Petite Sirah

The name is a lie. There is nothing petite about Petite Sirah. The berries are small — that much is true — but small berries mean thick skins, and thick skins mean tannin, colour, and concentration at levels that few red grapes anywhere in the world can match. A glass of Petite Sirah stains.

The grape was bred in the Rhône Valley in the 1870s by French botanist Henri Durif — a cross of Syrah and the obscure Peloursin variety, intended to produce a disease-resistant alternative to the region's established varieties. Durif, as it was known in France, never caught on in its homeland. It was brought to California in the 1880s, renamed, and largely forgotten as a blending grape — valued for its extraordinary colour and structural density, used anonymously to deepen thin wines, and never considered worthy of bottling on its own.

Prohibition accelerated the neglect. By the mid-20th century Petite Sirah survived mainly in old mixed-black vineyards, its identity blurred into jug wine blends. The revival came slowly — a handful of California producers in the 1960s and 70s who recognised what the old vines were producing and began taking it seriously.

What they found was a grape of remarkable aging potential and genuine complexity: inky, structured, and deeply flavoured in a way that rewards patience and demands food. It remains one of wine's great underdogs — a grape with Syrah's DNA, California's history, and a character entirely its own.