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The
Once & Future Pinot Gris
by
Randal Caparoso
As
a white wine, Pinot Gris has a lot going for it. It is usually dry
(and just occasionally, off-dry) but not as heavy as Chardonnay,
nor as tart as Sauvignon or "Fumé" Blanc. It is
never as fragrant as Riesling, but not nearly as light or sweet
as most Rieslings.
Yet
as good and refreshing a wine it makes around pools and on backyard
decks, Pinot Gris is definitely a serious wine. Meaning, it can
be seriously flavorful. Not a lot of perfume, but a compelling mix
of gently floral, fruity (like dripping melons, apples, pears, and
sometimes lemon), and stony, minerally aromas. I like the last part,
since I prefer my wines to be more than just fruity or flowery.
In
fact, a good Pinot Gris makes me think of flowing brooks over smooth
stones as it stretches across the palate with its silky texture
and bright, crisp edges. Combine that with a meltingly soft filet
of salmon - grilled, poached or baked, with dollops of cream or
butter sauces - or any white meat (from fish and shellfish to chicken
and pork) lavished with lemon, leafy green herbs, exotic spices,
or even fruit salsas and relishes, and you're really in business.
Getting thirsty? First, your history and geography lessons…
Viticulturally,
Pinot Gris is actually a clonal variation of my favorite red wine
grape, Pinot Noir; the latter, Jancis Robinson describes as "notoriously
degenerate" due to its tendency to "mutate at the drop
of a gene." The scientists of the vine say that Pinot Gris
probably split off and grew alongside Pinot Noir during the Middle
Ages (as far back as the sixth or seventh century) in their ancestral
home of Burgundy, France.
I
like to think that this explains why, the first time I saw it growing
in an Oregon vineyard some eleven years ago, I mistook the Pinot
Gris vine for a Pinot Noir, since Pinot Gris clusters still retain
a grayish blue color of ripening red grapes; although the pigmentation
is so weak that it dissipates during normal fermentations, thus
making a proper "white" wine (or at the most, a white
wine with a vaguely coppery cast).
I'm
also told that smatterings of Pinot Gris are still grown in amongst
many of Burgundy's most famous Pinot Noir vineyards; utilized by
the crafty Burgundians to add a combination of zip and softness
to their red wines. However, France's most important Pinot Gris
vineyards lie further north on the west side of the Rhine River,
in the region known as Alsace. Alsatian Pinot Gris is as fine, and
often strikingly minerally, as they come; but nowadays, also a bit
pricey. Crisp, medium bodied styles made by my favorite producers
- notably, F.E. Trimbach, Zind-Humbrecht, Domaine Ostertag, Kuentz-Bas,
Domaine Weinbach, Andre Kientzler and Albert Boxler --
start in the $20 range.
If
you visit a specialty wine store you will also find that the Alsatians
have made it something of a fetish to produce enormously full (alcohol
levels exceeding 14 percent), dizzyingly aromatic (like honey on
sweet buttered toast), and viscous, almost oily textured bottlings
of Pinot Gris identified by designations such as Vendange Tardive
("late picked") or "Reserve." You'll also know
them by their price tags - anywhere from $50 to $100. While not
exactly poolside fare, your appreciation of this powerhouse style
may grow once you develop a taste for the Alsatians' other fetishes;
such as foie gras, chicken and veal in buttery sauces, and things
like truffled paté and cou d'oie farci (goose neck stuffed
with sausages, cooked in buckets of goose fat), which they enjoy
as "appetizers."
Personally,
I still prefer a lighter, simpler, zesty Pinot Gris, and the finest
examples of this style are made across the river from France in
Germany's Baden, Pfalz, and Rheinhessen regions. German Pinot Gris
- usually bottled by one of the two German names for the grape,
Rulander or Grauburgunder - are not commonly found in the U.S. in
spite of the fact that more Pinot Gris is planted in Germany than
in any other country in the world. There is one made by Weinhaus
Heger (who actually bottles his exports as "Pinot Gris")
that I once found to be so lithe and whispery scented that I flew
all the way to Baden, like a man in the throes of passion, to beg
the proprietor Joachim Heger to vinify a special blend just for
me. As it were, he did; and the results (imagine the refined, multi-faceted
qualities of Pinot Gris enriched by a creamy texture achieved by
French barrel fermentation) were worth every cent, and aching muscle,
of those 18 hour flights.
More
commonly seen in the U.S. are Pinot Gris bottlings from Oregon,
and Pinot Grigio bottlings from Italy. More recently, we have also
been seeing some fine, but fuller and riper toned, styles of Pinot
Gris coming out of California's warmer growing regions.
