For years, no one really knew where Zinfandel came from, so in typically American style, we made it our own. Zin became California's grape like Riesling is the grape of Germany and Pinot Noir is the grape of Burgundy. California Zinfandels are often similar to Americans themselves: loud, brawny, a barbeque lover with bold flavors and plenty of opinion. Zinfandel inspires such passion in the U.S. that it even has its own professional organization, aroma wheel, and annual festival.

Finally scientists did DNA testing on Zinfandel and discovered it came from the same stock as Italian Primitivo and Croatian Crljenak. Now here's where the grape gets interesting. When wine geeks talk about terroir, or the sense of "place" you can taste in a wine, they're referring to everything from the specific minerals and elements in the soil that help flavor the grape to the region's climate to the vineyard's altitude and relative position to the sun. All of these elements add up to taking what would be a generic grape that tastes the same no matter where it's produced (like when you're on the road and all the restaurants look scary, and then you find a Panera and think, well at least I can get a decent sandwich), and making it into something completely distinct.

With Zinfandel and Primitivo, the two, though genetically twins, are more like cousins when you throw terroir into the mix. Zinfandel/Primitivo is a versatile grape, able to make light and fruity wines like Beaujolais and deep, dark, alcoholic, jammy wines, which represents the style of most American Zins.

Continue reading "Wine of the Week: Primitivo" after the jump.Primitivo, made in Puglia, the heel of Italy's boot, generally has less brash, bold spice and jammy fruit than American Zins, but like most Italian people is passionate in its own way. If you're a Zin connoisseur and you sample a Primitivo expecting the same punch, you'll probably be disappointed, just as I am when I taste a new-to-me pumpkin dessert on Thanksgiving and I'd rather be eating old-fashioned pumpkin pie. Far better to undertake a Primitivo tasting as a brand-new adventure rather than comparing it to Zin.

I had a bottle of the Castello Monaci Piluna Primitivo 2006 from Salento, the southern high heel of Puglia, recently. It's a fantastic bargain at just $12 and a 90-point rating from uberwine critic Robert Parker. The Castello Monaci Primitivo was earthy and spicy on the nose, tasting of dark cherries with a zing of acidity throughout. It reminded me more of another Italian wine, Sangiovese (the main grape in Chianti), than an American Zin. At 13.5 percent alcohol, it's typical of Primitivos I've had in the past with its old world elegance. As the wine opened up (that's geek speak for "I let it sit out for awhile and oxygen took its course"), the wine became softer with more apparent fruit, though nowhere approaching jammy.

Try the Castello Monaci or the Layer Cake Primitivo, which has similar characteristics. You may not discover a Zin clone, but you'll recognize many of Zin's lovely characteristics--and some of Primitivo's very own.