Placed on a pedestal

Rhône options run a distant second to Bordeaux blends, and after that it’s a race of rank outsiders. What makes the focus on Bordeaux blends the more curious is that the current Bordeaux recipe is relatively modern, dating back essentially to the post-phylloxera replantings. It’s not as if it can claim a special place on the grounds of having stood the test of time.

DNA testing of vines has established that Cabernet Sauvignon is a relatively young variety, a natural crossing that occurred in the 17th century. It gradually assumed a place of importance in the Médoc – though it is worth observing that the major estates of what is now the Manhattan of the wine-producing world only date back to much the same era. Until the Dutch drained the swamps north of Bordeaux, there were no great wine-producing properties in what we now call the Left Bank. The Graves, south-west of the town, St Emilion to the east and largely forgotten appellations like Cahors further inland, were the major wine sources of the Middle Ages.

Once the wealthy citizens of Bordeaux began to use the Médoc for their weekends away, vineyards were inevitable. Who could have predicted that this particular patch of dirt would work so well for wine? Or that what would work best involved a blend of the newly arrived Cabernet Sauvignon, together with the better-known Merlot, Malbec, Cabernet Franc and, yes, Shiraz.

In the 18th century, the great properties began their rise to prominence. At one stage three of the five First Growths were owned by one family. Viticultural practices were vastly different, with vine densities four times greater than today. As soon as the wines were made they were sold in barrel to the merchants.

After the French Revolution a new class of land-owners took over the estates, wine became the dominant agricultural product and the Médoc became one of the centres of the wine world. It was with this stature that it passed through the catastrophe of phylloxera, emerging at the end of the 19th century leaner, no less fashionable, but with its ground rules rigorously defined.

Shiraz ceased to be planted at some stage in the 19th century (it’s still recorded at Cos d’Estournel in the 1820s). By the early 20th century, Carmenère (still an authorised variety) had all but vanished and Malbec was in marked decline. So what is it about the present formula – the Cabernet-Merlot combo – that is so important that it has assumed the authority of scripture throughout the rest of the wine-producing world?

SA is not alone in battling to make Merlot work (as a single variety, and therefore as a component in a blend). Even its value in the Médoc has more to do with the economics of poor Cabernet vintages than its intrinsic organoleptic merits. We didn’t need the Australians to prove that Shiraz is a better partner for Cabernet, delivering earlier drinkability without a dilution of the flavour intensity. A quick glance at the historical records shows that the Bordelaises knew that well enough.

If – for reasons which still don’t make sense to me – we feel that the concept of the Bordeaux blend is more important than the traditional combinations of other Old World appellations, perhaps we need to be more pedantic. Let’s go back to the ancient records and look to the cultivars which flourished in the Médoc when the region rose to prominence. Malbec, Carmenère and Shiraz would certainly add some spice to the combination – and make a mockery of the attempt to emulate the success of just one of the many great wine-producing regions of the world.

Michael Fridjhon is a leading wine writer and consultant with extensive international judging experience.