But arguably the most important and exciting development, not just to Lebanese whites but to brand Lebanon, is the belated recognition among wine-makers that the native Obeideh grape, for centuries the backbone of the arak-making industry, is not the peasant grape many once dismissed it as, but an old and profound grape that can do for Lebanon what the Assyrtiko has done for Greek wine.
Obeideh had been used to great effect, alongside another Lebanese grape, Merweh, in Château Musar’s oxidative and aged whites, but these are highly esoteric wines and only likely to enter the orbit of the most informed consumer. Château St Thomas and Domaine Wardy now make much more approachable Obeideh varietals, and use it in their other white wines, as do Ixsir, Domaine des Tourelles, Massaya, Château Barka and Nabise Mont Liban.
So what of the reds? For the past 25 years, the conventional wisdom among Lebanese producers, given the small production, has been to focus on quality, a philosophy translated into beautifully made and often equally beautifully packaged, powerful international style Bordeaux-Rhône blends, dressed in the most expensive oak money can buy and which will age forever.
Yet the varieties that arguably best reflect Lebanon’s formidable terroir are Carignan, Cinsault and Grenache, all three of which were introduced to Lebanon from Algeria by the Jesuits in the mid 19th century. While not indigenous, they are Lebanon’s adopted children and haven’t really been given the respect they deserve and are used mainly in the easy drinking entry-level wines, even if those wines are often of the highest quality.
Only Château Musar used Carignan and Cinsault as the “flesh and the perfume” in its famous Château wine. Massaya, with its close connection to the Brunier brothers of Vieux Télégraph, has also been happy to shout about its Cinsault, but among the other producers, one got the feeling it was treated like a bit of a yokel in the face of the relatively recent aristocratic arrivals such as Cabernet Sauvignon, which has become the workhorse of the sector.
Merlot has not really lived up to its star billing as a varietal but does well in blends, and Syrah has proved a revelation in the past 20 years and might explain the belated interest in its less-celebrated Rhône cousins.
The upshot is that later this year, Domaine des Tourelles, founded in 1868 by a French railroad engineer, is releasing its Vielle Vigne Cinsault, made from 60-year-old vines and the first Lebanese Cinsault varietal to appear on the international market.
Meanwhile, Château Kefraya has been experimenting with old vine Carignan and Cinsault. The winery has a proud tradition of blending and may eventually decide to put the two in the same bottle, but what is important is that Fabrice Guiberteau, Kefraya’s French winemaker, is convinced by the quality of the grapes, some of which are more than 40 years old, and recognises their potential.
You might argue that four wineries out of 50 does not a revolution make, but Lebanon is a small, close-knit country. The Obeideh experiment has lit a national touch paper. I predict Cinsault will do the same and create a new and exciting taste profile for Lebanon to complement the so-called Super-Lebs – full-on, international blends with undeniable global appeal and which punch above their weight in terms of price.
