For Part II of this post, click here. 

I lit out for Zinfandel country and other points north last Thursday, just before the Labor Day weekend. I sped up Highway 99 through the San Joaquin Valley and California’s agricultural heartland and on up into the Sierra Foothills along Highway 49, the scenic byway that winds through what was once Gold Country and is now Zinfandel Country.

The lovely little Gold Rush towns, each with its own “grand” hotel, saloon and “opry” house came and went—Jamestown, Sonora, Angels Camp, San Andreas, Mokelumne, Jackson and Sutter Creek. I finally stopped for the night at Old Hangtown (sometimes called Placerville) and hit the sack early intent on hitting the El Dorado zineries in the morning.

I’m fascinated by Zinfandel, the rich, fruity, spicy varietal that is California’s viticultural gift to the world. I’m fascinated by Zinfandel not only because its characteristics are so widely varied and yet so distinct (you can almost always tell that a Zin is a Zin, no matter where it’s grown), but because its origins are a bit of a mystery.

For a long time it was thought that Zinfandel might be a grape native to California. With the advent of genetic profiling however, we now know that Zinfandel is almost identical, genetically speaking, to the southern Italian grape, Primitivo and the Czech grape Crljenak. Research from the University of California at Davis (my home town) has found that Zin is in fact a clone of Crljenak. It is now thought that Zinfandel came from somewhere in Albania or Greece. Records show that the grape probably first came to the U.S. from the Austro-Hungarian Empire, from whose Imperial State Nursery a one George Gibbs brought cuttings. How the grape got to California is a matter of some debate.

Despite all this and the fact that Primitivo was introduced into Italy after it was first grown in the U.S., in 2002 the Alcohol and Tobacco Tax and Trade Bureau, a U.S. government bureaucracy, declared that Primitivo and Zinfandel were synonymous, allowing Primitivo producers to label their wines Zinfandel and vice versa. California’s Zinfandel producers were not amused, as Primitvo producers could flood the market with cheap “Zinfandels” whose character is completely unlike the California varietal. Ah, well.

The Rhone of the West
First stop next day was David Girard Vineyard, which does not produce a Zinfandel. (So my approach isn’t exactly scientific. So sue me.) Instead, Girard’s focus, according to G.M. and winemaker, Mari Wells, is on Rhone-style blends, which I can certainly live with. First up in the flight was the 2006 Coeur du Terroir Blanc ($22), a sharp, citrus-accented blend of Rousanne, Granche Blanc, Rolle, Marsanne and Viognier. This would be a great wine with fish and light meats—definitely a meal wine, rather than stand-alone quaffer or a picnic wine.

Mari then “accidentally” poured me the 2006 Viognier, which is supposed be reserved for the David Girard wine club, mistakenly identifying it as the 2005 Chardonnay (see below). I promised I wouldn’t embarrass her by divulging the error, but I lied. I had to, because this Viognier pretty much blew me away with its odd grassiness, mild oak and long finish. It didn’t taste like a Chardonnay at all, however, and I said so, which is how we discovered the mistake (the bottles and labels are nearly identical).

Nevermind. The 2005 Chardonnay ($20) turned out to be a winner as well. Made without a secondary fermentation, this Chard has a creamy viscosity that shows right up front in the nose—yes, it even smells slippery. But the real stand out characteristic of this wine was in the mid-palate, where a kind of “stinky cheese” flavor takes over. Stinky is good.

The 2005 Rose blend ($16)—Grenache, Mouvedre, Counoise—is a nice little stand-alone afternoon wine with a cherry nose and black fruit notes with just a hint of pineapple.

We quickly passed on to the Rhone style reds, starting with a nice 2005 Grenache ($18). Blended with a pinch of Malbec and a dash of Syrah, this wine had a rich red rose color, a spicy cinnamon nose a bit of black fruit up front. It’s rich and surprisingly complex.

Next up we had the 2003 Rive D’Or ($18), a truly Rhone-style Rhone style blend, being a hearty blend of Cabernet Sauvignon, Cab Franc, Merlot and Malbec. Not kidding around, the Rive D’or is a deep red with violet highlights with berries up front and medium tannins, a long finish with a surprise ending of a little sharp citrus tang. Uncommon, to say the least. 

The 2004 Coeur de Terroir Rouge ($24), a blend of Mourvedre, Grenache, Syrah and Counoise is also an odd bird, with a red-orangy color a creamy nose and creamy soft and simple finesse. I can’t see it as a really good food wine, but as a stand-alone quaffer would definitely offer some reward.

Finally, we ended on Girard’s prize pony, the 2004 Syrah ($32). With a dark, pink-purple color and a really creamy, lush mouth feel, plus soft fruit punctuated by a tannic bite mid-palate, this wine one pair well with all manner of meat dishes and soft cheeses. 

I very much enjoyed David Girard’s wines and cellar-mistress Mari Wells’ company, but this was supposed to be a Zinfandel-centric junket. So I asked Mari about El Dorado Zins in the neighborhood and she gave a few recommendations, including Gold Hill, right next door to Girard.

Gold in Them There Hills  
If David Girard Vineyards is a Buick Regal, Gold Hill Vineyard is more of a Chevy truck, and I don’t mean that in a bad way. Where David Girard’s tasting facility is Mediterranean-style and designed to the hilt with polished countertops and pure white walls, Gold Hill’s is down-to-earth funky—a bit of working barn walled off to make a tasting room for its wines and beers. Pictures are unpretentiously tacked to the walls and there’s random stuff scattered here and there… You get the idea. I like a little funky and down-home, thank you.

Gold Hill’s wines certainly stand out as anything but work-a-day. I opted not to try their whole flight, this being only my second stop of the day (and I hate to spit), but concentrated on the two that really piqued my interest: The 2004 Zin (of course) and the 2004 Barbera (both 20 bones). All I can say is “wow and WOW.” OK, that’s not quite all I can say: The Zin was great, having a rich, fruity nose and a delicious cream sherry note to it. This continued on the palate as nutty and barky wood flavors took over and lingered. But I have to admit it was the Barbera that was the real stand out. The fruit in this little number hits the nose like a freight train hauling cars full of plums, black currents and dried strawberries. The mid-palate and mouth-feel is creamy smooth with a nicely alcoholic bite at the end. Bravo, Gold Hill.

Return soon for Part II of my trip through California’s “Zin Dorado.”

Resources:

David Girard Cabernet Sauvignon 2002

—Michael Mattis, Proprietor