A Cure For Red Wine Ennui: Bandol from Provence

Although I do love the very popular wine grapes and blends that are widely available (Cabernet, Pinot Noir, Sauvignon Blanc), this week I found that I had grape ennui. I was completely bored of all the usual suspects and I was craving something different. So when I went to one of my favorite wine shops and I saw a great deal on a Bandol (BAHN-dol), I grabbed it and cracked it open almost as soon as I got home. Bandol is not a grape. It's a place in Provence, in Southern France.

Amidst the lavender, olives, and beautifully patterned fabrics there is, like seemingly everywhere in the Mediterranean basin, wine. To be fair, most of the wine from this region is only passable, at best. 80% of it is Rose, which tastes like nectar from the gods when you're sipping it in St. Tropez at a beachside cafe, but has oh-so-noticeably lost its spunk by the time it travels the miles to reach us (wherever we may be that is decidedly NOT St. Tropez). The real action in Provence wines is in the 15% that's red...now we're talkin'. There are three red wine areas on the "ones to watch" list from Provence, but only 1 that I can ever find. The three: Cassis, Bellet, and Bandol, with the latter being the only one I've been able to try.

What makes these so special? These wines are made from the very powerful, luscious Mourvèdre (moo-VED-rrr) grape, which is a plummy, spicy, woodsy delight that is rarely made alone but rather part of a blend because it has such cajones. Wines from Bandol contain a minimum of 50% Mourvèdre, but can be up to 95% of the grape. They are often blended with Grenache and Cinsault to soften up the bold, tannic, and meaty flavors of the lead grape. Syrah and Carignan can also be added in small proportions to add depth and soften, respectively. Mourvèdre is so strong that it can't be without oak aging to tame it and in the bottle, these wines can age for 15 years and may still not be ready!

Because the wine world isn't confusing enough (ha!), this grape has a doppelgänger (this is one of my favorite words, FYI) -- its known as Monastrell (moan-a-STREL) or Mataró (maht-ah-ROH) in Spain and is native to that country. It's wonderful there, but the French have made it their own -- mostly because they can: its flavor and character changes based on the soil, the climate, the sun exposure, and the intangibles of the vineyard (all put together, it's what the French call "terroir"). In Bandol, over the last few million years, massive erosion took place following the ice age, giving the area beautifully well-drained, stony soils composed of granite and sandstone, which the Mourvèdre vine takes to like a duck to water.

Growing in tight little bushes that can stand up to the heavy, ferocious gusts of cold wind that come from northern continental Europe and is known as the Mistral this tough, muscly grape produces a small amount of very potent wine that is delicious to those of us who like bold flavors. The grape is mainly used for adding a kick to wines that otherwise may lack tannins and brawn (Mourvèdre is a big component in Châteauneuf-du-Pape, for example, and many Côtes du Rhône).

A quick dork out on history of this region for a minute, since we HAVE TO give props to one of the oldest winemaking regions in France. Grapes started growing here 2,600 years ago, most likely when the Phoenicians took over the area we now know as Provence. They probably brought Monastrell from Spain, where they had already been cultivating grapes for several centuries. When they arrived in the Gulf of Bandol, they found a unique situation, what the site Vins de Bandol (which is the source of much of my info on this post and which I'm kind of in love with for its regional pride) describes as a natural ampitheater -- the area is surrounded by mountains on three sides that keep in warmth, while providing a perfect outlet for export on the south. The 8 communes or areas that make up the Bandol appellation or region all have a warm coastal climate, great soils, and enough but not too much rain.

So returning to history, nature's gift was awesome for the commerce-minded Phoenicians. Cha-ching! They could easily export the vino to far flung places and make cash without much transportation overhead (inland locales like Champagne or Burgundy required a trip down a river -- why waste the time when Bordeaux and Bandol were basically on the ocean? Leave those places to the monks!). After the initial investment of painstakingly building stone terraces into the mountainside (which are called restanques and are still there and still used today, although slightly upgraded, I'm sure), the Phoenicians and all the administrations after who owned Bandol, made some great money off the wine trade there and in the process built the reputation of this small enclave.

So apart from the fact that its cool to drink the same wine that Louis XV drank, and that this is one of the oldest and best kept secrets of bold red wine in France, you should know that Bandol producers have a very serious commitment to quality and to what is known as "typicity," which is just a fancy way of saying that, within a few degrees of separation, all the wines should taste similar and have an essence that tells you they are from Bandol. This is a nice safety net feature and one all European wines are supposed to have if they bear their country's version of the French Appellation Origine Controllee (AOC -- in Italy DOC/DOCG, in Spain DO, in Germany QmP, in Portugal DOC). Unfortunately, I find that this is not always true even in high quality regions like Bordeaux or Chianti...but that's a story for another post.

Bandol, in my limited experience, is an exception and is pretty great...so here's an example.

The Wine: Domaine Sorin Bandol
Where It's From: Bandol, in the South of France
The Grapes: Mourvèdre 85%, Syrah 10%, Carignan 5%
Vintage: 2006
Price: $19.99

Color: As expected from a Mourvèdre, this wine is uber dark red -- a red black color right up to the rim where it turned a brownish, watery garnet. After 4 years, this wine had heavy tears and was full of sediment -- a bunch stayed in the shoulder after I poured it into my glass. This was going to be a hearty, bold wine with lots of omph if the color was any indicator.

Smell: Sniffing this wine was like hiking in the woods! It smelled like a combo of decaying leaves, pine needles, and then kind of like an animal skin. The alcohol was standing tall at 14% -- it made my nose tingle and I actually coughed on the inhalation! On a second sniff, the wine did have some plum and sour cranberry scents, plus something like that lingonberry jam you get at IKEA (if you know what I'm talking about. My mom had it at her house so I tried it...I am too immature to actually buy it since it sounds to me like dingleberry or linger-berry, which...ew). After sniffing it a few times (short sniffs, of course so I don't burn out my nose) I realized that it kind of reminded me of a Bordeaux in terms of having a little stinky funk, which I love.

Taste: The wine didn't really taste like what it smelled like, which was fine but slightly disappointing. It tasted kind of like edible violets. There was a distinct spiciness to it that was almost like mulled wine or a spicy cranberry sauce. I loved the sweet clove and cinnamon notes, although I would have preferred the wine be more complex. It was medium bodied and had medium tannins -- nothing outstanding or really bold.

Food: Although game and lamb would normally be classic pairings with a bold Bandol, this particular wine was spicy but not strong. Rather than stronger flavored game, grilled vegetables and beef would be the best pairing because the smokiness of the grilling would go well with the warm spices and fruit flavors of the wine without overwhelming it. We had it with some cranberry encrusted goat cheese and hard VSOP Gouda cheese, and it went really well with both -- the goat cheese tasted creamier and fruitier, and the wine's spices really popped against the nuttiness of the Gouda.

Drink or Down the Sink?: Drink, however I would try another Bandol if given the choice. This wine has characteristics of a great Bandol, but it's not enough for me. I think for $20 you can do better...hell, for $12 try Hécula from Spain, a Monastrell that kicks serious ass.