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Lagrein is a grape that I wasn’t even sure was a grape. It was only through a process of elimination that I determined Lagrein was the grape in this bottle. First, Tobin James – biggest font on the bottle, meaning winemaker (probably). Next, Paso Robles – heard of it and know it’s in California so not the grape. Year, alcohol content and “silver reserve” – nothing sounding like a grape. Lagrein it is.

Anyway, Tobin James doesn’t list this grape on their website so they might not even make it anymore. Having never heard of it before or seen it anywhere in a wine store, it seems pretty rare here in the US. In really northern Italy, knocked up next to Austria in Trentino-Alto Adige, this Lagrein is at home. Outside of its home, wikipedia calls it “rare to the point of obscurity.” Needless to say, it’s pretty cool that a friend brought it to the mac&cheese&wine party the other night.

The wine tasted a lot like a dusty shiraz, kinda more stringent and earthy without all that fruit. It looked about the same color as a Shiraz and had the same body (and high alcohol-content) but lacked all the fruit that Aussies love to export and Americans love to import. Blackberry shouted down all the other flavors in the wine but really the wine was about the structure. Not sure if they blend this in with others (yup, see below), but it’s got the body for blending and a pretty unique dirty smokey quality going for it. Less like a fine cigar, more like a country road, it’s a pretty unique wine. Not amazing but not lackluster either, certainly happy to have tried it.

Detail Up!
Tobin James 2008 Lagrein from Paso Robles – cellartracker’s pic above too

Random Googles
* Lagrein – related to Syrah, Pinot Noir and (really obscure) Dureza
* Australia’s playing around with Lagrein in trial patches to blend it with Shiraz
* Highly tannic grape that winemakers age for 18+ months

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Hello Nero D’Avola, we meet again. You sound dirty, you look filthy, and yet I see you on every Italian menu. Somebody must have a serious fetish or you’ve bribed the right people.

Tonight’s choice (by the restaurant, as there was really only one Nero d’Avola on the menu) was Sedara Donnafugata, which is included solely to help me remember since there is nothing I know about the vineyard.

As for the wine, it’s dark enough to dye my tongue a deep-hued twilight and fruity in all kinds of crazy ways. Smelling it, I’m certain it’s a blackberry, tasting it it’s a blueberry and bramble, and thinking about it afterward, it’s some kind of raspberry. Seriously, I’m at a loss to describe it as anything other than fruity. Fruity in all kinds of ways that aren’t giving it adequate description. It’s not even that it’s so subtle (it’s not) or comlex (really pretty simple actually), it’s just that there’s loads of fruit and I’m inept enough not to know what kinds of fruit.

Nero D’Avola… is in fact a grape. Was kinda worried since Italy seems to mess around with regions and grapes so you’re never sure quite what’s going on but you’re generally happy with how it’s going. Figure it’s sort of like dating an Italian guy. Anyway, the grape’s popping up on the popularity charts and the Meatpacking District has a bar named after it, so it’s only a matter of time until Sicily can’t grow enough and the Hong Kong market starts exploding with overpriced bottles of Nero. In conclusion, Nero was an Italian emperor (a crazy one) and Nero d’Avola is an Italian grape (only crazy dark, not crazy delicious).

Random Googles
* Nero d’Avola – easiest to think of it as Italy’s Syrah
* Sicily is where Nero d’Avola lives. NYC is where it parties.
* Nobody has much more to say about Nero on the internets so I’ll do it. It’s a hot grape, both in that Paris Hilton way from the early 2000’s and in that 90 degree, sweltering can-grow-in-Australia way.

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Thanks to the Latin side of the family and the Feast of the Son of Isis, Christmas dinner is one heap of turkey, two dollops of gravy and papas, papas, papas. Also, there is wine. Lots of wine.

Two Wines, One Christmas Bonanza

This year, two tempranillos made it out from the cellar and they couldn’t have been more different. On one of them, we’re looking at a 2003 Crianza that tasted like it was past its prime but had enough steel-edges and back-of-the-mouth light fruitiness to deserve seconds. The other’s a new one, 2008 Argentine from Finca La Linda, could be liquid jam. Probably blackberry jam or maybe something kinda Rudolph-y but fruit on fruit goodness like this German layer cake that made its way to the dinner table (missed the photo op so h/t these guys). Really, the wines could have been alpha and gamma, or the Yankees and Mets for how they tasted.

