Who knows what you're actually sipping in those Venetian wine bars when you order a glass of the local 'Cabernet'?
In the case of Chile, where most wines from this variety come from, a lot of what used to be labelled as Merlot has turned out to be Carmenère, as the two were frequently mixed up in pre-phylloxera Bordeaux before being exported. In Italy, it was mistaken for Cabernet Franc. That 'Cabernet', which can often be a green, feral and not entirely pleasant wine, might just be (or contain) an over-cropped and under-ripe Carmenère. It tends to be the cheapest wine on the menu, so who really minds?
Only since 2009 could producers in the Piave call their wines Carmenère; in fact, in the Gambero Rosso of 2009, this wine is called 'Cabernet Barabane'. The term Cabernet conjures up images of big juicy southern hemisphere wines to many casual wine buyers, which is about as far away from the style as you can get. Carmenère is recognisable but not nearly so loaded, and consequently not so much of a false friend. A good move.
To the wine. It's alive and expressive on the nose, with some raspberry coulis, fresh mint leaves, green bell pepper and a little burnt sugar (verging on treacle). The palate is quite generous in style, with sweet berry fruit and decent acidity but quite one-dimensional - I don't quite get that aromatic freshness from the nose coming through. It's solid stuff, even without some of the focus that I love from northern Italy.
No comments:
Post a Comment