Klevener de Heiligenstein and the Alsace Eleven

5.10-Klevener-1441-ZvardonThe grape known as Klevener de Heiligenstein is an enigma. It is an allowed grape in the Alsace AOC, but can only be grown in certain places.  It has nothing to do with Klevner, as Pinot Blanc is often called in many places, including Alsace.  Klevener de Heiligenstein should not be confused with Gewurztraminer, although the grapes appear almost identical while on the vine and they are closely related. Got that?

So, now that we are clear on what Klevener de Heiligenstein is NOT, let’s talk about what it is.

Klevener de Heiligenstein is a pink-skinned grape variety that is considered to be a local clone of the grape known as Savagnin Rose or Roter Traminer.  There are currently about 240 acres of Klevener de Heiligenstein planted in Alsace, where it is made into a concentrated wine of good acidity with a characteristic hint of bitterness on the finish.  While not overly aromatic, the wines are often described as similar to Gewurztraminer in terms of a slight spiciness and a rich texture.

It is believed that the grape was originally brought to the town of Heiligenstein in 1742 by the mayor of the town, Erhard Wantz. Klevener 1742Mayor Wantz was a big fan of the grape, and petitioned Le conseil des Echevins de Strasbourg for permission to plant the grape in the region. He won the right to plant his grapes, and soon the wines were well received and even earning higher prices than other wines of the region.

In 1971, the Klevener de Heiligenstein grape was approved for use in Alsace AOC wines.  However, it is the only grape in Alsace that has geographic restrictions placed on it. As such, it is only allowed to be grown for use in AOC wines in specified vineyards located in the village of Heiligenstein and four of its neighbors—Bourgheim, Gertwiller, Goxwiller, and Obernain.  A grandfather clause allows specific vineyards outside of these regions to use the grapes in AOC wines until 2021; however, outside of the 5 approved villages, plantings or re-plantings are no longer allowed.

KlevenerAmpelographer Pierre Galet claims that Klevener de Heiligenstein is a pink-berried mutation of Savagnin that traveled to Alsace, Germany, and other parts of Central Europe.  But here’s where the story gets interesting…Savagnin Rose, aka Traminer, aka Klevener de Heiligenstein, apparently, somewhere along the way, went through a secondary mutation that became Gewurztraminer.  It makes sense, as Gewurz is often thought to be the musqué, or highly aromatic, version of Traminer.

The Alsace 11: The curiosity known as Klevener de Heiligenstein is often referred to as the “phantom” grape of Alsace.    The other 10 grapes of Alsace, as every serious wine student should know, are Riesling, Gewurztraminer, Pinot Gris, Pinot Noir, Pinot Blanc, Sylvaner, Muscat, Chasselas, Auxerrois, and Chardonnay.  Chardonnay is also something of an outlier, as it may only be used in Crémant d’Alsace AOC – the sparkling wines of the region.

The Winds of Wine: The Zonda

TArgentina Vineyard Malbechey call it Huayrapuca, “the witches’ wind.”  It sends birds flying, makes the sun appear brown, and knocks down trees. When they feel it approaching, people complain of sleeplessness, anxiety, a suffocating feeling, and depression. It usually starts up between noon and six pm, can last anywhere from one to 12 hours, and sounds eerily like a human whistling sound.

They also call it the Zonda wind, “viento Zonda.”  Technically, the Zonda wind is a type of foehn wind, that is, a dry, down-slope wind that occurs on the lee (downwind) side of a mountain range. The Zonda is a regional term used for this type of wind as it occurs over those parts of western Argentina tucked into the slopes of the Andes, including the wine regions of Mendoza, La Rioja, and San Juan.  The wind is especially brutal in these areas due to the high altitude of the mountain range it must climb over (and swoosh down.)

The Zonda forms as a result of humid air rising off the Pacific Ocean, where it travels up and over the Chilean side of the Andes.  In the winter it helps the snow build-up in the high elevations of the Andes, which provides the much-needed melt-off (and the possibility of irrigation) to this otherwise arid area. The wind—as long as it stays somewhat moderate—can also help keep the vineyards dry, hygienic, and with a low level of risk from molds and fungi.

