2007 Quivira Wine Creek Ranch Mourvèdre

Pure Dry Creek Valley Mourvèdre

2007 Quivira Wine Creek Ranch Mourvèdre

Have you ever had a pure varietal mourvèdre wine? I don’t think I had until this one.

Mourvèdre (a.k.a. Monastrell and Mataró) is a common grape in both Spanish blends (as Monastrell) and as a main ingredient in Châteauneuf-du-Pape and CdP-style wines (usually called “GSMs”). But finding it made as a pure 100% varietal wine is a bit more difficult.

I think, after tasting this, I know now where some of the rusticness of GSMs comes from: it’s the “M.” I’ve had plenty of 100% (or dominant 85%+) grenaches and syrahs, from all over the place (France, Spain, California, Washington, Australia) and not one ever felt “rustic” to me. Syrah is bold and powerful; grenache, supple and gorgeous—when done well, of course.

Mourvèdre, on the other hand, is rustic. It’s the Gerald McRaney to grenache’s Jameson Parker. Although McRaney was kind of like syrah, too. Whatever, this is a discussion for another time, anyway.

So, given mourvèdre’s usual place as a blending grape, what does a 100% mourvèdre taste like? Did I mention this is also a certified Biodynamic wine?

In the glass, the wine has a ruby red core that fades to pink edges. On the nose is that rusticness I was talking about: a hint of fruit (cherries and blueberries) but mostly earth, dirt, and chalk, with a hint of barnyard that some freaks like me enjoy, and some non-freaks (maybe like you) might not.

The wine is light-bodied, and crisper than its shade in the glass would lead you to believe. The wine is exceptionally balanced: a bit of biting acidity, some supple, soft tannins, and its not-low 14.7% ABV all come together to sit on a three-way playground see-saw, and no one falls down. The herby-vegetal cherry bush thing is here that I sometimes find in cabernet franc, but it’s nice and subtle. Way more cherry than bush, as it were.

I think I need to find more 100% mourvèdre.

Verdict: B+

2009 Quivira Grenache Rosé

Drink Pink

2009 Quivira Grenace Rosé

Summer summer summer… time.

Hot days here in California lead to a desire for lighter, crisper wines that taste good (and maybe that just “make sense”) served at a bit below room temperature—chilled, even. Aromatic whites, imported blancs, maybe a bubble here and there. And, of course: rosés.

I remember (it wasn’t that long ago) when I thought that the end-all be-all of rosé was the damnable White Zinfandel, as proffered by outfits like Sutter Home and Franzia. How truly naïve I was.

I’ve since had some really fantastic rosés, both still and sparkling. Even a few I haven’t written about.

While this wine does not quite stack up to the likes of Pithy’s Sangiovese Rosé, it is still mighty tasty. It’s also completely organic and biodynamic, so depending on your outlook, add or subtract the appropriate points.

This rosé is 90% grenache, 10% mourvèdre, a pink take on the southern Rhône Valley. It’s a tawny pink in the glass, with this earthy hint of tan that definitely makes it stand apart from the abominable white zinfandel.

On the nose is a mix of tropical fruits—passion fruit, grapefruit, and a tiny tiny hint of kiwi—mixed with a more down-home apricot note. The wine is medium bodied, and the tropical notes carry through from the nose to the palate. There’s an interesting savoriness on the palate as well, something I found difficult to place, but that I completely blame on the mourvèdre.

The 2009 Quivira Grenache Rosé is a tasty summer wine that won’t knock your socks off, but will satisfy your thirst.

Verdict: B-

2006 Quivira Anderson Ranch Zinfandel

“Wine Is Not Made… Wine Is Grown”

I haven’t bought in to the whole organic/biodynamic thing in wine yet. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m not some ecologically laissez-faire industrialist monster looking for any excuse to burn coal and club baby seals, but wine needs to taste good.

I’ve tried a few attempts at the organic/biodynamic thing (quick sidenote: I don’t want to offend anyone by conflating the two terms, but it seems to me that the latter is a subset of the former. However, since the former is so much more well-known as a term, I will continue to use them in this slashy manner. Carrying on…) and I’ve been less than impressed.

Until I stumbled upon a little winery in Dry Creek Valley I’d (no surprise here, really) never heard of.

Quivira's solar-panel-topped tasting room

Quivira's solar-panel-topped tasting room

Quivira Vineyards and Winery is a total hippie new-agey type place. Fortunately I’m actually pretty down with that in general, as long as your juice brings it. And theirs does, especially our topic of discussion today: the 2006 Anderson Ranch Zinfandel. There’s all kinds of great info on this wine on their website, but I’m here to tell you the most important part: what’s it taste like?

Unlike the baked zins of Lodi and California’s central valley, the zins of Dry Creek Valley always come off a bit subtler, more refined. No escaping that here, so don’t expect to get your ass handed to you by overpowering spice. There’s a smoothness to the big sound, here—more Michael McDonald, less Don Henley, if that makes any sense to you.

In the glass, the wine is a solid dark ruby throughout, with very little change retreating to the edges. The nose features dark chocolate, raspberry, and a bit of a bitter espresso note. You kinda have to dig the bitter (Ed note: I do.) to dig that, but it’s nice.

The 2006 Anderson Ranch is full-bodied, with lots of notes of black pepper and dark spices, tasting a lot like a spice rack smells. But there’s also a pretty sick chocolate note in there, nothing to sniff at (though, certainly, something to sniff).

All in all, this is exactly what I like in zinfandel, and I can highly recommend it. Hopefully, it bodes well for my personal experience in the years to come with organic/biodynamic wine.

Verdict: A-