Globe Trotter

Bolivian Cabernet? Thai rosé? Try these wines from unlikely places

By Christina Burridge

BACK IN JULY, in the London Lounge at Heathrow Airport on one of the hottest days of an otherwise chilly summer, I drank a Monsoon Valley vintage 2548 rosé from the floating vineyards of Thailand in the Chao Phraya delta. Malaga Blanc and red Pokdum grapes grow on little islands separated by canals. Since the Lord Buddha was born 543 years before Christ, the 2548 vintage was by Western calendars from 2005. It was the first time I’d seen a wine from a non-traditional country, originally made for tourists, go mainstream. Now if only I could say it was delicious—alas, despite winning a medal or two in Australian competitions, it was sweet, a bit stinky, and not much else.

Forty years ago, Australian wines were a joke and California wines confined to jug juice. Twenty years ago, the Canadian wine industry as we know it did not exist. Give it another 20 years and Uruguay, Bolivia, and Peru could be jostling Chile and Argentina for space on the shelf while China, India, and Thailand—thanks to modern technology, foreign investment, and flying winemakers—could become significant wine producers.
There’s a wine shop in Toulouse where the owner’s ambition is to stock at least one wine from every wine-producing country from Algeria to Zimbabwe. He’s up to about 30 countries and aiming for 50. Only one bottle is from Canada—a 10-year-old ice wine from Inniskillin Niagara—that’s been in stock since opening day. To global wine markets that’s where Canada fits—one of the more promising of the “other” regions, lumped in with Greece, Hungary, and England.

B.C.’s wine import and distribution system doesn’t make it easy to bring in wines from obscure corners of the wine globe. I’ve had excellent Turkish wine in Turkish restaurants in Germany and very drinkable wines with couscous and tagines from Algeria, Morocco, and Tunisia in France, but it’s virtually impossible here for small restaurants to use their homeland connections to bring in a few cases for their customers to enjoy with their food.
The LDB has a Great Wall Cabernet Sauvignon from China, three wines from Croatia, two from the Czech Republic, four from Bulgaria, eight from Hungary, two from India, two from Lebanon, one each from Mexico, Morocco, and Montenegro, and one from Uruguay, all too many of which have been on the shelf for far too long. Most of these are cheapies but the Lebanese Château Musar and the Moroccan Kahina are serious wines at substantial prices.

Every couple of years friends of mine throw an obscure wine party, asking their guests to bring along the most out-of-the-way bottle from their collection. Wine is made in every state of the U.S., including fruit wine in Alaska, so Texan, New Mexican, and Hawaiian curiosities are common. A bottle of Clarinet from Alderlea Vineyards in the Cowichan Valley counts as obscure, as does a bottle of Seven Stones Syrah from the Similkameen Valley, since only 44 cases of it were made. So do wines from little known parts of the big wine producers: Seyval Blanc from England’s Breaky Bottom definitely counts, as does a Tasmanian bubble from Tamar Ridge.

Like vintage 2548 rosé, they don’t necessarily taste good, but they signal a determination to make wines against all the odds of climate, history, or the demands of the international market. And they remind us that there is so much more to drink than Yellow Tail.

UNUSUAL SUSPECTS

Take a gamble (and sometimes be rewarded) on these obscure wines


Bernard Magrez Kahina 2003
1. Bernard Magrez sold a thriving Bordeaux wine business and started collecting wineries instead, in Spain, Portugal, and Uruguay, among others. The Kahina, which hails from Morocco, is 70 percent Grenache and 30 percent Syrah and laced with strawberries and cherry fruit, and earthy cinnamon, cloves, and pepper. Specialty listing, $32.99

Great Wall 2003 Cabernet Sauvignon
2. Great Wall is the exclusive wine supplier to the Beijing Olympics and the top Chinese wine exporter, though far from the best producer. We singled out this Cab from a depressingly lacklustre lineup of obscure wines. It was clean with some plum fruit and a firm, dry finish, but we’d still rather drink Tsing Tao with Chinese food. Specialty listing, $12.26

Dunavar Pinot Gris
3. A decent bargain basement best buy from a Hungarian wine company that’s invested significantly in vineyard and cellar improvements. It’s soundly made, crisp and racy with a bit of spice, pleasant as a before-dinner drink, especially if well-chilled, and a good choice with mushroom risotto or chicken pan-fried with white wine and fresh herbs. $8.99—C. Burridge

Comment! Click here to submit a letter about this story.

BACK TO FOOD AND DRINK HOME