There are several foreign wines that, thanks to intrepid 1970s businessmen in polyester leisure suits, have remained somewhat lost in translation to us Americans. Lambrusco is near the top of the list.
Thirty years ago, wine was not a popular beverage on this side of the pond. So to appeal to that rather novice market, the aforementioned businessmen marketed wine that was sweet and inoffensive (though I'm sure to any aficionado, it was anything but!). There was much more liberal borrowing of European names for wine back then, whether or not the wine reflected the European version of its namesake. Chablis? Gallo's version would make a Burgundian writhe with disgust. Champagne? Cooks and Veuve Clicquot, Korbel and Krug —not that big of a difference, right?
While a renaissance of wine consumption in the United States has eradicated many of these erroneous conceptions of what a particular type of wine is actually like (not to mention lawsuits brought by European wine regions forbidding the practice of naming a wine "Chianti" or "Burgundy" if it's not from that specific place), some stereotypes remain. Rosés are just beginning to emerge from the ball and chain of linkage with overly sweet "blushes" like White Zinfandel. Lambrusco, however, is still almost universally thought of as sugary, slightly sparkling, utterly unsophisticated plonk. The real Lambrusco, which has only recently begun to be brought into the country, poses a bold (and delicious) counter argument.
The stage for sparkling reds' return to favor has been set in part by the Australians. In recent years, sparkling Shiraz has fizzed its way onto wine drinkers' radar. But while many see it as something new and crazy, surprise — it's not! The Italians have done it for quite some time in the form of Lambruscos from the Emilia-Romagna region in central Italy. It is practically all that the locals drink. It makes sense when you consider that it goes with a huge array of foods — consider how huge this area's influence is on Italian cuisine. They're responsible for Parmigiano-Reggiano, prosciutto di Parma and balsamic vinegar, just to name a few.
Real Lambrusco (the name of the type of red grape most often used) typically has more acidity, a less ostentatious fizz, and more of a brambly, earthy fruitiness than its sparkling red New World counterparts. It's made in many styles, from dessert-like to bone-dry. There's even a white Lambrusco, made from the malvasia grape. And with low alcohol contents, you can indulge your desire to drink the whole bottle before it goes flat!
Antica Cantina Ceci (ACC) Lambrusco Amabile, $15
The Ceci family has been making wines from the plains around Parma since 1938, and are regarded as a top producer of Lambrusco. This is Lambrusco for spicy food: "Amabile" means "semi-sweet." The touch of sweetness makes this an excellent idea for countering hot flavors that fight with dry wines. And sweetness doesn't have to mean simplicity; this Lambrusco has rich layers of black cherry, blackberry and plum.
Cantina Ceci "La Luna" Lambrusco, $20
This one is dry and complex, with notes of violet, strawberry and dried dark cherry. The bubbles are ever so subtle. It's the perfect wine to serve when meat's on the menu, it's 97 degrees with 79 percent humidity and you want to serve a red, but it's just too miserable out. Pop one of these in the fridge, and problem solved. Extremely refreshing.
Cantina Ceci Malvasia, $20
The Ceci family also crafts a dry, frizzante white wine from the ancient malvasia di candia grape. It is dry and fresh, with aromas of flowers, honey, and minerals. The flavors on the palate are reminiscent of a good Prosecco, very subtle with a dominant flavor of grape (that sounds redundant, but some wines actually have very little "table" grape flavor!). It's difficult to imagine a more perfect glass of wine for a plate of prosciutto and melon.
Questions? Comments? Contact Courtney at wilderonwine@gmail.com