Dan Berger’s Wine Chronicles: Zinfandel’s True Worth
By Dan Berger
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NAPA VALLEY, Calif. — Blaming the victim can often compound a felony, and in my haste to deliver a recent column on noble red wine grape varieties, I inadvertently accused a grape variety of an averageness that it obviously had nothing to do with and which tarnished a faultless reputation.
It is not the grape’s fault that it has been so poorly treated by those who craft it.
My injudiciousness, which I admit, was pointed out to me by Mike Rubin, a Napa wine lover and an old friend – we became acquainted in college 60 years ago. He was rightly irked by the misguided remarks in my recent column on noble red wine grape varieties. In it, I listed what I see as the greatest red wine grapes followed by several others in a second tier.
The fact that recently the overwhelming style of zin has been disrespectful to the grape may have colored my thinking. The grape is not at fault.
After that, I listed what I called the junior varsity red grapes, which included zinfandel, which I said made “an extremely popular red wine in California until fairly recently, when high alcohol levels caused sales to slump.” Mike, a retired executive for a large Napa Valley wine company who knows as much about wine as anyone I know, was perturbed that I would list zinfandel with the junior varsity. His memo was a cogent rebuff:
“Just because it’s been sadly abused in recent years by many producers doesn’t mean it isn’t, in many ways, as great as your four top wines. It is certainly more distinctive than nebbiolo and, properly made, can age quite well for years.”
As with other of Mike’s observations about my writings (rantings?) over the last 50 years, I was chastened. He’s right. That most zinfandel producers in California have utterly failed this fine grape variety should have no bearing on zin being seen as a noble grape that is worthy of greater esteem than I gave it. I do love properly made zinfandels. Unfortunately, great examples are extremely difficult to find.
I ignored that it has recently been so badly twisted out of shape that I rarely find many that deliver the heady raspberry or blackberry aromas and delightfully complex mid-palate fruit, the moderate alcohols and broad food compatibility that once were its hallmark.
In my email exchanges with Mike, we both asked the same question – where can you find such a black swan these days? One word that comes to mind to describe many of today’s zins is lugubrious.
The problem with today’s zinfandels starts with the fact that, as a grape, it is often mishandled in the vineyard because it’s a curious variety that ripens unevenly. Combine that with the fact that most wineries believe that zin consumers really want enormously concentrated, rich, powerful, extremely dark, high-alcohol red wines. As a result, many wineries still believe it’s a good idea to let zin grapes ripen until almost all the berries are dark and look like raisins.
Zinfandel’s uneven nature on the vine can be unnerving. As a season goes along and as veraison (the coloring of the fruit) proceeds, the berries on bunches of zinfandel ripen at different times. As harvest approaches, those who seek to make “big” (Port-style) red wines continue to wait until all the grapes have colored up. But some grape growers believe that is simply too late to make a balanced wine.
I consider late harvesting of zinfandel often to be a mistake. Experienced grape growers have told me that doing this with zinfandel risks making a wine that smells nothing like zinfandel and more like amarone – the Italian wine whose grapes are intentionally dried. Once zin grapes reach the point where ripeness gets too high, the delicate spices and berries in zin have dissipated.
The resulting wines taste less like zinfandel and more like Port. Many have alcohols so high they become solvents. Some zins are sweet, almost syrupy. The more the alcohol rises, the less a wine has a chance to develop in the bottle. Not that anyone cares about aging red wine anymore. I know of some people who still do age their zins, including me and Mike. But it is not a common practice.
In his memo to me, Mike wrote, “The best wine I’ve had from my cellar this year was a 50-year-old zinfandel — the 1974 Ridge Geyserville. It was 13.9% alcohol, from Trentadue Ranch (Geyserville). Checking with the winery, it was 100% zinfandel, no petite sirah or carignan. Second place was a 1973 Cuvaison Napa Valley Zinfandel.”
Included in Mike’s 2024 list were two excellent Napa cabernets (1979 Freemark Abby “Bosche” and 1979 Spring Mountain).
“Both were good, very good in many ways at age 45, but nothing like the beauty of that Ridge zin or the Cuvaison zin.” He added that last year, he “opened a ’73-’74 Cuvaison zin, an odd-duck blend of years, and it was surpassingly good.”
