It's Cab, Frankly . . .

Perhaps I daydream too much about wine; that is to say, I often times imagine myself thinking about what it would be like if I ever had a chance meeting with the late Franciscan Monk, Rabelais. What would the end result be? Gratuitous hours of discussion about wine from Chinon ? Would Bourgeuil and Touraine come into our conversational focus ? Maybe so, but the real thing that tends to elude me is a desire for something archaic, possibly obscure in contemporary winemaking. I once thought about making good on an attempt to bolster a piece of viticultural heritage, but I seem to only imagine myself moving to upstate New York; you know, to start my own vineyard and create a hybrid of Cabernet Franc and Pinot Noir. I could very well name it: “Film Noir” and use it to launch proprietary vintages ineffably labeled, “Cab Frankie.” Step two would be inlaying the bottle with a checkered city taxi and the likeness of Francois Rabelais himself, appearing sallow and disgruntled. Ridiculous as it is, I admit being a lobbyist for Cab Franc is only one indication that I thrive on many bygone eras, despite whether or not it applies to gritty melodramas or winemaking.   
                                                                                            

A well-known, but often times forgotten entity, needs a powerful resurgence in popularity. Why? Because enthusiasts seem to have lost all cerebral attachment to wine unless Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot or Zinfandel is mentioned. Cabernet Franc, a much more adaptable grape, is something worth lending a little extrication to. Its tendency to show finesse and a touch of the burlesque on an equal scale, is really noteworthy. This sort of potable indulgence as I recall, came standard in a Chinon from Domaine De Pallus. Between the 2006-08 vintages, underlying notes of melted chocolate and framboise fostered the appeal. Nuances of sweet black olives and rose petal endured to compliment the usual cravings for tapas or meze. I would think so, especially when these niceties are built into a frame that, I would personally say, cannot be typically defined as light, medium, or full-bodied.          

Vintners in the Loire Valley surely understood these qualities and the potential of the grape during the Middle Ages when it reached a peak in popularity. Wine from Chinon and Bourgueil were actually prized more so than what is still willfully churned-out from Bordeaux and its variety of sub-regions. I would think this was particularly so, because I have found that Margaux is the only appellation that suits me when I think about bringing a bottle to convivial feasts. Maybe this is why I have consistently mustered up feelings that Mr. Franc is only invited to the Bordeaux harvests to blend in with the other grapes.  

I agree that there’s a lot of bad Franc out there at times. Unfortunately, little attention to a fiscally unpopular grape can lead to flat, unappealing reds that imply traces of powder box and nut oil. Equally, the varietal has a bad reputation for being somewhat vegetal in expression and can be somewhat of a frumpy centerpiece on the kitchen table. Although integral to many staple items, it seems to have not let go of the stigma of being the third party, or the pet grape in a gorgeous family of French and American wine.

There is no disregard for the success of Franc in any realm. Thirty-five thousand planted acres in France and a little over two-thousand in California alone could prove to be the catalyst for a much-needed upheaval. Vineyards in New York are also paying heed as some of the best wine in recent years is dedicated to a very candid sphere of fruit.

However, scores of producers are in need of some humble retrospection; especially so, because a market that has created an international hallmark for Cabernet Sauvignon, is virtually placing consumers in a deluge of forgettable wine. Consistent notes of pencil shavings and spicy currant fruit are nice, but appear manufactured in some way. Producers of assembly-line style Cab leave us begging at times, for offbeat, old-world craftsmanship. These traditions may have been too far indulged or faded, but I find myself pointedly acting like an old didactic grandfather when I start tracing back the roots of the Californian cash crop. “Let’s not forget your parents Cabernet Franc and Sauvignon Blanc, because if it were not for them, you would simply be nonexistent.”  

Rather than rehash some old feelings, let’s exchange some power and de-robe ‘King Cab’ so we can place the gleaming crown on a much more patriarchal grape. Honestly, I am not here to unceremoniously bash something that will always be a symbol of honest winemaking, but I am willing to take it off the mantle piece for awhile.

-Brian Maniotis

Westchester Wine Warehouse Team

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