Katherine Hepburn was a family friend when I was growing up and now that I’m too big to get in trouble I can say it: I never got her appeal. She’d gab on endlessly about the trials of being a famous actress and I’d think, “Famous, yes. Actress…I don’t know.” Certainly a riveting performer, yet she never stepped out of herself and into another personality, which is what I think of as acting.
There are grapes like that. Whether fresh and young or old and delicate, they shout out their unmistakable personality. Riesling and Muscat come to mind.
Then there are actors. Craftsmen who bury their egos and disappear into a role for the greater good of the story. You leave the movie thinking, “No way that was her! She’s twenty pounds lighter and has a German accent and freckles!” Their reward? No one recognizes them on the red carpet at Cannes.
That’s Chenin Blanc. Fearfully talented. Remarkably versatile. When a role calls for high acid, you usually cast a cool-climate grape. Yet Chenin can sting like a bee, while soldiering away in climates that would make Pinot Noir swoon and Pinot Gris refuse to leave her air-conditioned trailer. Her easy-going attitude is partly responsible for the PR problem, though. Healthy, vigorous and prolific, she’s always in demand by growers and has made her share and then some of B productions. For instance, those gallon jugs of fake “Chablis,” you sucked down in the 70s. (That was HER? No way!)
But photographers snap hundreds of times to get one cover shot and Edison, beloved of motivational gurus, knew ninety-nine ways not to make a light bulb. So let’s not judge her by her wastebasket or what should have ended up on the cutting room floor. Give her the right script and a whole different creature emerges.
A catty review once described Ms Hepburn’s emotional range as running the gamut from A to B. Chenin Blanc, in comparison, is alphabet soup. Green apple, plum, honeysuckle, quince, melon and grass are just some of her facets. She can color a performance with earthiness and damp hay, or call on darker, dangerous notes like flint and smoke.
And that’s just as a table wine. Besides dry and off-dry styles, her character roles include Coteaux du Layon and Quarts de Chaume, unctuous honeyed dessert wines that only her arch acidity saves from cloying. In the Saumur region of the Loire, her lighter, bubbly side emerges in the charming sparkler, Crémant de Loire. She even sits through total special-effects makeovers, taking on the role of brandy.
Chenin did not hone her craft overnight. As far back as the 800’s she was hoofing it in the Loire Valley, where she’s sometimes known as Pineau de la Loire. No doubt you’ve enjoyed a glass of Vouvray—but did you know it was her? One of her Loire vineyards has been ranked among France’s all time top five, but how much press does that get?
While still an ingénue in 1654, Chenin Blanc began working in South Africa using the stage name Steen. She’s long been that country’s most widely planted grape but she doesn’t boast about it at dinner parties. She also pulls her weight in South America under another alias: Pinot Blanco.
Superstars from Napa and Australia often hog so much spotlight and mouth space that food gets lost in the shadows. Chenin, in contrast, her alcohol often as low as 12%, shares the stage generously, a great supporting player to a wide range of dishes.
When youthful beauty fades, desperate producers prop it up with Botox, oak and magnets. Yet Chenin’s high acid helps her age gracefully long after ingénues have been forgotten. In both dessert and table wines, she’s one of the rare grapes able to grow more complex and interesting with every year.
Best of all, while Chardonnay and Viognier demand star salaries, Chenin Blanc still toils away at union scale. You can buy a fabulous bottle of Chenin and still have money left for popcorn. Someone, give this grape a raise! No, on second thought, let’s keep the whole thing to ourselves, OK?
© Copyright 2006. All rights reserved.
