Cannonau: Proving "Rustic Wine" Isn't a Bad Thing

I'm wrapping up my month of Sardinian wines today with a wine that exemplifies the wine description "rustic."

What is a rustic wine? It's a topic of debate, and some people use it as a put-down to describe wines they find simple, unsophisticated, and lacking in the fruitiness that might make a wine "quaffable" (that's a subject for another day). Like my esteemed colleague Tyler Colman of Dr. Vino, however, I think it's a good thing. In a post made way back in February 2007, he entered into a spirited discussion with some readers about the definition of a rustic wine. Dr. Vino described rustic wines as "off-the-beaten-path varieties or regions that maybe have some quirks or rough edges but also have a certain undeniable charm, particularly in the face of a pasteurized, homogenized wine in an “international” style."

This definition certainly fits the Sardinian red wine that I tried. I was made from Cannonau grapes--which is what Grenache is called on the island of Sardinia. Turns out there is a bit of controversy these days about the origins of Cannonau. We used to say the Spanish brought it to Sardinia, but now experts wonder if it isn't indigenous to Sardinia ,and the Spanish took it back with them after they invaded the island in the 13th century. Whatever you call it, Cannonau from Sardinia has retained the idiosyncratic rusticity that can make you feel that you are drinking wine from a different age. Craig Camp had a Cannonau a few weeks ago, and likened it to an old-fashioned Chateauneuf du Pape from the Rhone.

The 2003 Santa Maria La Palma Le Bombarde was one of those wines that reminded you that rusticity is something that you happen upon all too infrequently these days when drinking wine. ($18, Bion Divino) Upon first sip, it smalled and tasted like iron--overwhelmingly so--with some gamey notes that made me think I had made a serious mistake with this wine. I left it alone in the glass for 15 or so, then sipped it and the iron tang had gone, replaced by flavors of meat and leather. Another 15 minutes and the meat and leather had melded with a strong, cherry liqueur flavor. In the end it was very much like an older Chateauneuf du Pape, with all the rusticity and funkiness left in and none of its opulence of plushness. This wine had great varietal typicity, but it may not appeal to New World Grenache fans. Good QPR for a wine that has oodles of character, but may cost more than you want to spend on a wine with lots of rough edges.

Like most rustic wines, the Cannonau was much better with food than without. Our favorite pairing was with a BLT and some sweet potato fries. The sandwiches were made on some toasted sourdough made by our friends at the Twofish Baking Company, and the sourdough tang was perfect with the any remaining iron notes. The smokey bacon was terrific with the meat and leather tastes, and the tomato and the cherry flavors sparked off each other without clashing.

Listening to Lynne Rossetto Kasper's The Splendid Table podcast for June 21, I discovered a new reason to love this rustic wine: Dan Buettner discovered that is has 3 times the antioxidants of any other grape on earth. It's one reason why Sardinians (who love their Cannonau) are one of the five groups highlighted in his book Blue Zones, which studied communities with exceptionally long-lived members to learn about life habits that could contribute to health and wellness.

Sardinian Cannonau will be one of the reds that stands out from my Italian regional tour. Like one of the centenarian Sardinian sheep-herders interviewed in Dan Buettner's book, it proves that rusticity is not such a bad thing, after all.

An Opulent White Wine From Sardinia

I've never had a wine made from Nuragas grapes before, so before I cut the foil on my bottle of 2006 Argiolas S'Elegas Nuragas di Cagliari, I did a little research. ($14.99 in a local market; available from $10-$16 on the east coast, and from $14-$16 on the west coast)

I kept reading about the delicate, acidic, and light wines made with this grape. Imagine my surprise when I opened it up and was bowled over by opulent aromas of honey, peach, mango. This was no lean, seaside white to quaff with linguine alla vongole at a simple trattoria. Instead, it reminded me of an Italian diva at a luxurious resort--it was fleshy, sunny, and just a bit over the top.

Wine has been made on Sardinia from the Nuragas grape for millennia. Because the vines are very productive and grow almost anywhere, the grapes were over-produced and the juice was often thin and devoid of character. This has been changing lately as winemakers on the island have cut back on yields. This may be the result of just such a program, since Antonio Argiolas (the 97-year-old patriarch who started the vineyards back in 1918) was a leading proponent of careful viticultural reform and modernization.

The 2006 Argiolas S'Elegas was opulent and fat with aromas of honey, peach, apricot, and ripe mango. As you sipped it, all you saw was the color orange as you ticked off the ripe peach, apricot, and mango flavors. The wine had a ripe fruit aftertaste, but was a little short in the acidity department. Good QPR, especially for lovers of bigger whites like Semillon, Marsanne, and Viognier.

Because of the wine's lush fruit flavors and low acidity, this wine would be best with something spicy, like shrimp or chicken curry. We had it with shrimp scampi, and the buttery qualities of the dish amplified the fatness of the wine--which was a bit overwhelming to the taste buds.

If you are interested in this Sardinian wine, you may want to read some other bloggers' thoughts on it. Benito's Wine Reviews sampled a 2003 version of the wine this past winter, for example. Have you ever had a wine made from the Nuragas grape? If so, was it rich and lush like this one, or lean and lemony? I'm curious to know if this bottling is characteristic of the grape, or not.

Sun, Sea, and Wine: Sardinia

This year, as regular readers know all too well, I'm doing a region-by- region crawl through Italian wine, drinking a red, a white, and (if I can find one) a third wine that's either a sparkler, a rose, or a dessert wine. So far I've been to Friuli-Venezia, Campania, Le Marche, Molise, and Sicily. This month, I'm off to the sunny island of Sardinia, off the western coast of Italy. (photo of Sardinia Liquid Blu by Virgi Lex Zuo)

Sardinia, like many regions of Italy, has an ancient wine-making history. As with most wine history, the details are often decidedly murky. Some of the grapes grown on Sardinia, like the white grape Nuragas, can be traced back to the ancient Phoenecians. The red Monica grape is thought to have been brought to the island by Catholic monks. Archaeologists discovered grape seeds that could be dated back to 1200 BC, making Sardinia a contender for the oldest viticultural site in Europe.

While the origins of Sardinian wine might never be fully understood, what is clear is that from the earliest times through to the present, Sardinia has been home to a thriving wine culture. From ancient times invading armies have fallen in love with the island's sweet, Sherry-like wines. Catholic monks and Spanish nobles brought vine cuttings from their native lands to plant on the island. And in the 19th century the native white Semidano grape proved resistant to the ravages of Phylloxera. Despite this long history, Sardinian wines are often dismissed by Italians on the peninsula as simple, rustic, and forgettable. (photo Drink Up by Katherine346 taken during Carnival in Cagliari)

Sardinia's reputation for simple, rustic wines is being replaced these days with a reputation for interesting varieties and great value. Viticulturally, Sardinia has a surprising amount in common with its neighbor to the west, Spain. When the Spanish occupied the island during the Medieval and Renaissance periods, they brought some of their favorite grapes with them, including several that go well with the favorite fare of the region: suckling pig. (Just because Sardinia is an island doesn't mean that it has a seafood-based diet. On the contrary, the pig is king.)

It now seems likely that Sardinia provided some important gifts to Spain in return, namely the Grenache grape that is grown on the island under the name Cannonau, and in Spain under the name Garnacha. I can't help but wonder if Sardinia is poised to become Europe's next region that is known for great value. (Almost Cannonau by Valerius25)

Stay tuned to see what the tastings reveal as I explore the wines of Sardinia. If you have wine suggestions please share them in the comments below, and I'll do my best to find them and give them a try. As with most of these Italian regions, I'm on a steep learning curve and can use all the help I can get.