Heitz Wine Cellars 1997 Grignolino

Those of you who already appreciate this wine will, I think, understand me when I express my hesitation in recommending this wine to the entire www.world. I don't believe that I have ever encountered an odder wine (I can already see everyone clicking to other staff picks right at this very moment). Why, you may ask, am I putting my reputation as a wine professional (I do, after all, get paid to do this) on the line for this weirdo wine produced in California? Some of you have come up to me at the store, asking for a recommendation, kindly telling me, "You've never steered us wrong before." Well, that may well go out the window now. No matter how eloquently or incoherently I may henceforth rattle on about it, SOME OF YOU ARE NOT GOING TO LIKE THIS WINE, PERIOD. If ever there was a subjective wine, this is it. I don't think that I have ever encountered someone who said of this wine, "It's okay." Instead, I hear glowing, positive praise or unabashed disgust and even hatred for this wine. The name of this grape, Grignolino, purportedly means, in the dialect of the Italian Piemonte, "little grin" which seems to me to be a very ambivalent definition indeed. Ci capiamo, non è vero? Before I go into why I love this wine, let me outline some of the reasons why some people hate it.

The color is wrong. It isn't quite red but it isn't rose either (there is a Grignolino Rosé made by Heitz, but that is a different, equally praiseworthy wine that we don't, as of this writing, have in stock). I guess this is what the Italians might call a chiaretto: (claret in English) a light red. The lightness of color is obvious, and those expecting a fuller, darker red are already likely to be on their guard as this bright, brickish orangish red liquid (like Campari, frankly) cascades into their glass.

The initial smell is wrong. Uh-oh. This is where most of the initial disappointment (or excitement for you heretics) occurs. First the color is wrong and then there are odd smells. I, for one, always get grapefruit skin, which one does not expect to find in a red wine. Because it is an unexpected smell, many assume that they have purchased an "off" bottle, and either return it for a refund or, without ceremony, dump it down the drain, mentally recording the moment and reminding themselves, "Never again." Put off by their initial reaction, many who encounter this wine are unlikely to delve further. I, for one, find not only grapefruit skin, but also tearose, and exotically perfumed white grapes such as Gewurztraminer and Muscat.

Sometimes there's an impression of spritziness. I recently uncorked a bottle and there was a distinctive "pop" sound as I removed the cork. And there were a few teensy-weensy bubbles in the wine. It wasn't actually carbonated, but there was just a hint of a prickle. While I found this refreshing and energetic, others feel that "something has gone terribly, terribly wrong" as if seamonkeys or glowing, pulsating jellyfish might suddenly appear in their glasses. Okay, time to do some figures. Color's wrong, smells weird, and sometimes there are bubbles equals a drainful of Grignolino and the clink of an empty bottle in the recycling bin. Or does it?

If you've read down this far, perhaps you are an adventurous/ crazy sort. You don't immediately assume that every red has to taste like Cab and every white like Chard. You don't necessarily equate a price tag with quality. You actually trust your own ability to judge a wine and don't need to consult with a stack of wine journals to be sure that you like or don't like a wine. And, most importantly, you are willing to try something new that you may or may not like.

Of course, as you may have already guessed, some of the reasons why I love Grignolino are the very same reasons why others hate it. I love this wine in part because of its idiosyncratic nature. It is not a "safe wine" and for that I am very, very thankful. There are fleets of supertankers of red wines out there that have all the "correct" flavors and pedigree, sailing along according to preconceived notions, and in the midst of them, cutting figure eights and joyfully tooting their horns are snappy, irreverent wines like Heitz Grignolino. It would be dishonest of me, however, to say that I strode boldly one day into a wineshop and said "I want something different and weird." I have to confess that some wiser, more experienced friends introduced me to this wine. And the first time that I uncorked a bottle of Heitz Grignolino, I thought something had gone wrong. Terribly wrong. My first bottle had the added initial olfactory bummer of a whiff of sulfur. But I waited about an hour and everything came into place. I had this wine with a simple, straight-forward pasta dish involving few ingredients: tomatoes, feta, oil-cured black olives with just a little garlic, served over penne or some other short, tubular pasta. The acidity of the tomatoes would have overwhelmed most other red wines, but the Grig held its own, and provided an intelligent foil not only to the acidity of the tomatoes, but to the richness (and sweetness) of the olives, and the tanginess of the feta. Of course, there are lots of other dishes that lend themselves to Grignolino. One Italian producer of Grignolino recommends a polenta infused with salami. As you may well know, Grignolino is a grape native to the Piemonte region in Italy, the most prestigious wine making region in Italy (conosci Barolo e Barbaresco?). While I have never been able to find an Italian Grignolino in the United States, I have sampled several during my travels in Italy. I can quite honestly say that those that I have tried (which is by no means all) are less impressive than that made by Heitz Cellars. Which perhaps shouldn't be too much of a surprise, given the reputation of Heitz Cellars. Joe Heitz, former Air Force pilot, started Heitz Wine Cellars in 1961. When he bought his first vineyards, there were already some Grignolino vines on the property, and he decided to keep them. (So we are talking about vines that are at least forty years old!). As California wine enthusiasts know, Joe Heitz is famous for his Cabernet Sauvignon from the Martha's Vineyard and Bella Oaks vineyards. These are wines that command $70 and up per bottle. Despite the fame of these wines, Heitz continues to produce Grignolino (both the red and a rosé). These are wines that run around $10 per bottle. Surely Heitz could have ripped these out vines and planted more lucrative, profitable grapes than this obscure Italian varietal (pronounced, by the way, "Gree-nyo-LEE-no"). But maybe making money isn't everything, and maybe there still is an art to winemaking.

After all is said and done, I need to restate something. I like this wine. I think you should try this wine. You should try this wine. But you might not like this wine. It is quirky and is probably unlike anything that you have tried. And it is precisely the kind of wine that reminds me that winemaking is an art . But this sounds a bit too cerebral and I might equally say, as Elmer Fudd might have said, "Heitz Gwinowino is a wacky wine that I weally, weally, wike."