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The legend of Shiraz - a Persian fairy tale
Discovering that the tooth fairy and Santa are not real can be a downer, and I hate to see a fairy tale demolished.
But for years people believed that the Shiraz grape (known to many of us as Syrah) originated in ancient Iran. The city of Shiraz is about 900 miles from Tehran and home to some of the world's earliest vineyards. One story has it that the grapevine cuttings were brought to France by a 13th century crusader knight who planted them in the Rhone Valley and became a hermit (hence the famed Rhone wine Hermitage).
Another ancient Persian tale is even more far-fetched but appealing. The story is that King Jamshid stored ripe grapes in a cellar so he could enjoy them all year long. One day he sent a slave to get some grapes. When the slave didn't return, the king went down to the cellar and discovered the slave passed out from the fumes and carbon dioxide gas emanating from fermented grapes. One of the king's mistresses, depressed after having been rejected by Jamshid, decided to drink this supposedly poisoned potion in a dramatic gesture of despair, only to leave the cellar elated, dancing and in high spirits. The king understood the power of wine to deliver pleasure.
Back to reality. Super-sleuth Dr. Carole Meredith at UC Davis did a DNA studies of the Syrah grape only to determine that it is native to the Rhone Valley, not Iran. So how did this grape get to Australia? It appears that the first cuttings of Shiraz made it there in 1832 when James Busby, who's often credited with bringing the first wine grapes to Australia, shipped it from Europe along with hundreds of vine samples. Shiraz is now the most widely planted red grape in Australia.
In Australia, Shiraz has different personalities. The McLaren Vale style of Shiraz featured in today's Wine Selections is jammy, laden with ripe black and red fruit. Tannins are restrained and the wine has smooth, opulent mouthfeel. The Barossa Valley produces a more peppery and herbaceous style.
I hate to let a good story die, so I had been thinking of cooking a Persian dish to go with the wines. Because the name Shiraz is so romantic, it still summons images of life in ancient Persia, of blue-tiled mosques, of rich rugs and of a divine cuisine, a cuisine so voluptuous, nuanced and flavorful it influenced the foods of Morocco and subsequently the Catalonia region of Spain, where meat and fruit dishes still appear on the table. What capped it for me was the film "Persepolis," which I saw with my granddaughter. That set us talking about the glories of ancient Persia, and my regret that given today's political situation, I shall probably never get to Iran in my lifetime. But I can still cook Persian food.
Khoresh (also spelled khoresht) is a Persian stew/sauce often served over rice. It may even be layered in a baked pilaf called a polo. In the winter, when fresh fruits are scarce, meats are prepared with dried fruit. Some think that this stew will help cure a cold or the winter doldrums, just like the wine cured Jamshid's discombobulated mistress.
The fruit in the wine is echoed by the stew's prunes and citrus juice. To balance the wine's acidity, I added a touch of pomegranate syrup. The sweet spices are not overpowering but subtly echo those in the wine. Salt brings all of the flavors together, so season and taste again until you are happy. Elated, in fact.
But for years people believed that the Shiraz grape (known to many of us as Syrah) originated in ancient Iran. The city of Shiraz is about 900 miles from Tehran and home to some of the world's earliest vineyards. One story has it that the grapevine cuttings were brought to France by a 13th century crusader knight who planted them in the Rhone Valley and became a hermit (hence the famed Rhone wine Hermitage).
Another ancient Persian tale is even more far-fetched but appealing. The story is that King Jamshid stored ripe grapes in a cellar so he could enjoy them all year long. One day he sent a slave to get some grapes. When the slave didn't return, the king went down to the cellar and discovered the slave passed out from the fumes and carbon dioxide gas emanating from fermented grapes. One of the king's mistresses, depressed after having been rejected by Jamshid, decided to drink this supposedly poisoned potion in a dramatic gesture of despair, only to leave the cellar elated, dancing and in high spirits. The king understood the power of wine to deliver pleasure.
Back to reality. Super-sleuth Dr. Carole Meredith at UC Davis did a DNA studies of the Syrah grape only to determine that it is native to the Rhone Valley, not Iran. So how did this grape get to Australia? It appears that the first cuttings of Shiraz made it there in 1832 when James Busby, who's often credited with bringing the first wine grapes to Australia, shipped it from Europe along with hundreds of vine samples. Shiraz is now the most widely planted red grape in Australia.
In Australia, Shiraz has different personalities. The McLaren Vale style of Shiraz featured in today's Wine Selections is jammy, laden with ripe black and red fruit. Tannins are restrained and the wine has smooth, opulent mouthfeel. The Barossa Valley produces a more peppery and herbaceous style.
I hate to let a good story die, so I had been thinking of cooking a Persian dish to go with the wines. Because the name Shiraz is so romantic, it still summons images of life in ancient Persia, of blue-tiled mosques, of rich rugs and of a divine cuisine, a cuisine so voluptuous, nuanced and flavorful it influenced the foods of Morocco and subsequently the Catalonia region of Spain, where meat and fruit dishes still appear on the table. What capped it for me was the film "Persepolis," which I saw with my granddaughter. That set us talking about the glories of ancient Persia, and my regret that given today's political situation, I shall probably never get to Iran in my lifetime. But I can still cook Persian food.
Khoresh (also spelled khoresht) is a Persian stew/sauce often served over rice. It may even be layered in a baked pilaf called a polo. In the winter, when fresh fruits are scarce, meats are prepared with dried fruit. Some think that this stew will help cure a cold or the winter doldrums, just like the wine cured Jamshid's discombobulated mistress.
The fruit in the wine is echoed by the stew's prunes and citrus juice. To balance the wine's acidity, I added a touch of pomegranate syrup. The sweet spices are not overpowering but subtly echo those in the wine. Salt brings all of the flavors together, so season and taste again until you are happy. Elated, in fact.
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