Better Know an Appellation: Chianti

"I enjoyed his liver with some fava beans and a nice Chianti!"

I had big plans of going to my Dad's this weekend and drinking Beaujolais-Nouveau (as it turns out, Dad loves it and buys it every year! Who knew?). Well, apologies to Dad as I spend the weekend as playground to a nasty, nasty cold virus. So instead, I languish at home bathing my hands in anti-bacterial gel and nursing an eye that looks like a cherry tomato. Trevor had the brilliant idea of escaping with the kids to First Light (a festival of light and local culture at Ste. Marie-Among-the-Hurons), and not to be denied my wine experience for the weekend, I decided it was time for part 2 of my series, Better Know an Appellation. The winner this time: Chianti.

Until now, the only thing I've known about Chianti is that Dr. Lecter enjoys it with human liver and fava beans (This is where you suck in air through your teeth. Go ahead, I'll wait 'til you're done.). You may also know Chianti as that palate-curdling wine your parents drank in the 60's and 70's--you know, the one that came in the funky bottle with the raffia on the outside. If you look in your parent's basement you'll find one with a candle stuck in it:



Ooooh, so that's Chianti! Well, yes. And no. Chianti doesn't necessarily come in that bottle anymore, and it's not that brow-singeing plonk of decades past. Let me explain.

Remember how we've discussed in previous posts how Europeans love to confuse the rest of the world by giving a wine and place the same name? This is the case with Chianti. Chianti is a region in Tuscany. In fact, I have read that when people talk about wanting to go to Tuscany, what they really mean is they want to go to Chianti. I'll have to go see for myself sometime, but in the interim I believe it. Go to Google Images and search Chianti and see for yourself. I want to go to there!

Chianti is also a wine made from no less than 80% Sangiovese grapes (da rules state small amounts of Merlot, Cabernet Sauvignon, Syrah, Canaiolo and small amounts of the white grape Trebbiano are allowed). Tuck that nugget of information into your brains: Chianti=Sangiovese. By law, only wine from this region that adheres to the rules of what goes into Chianti may be called Chianti.

A long, long time ago, in the 1950's, Chianti was a serviceable wine popular with Americans because it was cheap and quaffable. Along came the 60's, and Chianti rose in popularity--partly due to the BoHo chic of that bottle-in-a-basket--but sadly it plummeted in quality. High demand for cheap Chianti resulted overplanting unsuitable grapes and un-saavy blending practices, which just about pooched the region's reputation forever. Concerned Chianti wine producers saw the writing on the wall, and decided to steer the ship in a different direction. I'm so glad they did!

Chianti today is a yummy, earthy, smoke and leathery, red-fruity wine made from a Sangiovese clone. In fact, Sangiovese is this region's Alan Rickman--a superstar capable of morphing into many pleasing incarnations (yes, I can work Alan into any conversation). Sangiovese has the ability to spontaneously change its genetics. Apparantly, there are hundreds of Sangiovese clones in that region alone that have just 'appeared' because of the plants' remarkable adaptability.

So you want to try some Chianti RIGHT NOW? Alright already, don't get your knickers in a twist! Go to the LCBO Vintages section and pick up a bottle of San Michele a Torri Chianti 2007. It's got a cute illustration of an Italian soldier holding a pointy-looking sword. Let it breathe a little bit, and then enjoy the red cherry, smokey goodness. Don't live in Ontario? Look for bottles of Chianti that say Denominazione di Origine Controllata e Garantita (or DOCG for short). If you can afford a bottle that says Riserva or Chianti Classico, go for it. Or hop on a plane to Italy, bicycle over to Chianti, park yourself under an olive tree and enjoy a glass there. Yeah, that last option, that's the one...

Putting my sick-ass self to bed. Happy drinking all!

'Til next time,

Barb