Argentina Andes ValleyIn the spring and summer, however, the Zonda can create havoc as it descends down the Argentine side of the mountains.  It loses its moisture, becomes warmer and warmer, and gathers up large clouds of dust.  The Zonda generally rushes off the mountains at 25 miles per hour (40km/h) but can reach speeds of 120 miles per hour (~200 km/h). The Zonda can raise temperatures by as much as 54°F (30°C) in just a couple of hours; and the wind event is often followed by a freezing cold front.  No wonder people go crazy!

While this unique weather phenomenon is a necessary part of the terroir of the region, it can also be disastrous to the vineyards.  A Zonda in the spring can wind-burn a vine’s leaves and shoots or shake them right off the vine. The cold front that often follows the hot, dry wind can bring with it the risk of severe frost damage.  For an interesting, short interview with a winemaker in his vineyard after a Zonda, click here.

The Legend of the Zonda

Legend holds that a Calchaqui Indian named Huampi was an arrogant hunter who spared no creature on his frequent hunting trips.  He killed every creature in his path, from the tiniest wood birds to the majestic llama.  His hunting prowess earned him great respect and he enjoyed being revered and even feared.  However, his hunting was out of control to point that all of the region’s animals were on the brink of extinction.

dust stormOne day, as he was returning from the hunt, Pachamama, the earth goddess, appeared before him in a blinding light and said, “Humapi, villainous child of the earth! Do you intend to kill all the animals? Who will feed you when there is no meat, and who will clothe you when there is no wool?”  And then, in a flash, she was gone.

As Huampi slumped against a tree and tried to calm himself, he heard a strange whistling sound.  He felt his face lashed and burnt by the wind.  All around him, trees crashed to the ground, flowers and fruit swirled over his head, and he was blinded by the stinging dust in his eyes.  Pachamama’s revenge was upon him, and since that day, as the Zonda screeches through the Andean valleys, it cries out with a human voice, causing all in its path to stop and pay respect to the power of mother earth.

For more information on “the winds of wine,” see our posts on The Mistral and The Roaring 40’s.

Post written by Jane A. Nickles, CWE (your SWE Blog Administrator)

 

 

The Sazerac: World’s First Branded Cocktail

Guest Author Jade Helm, CSW, DWS takes us on a trip to New Orleans to try the what might just be the world’s first branded cocktail…

Sazerac Cocktails.jpg[1]

World’s first branded cocktail…it’s quite a claim to fame! But that’s what they say about the Sazerac…

The creation of the Sazerac dates back to 1838 and is credited to Antoine Amedie Peychaud who owned an apothecary in New Orleans.  Peychaud liked to treat his friends to a mixture of Cognac and his special blend of bitters.  He served it in a little egg cup called a “coquetier” (pronounced “ko-k-tay”), and some say this lead to the word “cocktail.” This would indeed make the Sazerac the world’s first cocktail, and the cocktail a truly American invention.

The Sazerac has evolved over time, due in part to necessity.  When the phylloxera epidemic decimated the vineyards of Europe, Cognac was in short supply, so in 1873 American Rye Whiskey became the base spirit of the Sazerac. In the same year, absinthe was added to the recipe. This addition soon revealed its own set of limitations, as we all know how Absinthe’s reputation for causing hallucinations and mental illness caused it to be banned for a time.  However, that was not about to stop the party in New Orleans, and a rinse of Herbsaint replaced the Absinthe in the Sazerac.

Sazerac Bar.jpg[1]With all this folklore at stake, I decided to make a trek to New Orleans to try the Sazerac for myself – in the interest of history, of course! The Sazerac Bar seemed like the right place to start.  The Sazerac Bar is housed inside The Roosevelt Hotel New Orleans, just off Canal Street. Richly appointed with sparkling chandeliers and decadent golden hues this is the type of hotel that makes you at least want to visit the restroom just to have an excuse to look around.  Luckily the Sazerac Bar is just as inviting.  Honey colored walnut and dim lighting remind us of a time when men were men and…well, back to the drink.

While the modern “official” recipe uses Sazerac Rye Whiskey, The Sazerac Bar offers both a whiskey and Cognac version.  I tried them both side by side and am happy to report that I loved both renditions.  The Cognac version was smoother, fruitier, and seemed sweeter. The Peychaud’s Bitters gave the drink added flavors of orange, cardamom seed, and star anise. The rinse of Herbsaint added a hint of anise that seems to linger on the finish.  The version made with Rye Whiskey had a smoky rye flavor and more “bite.” Somehow the whiskey, bitters, and Herbsaint combined to give the drink the aroma of candied citrus peel and floral, honey-like flavors.   What’s not to love?

