I’m a huge fan of Bordeaux. It’s prohibitively expensive, usually relatively hard to acquire, and not the most versatile food wine ever, but I adore it. The fruit profile, the texture, the structure, it all appeals to me.
Having tasted a lot of great Bordeaux, when I hear new world winemakers refer to their wines as “our version of a first growth”, I am, understandably, skeptical. Verite, from Sonoma, makes a fine merlot, but is it as good as Chateau Gazin? For me, no. I love the wines that Christian Moueix makes in Napa Valley at Dominus, but I’d rather drink some of his Petrus. I’m certainly not denigrating California wines–I like them quite a bit. Given the choice, though, I will take a nice Bordeaux over pretty much anything else.
Working in the wine industry, I’ve tasted a lot of Ridge’s Zinfandel, and have always enjoyed them. I feel that Ridge, and to a lesser extent, Turley are able to walk the tight rope between over extracted fruit bombs to something a touch more elegant. Despite my experience with their Zinfandel, I have never tasted Ridge’s Monte Bello, which is often compared to fine Bordeaux. On a lark, I decided to open this way-too-young 2011 and see what all the fuss was about.
The nose on this wine was beautiful: dark fruits, chocolate leather, and vanilla. The nose hinted at something big, belying the 12.8 percent alcohol listed on the wines label.
The palate. The first thing that I noticed (again, this wine was opened much too early) was the prominent tannin and acidity. The fruit was black cherry, Wild blackberry, and perhaps some dried fig in the background. The oak, at this point, was not integrated at all. Ridge is famous for their use of American Oak, in lieu of the more traditional French Cooperage found in Northern California. This taste (vanilla, dill, coconut), was as prominent as the acid and tannin and was somewhat distracting.
After three days open, this wine started to reveal itself: more red fruits, cassis, tobacco and mint developed. The acid became more integrated and the wine became revelatory. The one fault I had was that the oak still seemed much too prominent and, rather than enhancing the wines flavor, became the focal point.
Did this wine make me want to abandon my beloved Bordeaux for the mountains of Santa Cruz? Sadly, it did not. The wine was tremendous. The skill of the winemaking and the quality of the fruit was very apparent. Rather than drawing comparisons to the left bank, my mind was brought to Spain. The closest analogous wine I could think of would be that of Vega Sicilia. I’ve had their Valbuena several times, and have been lucky enough to try Unico twice, and the comparisons to Monte Bello were striking.