Winter hasn’t quite loosed his steely grip on the Chesapeake Bay area. Although this evening ended in a brilliant sunset with clear skies levelling golden rays through the still leafless trees in our back forest, it began with a cold, damp drizzle. But that was okay because Lisa pulled out some leftover cassoulet from the freezer and we opened a bottle of Biale Ranch Pagani Vineyard Zinfandel. Add a fire in the fireplace and you have all the ingredients to insure a warm heart.
Lisa’s cassoulet is a traditional recipe she picked up in France several years ago . . . a traditional farm casserole of rustic beans and sausage which she usually tops with seared duck breast. And the Biale Zinfandel is a palate pleasing, heart warming mouthful. All that together screams of home and hearth!
Pagani Ranch is in Sonoma Valley and managed by the fourth generation descendants of Felice Pagani who bought the plot in the 1880’s. Some of the vines producing today’s Zinfandel are over 100 years old which explains the rich, almost chewy juice. Incredibly drinkable wine with a meaningful, complex mouthfeel that makes you wonder what tales those 100 year old vines could tell. In fact, they do tell . . . through this wine.
Early in the modern wine era, Zinfandel was touted as “the quintessential American varietal.” Only it’s not American. Genetically, its source has been traced to Croatia and it’s the same as the Primitivo varietal from Italy. There’s evidence of the grape in the Caucasus in 6000 BC and it finally made it to the United States in the mid 19th Century.
With all due respect to its origins, though, I have to admit that the varietal has found its spiritual home in the gravelly clay loam of Sonoma Valley where the vines have to send roots deep to find water, and where the cool foggy mornings give way to sunshine basted afternoons. The Italian varietal name, Primitivo, refers to the early maturation of the grapes and the rich sugar content insures high alcohol post-fermentation. The berry size is small and the yield of the old vines very low, insuring super high quality juice.
But does any of that matter? Not really, unless you’re a wine geek like me. What matters is that when you open a bottle of this incredible elixir you are sharing in the glory of one Felice Pagani who had a vision . . . a vision that his great-great grandchildren are realizing yet today. And a hundred years of history, tradition, love, and cultivation captured in a bottle.
As I drink the last glass from the bottle, the cassoulet is all gone. The fire lingers in the fireplace. I just listened to an incredible a capella rendition of “Landslide” with six or eight rich layers of harmony woven into an amazing tapestry of sound and six or eight rich levels of flavor layering one over the other.
And with this wine . . . this dinner . . . this hearth . . . this home I can answer those questions. Can the child within my heart rise above? Can I sail through the changin’ ocean tides? Can I handle the seasons of my life? Why yes, I think I can.