If you would like to try to make a Sazerac at home, click here for a copy of The official Sazerac Recipe, courtesy of The Sazerac Bar at the Roosevelt Hotel.  Cheers!

Jade Profile PicGuest Author Jade Helm, CSW, DWS is a wine writer, educator, and consultant, as well as the primary author of the Tasting Pour Blog.  She enjoys helping people explore wines whether they are simply tasty and affordable for everyday enjoyment, or worthy of cellaring.  For those who want to understand wine in greater depth, Jade offers information about tasting terms, regions, wine making methods, and just about anything wine! You can find Jade on Facebook, Linkedin, or the Tasting Pour Blog.

 

Sir Francis Drake and the British Love of Sherry

sir-francis-drake-statueIt’s one of the best stories in the history of wine:  How Sir Francis Drake “singed the beard of the King of Spain” in a 1587 raid on the Port of Cadiz and made off with 2,900 barrels of wine. It also might just be the reason behind the somewhat cliché, but at the same time, undeniable love the British have for Sherry.

The tale goes back to the 1400’s, as Europe began exploration of the new world. The great capitals of Europe were sending explorers such as Ferdinand Magellan and Christopher Columbus to find passage ways for trade and to discover what lie beyond the wide oceans.  Christopher Columbus, despite being of Italian birth, made his most famous deal with King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella of Spain and set sail from the Spanish ports of Palos de la Frontera, Cadiz, and Sanlucar – all regions well known for wine.

These explorations were spectacularly successful for Spain as explorers began to return in ships filled with gold, silver, and other wealth from the new world. At the same time that Spain was profiting from the plunder of Mexico and Peru, young Queen Elizabeth of England was benefitting from the wealth brought in by her expanding colonies in North America.

However, it soon became clear that British colonies in North America could not begin to produce anywhere near the immediate wealth arriving by the galleon load from Spain’s incredibly lush New World sherry barrelterritories. Knowing that an island kingdom must be strong to survive, Elizabeth turned a blind eye as Sir Francis Drake and other English sea captains began raiding Spain’s slow-moving, heavily laden ships, seizing the riches for their own.

It did not take long for the Philip II, the King of Spain, to have had enough of England’s daring Queen and her “sea wolves” and he soon hatched a plan.

In 1580, King Philip ordered that a great Armada, or Navy, be built.  His plan was to invade England, remove Elizabeth from the throne, and crown himself king of England in Westminster Cathedral.  However, Elizabeth heard of the plan and made a bold preemptive strike, led by the highly skilled ship’s captain, Sir Francis Drake.

Drake was sent out from Plymouth on April 12, 1587. He arrived just outside of Cadiz on April 29th.  Late in the afternoon of that day he sailed boldly into the harbor, completely surprising the defenders and throwing the Spanish land and naval forces into a panic.

Drake's map of his planned attack on Cadiz.  (Public Domain)

Drake’s map of his planned attack on Cadiz.
(Public Domain)

All the remainder of the day and into the next, Drake plundered and burned. Thirty-seven Spanish vessels were destroyed with only minor losses on the English side. As part of the spoils of the raid, Drake and his crew famously stole 2,900 barrels of Sherry and delivered it up to the British Court. This devastating battle became known as “the singeing of the beard of the King of Spain.”

As you might guess, it became all the rage in England to drink the captured Sherry.  Spanish Sherry was suddenly the most popular drink in England.  Legend even tells us that the English loved to call it “sack” because, well, Drake had sacked the Spanish supply port.  In the ultimate show of British praise, Shakespeare praised Sherry, or “sack,” when he had Sir John Falstaff proudly declare in Henry IV, Part 2, “If I had a thousand sons, the first humane principle I would teach them should be, to forswear thin potations and to addict themselves to sack”.

Note:  There are other explanations for the term “sack” as well.  For instance, some say the term comes from the Spanish verb “sacar,” meaning “to draw out.”

 

Post written by Jane A. Nickles, CWE (your SWE Blog Administrator) bevspecialist@societyofwineeducators.org