Wine tasting: Yaluma "Y Series" Viognier, Australia, 2015.

Hey, long time no see! For new readers who need a catch-up, I'm in the process this year of fulfilling a New Year's resolution to finally get better educated about wine; and the first tasting project I'm doing as part of this education is to do thoughtful tastings of the world's twenty most popular types of grapes, taking them on chromatically from the darkest reds to the lightest whites. I've been at it since January, which means I've now gotten through Syrah/Shiraz, Malbec, Cabernet Sauvignon, Pinot Noir, Chianti (Sangiovese), Merlot, (Red) Zinfandel, Garnacha/Grenache, Beaujolais (Gamay), Cabernet Franc, White Zinfandel, Gewürztraminer and Chardonnay; and after a three-week hiatus I'm now ready to take on my 14th wine in this series, the obscure Viognier (pronounced vee-OWN-yay).

Once a much more popular wine than it currently is, most believe that Viognier goes all the way back to Croatia and the birth of wine in Mesopotamia thousands of years ago; although definitely we have records of the Romans bringing this as one of the first grape types to France when they initially established the "fine wine" tradition there in the early AD years. On the plus side, low acidity makes this wine lush and smooth like a Chardonnay, but with it being an "aromatic" wine it also usually contains a lot more subtle aromas of flowers and fruits than many other whites. (In fact, this is often added to harsh reds such as Syrah to make the resulting "red blend" both softer in taste and better-smelling.) But on the minus side, it's one of the fussier grapes in existence, a fruit that needs a long growing season but in a place where it never gets too hot, that is prone to mildew, that has low and unpredictable yields, and that gets oily and flat if picked too late in the year.

Although once commonly grown in France's Rhône Valley (in fact, to this day it's still the only grape officially allowed in that region's Condrieu wine, one of the few French "luxury" wines deliberately meant to be drank soon after bottling), Viognier actually got very close to going extinct altogether, from a combination of that country's huge phylloxera plague in the 1800s and then this grape's vineyards being right at the heart of the Western Front during World War One. In the 1960s and '70s, though, this was one of the grapes that helped fuel America's rise into world-class winemaking (since it does well in moderate temperatures, this is one of the more common grapes used in wineries outside of the west coast -- never forget that all 50 states in the US have at least one local winery, not just California, Oregon and Washington); and in more recent years Viognier has also become a popular choice in the exploding wine industries in Australia, New Zealand and South America.

In fact, Australia is the home of the Viognier I tried for this tasting, a company called Yalumba which is that country's oldest family-owned winery (dating back to 1849) and one of only four wineries on the planet which makes its own oak barrels. (They have a beautiful website as well; I encourage you to check it out.) You can read my detailed tasting notes below; but in general this was partly like how I was expecting it to be (so fragrant, for example, that the smell immediately hits you like a punch right when you open the bottle), but partly a surprise from what I was expecting (the aroma wasn't as sweet as I heard typical Viogniers are, but the taste wasn't as dry). This was one of my favorite wines so far of this entire series, and as always I want to thank the smart and friendly staff of my local Binny's for helping me pick it out.

Yalumba Family Vignerons

“The Y Series” Viognier, 2015

Angaston, South Australia

14.1% ABV

$13

Look: A pale yellow the hue of straw, easily transparent to the light.

Smell: True to this grape's reputation, a powerful aroma that hits you the moment you open the bottle. Not as sweet a smell as I was expecting, with strong hints of lemon and honey.

Taste: A beautifully thick taste in the mouth, with the distinctive oily sensation on the middle of the tongue that comes with this varietal. Although often known for its dryness, this particular brand is semi-sweet, but with the kind of perfumy bite like you get when putting a flower petal in your mouth. Easy to see why this is a little-known secret favorite among wine experts; it has all the good qualities of a Chardonnay, but is also more delicate, more complex, and more fragrant. One of my favorite whites so far this year.

After a Full Glass: After a full glass paired with grilled salmon and broccoli, I was surprised to discover that this comes off as even sweeter than before, and pleased to find that its taste doesn't overwhelm the food at all. I'm willing to bet that this goes REALLY well with spicy food.

Head-to-head wine tasting: Wente and Meridian Chardonnays, 2014.

Hey, hello! Long time no see! For people just joining in today, I'm a writer and software developer in Chicago, who as one of his New Year's resolutions decided that 2016 was the year I was finally going to get better educated about wine; and the first project this year I'm taking on in order to do so is to do thoughtful tastings of the world's twenty most popular types of grapes, which I've been taking on in chromatic order, from the darkest reds last January to finishing the lightest whites in May. This is week 13 of the project, which means that I've already gotten through Syrah/Shiraz, Malbec, Cabernet Sauvignon, Pinot Noir, Chianti (Sangiovese), Merlot, (Red) Zinfandel, Garnacha/Grenache, Beaujolais (Gamay), Cabernet Franc, White Zinfandel, and Gewürztraminer; and that means it's time for me to finally try one of the most popular types of wine in existence, the often praised but just as often insulted Chardonnay.

