Tag Archives: Northern Rhone

Getting Geeky with Rubus Barossa Shiraz

Going to need more than 60 Seconds to geek out about the 2014 Rubus Shiraz from the Barossa.

The Background

Rubus is a negociant label of the importing firm Kysela Pere et Fils that was founded by Master Sommelier Fran Kysela.

Prior to earning his MS in 1989 and starting his firm in 1994, Kysela previously worked for California wineries Fetzer and Gallo as well as importers Kermit Lynch and Weygandt-Metzler. In his more than 40 years in the wine business, Fran Kysela has earned numerous awards including 2013 Importer of the Year from Wine Enthusiast magazine.

His wine import portfolio represents over 200 producers, including notable wineries such as Abeja, Accordini Igino, Alain Jaume, Avennia, Bressia, Bonny Doon, Buty, Betz, Chakana, Cholila Ranch, Clos de Sixte, Domaine Mordoree, Finca Sobreno, Gravas, Hahn, Jip Jip Rocks, La Petite Frog, Levendi, Long Shadows, Loring, Maipe, Marcassin, Mas Sinen, Maysara, Milton Park, Montebuena, Mt. Monster, Pago de Carraovejas, Palacio de Bornos, Paradigm, Patton Valley, Poggio Nardone, Quilceda Creek, Rebuli, Reverdy, Rinaldi, Segries, St. James Winery, Tamarack, Thorn Clarke, Tiza, Tres Ojos, Valminor and Vinsacro among many others.

The first wine released under the Rubus label was in 1997 with 1200 cases of an Amador County Zinfandel. Since then the brand has expanded to include Cabernet Sauvignon from Napa Valley, Chardonnay from Colchagua Valley in Chile, Pinot noir from the Waipara Valley in New Zealand, Prieto Picudo from Tierra de León in Spain, a Grenache-based Vin Gris from Corbières in the Languedoc-Roussillon region of France as well as a Shiraz from the Barossa of South Australia.

All the wines bottled under the Rubus label are personally selected by Fran Kysela.

Photo by davitydave. Uploaded to Wikimedia Commons under CC-BY-2.0

While the oak used for the Rubus Shiraz was entirely American, for half the barrels the staves were sent to France to be seasoned (air dried) and coopered in the French style.

The 2014 Rubus Shiraz was only the third release of a Shiraz from Kysela. A co-ferment of 98% Shiraz with 2% Viognier, the wine was aged 12 months in 100% American oak with half the barrels being seasoned and coopered in France. Around 2,000 cases were produced.

Instead of being labeled as the Geographical Indication (GI) of Barossa Valley, the 2014 Rubus is labeled as being from simply “Barossa” which Mike Desimone and Jeff Jenssen note in Wines of the Southern Hemisphere: The Complete Guide means that fruit from neighboring Eden Valley could have been blended in. Conversely, if a wine is labeled as being from the “Barossa Valley” then only 100% Barossa Valley fruit could be used.

The Origins of Syrah

In Jancis Robinson’s Wine Grapes, co-authored by Julia Harding and José Vouillamoz, it is noted that the origins of Syrah have been proven to be distinctly French despite myths attributing its origins to the Persian city of Shiraz in modern-day Iran.

Map from Rhône-Alpes map.png on Wikimedia Commons created by Utilisateur:Rinaldum. Derivations done by self and uploaded to Wikimedia Commons under CC-BY-SA-3.0

With Mondeuse Blanche native to the Savoie region (#4) and Dureza originating from the Ardèche (#1), it is likely that the cross-pollination that created Syrah happened somewhere in the Isère (#3) where Dureza is known to have reached.
The Drôme department (#2) includes the Northern Rhone wine region of Hermitage where there are written accounts of Syrah being grown here by at least the 1780s.

DNA analysis conducted in 1998 by Dr. Carole Meredith and others at UC-Davis have shown the parents of Syrah to be the Savoie wine grape Mondeuse blanche and the Ardèche variety Dureza. Both grapes were at one time cultivated in the department of Isère, southeast of Lyon, in the Auvergne-Rhône-Alpes region with ampelographers speculating that this was the likely area that Syrah originated in.

Further research by José Vouillamoz has shown a potential parent-offspring relationship between Syrah’s parent Dureza and the Pinot grape meaning that potentially Pinot noir could be a grandparent variety to Syrah.