No Fluke – it’s the Atlantic’s fault

Judging by a quick wikisearch, this difference isn’t a fluke. It’s an oceanic divide. Old-world Tempranillo is all about Spain. It’s the foundation of Rioja, the dye in the awesome-looking Batalla de Vino and even the origin of that weird Spanish lisp (ok, not that one but the lisp legend is really cool). New World Tempranillo’s all about finding that magical fruit combo and pumping it up into something sweet enough that even Americans will enjoy. Yes, I’m sure that’s a gross caricature – still, based on my undeniable sample size of 2 wines, it’s true.

In sum
Old World oxidizes Tempranillo, New World jams to it.

Detail Up Wine Nerds
* Finca La Linda Tempranillo 2008 – what Luigi says
* Rioja Ordate Crianza 2003 – ok, this is a bit of a mystery wine. no reviews and no real info on who the producer is. only tidibt involves a small coop in rioja that made wine back in 2003 – radio silence since 2003. mysterious rioja, you intrigue me.

Google Randoms
* Tempranillo gets blended with Garnacha to make Rioja (Mazuelo and Graciano show up too, in a kind of Steve Buscemi way)
* Tempranillo means “little early one” in the lispy language of Spain. It’s not derrogatory though, it’s just a cute way to remind you to harvest on the early side.
* Port has a bit of Tempranillo in it but the Portuguese prefer the grape name of “Tinta Roriz” (if in port) or “Aragonez” (if part of that awesome Alentejo region).

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Today was the first grape of a thousand grapes. I’ve heard there’s a club that certain wine nerds get to join when they swear that they’ve tasted over 100 different types of grapes. To my mind, and based on my wine consumption, that’s approximately one year of drinking. A solid achievement and certainly one to be commended. But what about outnerding the nerds? We’re talking a full decade (or more) of different grapes, random, obscure, horrible, brilliant, pink, purple, green, black and bacchus only knows what other color grapes. Decade-long challenges – that’s something I can get on board with. Other than maybe raising a child (or six), I’d be hard pressed to even think in terms of a decade. And yet, a thousand grapes demands such thinking.

To begin

Grape 1 of 1,000 – Tannat

No real magic to the choice of Tannat as the first grape. Wifey and I are visiting the Latin half of the family in Peru and got snowed in by the ridiculous Newark blizzard, meaning another day in Lima. What to do with one more day in Lima? Clearly, you eat and eat well. So dinner it was, at T’anta on 28 de julio and the only Peruvian wine on the menu is this Intipalka Tannat you see in the photo (h/t these guys). No idea about year and only found out later who makes this bottle (hint: they own the best old-man bar in Peru). Tried the wine before the lomo y palta sandwich and more than stood up on its own. Better though with the beef.

Tannat’s very heavy (and Uruguyan apparently) according to every ADD’s best friend google, although somehow this Peruvian Tannat’s more of a middle body wine. Think Merlot with another 5 pounds added on from the Christmas season. That’s Peruvian Tannat.

If pressed, I’d put the flavors on the dark side of the sun (that’s a bad quechua pun: see “inti”), in that blackberry and violet haze that good sommeliers could fill a page with. Black fruit puts it in the ballpark but up to you to decide where. Really though, are there that many black fruits? I’m thinking blackberries (yes, it’s got it), black cherries (nope), brandiwine (read too much brer rabbit as a kid – probably not even a berry), craigberries (thanks iceland – yes, these are here), and boysenberry (Aunt Nel cans these – yup, they’re here too). OK, so maybe it’s more black berries than a general black fruit sense.

In sum
Black berries, slightly voluptuous body and really squid-ink color. Peruvian Tannat.

Random Googles
* Tannat is Uruguay’s national grape
* Tannat shows up in Armagnac (kinda weird)
* Nerd wine club that looks awesome

Professionals Say
* Intipalka Tannat
* Rate my Tannat

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