The child of a type of grape native to France and one originally native to Croatia, that the Roman Empire brought with them when setting central Europe, two of the big reasons that Chardonnay has become so popular is first because it's so easy to grow (it's cultivated in more different wine regions on the planet than any other single type of grape), and because it's so "malleable," which means that its flavor and texture changes radically based on what kind of soil and weather it's grown in (which together is known as a wine's "terrior"). For that reason, this is a perfect type of wine to use as a base if you want to sample different brands from around the world; Chardonnays from cooler climates tend to taste like apples and pears, while those from hot areas have strong hints of tropical fruit like bananas and mangos. (And for what it's worth, this is also one of the most popular types of grapes for making sparkling wine as well.)

But of course any American who grew up in the 1970s will know of Chardonnay's special significance to this country; along with White Zinfandel, it was one of the wine types that first turned California's wine industry into a world-class one, and eventually so exploded in popularity that there are now more Chardonnay grapes grown here than in France itself. But this is also what caused the backlash against Chardonnay; for not only does this grape type take on much of the terrior of wherever it was grown, it's also highly influenced when aged in oak barrels, giving it a buttery taste that became a favorite of '80s casual wine drinkers. That led to massive infusion of oak into the cheaper brands of Chardonnay in that decade, leading to the rise of the so-called "butter bombs;" and by the '90s it was common to hear people order "ABC" when choosing a wine at dinner, standing of course for "Anything But Chardonnay."

Like last week, I thought it would be good to sample two different types of this wine at once, to give me at least a small sense of what kind of variety I might find out there; for one I picked an oaked Chardonnay from the warm region of Napa Valley, the kind sold at grocery stores for under ten dollars, then for the other I picked an unoaked version from the cool region around San Francisco, which was $15 and came specially recommended from my neighborhood Binny's, not to mention getting a score of 90 from "Wine Enthusiast" magazine. (It's also worth noting that, with its 1883 incorporation, Wente is one of the oldest wineries in California to even sell Chardonnay in the first place; plus its vineyards are also an entertainment destination, including a thousand-seat amphitheater that has hosted such big musicians as James Taylor, Harry Connick Jr., Willie Nelson, Diana Ross, and a lot more. Not a bad way to move some bottles of wine!) You can read my detailed tasting notes below, but basically I discovered that there's a lot of validity to what I read about Chardonnay types; the cheaper brand from the warmer climate was indeed the drinking equivalent of literally pouring butter on my popcorn at a movie theater (which is not necessarily bad, don't get me wrong), while the more expensive brand from the cooler climate has the kind of sharp and crisp nature you would expect from apple juice, and turned out to be pretty easily my favorite white wine I've so far tried in this project. Don't count Chardonnay over yet! These were both quite delightful drinking experiences, and I imagine would especially go well on a hot day spent outdoors.

Meridian Vineyards

Chardonnay, 2014

Napa Valley, California

13.5% ABV

$9

Look: Clear and fairly yellow, with no legs whatsoever.

Smell: An exact match to what I “expect” wine to smell like, based on attending all those hippie parties my parents threw back in the '70s, with a strong sour/savory aroma and a powerful strength.

Taste: Yep, it's buttery all right! I have to admit, I didn't quite know what to expect after reading about this so-called buttery nature in all my pre-tasting research; but it's quite literally like a lighter, drinkable version of putting butter on your popcorn at the movie theater, a sort of velvety drinking experience that unfortunately overpowers any distinct flavor this wine might have. A mass-market taste for a mass-market brand, the type of wine you often see on sale for eight bucks at your neighborhood grocery store.

Wente Vineyards

“Morning Fog” Chardonnay, 2014

Livermore Valley, San Francisco Bay, California

13.5% ABV

$15

Wine Enthusiast Score: 90

Look: A bright, pale yellow, barely noticeable.

Smell: A subtle, dry, crisp aroma, with a slight sour/savory edge.

Taste: An enjoyably dry and light taste on the tongue, with the distinct taste of pears, suprisingly thicker in consistency and mouthfeel than the more highly oaked Meridian. A sharp, acidic aftertaste, which I mean in a good way. Bright and delicious; the best white wine I've so far tried this year.

Wine tasting: Sutter Home White Zinfandel, no year listed

An exciting week around here; I'm officially halfway through this first self-taught wine course of 2016* (which I'm doing, to remind you, as part of a New Year's resolution to get better educated about the subject), which means I'm now done with all the ten reds I'll be trying (including Syrah/Shiraz, Malbec, Cabernet Sauvignon, Pinot Noir, Chianti/Sangiovese, Merlot, (Red) Zinfandel, Garnacha/Grenache, Gamay/Beaujolais, and Cabernet Franc), and am ready to start the ten whites that are left. Or, well, that's not strictly true; because first before I get to the white whites, I'm trying out a pink wine, also known as rosé wine, which yet other people refer to as blush wine.

