Rhone Rangers Presentation, 3/22/25
It is my greatest pleasure to talk today about Syrah - one of the grapes I've spent some years, 42 to be precise, thinking and dreaming about. If there’s time, I’ll also tell you a bit about some of the kooky research work I’m doing in my own vineyard in San Juan Bautista, trying to figure out how to perhaps further enhance the potential of this brilliant variety. The fact that Syrah has not received greater consumer acceptance in this country is personally a bit baffling/galling to me. In an alternate universe - let’s call it Australia, for example - it would be found in more glasses than say Cabernet Sauvignon or Pinot Noir. But the wine world and by extension, the real world, is not fair; we just have to do what we can. Forgive them, Father, for they know not what they drink.
I started working with Syrah in 1983, purchasing grapes from the Estrella River Winery, not too far from where we are today. Syrah was not well understood back then. Walter Schug had quixotically attempted to grow Syrah at Phelps in a rather warm Napa Valley site; the results were not particularly encouraging. pH meters recorded values never experienced heretofore. Like Spinal Tap, they went to 11. Soon thereafter, Syrah was going to be “the next thing,” and perhaps a certain irrational exuberance led to its plantation in sub-optimal sites, and somewhat disappointing early efforts. Or, alternate hypothesis, let’s just blame Yellow Tail.
Here’s what I know about Syrah. Please bear in mind that there’s a lot that I still don’t understand (especially about arcane grape viruses) and you should take what I say with a grain of salt. (By the way, I have heard tell of grains of salt sometimes being discreetly insinuated into barrels of Viognier in Condrieu, but that’s for another day.)
I’m trying to think of a diplomatic way of putting this and I don’t wish to come off as an insufferable climatist, but I’ll just come right out and say it: I personally think that Syrah does its most interesting work in “cool climates,” maybe cooler than almost anywhere it’s grown in California. So-called “roasted slopes” aside, the AOC, Côte-Rôtie, where Syrah experiences its apotheosis, is a very cool, often dreary place to grow grapes. Lots of cloud cover, higher humidity, and of course grown on ridiculously steep slopes, sometimes as great as 60 degrees. Philippe Guigal once told me that the minimum degree of potential alcohol grapes needed to meet the AOC guidelines was 10.5%, pre-chaptalization. That’s something like 18 Brix! Think about that. Philippe was proud to show me at the time his newly constructed grape reception area - this was a few years ago - where an optical device measured the sugar as the grapes came down the conveyor belt. In difficult vintages, at least a few years ago, some growers could not even achieve that minimum 10.5%, and (in a slightly passive-aggressive mode), the Guigal conveyor belt’s direction would be reversed and the underachieving load of grapes that had been lovingly cared for and fussed over (on these steep and vertiginous 60 degree slopes) would be reloaded to the miserable grower’s truck, poor mec. Quoth Philippe, “Before ze harvest, my father cuts his heart out and zen after ze harvest he puts it back in his chest.”
So as far as pursuing wine quality, in addition to climate, I think it’s important to also consider the following factors: Slope or exposure, soil fertility, soil depth and water holding capacity. In California, I have been most pleased with plantations on a north, northeast or eastern exposure. Syrah is just not well suited to brutal afternoon sun; one of its tragic flaws is poor stomatal regulation so wind as well can be quite debilitating. Adequate or abundant potassium levels in the soil seem to be helpful for stomatal regulation, maybe one reason that granitic soils are so well appreciated in the Rhône. The other really important factor is the regulation of vine vigor and this is where it gets tricky. Syrah, like Pinot Noir, can be exceptionally vigorous. If it experiences too severe a water deficit, especially on warm, dry or windy days, it can easily shut down and dehydrate.. And of course, if there is too much irrigation or the soil too rich, it will grow prodigiously long canes and produce larger, less flavorful fruit. As with so many things in life, a Goldilocks solution is needed. In general, lower fertility soils with a favorable ratio of rooting mass to a modest volume of fruit seems to yield the best result. Calcareous soils, for example, have good water holding capacity but hold the water tightly, which seems to be particularly interesting for Syrah. Indeed, any cultural intervention that favors greater homeostasis, for example, greater biotic diversity in the vineyard, the maintenance of a healthy soil flora, or an irrigation strategy encouraging deeper, more widespread rooting, all would be particularly useful in advancing grape and wine quality.
