The Relentless 21st Century

Shafer Vineyards released its first vintage of Relentless, its Napa Valley Syrah blend, in 1999. This week, for the first time, father and son John and Doug Shafer lined up every vintage through 2007—plus barrel samples of 2008 and 2009—to see how the wine ages.

Turns out they age quite well. Not a big surprise, given the amount of alcohol, tannin and fruit we're dealing with here. Relentless ranges from 14.8% to 15.5% alcohol, and 20% of this unusual blend is the never-petite Petite Sirah. Shafer doesn't make dainty wines.

Relentless is made to age from 10 to 15 years, but is also advertised as drinkable upon release. But based on this tasting, the next time I get my hands on a bottle, I'm going to lay it down and wait ten years. My favorite wines were the unmistakably the 1999 and, especially, the 2000. The huge flavors of dark fruit had receded, and secondary flavors of tar, twig and tobacco came to the fore, and balance the palate out. Furthermore, the nose had opened and released wonderful scents of sagebrush and cooked fruit. The noses on the younger wines were still quite closed. Age also seemed to bring the wines together. The looser assemblage of tannin, juicy fruit and acidity found in the recent vintages wove into a harmonious blend. The big tannins never receded, but they integrated themselves. The 2000, a bit tight at first, just got better as it received more time and air.

Doug Shafer also liked the 2005, which was indeed drinking well. It was full (they were all full) and ripe, with notes of tobacco among the cherry, plum, prune and such. It will likely go a long way.

Relentless ages for 26-30 months in French oak, and then eight months in bottle. It's all new barrels now, but in the past there were some older casks. Much of the Syrah and Petite Sirah are co-fermented.

The Relentless wines are remarkably consistent, just as all Shafer wines are. From 2007 to 1999, there were differences from vintage to vintage, but it was always recognizably the same savory wine taking a long, slow journey into maturity.

What I Don't Know About Petite Sirah...

...was significantly lessened following the April 2 meeting of the Wine Media Guild, which featured the minor, Cali-centric varietal in question. How often have you tasted a couple dozen Petite Sirahs at one sitting? Yeah, me too, until this occasion.

Petite Sirah, to my thinking, is known for two things. It's a heavyweight, knockout red that would give Zinfandel a workout in the ring. And it's got the most ironic name of any grape on the planet. Petite, my ear! It should be called Grande Sirah. Actually, Grande Syrah. (The name actually refers to the tiny size of the berries.)

The grape, called Durif in France, was invented there by Francois Durif. It was resistant to disease, but didn't make good wine, so it was dropped like a hot rock in Gaul. But California and Australia, who like them a good strong wine, picked it up and ran. There are now 282 producers in The Golden State, and they have their own marketing group without the semi-unfortunate name of "P.S. I Love You." (Get it?)

The speaker at the event was Kevin Morrisey, winemaker at Stags' Leap. He was polished and very informative. From him I learned that Petite Sirah is a grape that was made to be blended. It doesn't benefit from the vaunted "single vineyard" approach. It shows best when different plots of land are sourced for the same bottle.

I'm not a Petite Sirah fan, as a rule. It possesses too many of the loud and large traits I associate with the overdone California style. Still, I learned from the tasting how different Petite Sirahs can be from one another. There were two bottles from Staps' Leap, the standard 2005 and the Ne Cede Malis Estate 2004 ($75, thank you). I actually liked the former better. It was rough and thick and dark, with a smoky finish. I found fancier bottle muddy and overly inky—An excessive approach to an excessive grape.

One of my favored wines was the Cecchetti Wine Company's Line 39 Lake County 2006. It had an interesting rustic, rooty edge, the fruit confined to the core of each swallow. The 2005 Vina Robles Jardine was also good, in a different way; it was juicy and fresh, not too heavy, with the rustic tones coming later on in the finish.

Belinda Chang, the wine director at The Modern—always a fun presence at a tasting—alerted me to the presence of the Australian Charles Cimicky 2005 Petite Sirah. The is the inaugural PS offering from this winery and it was impressive. It had a smooth start leading to a rough, ashy, brambly finish. You pay for the quality, however. The bottle comes in at $49.

The meal—one of the best Felidia has provided, highlighting by a beautiful lamb, carved at table (see below)—was topped by a bottle of Prager Port Works 2004 Royal Escort Port. Seems they'll make port out of anything these days in California, so why not Petite Sirah? The bottle, which was rather flabby and hangover-provoking-intense, wasn't given much love on my end of the table.

There were some unopened bottles left at the end of the event and members were invited to help themselves. I took one home, and was sort of glad to do so.