Mike said he was shocked that I treated zinfandel with such impertinence. Point taken. Over the decades I have tasted dozens of sensational zinfandels. The fact that recently the overwhelming style of zin has been disrespectful to the grape may have colored my thinking. The grape is not at fault.
Reflecting on the past, the best zinfandels I’ve had were not particularly dark and concentrated. Savvy growers and winemakers harvested zinfandel while some of the grapes had not yet colored up and still were slightly green. But they didn’t mind that those grapes would add a little bit more acidity to the final product. In particular, the old Louis Martini zinfandels from the 1970s were all light in color. Most not only displayed amazing drinkability when they were released but improved for decades.
Winemakers from the earlier era were not concerned about making red wines that were so dark they blotted out strobe lights. Some of the best zinfandels I ever tasted were as light in color as cool-climate pinot noirs that had not been manipulated. But since red wine manipulation seems to be a commonplace tactic in California these days, most zinfandels now are black. And most have 15% alcohol. Some are a lot higher.
Napa Valley still produces several good examples of zinfandel that have real varietal character. Most are above 15% alcohol, but a few (such as Jerry Seps’ reliable Storybook Mountain) are perfectly balanced.
For me the most reliable zin in Napa has always been from Frog’s Leap Winery. It frequently has a couple of other grape varieties added in because they contribute fascinating complexities to otherwise medium-weight wines that have all the character of the grape.
I spoke a few days ago with founding owner John Williams. He pointed out that almost all of his zinfandels are crafted with less than 14% alcohol. He said he believes that excessive alcohol levels can mask the subtle spice characteristics that seem to be a natural part of quality zin. And since he farms ancient vines that were planted decades ago, he relies on the consistency of his vineyard to produce a consistently fine example of a great zinfandel.
In last week’s column, one of the grape varieties that I listed as a fairly recent addition to California wine is primitivo, which I wrote was “a zinfandel-related grape that lacks most of zinfandel’s fruit and natural spice.”
Although primitivo is genetically identical to zinfandel, I see it as a particularly uninteresting clone of zin. I have tasted probably 50 or more primitivo wines from California wineries and have not found a single one that smells like zinfandel. Most people make it big and chewy. The original primitivo vines were discovered in southern Italy.
I believe primitivo is an ordinary clone of zin that has virtually no zinfandel-like elements in its aroma or taste. One reason that several California wineries have planted it is that they love the fact that it ripens more evenly than zinfandel, which makes harvesting it much easier. As such, growers do not have to worry about picking any green berries. However, in my view, the resulting wine is usually boring.
Then there is a widely planted Croatian grape called plavac mali that is also a clone of zin. And then there is another zinfandel clone called crljenak kaštelanski, which I believe to be much more directly related to the zinfandel grape that has been planted in the United States for well over 100 years. It seems to me to be more zinfandel-like than any of the other zin clones, with distinctive fruit and spice.
The true origins of zinfandel had been a mystery for decades. Between the 1970s and 1990s, as the grape became popular, many writers opined about where it came from. In most cases they were off base.
The best investigation of its origins was published in two books by author David Darlington, “Angel’s Visits: An Inquiry Into the Mystery of Zinfandel,” 1991, and “Zin: The History and Mystery of Zinfandel,” 2001.
In “Angel’s Visits,” Darlington speaks with great winemakers Paul Draper (Ridge Vineyards) and Joel Peterson (Ravenswood). Much of his research into the origins of the grape are accurate – up to the point where ampelographers (specialists in identifying grapevines) and grapevine geneticists began to apply their expertise into the mystery.
On a 2001 fact-finding mission to Croatia, Sonoma County winemaker Doug Nalle (Nalle Winery) joined UC Davis professor and Dr. Carole Meredith, who is considered one of the world’s leading authorities on grapevine genetics. Nalle has made exceptional, lower-alcohol zinfandels for 50 years.
Nalle told me last week that during his 2001 visit to Croatia, he and Meredith joined local plant physiologists from the University of Zagreb at a vineyard where they found eight grapevines that were identified as crljenak kaštelanski. Locals believed it to be related to zinfandel. Nalle told me last week that he took one look at the vines and said, “That’s zinfandel. No question about it.”
