In the mid-1800s, American grapevines made the transatlantic trip to Europe with the most harmful stowaway of all time: phylloxera.
The louse was first documented in the early 1860s in France, and by the turn of the century, it had already devastated most of the world’s vineyards, prompting the French government to offer a reward of nearly $1 million (adjusted for inflation) for a cure.
Hybridization, the practice of breeding Vitis vinifera (European vines) with American varieties, took off. At best, the resulting hybrid grapes were off-putting to the casual wine drinker. At worst, they were abhorrent to those already accustomed to European grapes (cabernet sauvignon, chardonnay, riesling, etc. — essentially all grapes that adorn wine labels today).
There is still no cure for phylloxera. In most cases, chemical sprays do more harm to the grapes, especially for quality-minded producers who prize sustainable and organic methods. Pesticides can’t penetrate the heavy soils where the microscopic bug thrives, and the population is quick to reproduce.
The workaround is to graft a Vitis vinifera scion (the part above the ground) onto an American rootstock, (below the soil) by making a cut in each and fusing them together. Since phylloxera is native to North America, the rootstocks from that region have developed a resistance to it by releasing a thick sap when penetrated, spoiling phylloxera’s plan. While there have been some instances of phylloxera scares around the world (most notably California in the 1980s), this grafting workaround is widely seen as a success.
Virtually all wine grapes are grown with this technique, which is why own-rooted (or ungrafted) vines are so prized. These tend to exist in dry, isolated vineyards, with sandy soil that slows the pest’s progress.
I’m not good enough to taste the difference between grafted and ungrafted wines in a blind tasting setting — I’m not sure anyone is — but there is a certain mystique to ungrafted vines. There is a meaningful metaphor here — something about staying true to oneself — but I’m too busy enjoying these wines to care.
An Approach to Relaxation, “Sucette” Grenache, Barossa Valley, Australia
The vines responsible for Car-la and Richard Rza Betts’ vineyard are not just own-rooted, but are also some of the oldest Grenache vines in the world. Grown on sandy soil, the result is a lightly pigmented, highly aromatic red with pretty florals, crunchy red fruit and an orange zest spice that dances deftly on the palate. The pair spent many years as high-level sommeliers and have traveled, dined and drank extensively at the most acclaimed places around the world — but for all their expertise, they created a wine that appeals to the most seasoned vets just the same as the casual wine drinker.
Cost: $55/bottle.
Birichino, Jurassic Park, Old Vine Chenin Blanc, Santa Ynez Valley, California
Regulars of this column already know of my love for Birichino.
While this vineyard’s propensity to make delicious wine across the board is well documented, its collection of own-rooted vineyards deserves its own spotlight.
“Jurassic Park” is named for the property’s sandy limestone Jurassic era soil and the dinosaur remains (it’s located near an active oil field!).
The wine is as wild as the vineyard, with both fresh and oxidative notes of apple butter, ginger and orange blossom.
Cost: $30/bottle.
Chris Ramelb is an award-winning master sommelier, and director of education and restaurant sales manager of Southern Glazer’s Wine & Spirits of Hawaii. Watch him on the “Wine & …” podcast, and follow him on Instagram (@masterisksomm).