(*And don't forget, my second self-taught course this year, lasting essentially the entire length of this coming summer, is to teach myself all there is to know specifically about French wines, so please do drop me a line at ilikejason [at] gmail.com with any tips or advice you might have for me. And what will be my autumn tasting project? I'm still looking for suggestions on that too!)

Rosé wines don't come from a specific type of grape (there are rosé versions on the market of numerous reds I've already tried this year), but rather the way they're prepared; because for those who don't know, all grape juice starts out as white when first squeezed out of the fruit, and only becomes red because of it soaking with the grapes' dark skins during the fermentation process, meaning that you can achieve all kinds of different shades of red (and thus different intensities of flavor) depending on how long you let the juice and skins mingle. This is exactly, for example, what the small California family winery Sutter Home started doing with Zinfandel grape juice in the early 1970s, mostly to help intensify the flavor of the juice still left in the vats after dumping some of it, but with a local wine shop convincing the company to bottle up that early-removed juice as well and sell it to their hippie customers; it was first marketed by the company under the name Oeil de Perdrix, but then changed to "White" Zinfandel after complaints from the FDA about misleading advertising.

This would've been the end of the story, except that in 1976 Sutter Home's supply of White Zin experienced what's known as a "stuck fermentation," whereby all the yeast dies out before all the sugar's been completely converted into alcohol; but instead of the disaster they thought they had on their hands, one taste made them realize what a delightful concoction they had accidentally stumbled upon; and it was this super-sweet version that became a runaway hit with the public, eventually turning the small winery into a huge corporate behemoth that now sells tens of millions of cases every year, right at the same time that California's wine industry in general first started receiving worldwide attention, these two facts eventually becoming so cemented in the public mind that they're difficult now to separate them. And sure, you can complain (and many do) about all the downsides to this -- that it produced a cottage industry for super-cheap "alcoholic Kool-Aid" that did no favors to the wine world in general, a type of wine that has no subtlety or complexity and is mostly meant for quick drunkenness on hot summer days -- but if you're a beginner like me who is trying to celebrate the uniqueness that each different type of wine on the market brings to thoughtful tastings like the ones I'm doing in 2016, there's no reason to poo-poo White Zinfandel in particular, despite the rather negative reputation it's picked up over the years from people who are serious about their wine.

Usually with these tastings, I go down to my neighborhood Binny's and try to find something on the shelves that is both relatively cheap and that has a high posted score at places like Wine Spectator or Robert B. Parker; but this time I thought, what the hell, why not try the literal brand of White Zin from Sutter Home that made this such a huge success in the first place, which at $4.50 will also likely be the cheapest tasting I'll do all year. (And also note that at 8.5% ABV, this has roughly half the alcohol as most of the reds I've been tasting this year, yet another reason this kind of wine is so popular among casual drinkers at social events on warm days, which gets cut in half yet again if you mix it half-and-half with seltzer water [known as a "wine spritzer"], a hugely popular way to drink light wines like these.) My detailed notes are below, but in general I found this to be not nearly as bad as its reputation makes it out to be; I mean, make no mistake, it's as sweet as fruit punch and lacks any kind of subtlety at all, but it was certainly enjoyably quaffable in a way that made me nostalgic for my '70s childhood when my countercultural parents and all their friends would drink this by the gallon at summer picnics and barbecues. It's undeniable that there are a lot of better wines on the market besides this, but you shouldn't let that stop you from enjoying a nice bottle of White Zin on a warm August day.

Sutter Home Family Vineyards

White Zinfandel, no year listed

Napa Valley, California

8.5% ABV

Look: A light pink in color, with the consistency of water.

Smell: An almost sickly sweet aroma when sniffing a still glass, but that gets much more complex and darker after swirling it a bit. (I'm surprised by how different this is from one type of wine to the next; some smell the same no matter what you do to it, while others smell like a completely different wine right after vigorously aerating the glass.)

Taste: An almost entirely sweet taste in the mouth, strongly reminiscent of cherries and strawberries, with a light finish that makes your lips a little sticky afterwards. True to its reputation, there is absolutely no subtlety here; the taste is the same from lips to tongue to throat, with no distinct aftertaste at all. Basically like drinking alcoholic Kool-Aid, and it's easy to see why this caught on so big with people who are otherwise not really into wine (and why this was perfect for 1980s California in particular).

After a Full Glass: After an entire glass paired with a dinner of white fish and asparagus, I unfortunately found the sweetness of the wine to be overwhelming, much like trying to eat dinner and dessert at the exact same time. A good wine to drink by itself, but I don't recommend having it with a meal, or at the very least have it with something hot and spicy.