Meredith arranged for the variety to be certified at UC Davis. There she determined in 2002 that it was a genetic match to zinfandel. In 2012, Croatian-born and trained Mike Grgich at Grgich Hills Winery obtained a single plant from that UC Davis importation, which he eventually propagated, enabling him to plant 2 acres (!) of crljenak kaštelanski (surl-yen-ak) on a vineyard 800 feet off the valley floor just west of Calistoga, off Petrified Forest Road.
Crljenak kaštelanski is now grown in California by a tiny number of wineries including Meredith’s. Her brand, Lagier Meredith, located on esteemed Mount Veeder, now offers her 2021 wine for $45 per bottle. Grgich Hills Winery also has a history with crljenak kaštelanski, having made several vintages of the wine.
Years ago, when Grgich Hills made its first crljenak kaštelanski, they used that name because it was certified in Croatia by local authorities. In order to sell the wine in the United States legally, it needed a federal government label approval. So Grgich Hills applied for a certificate of label approval, which is required for almost all wines that are sold in the United States.
The government’s Tax and Trade Bureau gave Grgich Hills approval for that name, so the winery labeled the wine and began selling it as crljenak. Mike’s daughter, Violet, who now runs the winery (her father passed away last December), told me that she was encouraged when the European Union also certified crljenak kaštelanski as a synonym for zinfandel.
In April 2023, when several hundred people celebrated Mike’s 100th birthday at his Rutherford-area winery, I attended the festivities and bought two bottles of the 2021 crljenak kaštelanski. Months later, I pulled the cork on one bottle and shared it with friends. We all agreed that it was one of the best zinfandels we had ever tasted.
If that were the whole story, it would be interesting enough. But then the tale takes a bizarre turn.
Through this year, Grgich was the only winery in California selling what was called crljenak kaštelanski. It was $85 per bottle; only 100 cases of the wine were made. Then came bad news: Long after it had approved Grgich’s COLA application for crljenak kaštelanski, the TTB very belatedly rescinded its approval of the name.
“They told me to stop selling it,” said winemaker Ivo Jeramaz, Mike’s nephew, who is now the winemaker at Grgich Hills. So the remaining bottles of Grgich’s 2021 wine and later vintages, all of which are labeled crljenak kaštelanski, have been taken off the winery’s website and all sales have been halted.
According to the TTB letter that was sent to Violet, the agency said that the name it originally approved is not on the agency’s list of approved grape varieties. That list, which is on the TTB website, ranges from aglianico to zweigelt. The site also has TTB’s list of pending names, which range from albillo mayor to xynisteri.
Zinfandel deserves far more accolades than I gave it…
And it is true that crljenak kaštelanski does not appear on either list. Which doesn’t surprise Nalle at all. That’s because he told me last Friday that he thought TTB probably should never have approved that designation in the first place “because the real name for that variety is tribidrag.”
Indeed, the name tribidrag is what Meredith uses for her wine grown on Mount Veeder. The listing on her site identifies tribidrag as a synonym for zinfandel. However, in another bizarre twist, “tribidrag” does not appear on the TTB’s list of approved grape varieties or its list of pending approvals.
“The government made a mistake by approving the name (crljenak kaštelanski),” said Violet Grgich, “and I’m sure it will all be worked out.” But today her wine remains in limbo. Because of the name that’s on its label, it cannot be sold.
She said that at some point she expects that TTB will resolve its decision. Usually when a mistake is made regarding a COLA application, TTB allows the winery to sell all remaining labeled bottles under what is referred to as a “use-up.”
During an interview a few weeks ago, Jeramaz told me that he loved the wine that he’s making from his zinfandel clone from Croatia. He agreed with me that the resulting wines often display a subtle characteristic of black pepper and that “it’s genetically identical to zinfandel, but the wines are completely different.” He knows this because he also makes a traditional zin.
And finally, there are three other zinfandel variants that formally establish the variety’s greatness.
White or rosé zinfandel: Making a pink or even white wine from zinfandel has recently been widely disparaged. This is not only unfortunate but astoundingly naïve. The creation of Sutter Home White Zinfandel as a relatively dry wine nearly 50 years ago was one of California’s greatest achievements. I used to buy that wine by the case, and it hardly lasted through the summer.
Both white zin and its rosé counterpart can be remarkably delicious when they are dry or off-dry, when they are produced with good fruit and have good acidity and are consumed young. In my opinion, the only grape that consistently makes a better dry rosé is grenache.
