In defence of Carignan

Carignan, Cariñena, Carignane, Mazuelo... Whatever you prefer to call it, this much-maligned grape of probable Spanish origin is not one often mentioned when discussing desirable grape varieties and wine styles. This is certainly true in the UK, where good Carignan varietals are few and far between (Tesco's perennial Finest Côtes Catalanes Carignan at £6.99 being the best I have tried); the grape often being resigned to the rather undignified category of 'blending variety'. This unpopularity is not without rhyme or reason: Carignan has suffered horrendous press by association with France's 'wine lake', as well as it being one of the biggest victims of the European Union's vine pull scheme in 1988. Additionally, the grape has a reputation for being one of the most difficult to cultivate well, with great skill required on the part of the vintner to produce a wine that makes the most of Carignan's natural high acidity and aggressive tannins. When made badly, Carignan (as noted by Jancis Robinson MW in her well-written 2004 piece 'Can Carignan(e) ever be great?', http://www.jancisrobinson.com/articles/can-carignane-ever-be-great) displays "high acidity and green, unripe flavours", both of which wine lovers often wish to avoid. However, for me the picture is not so bleak for the poor Carignan grape, and I have firm belief in the grape's ability to produce red wines of great weight and complexity. If you are someone who prefers your punchy Primitivos to your Pinot Noirs, or your big-hearted Barolos to your Beaujolais, then Carignan is a grape with which you can fall hopelessly in love.

I do hold some sympathy, however, with those like Robinson who are not partial to the misunderstood grape's charms. In my experience, the sad truth for those of us who don't have the good fortune to live in Languedoc-Roussillon is that the very best Carignan wines tend to be reserved for the domestic market (a constant source of anguish for my Uncle Loz and I). Pop into any Carrefour or other retailer in any major town in France's picturesque south and you can leave awash with plenty of big, heady Carignans around the €5 mark, whereas - aside from the Tesco offering mentioned above - I think you'd struggle to find a good one in the UK for anything less than a tenner.

Yet, perhaps the grape's fortunes in the UK are changing. In a fascinating 2012 article entitled 'The rise in popularity of the Carignan grape', the Telegraph's wine correspondent Victoria Moore spoke of the variety's brighter outlook and reported positively on her feelings towards Carignans under the £15/£20 mark (http://www.telegraph.co.uk/foodanddrink/9103680/Red-wine-the-rise-in-popularity-of-the-carignan-grape.html). One such wine, which was rated highly by both Moore and Robinson, was the 2011 vintage of Alain Grignon Vieilles Vignes. In his superb video blog series (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sniA7zOICac - I haven't seen a bad one yet!), Tom Cannavan of wine-pages.com also spoke highly of the 2011 vintage, noting the spice and black fruit nose and the "creaminess to the texture and the fruit" on the palate. For me, Carignan should always announce itself boldly, so it was pleasing to hear of the wine's vinosity too (as Cannavan remarks, "it smells like red wine!"). Overall, the reception to the wine boded very well indeed for my tasting of its younger 2013 sibling.

And once the top came off (irritatingly a screw cap, which should never be the case for Southern French reds) I certainly wasn't disappointed. The wine displayed Cariginan's softer side, with its medium body and its slightly peppery edge - I'd be surprised if there wasn't a dosage of Grenache involved - as opposed to its big, bold personality: but it was nevertheless a lipsmackingly-good quaffer. On the nose, I found a touch of cinnamon mingled amongst juicy red berries and savoury notes, which evolved into redcurrants and cranberry on the palate. The merest suggestion of vanilla oak lingered in the background, which added to rather than overshadowed the wine's character. As so happened, I enjoyed the wine with moderately spiced Mexican food: a combination which worked surprisingly well (I normally avoid red wine and spice at all costs). Perhaps this was not so unexpected however, as one of Cannavan's food pairing suggestions was chilli con carne. This was then a good value, well-poised wine with characteristic Languedocien charm, which proved the renaissance of the Carignan grape is well on-track. However, it missed out on the dense, brooding and heady characteristics of some of the best that I've tried, and this will heart-wrenchingly lead to another sortie to the South to pick up France's finest examples. Yet somehow, I don't think either myself or Loz will mind.