Additional research into the origins of Viognier has shown a parent-offspring relationship with Syrah’s other parent, Mondeuse blanche, and Viognier though it is not yet clear which variety is the parent and which is the offspring–partly because the other potential parent of Viognier hasn’t been identified yet. This means that Viognier could be either a half-sibling or a grandparent to Syrah.

Aussie Shiraz vs French Syrah

Syrah was first brought to Australia in 1832 by viticulturalist and “father of Australian wine” James Busby as part of a collection of 75 different grapevine varieties from Europe. Known initially as Hermitage and then Scyras it was first planted in New South Wales before spreading westward.

Today it is the most widely planted variety in Australia, accounting for around 45% of the yearly harvest. It is planted across the country with the Barossa Valley known for having some of the oldest vineyards of Shiraz in the world–including many pre-phylloxera plantings on their own rootstock.

Photo by Louis Roving. Uploaded to Wikimedia Commons under CC-BY-2.0

The Barossa Valley

Among these old vine Shiraz plantings include Langmeil’s 1843 vineyard in Tanunda and Turkey Flat’s 1847 parcel planted by Johann August Frederick Fiedler. In neighboring Eden Valley, Henschke’s Hill of Grace has Shiraz plantings dating back to the 1860s.

Pioneered by German Lutheran settlers from Prussia and Silesia (in modern-day Poland), the Barossa Valley is home to numerous 6th generation family wine growers. Often traditionally aged in American oak, the style of Shiraz here is characterized by James Halliday in his Wine Atlas of Australia as “…lush, velvety and mouthfilling with flavors in the black cherry to blackberry spectrum, the tannins ripe and soft.”

The soils in the Barossa are mostly sandy and clay loam which will have varying water-retaining abilities in the hot Australian sun depending on the percentage and type of clay. This tends to produce concentrated wines with lower acidity and higher pH that contributes to the powerful and lush dark fruit typical of Aussie Shiraz.

In contrast, the mainly granite and schist-based soils of the Northern Rhone (particularly in Côte-Rôtie) produces wines that John Livingstone-Learmonth notes in The Wines of the Northern Rhône tend to be “… less intensely coloured–red rather than black–and much more sinewed. Their fruit is more stone and pebbly in texture, their tannins more upright and raw at the outset. Pepper tones are drier and more evident…”

The Wine

Medium-plus intensity. Noticeable oak with coconut and cinnamon. Certainly dark fruit like black cherries but there also seems to be some faint red fruit like red plums on the edges. Red flowers like dahlias add some intrigue.

Photo by Dinkum. Uploaded to Wikimedia Commons under CC-Zero

While the oak and dark fruits certainly play a prominent role in this wine, I was very intrigued by some of the layers of potential complexity suggested by the red floral notes like dahlias on the nose.

On the palate the oak is still quite pronounced with creamy vanilla mouthfeel and dark chocolate joining the party. However, medium-plus acidity does add enough freshness and a mouthwatering component to keep this from being jammy. The ripe medium-plus tannins are soft but well structured holding up the full-bodied fruit. On the moderate-length finish there is a subtle herbal note (maybe eucalyptus) that isn’t quite defined but does add some complexity.

The Verdict

Overall, I wouldn’t describe this as a stereotypical “Big, bombastic Aussie Shiraz” that seems to dominant the shelves of the American market. No one would ever confuse this for something from Mollydooker or Glaetzer.

While definitely oaky and fruit-forward, this is a little more in the Penfolds style with an element of elegance and additional layers that I suspect could become even more complex with a few more years of bottle age. With its juicy acidity and structured tannins, I can easily see this going another 3 to 4 years in delivering ample pleasure.

At $20-25, this is a well-made Shiraz that would certainly appeal to many New World drinkers who like their wines fruity and ripe but not sweet or jammy.

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A Spice of Brett

Photo by Susan Slater. Released on Wikimedia Commons under CC BY-SA 4.0
Recently I watched a webinar from The Wine Scholar Guild by Master Sommelier Tim Gaiser about wine faults. One of the topics covered was Brettanomyces.

Gaiser noted how the presence of Brett in wine is fairly controversial with some wine industry folks having zero tolerance, considering any occurrence of it as a fault in the wine. Others are more forgiving, taking the view that a little bit of Brett can add complexity.

