Last month I went to Mendoza, Argentina, to get my head around Malbec. It was my first trip to South America, and my first time laying eyes on the Andes, a range of mountains whose size and monumental beauty left me speechless. Nothing can prepare you for the majesty of Aconcagua, the tallest peak in the western (and southern) hemispheres, piercing the cloud canopy like a jagged tooth through wet tissue paper (see below). The people are warm, generous, and beautiful, and the steaks–oh, Lord, here’s a country that loves its meat. And they grow the perfect wine to wash it down with.
Malbec comes to Argentina by way of France, where it was used as a blending grape in Bordeaux for generations; it remains the principle variety in and around Cahors, in the center of the country. But despite its French origins, it’s the grape variety that Argentina has embraced as its own. But even if it didn’t originate here, most Argentinians believe that Mendoza is the true home of Malbec; the growing conditions are more consistent, the flavors are generally brighter and more expressive than the dark, brooding wines of Cahors.
For years, a turbulent Argentinian economy forced the local wine industry to emphasize quantity above quality. Most of the nation’s production was consumed domestically-indeed, consumption for the average Argentinian exceeded ninety liters per year. That began to change some years ago, largely through the efforts of winery owner Nicolas Catena. A trained economist, Catena was given a teaching fellowship at the University of California-Berkeley in the early eighties. His weekend sojourns in the Napa Valley allowed him to witness firsthand the transformation of the American wine industry. In fact Catena spent time with Robert Mondavi, whose ambition and tireless efforts to improve the quality of California wine influenced Catena deeply. He was determined to emulate the effort in Argentina. Unquestionably, Catena’s efforts have altered the landscape of Argentine wine industry forever. And his efforts have contributed to the country’s role as an export powerhouse.
But having tasted through about 200 Malbecs during that week last month, about the only thing I can say with any certainty is that I am more confused than ever. Most grape varieties have a range of expression, but that range remains tethered to a through line, a set of attributes that links one wine to another. A Pinot Noir from Carneros and one from Volnay may not taste the same, but they do share enough of a basic Pinot-ness to link them. For me, that link is harder to peg for Malbec. The basic attributes–aromatics that remind one of purple flowers, a hint of mace or allspice, vibrant blue-tinted fruit, and a firm texture–are easy enough to spot in an unadorned wine. But when you tweak those flavors, even a little–toast them with oak, shore up the yield, add a few hundred meters of elevation, or a few decades of vine age–you not only change the flavors, you seem to end up with a completely different variety.
Partly this chameleonic nature is the fault of the grape itself, which, while unique, is somewhat limited in its expression. Like American Zinfandel, its broad fruit profile can seem fairly monochromatic to begin with.
Place does matter in Mendoza, but it’s an enormous province, a huge sprawling desert plain with relatively few natural contours, almost no water, and fairly neutral soils. The growing region extends 100 kilometers away from the spine of the Andes, sloping eastward; if there’s terroir expression in Mendoza, it seems to be based at least as much on elevation as on soil. The region’s most powerful, structured, mineral wines are closest to the mountains, at higher elevations–as high as 5000 feet–where climate is cooler and the soils have more clay content. More value-oriented Malbecs are grown downhill, so to speak, in warmer sites, with sandier soils. That means flavors can be all over the map.
My very first tasting at a stylish winery called Punto Final was typical. Winery owner Patricio Reich produces three Malbecs: the first, from the 2005 vintage was clean and mineral with a blue-tinged fruit and a pleasing spice. The Reserve from the same year was darker, richer, and more spicy; its length was derived from oak rather than the mineral notes of the first wine. The third wine, called Renacer, was lavish in its oak treatment, and considerably more polished. All are fine wines, but what struck me was how little they resembled each other; not only did it seem unlikely that they came from the same winery; they seemed almost not to be made from the same grape.
Much has been made of older Malbec vineyards in recent years, and the country’s most passionate advocate of old vines is Santiago Achaval of Achaval-Ferrer. Their 2004 old vine Malbec Finca Mirador, is a massive, powerful wine; there was no doubting its character. But I found it almost painfully concentrated, with chewy, toothstaining tannins and an intensity that rendered it a bit graceless, not so much Malbec as Malbec concentrate–something like you might find in Cahors, in fact.
Others go for elegance. The wines of Catena Alta are given considerable polish and spice with judicious use of French oak. At their best they’re as sophisticated and soaring as their stylish winery in Agrelo (its impressive design, resembling a Mayan temple, seems almost to have set off a kind of architectural one-upmanship among winery structures. Each new design is more dramatic than the last.)
