Orinoco, a cozy little Venezuelan restaurant in my hood, is the perfect place for dinner for one. You can sit on your stool, nosh on delicious arepas and watch the neighborhood pass by. Because of its diminutive size, the high culinary quality, and its affordability, the place is usually packed; tonight was no different and I was onto my second glass of wine, a Torrontes – a rose-petal scented white from Mendoza, Argentina.
In order to remain as authentic as possible, Orinoco’s wines are (almost) all from South America, which might seem strange because many people seem to think that South American wines are shit. This is a misconception, of course — South American wine is one of the continent’s great exports, up there with Brazilian bikini waxes, Bolivian marching powder, and Gisele Bundchen.
South American Wine: WTF?
The history of South American wine can be summed up as follows:
Spanish conquistadors come along, deliver a big-time smackdown to the indigenous heathens. Having had enough with the raping and pillaging, the Spanish plant their own vines – basically the Pais grape. A lot of crappy, sweet wine is made for 300 years, including pisco, which is basically the South American version of Everclear.
Eventually, Chile and Argentina achieved independence. Political instability ensues. Crappy wine is continued to be made because it’s too expensive to invest in things like French oak.
Chile and Argentina sort of get their shit together toward the end of the 20th century, and invest in their wine industry. Robert Mondavi, the Mouton-Rothschilds, and Michel Rolland take notice of their great terroir and all fly in to tell everyone what to do. Exceptional wine is finally made.
What Should I Expect from Chilean Wine?
Chile’s Maipo and Colchagua regions have a similar geography and climate to Sonoma Valley: Sheltered to the west by mountains and cooled from the cold current fog that finds its way through small coastal ranges between the valley and the Pacific. Unlike Sonoma, many of Chile’s vines haven’t been devastated by phylloxera and thus can still be grown on their own roots.
Still at Orinoco, I order the 2006 Santa Ema Carmenère made from the principal grape of Chile, which used to be a major grape in Bordeaux. The glass is a nice, basic example of the grape with a soft, round character of red cherries, dark chocolate and black pepper. Chile also produces a ton of consistently great red blends with both Cab and Merlot. I order the skirt steak with mojo criollo and dig in.
Incidentally, up until about 10 years ago Carmenère was often confused with Merlot, which led to problems because it ripens 3 weeks later… so, the wine made from the undeveloped grapes tasted, well, craptacular – like an unripe green bell pepper. This is one of the reasons that Chile’s reputation for wine remained so low until recently.
If you want some California-style Chardonnay, look to Chile’s Casablanca Valley. The trend in the valley is to use a lot of new American oak, which gives their wines a cedar-like, toasty quality if that’s your thing.
What’s Argentine Wine All About?
Like Chile, Argentina’s wine has seen a lot of investment and uptick in quality. Argentina’s principle wine region also grows Bordeaux-like red grapes, but its real claim to fame is Malbec, a grape that is still found in France. It’s generally darker, inkier, and richer than Carmenère – closer to Merlot in plumpness. The 2007 Alamos Malbec I had with the second half of my steak at Orinoco was A-okay – a bit acidic, but juicy with some leather and tobacco undertones.
Sean Martin of Albert Winestein was nice enough to invite me to one of his tastings to sample some Argentine wine, so I headed over to Jae’s in the South End after my fab dinner at Orinoco. (As an aside, tasting wine in the basement bar of a sushi restaurant is a strange thing to do, made stranger because the tasting was a private event for Brown University alumni – big ups to my new Brownie friends for letting me crash their party!)
A more interesting Malbec that Sean poured at the tasting was the ’06 Ben Marco. Deep purple in color, it was lush and all about black cherry, leather, and freshly turned dirt. This is wine made to be paired with wild animal meat — the deer you just shot, the cow you just tipped over into a mushroom patch. Parker rated it 91 points, and it’s a steal at 20 bones.
You can also get some interesting whites from Argentina – refer to the Torrontes at the beginning of this article – or the’07 Mapena, a grapefruit-scented Sauvignon Blanc that had more body than versions from New Zealand.
So Why is South American Wine so Cheap?
For one, because not a lot of people necessarily want to buy it. It’s simply not an established wine region, so the demand is low. And with the precipitous deflation that has gripped the region earlier this decade, production costs are still quite low. You can therefore get some great wine for great prices. However, with the economy improving in recent years, wine tourism on the rise, and higher quality now commonplace, the prices are already going up.
So if you want a decent Bordeaux-style wine for bargains, look south. And, if you see Gisele, tell her to return my call. We can make it work.
Bryan Maleszyk is a digital strategist who is drunk on life. He occasionally blogs about technology and business – when he’s not eating or drinking.