And then there is the matter of clones and rootstocks. As human beings, we are always looking for shortcuts and stairways to heaven and as grape growers we are generally keen to know what varieties or clonal selections thereof we should most gainfully pursue. There is a lot of clonal diversity in Syrah, not quite as much as with Pinot but quite a prodigious number, at least 600 identified in total. While some clones are definitely more interesting than others, I’ve found that a well considered mix will often yield the best result. Moi, I have generally been less thrilled with clone 877 than many are; it can produce wines with impressive structure; at the same time, on sites with deep soils and excess irrigation, it can easily tend to over-crop. Strangely enough, my understanding is that 877 is no longer recognized by ENTAV as proper Syrah. And yet, under certain conditions, it can also be brilliant, so I’d have to say that environmental conditions and cultural practices are a greater predictor of wine quality than clonal selection.
I haven’t had any experience with the Durrell clone, but it is beloved by some; I have myself had very good luck with the Alban clones, with 174, 383, and the Estrella River clone (which I particularly favor) as well as 470, which seems to be the benchmark clone in France. Guillaume Nursery has or had something called clone 19, which I had heard is somehow related to 470, maybe a mutation? If I remember correctly, it arose from a long-term large-scale trial aiming to find a Syrah clone that was less prone to Syrah decline, which is perhaps Syrah’s most serious tragic flaw.
As far as rootstocks, this is likely where one can potentially run into trouble with Syrah Decline. It appears that there is no simple explanation for the disease, but there is almost certainly a viral component, a rootstock component and likely other factors as well. 110R, a rootstock that I generally like a lot for my own vineyard in San Juan Bautista, is said to be particularly prone to fostering Syrah Decline. If you happen to be working with virused Syrah material (why would you ever want to do that? I’ll tell you why in a moment) you might wish to consider avoiding rootstock completely if you have the luxury of being able to do that.
On the subject of Syrah’s tragic flaws and viruses, let me tell you something about Sérine, which is the name of a variant of Syrah found in old vine plantings in Côte-Rôtie and said to correspond to what is called Petite Syrah in Hermitage (no relation, of course, to you know what). If you visit a Côte-Rôtie vineyard you might observe Syrah and Sérine planted side by side and they look rather different from one another. The Sérine cluster is generally smaller, more compact, with smaller, more ovate berries; it ripens later, shows higher acidity and is believed by many, myself included, to produce a more intensely peppery expression of Syrah. Its downside is that it is more prone to bunch rot - more of a problem in the northern Rhône than in California, say, and of course, no big surprise, more prone to Syrah Decline. Despite the risks and issues associated with Sérine, quite a number of growers have recently - the last 15-20 years or so - gone back to planting massale selections of Sérine in their vineyards.
I’ve spent a lot of time trying to work out exactly what the hell was going on with Sérine. I put the question to my colleague, Nick Dokoozlian of Gallo, who normally is in fact the smartest guy in the room. He contends that Sérine is not a particular clone of Syrah as is commonly believed but rather Syrah that has been infected with a certain virus, Red Globe Grape Virus to be precise. José Vouillamoz confirms that there is not a discernible genetic difference between Syrah and Sérine. Now, to complicate matters, there is a nursery in southern France that offers a so-called “virus-free” Sérine for sale, but this on its face would appear to be a logical impossibility; we are, however, now living in a time of alternate facts.
I had mentioned that for me, it is the white pepper quality found in Syrah that really brings it home. Which brings us to rotundone, the sesquiterpene found in Syrah as well as in quite a number of other varieties that we love - Vespolina, Graciano, Duras, Fer, Gamay, Schioppettino (yay!), Pinot d’Aunis, and not surprisingly, Grüner Veltliner. It is hypothesized to actually have evolved as a defense mechanism against herbivores of all stripe. What seems to favor the formation of rotundone are cooler sites and a later harvest, as the compound is synthesized rather late in the season. Lower intensity light, i.e. some leaf shading, seems to help in its formation and certain clones (or phenotypes to be more precise) favor greater rotundone production. Since the compound is found in the skins, smaller berries create a more favorable skin/juice ratio and thus a greater potential for rotundone expression.
