Free gris!

In defense of a maligned wine

by David Marglin

ORDINARILY I'M A huge chardonnay fan, but on a recent visit to the Napa Valley, during a 100-degree-plus heat wave, I found myself ending most afternoons with a glass or two of well-chilled pinot gris.

Pinot gris, also called pinot grigio, is often maligned -- a recent Boston Globe article said that in Italy, pinot grigio is planted only where no other grape can grow. But I've always found the varietal to be light, fruity, and refreshing. And recently, American and Italian versions have become more complex, offering a broader range of flavors without losing their easy approachability. On a hot day, you can serve a cool pinot gris with almost anything. The fruit is delightful -- and this, unlike white zin, is clearly wine, not liquid candy. While a lot of wine writers and other oenophiles don't take pinot gris seriously, I definitely do. In fact, you can call me the Pinot Gris Kid.

Pinot gris, or pinot grigio (the use of grigio rather than gris is purely linguistic and implies little about the flavor of the wine), is made all over the world. Traditionally, the grape is grown in Alsace, in Italy, and in neighboring Germany, where it is known as rulander or grauburgunder ("gray from Burgundy"). Most people don't realize that this variety traces its ancestry to a cross between the two stalwart Burgundian grapes, chardonnay and pinot noir. You can't really detect the ancestry in the taste, though; pinot gris doesn't have either the perfume of pinot noir or the fat pungency of chardonnay.

Right now, for my money, the most exciting and unusual pinot gris are the wonderfully full, light, fruity examples from Oregon and California. Ranging from the slightly tangy pinot gris from Cooper Mountain Vineyards, just 15 miles south of Portland, to the lush, abundant Willakenzie Estate 1997, made further south in the Willamette Valley, these under-$20 wines work exceedingly well with any slightly spicy food, as well as with most grilled seafood and shellfish.

Remarkably versatile wines, these have less acid than many whites, but still enough to lend structure and just a touch of bite. One nice feature is that the fruit ripens comparatively quickly, so in good years it's fully ripe when picked. (Some wine-aficionado friends of mine claim that Oregon pinot gris tend to taste a tad too ripe, making the wine almost surprisingly sweet, from the first nose through till the finish.) Despite the overall impression of sweetness, I find that these wines have a tight core of sharper tropical fruit, coupled with complex, spicy notes. The bulk of pinot gris from the United States are entirely unoaked, meaning none of the fermentation happens in oak barrels. Instead, American pinot gris are fermented in vast tanks, mostly stainless steel along with some concrete.

So what to look for in a pinot gris? Some Italian examples, such as the ubiquitous Vendemmia , are so light that you could almost mistake the taste for that of low-alcohol water. Such pinot grigios are decidedly starter wines, meaning that if you are new to wine (it's okay -- we all were once), your palate can easily assimilate and appreciate their relatively uncomplicated flavors.

But pinot gris can also be remarkably complex. Napa's Long Vineyards, known for outstanding chardonnays, makes a delicate 1997 pinot grigio that is partially fermented in oak. Unlike the oak casks the winery uses in its big (sometimes lumbering) chardonnays, the casks Long uses for its pinot grigio have already had three vintages of chardonnay ferment in them, and then three vintages of sauvignon blanc. This means the barrels are exceedingly neutral -- they impart less flavor to the wine. You can still taste some oak, but mostly you taste the wine's light tropical fruit, and overall it has a touch more tang than its cousins from Oregon.

Some pinot gris from Santa Barbara County, to the south, seem almost too tangy, as if they were a tad overcooked. A lot of people like their complexity, but the flavors are not as appealing to me as the lighter, fruitier style made fashionable by Oregon winemakers. The Alsatian pinot gris and the German rulanders tend to be more austere, with far less fruit; people often describe them as "reserved" and "balanced." They are pleasant enough to drink, but for the most part they do not make quite the statement that their New World relatives do. Nonetheless, they can be paired successfully with many different foods. (One I like: the exceedingly fruity Tokay Pinot Gris 1995 from Alsace made by Albert Mann. It has complex gooseberry and melon flavors that make it almost American in style, but its age gives it a hint of mature bite that harnesses the summer fruits.)

Indeed, pinot gris are among the few wines that can hold their own when served with fruit (most often, I find that the acids in fruit obliterate any subtleties of flavor in wines). If you're after nuance, you might just want to stay domestic.

If you find the wines you like, pinot gris can be an exciting alternative to chardonnay year-round. I've been tasting a ton of different examples from around the world, and I have yet to try one that I'd rate below two stars. Moreover, the response of most who taste it is enthusiastic, to say the least. This recently fashionable varietal just might be your cup of gris.

David Marglin can be reached at wine[a]phx.com.

David Marglin can be reached at wine[a]phx.com.