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Where There is Mystery, It Is Generally Suspected There Must Also Be...MOURVEDRE
Mad, bad, and dangerous to know. Words that once described 19th-century Romantic poet Lord Byron, words that could describe sensitive teenage dreamboat vampire Edward Cullen from Stephanie Meyer’s Twilight series, and words that well describe this week’s forgotten grape Mourvedre, save for two things: Mourvedre is never, ever bad, and you’d be mad not to drink it.
Mourvedre is often mistaken for a heavy, sullen, imposing red wine due to its dark crimson/plum purple color, its often higher alcohol content (sometimes as high as 15-16%), and a tannic heft that can suck your mouth dry. But just like Edward and Byron, Mourvedre’s gruff exterior hides a softer side, one of earthy, jammy, animalistic aromas, luscious dark fruits exhibiting a touch of sweetness, and hints of espresso-like bitterness that disappear into whiffs of nothing when they are finally done with you.
Mourvedre is, despite its complexion, a shy and introverted red wine, which explains why, like the conflicted Edward and the doomed Lord Byron, it prefers not to stand out but rather to blend in and surround itself with the company of a few close confidantes – not Mary and Percy Bysshe Shelley or the rest of the Cullen clan in this case, but rather its Rhone-based comrades Grenache and Syrah. But get Mourvedre all alone and its seductive pull becomes undeniable. It’s a rich, luscious, down-to-earth wine, one that matches well with lighter roasted meats and earthy vegetables, and can remain unchanged long after it’s been uncorked. Hmm, sort of like a teen-aged vampire or 19th-century romantic poetry...
For that reason alone, the Friends of the Forgotten Grapes has determined that
MOURVEDRE is the Edward Cullen/Lord Byron of Forgotten Grapes.
What It Looks Like, What It Smells Like, and What It Tastes Like
No, you’re not mistaken; those ARE horses you’re smelling, along with heavy doses of blackberry jam. A typical Mourvedre has a strong, gamy barnyard aroma as well as the rich, luscious scent of dark berry jam. It’s like someone set up a cattle pen in the middle of the Smucker’s factory. Or the smell you’d get if Knott’s Berry Farm’s moved its boysenberry pie shop right next door to the Calico Ghost Town horse corral. Rich, earthy, animalistic, pungent, slightly sweet and, as always, all of these things in a good way.
Those blackberries you smelled? Well, here they are! And now they’re in a tart. Boysenberry danish? Check. Black currant clafouti? Yup. A blueberry Pop-Tart or any other dark berry pastry? Bingo. They’re all in there. Lots of dark fruit with just a touch of sweetness. But the first thing you’ll notice upon your initial sip of Mourvedre is how dry the tannins make your mouth feel (they’re tannins, that’s what they do). You’ll pucker slightly and your tongue might feel like it’s been pickled, but that’s perfectly normal. Though the sensation shouldn’t be overpowering (that’s what Syrah is for). You also might feel another sensation on your tongue, almost a tickle or sparkle. That’s from the higher alcohol content of Mourvedres, if you’ve chosen a “hot” wine (one with 15%+ alcohol), so make sure to keep an eye, er, a tongue on that.
Now, as much as I hate to admit this, Mourvedres are clearly male wines: they tend to announce themselves with a big, brash, self-important bluster, but quickly fade into a whole lot of nothing. You’ll get that dark fruit, that touch of sweetness, and that tannic pull right up front, but then those flavors devolve into a slight mid-tongue bitterness mid-sip before fading away into almost nothing. A Mourvedre finish isn’t exactly what one would call long or substantial, although you will occasionally get an unsweetened chocolate aftertaste on the swallow. Other than that, though, there’s not much there. Sort of like the guy at your gym who thinks he’s all buff but uses 20 lbs. weights and gets tired 5 minutes into Cardio-jam or kick boxing. Yeah, that guy.
• Mourvedre is properly pronounced MOO-ved (not moor-VED-ruh), with the standard French inflection of leaving off or mumbling over the last consonant sound, in this case the R (like how the French pronounce “Paris” PAIR-ee or “Le Havre” luh-HAVE). Hmm, the French seem to leave off/mumble over their R’s and S’s an awful lot. I wonder if has anything to do with a certain diminutive dictator’s decision to foolishly invade a certain large Eastern European landmass with prominent R’s and S’s in its name during the dead of its infamous winter. You know the country I’m talking about, right? _ u _ _ i a?
• Despite the fact that the names Mourvedre and Mataro (another name for the grape) are derived from the towns of Murviedro and Mataro on the Mediterranean coast of Spain, the Spanish have decided to call the Mourvedre grape “Monastrell” instead. Weird, I know, but still preferable to the French nickname for Mourvedre, which is “Estrangle-Chien,” or “dog-strangler.” (Note: while the the Friends of the Forgotten Grapes wholeheartedly condone both the drinking of Mourvedre and the use of the names Mourvedre, Mataro, and Monastrell – whatever floats your boat – we in no way condone dog-strangling under any circumstances nor the term “dog-strangler” in any way, shape, or form. That is all.)
• Mourvedre is one of thirteen grapes legally allowed to be used in the famed Chateauneuf-du-Pape wines of France. The other twelve? Tune into ForgottenGrapes.com in the future for the answer to this and many other burning questions.
