Once a blending grape, Cinsault has found varietal fame in the Southern Hemisphere

Friday, 28 April, 2023
VinePair, Hannah Staab
Cinsault, a French grape variety common in the Southern Rhône, has long played a supporting role in blends.

“GSM,” the popular abbreviation used to describe the wines of the region, represents the grapes Grenache, Syrah, and Mourvèdre, but tragically excludes a C for Cinsault. That’s not to say it doesn’t contribute to those blends, though.

Known for its lighter body and soft tannins, Cinsault brings freshness, floral aromatics, and bright red berry flavors. After a long history in the shadows, Cinsault is finally stepping into the limelight as a varietal wine, with producers in the Southern Hemisphere, particularly Chile and South Africa, showcasing its elegance.

Several factors are contributing to the sudden embrace of this normally overlooked blending grape, the most notable being the rising trend of lighter-bodied, “chillable” red wines. Drinkers are swapping out the brooding, full-bodied reds that dominated the ‘80s, ‘90s, and early aughts for bright, juicy wines that land a bit lighter on their feet. Beyond consumer preferences, Cinsault can credit its success to the discovery of valuable old vines in Chile and South Africa, which are vital to crafting high-quality varietal wines. The vine’s ability to thrive in conditions of extreme heat and drought have also brought attention to this grape, as producers search for varieties that can stand up to the challenges of the climate crisis. Turns out, Cinsault might be the answer.

We’ve already seen what can happen when obscure French blending grapes find a new home, too. Argentine Malbec found widespread success with drinkers who were looking for round, approachable, jammy wines, bursting with dark fruit. (They were, perhaps, also looking for an alternative to Merlot after a certain movie made it passé.) As the tides turn and drinkers are starting to prefer lighter-bodied, elegant reds, can the massive success of Malbec signal what’s to come for Cinsault?

One winemaker’s trash is another’s treasure

Historically, Cinsault has been used as a workhorse grape. The vines are vigorous, reliably producing ample fruit. In southern France, South Africa, and Chile, the grape was produced in high quantities to use in bulk red blends, and was generally looked down upon because of its light-bodied structure. Despite its reputation, Cinsault was actually the most planted grape in South Africa in the ‘60s and ‘70s. And even though it played an instrumental role in most of the nation’s red blends, it was never advertised on labels.

When Alexander Milner, the winemaker for Natte Valleij winery in South Africa, studied oenology at Stellenbosch University in 2004, his professor told him that Cinsault would never have any value in the South African wine industry. Nevertheless, after working with Cinsault during a harvest in southern France, Milner became intrigued by the variety.

In 2012, with some grapes from a recently discovered block of old vines and one barrel, Milner crafted his first vintage of Cinsault. “I thought it was the nicest wine I made in my life,” he says. Milner then began to seek out more plots of old vines throughout South Africa’s coastal regions of Stellenbosch, Paarl, and Darling, and when he would ask farmers for their Cinsault they would remark, “Are you sure you want the Cinsault?” He’s now a pioneer in crafting varietal Cinsault from South Africa’s forgotten old vines, and is setting an example for the elegant, terroir-driven varietal wines it can yield.

Cinsault experienced a similar journey in southern Chile, specifically the cool-climate regions of Itata and Bío-Bío. The area was originally planted to País and Muscat of Alexandria by Spanish missionaries in the mid-16th century. But after a historic earthquake shook up the region in 1939, many vineyards were replanted with robust grapes like Cinsault and Carignan in an effort to bulk up production. These varieties were used to make juicy, everyday-drinking table wines called Pipeño, which gave them a bad reputation among Chilean drinkers who favored “serious” full-bodied Cabs.

As the Cabernet Sauvignon-industrial complex shifted the focus of Chile’s wine industry, the more unique regions of Itata and Bío-Bío fell by the wayside.

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