Syrah vs. Shiraz - what’s in a name?
In the Rhone, its spiritual home, it makes for wines of lustrous, subtle beauty. That’s not to say that it’s by any means a gentle or light variety, but rather that the aromas and flavours it elicits seem to come with such grace and finesse that there are occasions on which we’d have to call it a desert island grape.
Those notes of violet and black olive, mint and green peppercorn, black cherry and even, well, cured meat, are distinctive yet elegant, and deeply moreish
And then one day Syrah packed its bags, waved farewell to its French roots, headed overseas, changed its name, and probably got a tattoo. The name change was, of course, to Shiraz, a grape, dare we say an approach, that brings with it altogether bolder iterations of the fruit - a jammy fullness flecked with liquorice and leather and often an elevated ABV that mustn’t be sneered at by any means (particularly when there’s a barbecue lit) but that nonetheless is a very different prospect to the more reserved ‘Syrah’ wines.
And the clue is indeed in the name. Because more and more New World producers, from the USA to South Africa to Australia, are producing ‘Syrah’, as opposed to their neighbours’ ‘Shiraz’. It’s essentially a signpost that says ‘old school’.
Syrah is one of those grapes that is almost onomatopoeic, so ethereal and pretty that you are nigh-on forced to whisper its name.
Which the label on Timo Mayer’s Yarra Valley Syrah also helps to convey. It goes long on minerality and earth but there’s also forest fruit and black pepper. Inky, opulent, moreish.
Christophe Muret makes a deliciously simple Syrah down in the Languedoc that ticks all the boxes without emptying your wallet.
Vincent Paris’s 2018 Cornas is a smoky, gamey number, whose intensity mellows out with a little dance in the glass and one of those pretentious-seeming but actually extremely effective aeration operations in the mouth.
In the centre of your image we have the counterpoint - Mitolo 2018 Shiraz from the McLaren Vale - not exactly a shrinking violet, though balanced and harmonious enough to avoid overwhelming your palate. Barbecue some lamb chops and lean in.
And then we have a trio of South African Syrahs to complete the picture, each of which brings with it a sense of individuality while doffing its proverbial cap to the northern Rhone heartlands whence it came.
Syrah or Shiraz, as long as it’s good, count us in.