
Being a Zinfandel grape in the middle of the Napa Valley must be a pretty lonely feeling. Like rockers Bruce Springsteen or Trent Reznor at the Academy Awards, they’ve earned the respect of people in the motion picture industry. But clearly, this isn’t their crowd.
Zinfandel has a long history in Napa. That it often exists in somewhat protected, historic vineyards may be one of the reasons it’s held on, if just barely, against the surrounding waves of Cabernet Sauvignon, the valley’s most important grape.
The historic Zin vineyards of the Napa Valley, many of them dry-farmed, head-pruned field blends, continue to have their champions, namely producers willing to pay growers enough to keep them in the ground.
Consumers also connect to them, smitten that a patch of farmland could exist uninterrupted more than 100 years, even overcoming Prohibition, no less.
This is Zinfandel’s magic, a spell captured by regions like Sonoma, Mendocino, Lodi, the Sierra Foothills and Paso Robles, but also in Napa, where incredible old vineyards still exist and a band of producers continue to give the grape its due.
Within that band is Robert Biale Vineyards, which has long championed historic sites in its wines. It strives to make Zinfandel with a Burgundian soul, following winemaking techniques common to Pinot Noir to soften its rough-hewn nature.
In 2013, Biale brought in Tres Goetting as winemaker, a veteran of Krupp Brothers and Stagecoach Vineyard. Goetting, who grew up in Napa and trained early in his career to make Bordeaux varietal wines, works closely with co-founder and longtime Zin farmer Bob Biale, who tends to the vines.
“Not enough people know about Napa Zin, or they have a preconceived notion of what it will be,” Goetting says. “I see the light go off when they taste ours in the tasting room. The trick is to get people to try it.”
The 2013 wines, just being released, are Goetting’s first full vintage for Biale. He admits that he also had to taste Biale’s previous Zin vintages to realize they were different, made in a more elegant style.
“I was that guy that said, ‘Wow, Zinfandel can be like this?’ I wasn’t expecting what I tasted,” says Goetting. “They’ve been treating Zin like Pinot Noir, and that has really worked for these wines.”
He was equally lured by the romanticism of field blends, the backbone of many of the older vineyards so crucial to Biale.
Still, as he settles into making the Biale wines, his goal is to keep them on the lighter, brighter, fresher side, gradually pulling back on sugar and alcohol levels.
Goetting’s target is roughly 14.8% alcohol, which he thinks best balances the fruit with the oak. Too little alcohol, and he risks having them taste herbaceous. Too much, and they could be pruney.
“It’s much harder to find that balance in Zinfandel,” he says. “It’s all about the acid. I look at acid levels more than sugar levels at harvest. If you get that acid right, everything gets in line.”
Julie Johnson, winemaker at Tres Sabores, has been honing in on that balance since 1987 from an unlikely spot in the heart of the Rutherford Bench. Firmly entrenched in Cab country, everyone figured she’d rip out her 10 acres of Zin.
Not a chance.
“Zin has a life and a spirit,” Johnson says. “It doesn’t have to be so perfect. The clusters are irregular, it’s charming and it has a sensual texture. It has that in the berry and in the glass.”
She has kept eight acres in Zin, budding over the remaining two to Cabernet, and adding a touch more Cab and Petite Sirah.
“We love turning people on to Zin,” Johnson says. “It can be extraordinarily sophisticated and dynamic, too. It doesn’t have to be raisiny or sweet, an overly exaggerated wine. A lot of people were turned off by that.”
She attributes her more classic style of Zinfandel to the use of dry farming at her ranch, as well as employing organic practices. She thinks the grapes thrive in the same well-drained soils as Cabernet and on the western edge of Rutherford, where they get shade earlier in the day, tempering the risk of desiccation.
“They’re unctuous—they’ve got spice and all different flavors of pepper, white and black,” Johnson says. “The Zins I adore are lower in alcohol. They take up the terroir, if you allow them to. The natural acidity goes a long way, if you don’t force it.”
She sees the wine as versatile with food, offering a lot in terms of texture and acidity, and something to be enjoyed year-round.
Zin also benefits from its ability to stand alone in California, not having to match any particular European counterpart.
“I have succeeded in getting my wine on all-European wine lists by asking, ‘What other wine would you compare it to?’ ” Johnson says. “Zin can definitely hang on its own, but it’s both a blessing and a curse that we’re unique.
“Dreamers and individualists are attracted to Zin. There’s something very special about letting it be itself, and its greatness spans such a variation of stylistic diversity.”
Others maintaining that diversity include Brown Estate in Chiles Valley, on the warm, eastern flank of the Napa Valley. Run by a trio of siblings, they started out farming Zin grapes before realizing theirs were gold. Eventually, they decided to see what they could do in the cellar, too. The results are deep in elegance and terroir.
Turley is yet another longstanding producer devoted to preserving Zinfandel vines from the ever-present pressure to plant Cabernet. Tegan Passalacqua, the winemaker, playfully refers to Cab as “a weed,” for the way it has increasingly crowded out Petite Sirah, Zinfandel and other varieties.
That term is also a favorite of Ravenswood Winemaker Joel Peterson. His decades-long mission to save historic Zin sites has centered mostly in Sonoma County. However, with the Dickerson Vineyard designate he makes from St. Helena, he’s preserving both Zin’s legacy in the Napa Valley and a family legacy as well.
1Vineyards to Know
2Producers to Know