I am in that later group.

I actually like a little bit of Brett in wine. To me, it’s like a spice that can add a dash of character and intriguing aroma notes. But my tolerance is usually only for that dash. It’s like ordering Thai food where you specify the level of chili pepper spice. With chili spice, I’m a wimpish zero stars but my wife loves her dishes 5 stars. With Brett, I like wines in what I call the 1 star range. Give me just enough savory meatiness to make my mouth water and I’m hooked.

Sure there are folks who would like wines with more “Brett-stars” and, of course, there are folks who are decidedly on the “zero-star Brett” side of the spectrum. But I’ll disagree with the zero-star Brett folks who think any instances of it is a sign of a flawed wine. It’s like thinking anyone who orders a difference spice level at a Thai restaurant is ordering bad food.

Yes, it’s different. Yes, it may not be your style. But that doesn’t necessarily means it’s faulted. Now, I say necessarily faulted because I think the winemaker’s intent needs to be considered. There are certainly cases where there could be no intention to have any Brett develop in a wine but it occurred via faulty barrels or bad hygiene or, perhaps, emerged to a degree far beyond what was expected. Those are wines that could rightly be described as faulted but I’ll acquiesce that some souls may still find charm in those wines.

Though I should clarify here that when folks talk about Brett in wine, there are different types of aromas and flavors that fall under that catchall term–some of which are more apt to be described as positive notes than others.

Three types of Brett-related compounds

Photo by Oldsoft. Released on Wikimedia Commons under CC-BY-SA-3.0

Typically the more gooey the cheese, the more likely it is to have some funk.

A few things to keep in mind. One, not all of these compounds occur in every wine that has Brett. Two, everyone’s sensory threshold is unique and driven by genetics. What’s given below are the average sensory thresholds for the various compounds. Three, aroma descriptors are subjective. What is one person’s band-aid could be another person’s wet leather or iodine.

Isovaleric acid (sensory threshold >1000 µg/L or 1 ppm)

Sweaty socks and rancid cheese. For many people (even those who tolerate a few stars of Brett) these aromas often fall into “wine fault” territory. However, there are pretty funky cheeses out there that some people would describe as “rancid” while others find them gorgeous. Different strokes for different folks. Heck, there are even folks who have fetishes for sweaty socks (which I’m not going to link to). While a wine with these aromas may have too many Brett stars for me (and probably most people), I can’t discount that there are going to be tasters that are fascinated with these wines.

4-ethyl phenol (4EP) (sensory threshold >140 µg/L)

Barnyard and band-aids. For many people, these are the typical “tell-tale” signs of Brett and it is not surprising that these sensory notes are the most easily detectable among the Brett-related compounds. They’re probably also the most divisive. While I don’t find the smell of horses and pigs in the barn very appealing (That’s getting into “2 star Brett” territory for me), I can’t begrudge someone who like a little bit of odeur de cheval in their wine. Hey, if that rocks your boat then you go Glen Coco!

The wines of Washington cult producer Cayuse can be very divisive among wine lovers. For some they’re “too bretty”, for others they are savory, bacon-y goodness.

4-ethyl guaiacol (4EG) (sensory threshold of >600 µg/L)

Bacon, smoke, mushroom, cloves. This is the bastion where I defend my spice analogy of Brett. A lot of people don’t realize that many of these savory aroma and flavors in wine are actually derived from the unsavory origins of the much-maligned Brettanomyces.

Old World Brett

In fact, you can argue (and many wine folks do) that typical “terroir characteristics” of great Old World wines like Northern Rhone Syrahs, Ribera del Duero and old school Barolo and Bordeaux, are really just the earmarks of Brettanomyces. This is why, for me, Brett isn’t a bad word but rather a tool that a winemaker can use to add more layers to a wine.

Sure, there are things that can make a wine “too Bretty” for me. Bad hygiene in the winery and tainted barrels can pile on the Brett stars and take a wine far out of my pleasure zone. I’ll also confess that I’m not a fan of sour beers where Brettanomyces often plays a big role (though the “sour” part mostly comes from Lactobacillus and Pediococcus).

But variety is the spice of life and sometimes a little Brett can go a long way towards making a wine more interesting. I’ll drink to that.

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