It makes sense that Zinfandel has gained a reputation as California’s “heritage grape.” For many years, Zinfandel’s exact origins remained a mystery, or, as Jancis Robinson calls it, “a romantic thriller.” The red grape seemed to have made the trek and set fresh roots in the Golden State in conjunction with the forty-niners seeking their fortune in gold. Here, when the search for treasure proved fruitless, settlers turned to farming — and the Zinfandel grape thrived more than the Gold Rush ever could. Fields of vines flourished throughout the Sierra Foothills, and wine — namely jug wine — became a household staple and a new California industry.
With no known parentage and no knowledge of how the red wine grape arrived in the States in the first place — Zinfandel became California’s “wine child.”
Skeptical, as always, when I receive a rosé — I’ve had some high highs and some low lows when it comes to the varietal. On the other side of that, though, is my track record with Grgich Hills Estate: from their light and lively Fumé Blanc to their downright earthy Napa Cab, Mr.’s Grgich and Hills have never steered me wrong.
Of course, then I read the blend. Cautiously concerned, but ultimately curious, there was nothing left to do but dive right in and taste.
This is my first experience with Grgich Hills Estate wine. It’s a winery I’ve always been, for lack of a better word, a bit intimidated to try. It has all this hype and rep around it — such an elevated heir. I really didn’t think I was cool enough to drink something from Grgich. But sometimes, just like on the playground, you have to rustle up some self-confidence and just jump into a game with the cool kids. So grab a glass and jump in with me, you’ll be so glad you did.