Still others, like the wines of Terrazas de los Andes, owned by LVMH, seek to tease out the grandeur and luxury of Malbec–the Terrazas “Afincado” Malbec is in fact a single vineyard wine, though most winemakers would prefer to blend for more complexity. (The better outfitted wineries own or lease several vineyards, for blending purposes, and to hedge their bets against the frequent hailstorms that ravage the area in the summer.) The 2004 is a majestic wine with flavors that seem to accentuate Malbec’s base attributes–a kind of mentholated blueberry–that are delivered with grace. Their top tier wine, called Cheval des Andes, is a blend that grounds Malbec’s spice and blue-tinged fruit in a jewel box of expensive oak.
Which brings us to winemaker Susan Balbo and viticulturalist Pedro Marchevsky, who in 1999 founded a winery called Dominio del Plata. From there they produce two premium brands there, one called Ben Marco, and one Susana Balbo. Both of these offer a Malbec, and of all of the wines I tasted, these two wines seemed to be the purest, most attenuated expression of the grape itself. Their vibrant minerality and elegance seemed to provide a clear lens through which one could see what Malbec truly looks like. These wines may not be the most stylish, or the flashiest, but they seem the most honest. That seems to be the best place to start.
Susana Balbo, Mendoza (Argentina) Malbec 2005 ($30, Vine Connections): This exceptional wine serves up the classic Malbec aromas of allspice and mace, as well as a light blue floral scent of lilac. It has a stirring core of blueberry fruit accented by a dark herbal flavor, good palate weight that’s supported by rippling acidity. For a wine of such density, it’s surprisingly light on its feet; that spine of acidity gives the wine life and length. 91
Ben Marco, Mendoza (Argentina) Malbec 2005 ($20, Vine Connections): From Dominio del Plata, the winery owned by Susana Balbo and Pedro Marchevsky, this mid-tier Malbec is relatively light and delicate, with a scent of earth and a core of red fruits like raspberry and wild strawberry, accented by a dusting of chocolatey oak. For all that aromatic delicacy, it has a surprisingly robust presence in the mouth, with terrific acidity that gives the wine life. 89
Achaval-Ferrer, Mendoza (Argentina) Finca Mirador Malbec 2004 ($85, TGIC Imports): Made from old vine Malbec of at least 70 year old vines, this wine leads with aromas of the soil, giving off little else–a touch of blackberry fruit. On the palate, it’s unbelievably concentrated; a pot of blackberry jam contained in an iron pot, and tannins that close the wine definitively but also somewhat abruptly. Its power and density either crying for a fat cut of steak or many years of bottle age. 89
Cheval des Andes, Vistalba (Mendoza, Argentina) Red Blend 2002 ($65, Moet Hennessey USA): Blended from Cabernet Sauvignon, Malbec, and Petit Verdot, this elegant wine straddles the new and old world, but it’s the Malbec in the blend–about forty percent–that grounds the wine in the New World. In its aromas, especially, the hints of lilac and eucalyptus bud, the scent of fresh blueberries, the Malbec shows through. The Cabernet serves to ground the flavors, a dark plum to accent the blue fruit, with a long, elegant finish. 91
Terrazas de los Andes, Mendoza (Argentina) Malbec ‘Afincado’ 2004 ($50, Moet Hennessey USA): Showing more of Malbec’s true form than the Cheval, with a mildly mentholated scent and soft, blackcurrant fruit. Dark and plummy in its fruit flavors, it’s a ripe wine with a rich and concentrated texture, with a dusting of cocoa flavors at the close, but the texture burls up somewhat on the finish. Both the Afincado and the Cheval highlight the pretty green herbal scents that Malbec can exhibit, a cross between anise and allspice. 90
Punto Final, Mendoza (Argentina) Malbec Reserva 2005( $25, Winebow): Showing Malbec’s more smoky iterations, and drawn from two sites, there’s plenty of smoke and spice in the aroma, and a juicy core of blackberry fruit on the palate. This young wine is tight and mildly tannic on the finish. 88
Catena Alta, Mendoza (Argentina) Malbec 2004 ($25, Billington Imports): Classic Malbec in a ripe style with enough oak to give the wine contour but not so much as to mask the fruit. It leads with aromas of spicy oak, underscoring wild blueberry; its flavors are very ripe but nicely integrated, with oak spice supporting black currant and raspberry fruit flavors. Its finish is clean and balanced. 88