Syrah was the first varietal that caught my attention. I attribute this to my
friends Andy and Gina, who lived around the corner back when I was in school.
They'd have me over on Thursdays -- this was back when E.R. was still
good -- to share a meal and a bottle of wine. This was a jammy Australian
Shiraz (what they call Syrah down-under) more often than not, which was very
much to my taste at the time.
I'm curious abouts roots and origins, so I explored French Syrah as much as
my meager budget would allow. The tradition of Syrah wine has its home in the
Northern Rhône Valley of France (select the first sub-folder from the KML
file). Côte-Rôtie (see the first placemark) is an appellation at the North end
of this region which makes famously perfumed, ruby-red wine using a small
fraction of Viogner juice. Google Earth has pretty good 2007 imagery of the
Côte-Rôtie, and you can clearly see the expansion of vineyards onto the flat
hilltops which caused writers and reviewers to take up arms in the 1990s. When
I drove through this area in 2001, I was impressed by the steep, terraced
vineyards, but also by the contrast with the heavily industrialized East bank of the river.
Most of the West bank of the Rhône, South of Ampuis and Condrieu, is covered by the St-Joseph appellation.
During the 1990s, it too was expanding rapidly and producing wine that arguably lacked character. I stayed overnight in Chavanay on that 2001 trip. St-Joseph wines are generally more structured than those of Côte-Rôtie. I've heard the French refer to these wines as more manly.
I did not make it to Hermitage (third placemark), the most famous appellation
in the Northern Rhône Valley, and the one that produces the most inky,
tannic wines. Sadly for us virtual tourists, Google Earth has only crappy Spot
imagery of Hermitage. Even so, it's a remarkable location to see. It seems to
me that geography prevents Hermitage from becoming a victim of its own success:
every square inch of that hill's South-facing slope appears to be cultivated,
with no avenues into marginal property.
Two weeks ago, our downtown wine shop had a New World Syrah tasting
featuring 4 inexpensive wines. All were fairly mild-mannered, fruity wines. I
liked them all. I've been drinking less Rhône Syrah, more Shiraz and California
Syrah, and I was expecting the L'Ecole Nº 41 Columbia Valley Syrah to be
another one of these easy-going, gluggable wines. I couldn't have been more
wrong.
The L'Ecole Nº 41 is 98% Syrah and 2% Carmenère. I haven't seen this blend
before, so I asked the winemakers about it. Marty Clubb replied that they have
5 acres of Carmenère at their Estate Seven Hills Vineyard, and that they've
used it to add black pepper character to the wine. After fermentation and 18
months of age in small oak barrels (approximately 30% new), the wine was
bottled unfined and unfiltered.
My wife and I prepared a well-seasoned roast chicken (the recipe in the
Walters-Bertolli Chez Panisse cookbook), opened the bottle, and discovered that
the L'Ecole Nº 41 wasn't the New World Syrah we'd been expecting at all. It
was Old World, Rhône-style. In the glass it's inky, with a nose of dusty violets and a hint of cocoa. On the tongue it is massively structured (like it says on the bottle) with dense, but not sharp, tannins. We admired, more than enjoyed, half the bottle, then pumped out the air and resolved to finish it with something more primal.
Two nights later, I grilled a thick, heavily-peppered T-bone steak, and we
resumed. Given time to breathe, the fruit came forward. Small sips after bites
produced a killer resonance between the tannins and peppery, seared beef. We
agreed that this was one of the best wine and food combinations we'd had in a
long time. If I had another bottle, I'd hold it for another year or 2, and
serve it with another peppered steak, cooked outside over hardwood
charcoal.
The "Columbia Valley" folder of my KML file contains approximate locations for 4 of the 5 vineyards which contributed to the L'Ecole Nº 41
Columbia Valley Syrah. Never having browsed across Southeastern Washington before, I was surprised at the extent of Columbia Valley vineyards. If anybody sees a glaring error, please let me know, and I will make corrections.
