a technician. Although he is very methodical about his craft, he is highly energetic and enthusiastic as a person, and when I saw him last week, his enthusiastic side had clearly won out. Recabarren now shows no reservations regarding Carmenère's greatness, and when I tasted his debut release of "Carmin de Puemo," I knew exactly what had washed away his earlier caution.
I can point you to producers now making good, affordable renditions of Carmenère, and will do so below. But this column is really about the greatness now being achieved with Carmenère, and though the following wines are pretty pricey, they will reward your investment handsomely while also giving you bragging rights about having gotten in on the ground floor:
Concha y Toro, Puemo (Cachapoal Valley, Chile) Puemo Vineyard "Carmin de Puemo" 2003 ($70, Excelsior): This is a powerhouse of a wine that would be overwhelming if not for the fact that all of its components are beautifully balanced against one another. Nearly black in color despite being three and a half years old at this point, it features very expressive aromas and intense flavors driven by dark berry notes. The wine's complexity is augmented by accents of coffee beans and dark chocolate, which work nicely with spicy oak notes. Very dense and concentrated, with plenty of acidity, tannin and oak (but not more than the fruit can support), this opens nicely after an hour of airing to display a multi-layered appeal that suggests it will not hit its apogee for another ten years. Very little of this will be available when it goes on sale in the USA in about a month. I'll see you in line. 95
Montes, Colchagua Valley (Chile) Carmenère "Purple Angel" 2003 ($60, TGIC Importers): There's a lot of wine in this bottle, and though it is big and brawny and very deeply flavored, it also comes off as being surprisingly mineral and classy. This is surprising in a New World wine clearly intended to make a statement, and the balance struck here between power and poise is really quite impressive. The fruit shows notes of blackberry and black cherry, and accents of cedar, vanilla, woodsmoke and light spices all present themselves in a convincingly symmetrical pattern. The finish shows plenty of fine-grained tannin, but this is easily counterbalanced by the sweetness of the fruit, and the tannins give way to show an interesting mineral streak late in the wine's finish. 93
Hacienda Araucano, Colchagua Valley (Chile) Carmenère "Alka" 2003 ($65, Winesellers, Ltd.): Impressive more for balance and style than sheer concentration and power, this shows predominant notes of dark berries but also hints at plums, and this note almost leans toward the red fruit side of the spectrum. Tannins are fine in grain and unobtrusive, and seem drawn as much from wood as skins and seeds. Oak notes are notable but hardly overbearing, and the reserve shown in ageing contributes to the overall impression of elegance in a full, flavorful wine. 91
Terrunyo by Concha y Toro, Puemo (Cachapoal Valley, Chile) Peumo Vineyard Block 27 Carmenère 2003 ($30, Excelsior): This can't match the 'Carmin de Puemo' bottling for sheer depth and power, but it is a delicious, complete wine that shows all of Carmenère's considerable virtues. The fruit shows pure, fresh blackberry notes with a whiff of black cherry as well. Oak lends a hint of smoke and subtle vanilla, and though there's plenty of tannin to assure an additional five years of positive development, the tannins are soft in texture and fine in grain, permitting immediate enjoyment with food. 91
Other Notable Carmenère Producers: Arboleda by Caliterra; Aromo; Baron Philippe de Rothschild; Casa Julia; Casa Silva; Casillero del Diablo; Castillo de Molina; Errazuriz; Gracia de Chile; Luis Felipe Edwards; MontGras; Portal del Alto; Santa Rita; Terra Andina; Ventisquero; Viu Manent; Yelcho.
Questions or comments? Write to me at mfranz@winereviewonline.com