• Only four countries (France, Spain, Australia, and the United States) produce Mourvedre in any significant amount, yet except for a few 100% varietal wines (some of which you’ll find below), Mourvedre is typically used only in small amounts and as a blending grape, usually to soften Grenache, Syrah, or other red blends. With one major exception. The tiny wine region (or AOC, as the French call it) of Bandol, named after the eponymous town on the French Mediterranean coast, requires its reds and rosés to be made of at least 50% Mourvedre, with Cinsault and Grenache doing the blending.
• Interestingly, as hipsters in the U.S. have discovered and begun embracing rosé wines, Bandol roses have achieved a reputation as THE roses to drink among this community. Bandol producers such as Domaine Ott, Domaine Tempier, and Domaine de la Tour du Bon have seen their roses achieve near-Lohanian levels of notoriety among the hipster wine community, and of course have now priced their wines accordingly. (Please don’t pay that much for a rose!) One wine in particular, Domaine Ott, has become so popular among the hipster crowd that it has been written about in the New York Times, has received a shout-out on a P.Diddy track, and has earned its own nickname among the hipster elite. Go ahead, try ordering a bottle of “D.O” next time you’re at your favorite hipster bar. Just make sure daddy’s AmEx has extra room
on it.
Fun Facts to Impress/Bore People At Parties
Go On. Try It. You’ll Like It. 
2006 Bodegas Juan Gil
This is 100% Monastrell from the Jumilla region of Spain (the country’s go-to region
for Monastrell) and a very good example of what Spanish Mourvedre/Monastrell is all
about. A wild, smoky, brush-covered hill nose that continues to evolve in the glass,
but more subtle and not as fruity as other Mourvedres on the palate. You can drink
it now or hold it for a couple of years to let it mature a bit. Pick up a bottle
from our Friends at The Wine Emporium and try it for yourself.
2006 Hewitson Old Garden Barossa Valley Mourvedre
Australian wines are like Australians themselves: brash, boisterous, never subtle,
and a whole lot of fun to drink with. This Mourvedre from Australia’s primary Mourvedre
region is no different. A big gamy nose gives way to big dark berry flavor, big tannins,
and big alcohol that renders the wine a touch flabby (and really, what heavily-drinking
Aussie isn’t a little flabby?) but still a lot of fun to party with. Just like an
Australian. Allegedly, this wine comes from the oldest Mourvedre vines on Earth (take
that, phylloxera virus that wiped out most of the vines in Europe and America!).
Our Friends at Napacabs.com have this wine available for your drinking pleasure,
so grab your sheila and have a cuppa with your tea. Good on ya!
2006 Cline Ancient Vines Contra Costa County Mourvedre
One member of our Friends of the Forgotten Grapes tasting squadron commented that
this wine smelled like you were standing in the middle of the Sears tire department.
In a good way. He was corrected, though, by another member, who said it was more
like standing in a Toys ‘R Us–lots of fresh, new plastic. Also in a good way. Regardless
of what they got, you’re going to get a lot of jam on this nose, big blackberries
and an alcohol nip in your mouth. This is a softer version of Mourvedre, with less
tannins than others and a smoother roundness in the
mouth. Bevmo.com has it for you, so give it a try and compare it to its
Spanish and Australian counterparts.
From Brein’s Brain to Your Plate
“Okay, so for a red like Mourvedre, you definitely want to pair it with a meat but not something big like a steak or a roast or lamb that’s going to be too heavy and overshadow the wine. Despite the tannins, Mourvedre just doesn’t have the heft and length to stand up to those meats. So I’m thinking a roasted chicken. Slathered with butter mixed with salt, pepper and a whole lot of herbs –rosemary, sage, and especially thyme. Thyme is going to go really well with this. Now, if you want to get super dangerous, slip a couple of strips of bacon under the chicken’s skin and across the breasts before you roast it. The savoriness of the chicken is going to match up really nicely with the earthiness of Mourvedre, but the sweeter fruit will bring out the richness in the food and cut through the salt from the skin, butter, and bacon.”
“You know what else goes really well with a Mourvedre? Root vegetables. I’m talking about turnips, parsnips, potatoes. Cut them up into cubes, coat them in olive oil and then roll them in the same set of herbs you used for the chicken–and really cover them up too. Then put them in the roasting pan and let them brown in those juices until they are nice and soft and aromatic. That’s going to be a really good match right there.”
“So if you’re looking for something a little more gourmet, more of a complete dish, here’s what I’d do. Take a pork tenderloin, a nice thick one already brined, and slather it in mustard. Not a whole-grain mustard – that’s going to be too strong – but like a Dijon mustard. Then, roll the tenderloin in fennel seeds. Make sure you really cover the whole thing. Fennel seeds all over. Throw it on the grill with some apples and serve
it with a blackberry reduction sauce. That’s going to be just heaven
with a Mourvedre.”
Chef Brein Clements is the chef/owner of Restaurant Omakase in Riverside, CA, which
is quickly becoming SoCal’s answer to El Bulli. Minus the molecular gastronomy. He
began his cooking career at Domaine Chandon in the Napa Valley and moved on to become
Chef de Cuisine at the famed Balboa Bay Club before opening his own restaurant. Plus
he’s only 27. The man knows his wine and he knows his food. Each week he’ll be providing
ingredient and dish recommendations that match up well with the week’s forgotten
grape. You should heed what he says. No, seriously, heed it.
Think you know a better person, place, or thing to represent Mourvedre? A better
food pairing? Your own fun fact ? Disagree with Brein or our look/smell/taste test?
Know of another bottle of Mourvedre that we should absolutely try? Bring all your
gripes, opinions, praise, suggestions and ideas to our Comments section and see what
others had to say about Mourvedre too!
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