I’ll just touch briefly on the question of winemaking: If the grapes are more or less harvested at reasonable ripeness, Syrah is blessed with seeds that are not particularly bitter or astringent; it can be extracted fairly vigorously without too much drama. I am myself a big fan of stem inclusion - some significant percentage of intact clusters - when possible. This is tricky with Syrah, of course, as it tends to come with a fairly high pH to begin with. A certain degree of stemminess (not too much) seems to integrate fairly well with the pepperiness of the variety. The one trick that I really have been happy with is the practice of air drying the fruit for three to four days - either in the field if it's cool enough there or in the cellar if it is not - to lignify the stems before the onset of fermentation. Again, this doesn’t really help you with pH nor of course with potential alcohol, but it seems to provide the wine with more structure and generally a slower, more measured fermentation. Smarter winemakers than myself have figured out how to handle the higher pHs of Syrah without the crazy high incidence of Brettanomyces but I aim to keep the final pH of the wine under 3.7 if possible and grudgingly, I do add some SO2. I’m not a big fan of new oak in general, but Syrah can tolerate barriques, ideally not all new. I particularly love a so-called reductive élevage, and I try to avoid racking the wine if at all possible until just before bottling. If the wine becomes slightly reduced in the barrel - generally but not always an indicator of a wine’s vitality or life-force - it’s ideal to deploy cliquage or administration of oxygen in situ if you have the capability, thus bringing the wine back to the redox center-line. This technique I have heard described as “surfing the reductive wave.” Syrah needs just that homeopathic amount of funk (not microbial, to be sure), but keeping the wine on the slightly reductive edge seems to preserve its fruit and build greater depth and complexity.
Now I’ll tell you a little bit about the crazy things I’m doing with Syrah/Sérine at Popelouchum in San Juan Bautista. I had initially thought I would self-cross Sérine with an eye toward attempting to identify the “superior” variants - those with perhaps greater drought tolerance, smaller bunches, more intense aromas or flavors, etc. - at least the ones best adapted to San Juan Bautista conditions. When you allow vines to self-cross, you create a certain number of male and female grapevines, as well as hermaphrodites primarily, of course. But male vines are sterile; the females will produce some fruit if there are males or hermaphrodites located nearby but they tend to be less productive. Further, a certain percentage of the vines will have other “issues,” rendering them sterile or anomalous. So, these non-starters will end up on the slag heap of viticultural history. You have a fair number of offspring that look a lot like their parents, but quite a number that look rather different. Andy Walker advised me to look not just for the ones that appear to be an “improved” version of the parent, but also for the weirdo outliers, which may in fact be more interesting.
Remember the offspring of self-crossed Sérine are no longer Sérine per se on multiple counts; the genetic information has been re-shuffled; interestingly, the virus is not transmitted to the seeds. As you know, Syrah (or Sérine) is the issue of the cross between Dureza and Mondeuse Blanche, a mixed marriage, if you will. It seems that the “white” characteristic is carried on a recessive allele, so in observing these self-crosses, 75% of the offspring will be red and 25% will be white. (Guess what? Mendel was right!) We have observed quite a diverse population with Syrah self-crosses, maybe more than typical for vinifera self-crosses. About half of the vines still have not produced fruit after six years. The balance is a rag-tag bunch, as it were, most with two seeds, some with one, a few that are seedless; cluster weights vary between 1 to maybe 4 ounces. My thinking has evolved to this: Maybe I’ll have the wit to discern a few of the truly brilliant distinctive variants, maybe not, but to leave a patrimony of germplasm still seems to be a useful gift to the next generation, who will possibly come equipped with higher powered tools of detection and analysis. My new hypothesis is that the so-called “best” variant is perhaps not one biotype, but perhaps a relatively large population of genetically unique biotypes, far more complex than anything that could be fashioned from a single clone, as superior as it might be. And if I can continue to hang on a little while longer, we can test that hypothesis.
We picked out approximately 65 each - red and white - of the most interesting, distinctive variants, grafted them on rootstock and planted them out - as a heterogenous plantation. To be honest, the white variants are a much tidier bunch than the reds. Some of them are quite floral and peachy like Viognier, others are somewhat spicier and peppery like Syrah. But all are very intense and very persistent in flavor; I’m hoping we will have perhaps a barrel of white this year to play with. The mixed red plantation we’ve planted next to a block of “proper” Sérine and in a couple of years we will be able to try the two wines side by side. I’m not sure I can recommend this technique of cultivating a zillion seedlings to everyone - it takes seemingly forever - but in the end, it might well be a reasonable strategy for discovering new variants with interesting agronomic properties - disease or drought resistance, as well as a method for producing an utterly unique wine, unlike anything the world has ever seen. But mostly, it has been an indescribable amount of fun and the opportunity to scratch a very curious itch. Thank you very much.
(Presented 3/22/25 to the Rhône Rangers, Paso Robles)