Oregon
grown Pinot Gris - pioneered by producers such as Eyrie,
Ponzi, Erath and Adelsheim in the 1970s - tends
to hit a nice, middle ground between the full, strongly earthy style
of Alsace and the light, easy style of Northern Italy. To me, the
most perfect example being produced right now is by WillaKenzie
Vineyards - an amazingly pure, prettily perfumed, creamy, lacy
textured style of Pinot Gris - although the regular and "Reserve"
bottlings by King Estate, Rex Hill, Chehalem, Hinman,
and Cristom also rank among the finest coming down from Oregon
today.
Because
Pinot Gris is essentially a cold climate grape, California growers
have been slower to warm to the charms and commercial potential
of the varietal; although in recent years prestige producers such
as Chalk Hill, Luna, and Babcock have been making
up for lost ground with impressively elegant, mildly oak influenced
(vanilla and smoky notes) styles of this variety. Even better introductions
to the exuberantly round, rich California style may be those done
by J Wine Co. - inundated with soft, almost succulent varietal
fruitiness - and a rare, but exceedingly charming, personal favorite
of mine, that of Handley Cellars in Anderson Valley.
Almost
because it is so extraordinarily popular, Italy's Pinot Grigio may
be one of the most under-respected (even by Italians!) wines in
the world. Aromatically, the Italian style may veer slightly more
towards the neutral side of the grape, but the flavors are almost
always mildly crisp yet soft, typically stony, and refreshingly
dry. What's not to like? Not every wine should crush the palate
like a California Chardonnay, or blow you away like an Alsatian
Vendange Tardive.
The
markets are flooded with decent Italian Pinot Grigio. So what I
did was march down to my nearest wine store and pick out four of
the most consistently fine brands of Pinot Grigio that I have known.
I paid only between $7 and $11 for each of them except one. To me,
great price is always part of the charm! Here's how they compared:
2001
Kris, Pinot Grigio delle Venezie - Fresh flower, lemon and lavender
notes in the nose with nuances of spice (like cinnamon and musk).
Light-medium body and stony dry taste and feel, braced by gentle
acidity. No an especially intense or complex style of Pinot Grigio;
then again, who's expecting "deep" for just $9 or $10?
2001
Ritratti, Trentino Pinot Grigio - A softer (lower acid), smoother,
rounder style of Pinot Grigio, giving subtlely spiced apple and
licorice fragrances embedded in the stony varietal character; the
flavors picked up on the palate by a lush, viscous feel on the palate.
2001
Zenato, Pinot Grigio delle Venezie - Like the Kris, also from
Veneto, a region better known for wines such as Soave and Valpolicella.
But the Zenato is an exceptional producer, and this example shows
off lusciously ripe, pear-like fruit laced with an airy fresh note
reminiscent of sea salt splashed against flinty white rock. A rich,
full, layered, dense yet soft and buoyant feel, allowing the honeyed
pear-like fruit to drape long, almost lazily across the palate.
Lovely length and flavors.
2001
Livio Felluga, Colli Orientali del Friuli Pinot Grigio - The
priciest of the bunch ($18), but fascinatingly scented with peach
and anise-like notes, packaged in a zesty edged medium body that
fills the palate yet feels refreshingly easy.
Then,
because I was feeling rather unscientific about this tasting - what's
Italian wine without food? - I decided to re-evaluate all the wines
alongside my personal version of Italian fast food: linguine tossed
with olive oil warmed with a clove of garlic, a touch of cream style
butter, freshly chopped parsley and Mexican mint marigold (a green
herb that gives a creamy licorice-like taste), sliced white and
shiitake mushrooms, a squeeze of sweet Meyer lemon, shavings of
authentic Pecorino Romano, and finally (any excuse to use it!),
a splash of nostril tingling truffle oil.
As
I hoped, the lemon, mushrooms and marigold connected magically with
the soft acidity and stony, licorice-like notes in the wines, but
the one that seem to flow the easiest across the palate in context
of the linguine was the round and lusciously fruity Ritratti; in
fact, better than the Zenato, the Pinot Grigio I enjoyed the most
on its own.
Both
the Kris and Livio Felluga left the palate clean and refreshed after
each bite, but the smooth, almost oily texture of the Ritratti did
them one better by smoothing out the smack of garlic and sharp,
salty taste of the Pecorino. It was an $11 wine that made me feel,
for a few moments, like a king. What's not to like, indeed!
© Randal Caparoso
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