However, in the late 1980s it became clear that white zinfandel could sell in huge numbers around the United States if it were a little sweet – or a lot sweet. Almost every winery that made one left so much residual sugar that the wine became cloying, which led to its disparagement. The sweeter versions never appealed to me.
Beaujolais: Zin has so much fruit along with a delicate complexity when it is harvested early that it can easily be the basis for a light, fruity, quaffable red wine that actually competes superbly with Beaujolais Villages. Unfortunately, this style of wine has almost completely disappeared from the American market. It was in vogue in the 1980s, and I adored various versions.
The brilliant St. Helena wine writer and author Bob Thompson, in his 1976 “The California Wine Book,” more than once refers to zinfandel as several different wines, one of which is America’s Beaujolais. He also pointed out that some winemakers of the day emphasized more delicacy and early drinkability in their zins than did those who preferred a more cabernet-style approach.
Dessert: So complex is zinfandel that it can be adapted to produce an amarone- or Port-style wine without too much trouble. Many wineries in California have used zin for just this purpose, and I have tasted several that were terrific when they were extremely young. Many of these same wines ended up aging for decades and still retained the grape’s personality.
So yes, Mike, I was derelict in my duty. Zinfandel deserves far more accolades than I gave it, and my next task will be to run out and buy a bottle of a Carol Shelton zinfandel from Sonoma County (she is one of the top zinfandel producers in the state). And I’ll consider a good pepperoni pizza to accompany it.
Wine Discovery of the Week:
2015 Sky Vineyards Zinfandel, Mount Veeder ($45) – One of the Napa Valley’s most remote vineyard sites is Lore Olds’ top-of-the-mountain Sky Vineyards property that may well be the valley’s least-visited winery. It is an off-the-grid place to appreciate a fabulous project dedicated to wines of terroir. Although this wine is already 9 years old, it is the current release that must be tasted to appreciate. Immediately after pulling the cork, I got an aroma of blackberry and an earthy complexity. Despite its age, it is still somewhat backward. So I decanted it for two hours. What emerged was almost exactly what Lore says on his website: “Bountiful black cherries and mountain berries with the distinctive Zin pepper and brightness of the Sky fruit are the stars of the 2015 Zin. This wine is very youthful and will age for at least 15 years.” The wine has only 14% alcohol and is nicely structured in the manner of a zin from about 30 or 40 years ago. The property is located at 2,100 feet elevation just this side of the Sonoma County line. The winery dates from the early 1970s, and Lore uses mostly ancient equipment. Almost everything is done by hand. Lore’s 2016 zin is 13.1% alcohol.
This Week's Word Challenge Reveal:
The correct answer is C: "Aromas from wine aging in bottle." "Tertiary aromas" refer to the complex scents that develop in wine as it ages, such as leather, tobacco or dried fruit. These are distinct from primary (fruit) and secondary (fermentation) aromas and are often found in well-aged wines, including older zinfandels. We hope you enjoyed this week’s challenge and look forward to next week’s word.
If today’s story captured your interest, explore these related articles:
Dan Berger’s Wine Chronicles: The Depth and Versatility of Sangiovese
Dan Berger’s Wine Chronicles: Uncovering the 'Soul' of Noble Reds
Dan Berger’s Wine Chronicles: Proof That Napa’s Older Cabs Can Age
Dan Berger’s Wine Chronicles: Napa and Sonoma as True Vinous Siblings
Dan Berger’s Wine Chronicles: The Nostalgia and Nonsense of Barrel Tastings
Dan Berger’s Wine Chronicles: The Evolution and Art of Winemaking
Dan Berger’s Wine Chronicles: How Wine Is Packaged Can Affect Its Quality
Dan Berger has been writing about wine since 1975.
The views, opinions and data presented in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy, position or perspective of Napa Valley Features or its editorial team. Any content provided by our authors is their own and is not intended to malign any group, organization, company or individual.
Michaela:
It's easy for some younger people to suggest that old red wines "lack" fruit. My view is that the fruit just gets more interesting -- sort of like how people gain wisdom.
Millennial son disparaged older wines from the cellar as "over the hill" until we opened a 1974 Clos du Val Zinfandel about 4 years ago. The light bulb went on.