The phrase “old vine” conjures romantic, Norman Rockwellesque images of bucolic red barns and humble families gathered around pot belly stoves — at least for those selecting wine by the label. But in wine circles, old vine just raises questions. Lots of questions.
How many years, for example, constitutes old? Do vines age as well as fine wines? Is there any noticeable affect on flavor once a plant reaches maturity?
Pour a glass of the 2013 Jelly Jar Old Vine Zinfandel and you will realize the responses matter only to the most pedantic sorts.
A hearty, earthy air introduces the wine. Toasted spices and rustic thistle reach the nose first, followed by dark fruit jam. It’s a rich impression — serene and luscious, but firmly grounded.
This earthen bounty wraps around the palate, creating a laconic foundation for the dense fruit. A jam of blueberry, plum and licorice spreads easily over this base, revealing hints of toasted wood and ashen spice.
It’s a comfortable wine with lavishly preserved berry flavors and long, pleasant finish.
The vines, dry farmed in a vineyard near Kelseyville, have yielded fruit for more than 40 years. The harvest is smaller than in decades past, but winemaker Andy Pestoni’s work suggests that this indeed deepens the flavors. The blueberry and plum characters wallow — not a fresh snap, but an intense jam.
Pestoni and his crew sorted the grapes by hand and rested the wine for almost a year in French oak barrels, 30 percent of the stock being new. He blended in a splash of Petite Sirah, amounting to 3 percent, for color and structure.
No, the Petite Sirah does not serve as a fountain of youth.
Jelly Jar’s 2013 Zinfandel, produced from veteran vines, is a reminder that passing years sometimes serve a wine very well, no matter how many people question the idea.
Dave Faries can be reached at 900-2016
