Bonarda, the Enological Underdog

I wrote this article a few months ago... thought you all might enjoy it!

Guess what. Argentina has a surprise for you. I know what you’re thinking, “I’m hip, I’m with it, I order Malbec with my steak.” You also may have discovered the charms of the local aromatic white grape, Torrontes. You probably even know about Mendoza, the primary wine-growing region of Argentina - sunny and warm, with vineyards sprawled along the base of the Andes Mountains.  

Sure, Malbec is the main act in Argentina.  With over 1,500 operating wineries in the country and all of them producing at least one, if not several different versions of the grape, it is truly impossible to consider Argentine wines without thinking about that dark and fruity libation. However if were you to spend, say, five months in Argentina, traversing mountainous wine regions and sampling the local nectar you would soon learn that there is a lot more to Argentine wine than just one uber-popular grape varietal.  

Admittedly, Argentine malbec is totally delicious and it took some time to pry me away from its fresh, fruity embrace. I’m not alone. The story of my journey to transcend the grape and see through its murky, violet haze is just one story among many. Here in the Land-o-Malbec, it is often tough to remember that other red varietals even exist. We are so inundated with the M-grape in restaurants, supermarkets and wine shops that the idea of drinking something else can seem downright ridiculous. Why would I stray from my reliable, beloved jam-and-ink standby? I can get a decent malbec in the corner store at five dollars a bottle. What could be better than that?

However, after about a dozen alcoholic, purple-tongued evenings, one starts to wonder what else Argentina has to offer other than the somewhat slutty, agreeable vino that brought this South American country such Ga-Ga-esque fame in the wine world as of late. We start to think, ‘Really, there must be something else we can slurp down with our pizza and pasta, and tremendous piles of grass-fed, butter-tender Pampas steak?’  Good news! There is. It comes in a bottle and its name is bonarda.

This thick-skinned “workhorse” varietal has only recently been surpassed by malbec in terms of the number of plants in the ground. The history of bonarda in Argentina includes enormous yields and gallons of mediocre jug table wine. Hearty and super-productive (bonarda vines can produce three times as much as malbec), bonarda has long offered reliability to wineries looking to churn out large amounts of medium-quality blended juice. For years bonarda played a supporting role to its bigger, flashier cousin while quietly supplying dark fruit and structure to blends and, too, suffering years of ugly-stepchild-like neglect by winemakers and consumers alike. Luckily now all of that is changing.

Bonarda, your time has come.

The origins of this grape have inspired a significant amount of investigation and controversy over the years. Some say that bonarda comes from grapes of the same name in northern Italy (bonarda de gattinara, bonarda dell oltrepo pavese, etc). Turns out this is a bit of misinformation. While Argentine bonarda shows strong similarities to three different Italian bonarda strains, once Argentina was able to partake in the great joys discoveries of DNA testing, it was found that the local bonarda is most closely related to the French grape “corbeau noir”, the same grape known in California as “charbono”. But wait! To complicate matters further, Italy has its own charbono grape, grown in the Piedmonte region in the north. Because a great majority of Argentines descend from Italian families that emigrated from northern Italy, and we know that those families brought with them plenty of vines, common sense indicates that it’s the Italian charbono which we find in the vineyards today. Still, no one can say for sure, and thus the quest to discover bonarda’s true roots continues.  

A late-ripening grape, bonarda needs plenty of sunlight thrives in likes hot, dry weather. It struts its stuff especially well in the regions north and east of Mendoza: La Rioja and San Juan, with the best expressions coming from San Rafael and Maipu. Because of its markedly spirited nature, bonarda needs plenty of pruning, a good green harvest, and low yields to concentrate fruit and lots of sunshine to get the ripest, most sugar-saturated berries possible. Otherwise, you end up with boring, low-alcohol, flat, herbaceous grape-inspired plonk. In the vineyard, you can recognize bonarda by tight clusters of small, dark purple ovular grapes and round leaves.

Argentine winemakers, possibly predicting an end to malbec-madness, are now devoting more time and energy on crafting bonarda into something more exciting, a unique and sometimes powerful wine that merits attention. Indeed, all of the big players are busting out single-varietal bonarda (Trapiche, Alta Vista, Durigutti, Tapiz, Norton, the list goes on...), some even offering reserve, grand reserve or single-vineyard versions. The high-end bottles are fetching some impressive prices and wine ratings, especially for a varietal that is all but unheard of outside of the country.

Indeed, after an hour of barrel tasting over 20 wines with a passionate and somewhat obsessive French enologist at a local winery, I found myself most impressed with their brand new batch of pitchy, spicy bonarda. It had structure, balance, and ripe, luscious fruits. It was different and intriguing, with all of malbec’s velvety sex-appeal plus an added element of rebellion. Other bonarda that I’ve recently tasted have shown flavors ranging from blackberry, prune, and mint, to sandalwood, violet, and thyme. They have been cheerfully fruity or blackish and brooding but always with lively, agreeable acidity and a medium body. Empanadas have never had a closer friend.

Which bottles to try? Although Familia Zuccardi was first to have success with the grape, the winery receiving a mountain of well-deserved acclaim for their single-varietal bonarda is Colonia Las Liebres (Colony of the Rabbits). The 2008 vintage is opaque, blackish purple in color with bewitching aromas of blackberry pie, black cherry, fig, game, smoke, licorice, and a hint of violet. On the palate it’s medium bodied, more flavors of earth, smoke, and herb come through, coming off brambly with a bit of rusticity, while still maintaining the dark fruit flavors perceived on the nose. The tannins are firm but not overwhelming, with moderate alcohol at 13.5%, the acid ample. Especially for a bottle in this price range ($9), the wine is surprisingly complex and powerful. I can easily imagine glugging it down with beef empanadas, ham pizza, smoked game, bacon, or funky Italian cheeses.

Also look for single -varietal bonarda from Alta Vista, Durigutti, Sur de los Andes, and Bodegas Alma Negras. Though tough to find in most U.S. supermarkets, bonarda does appear regularly in the savvier wine shops run by those nerdy wine-types who love obscure varietals. Don’t expect to pay more than fifteen dollars a bottle and make sure have something tasty to eat waiting at home, as these wines compliment food beautifully when not over-oaked.  

Brillat Savarin said, “The discovery of a new dish does more for human happiness than the discovery of a new star.” I suppose the same sentiment can be applied to a new wine. Don’t worry, you can still love malbec, it’s not going anywhere, but you might want to make a little bit of space in your world for this mysterious, dark character, because it just may be Argentina’s next sippable superstar.