Kosher Wine Doesn't Have to Suck: We Taste-Tested Israel's Best Wines

Recanati wine is desperately trying to pass for gentile.

First off, there's the name. Nothing about "Recanati" sounds particularly Jewish. In fact, it sounds vaguely Italian. (Which doesn't hurt a wine.) Then there's the fact that the front label is extremely simple—there is nary a Hebrew letter in sight, only the brand, the vintage, the grape and the region. You have to take a close look at the back to find the kosher stamp. And if you were to call the PR department at Recanati, they would admit that no, they're not really advertising the fact that they're kosher.

"We've been encouraging wine shops to start an Israeli section," says Michael Wolff, the senior brand manager for the Israeli wine, which is produced in the Galilee. The idea is to get away from the "kosher" label and all its connotations.

Funny, it doesn't look Jewish: Good luck finding the kosher symbol on this bottle of Recanati wineRecanati is hardly the only Israeli wine hiding the inconvenient fact that, yes, they're also kosher. "We don't really talk about the kosher aspect of our wines," says Marsha Palanci, who does marketing for the Israeli brand Yarden. "We market it as an international wine."

The reasons behind this are of the "duh" variety. Long before brand giant Manischewitz even existed, the words "wretched" and "kosher" were synonyms when it came to wine: Jews have proven themselves utterly maladroit winemakers for literally thousands of years. Not that it was always their fault: Jews rarely had access to grapes, and they oftentimes weren't allowed to own land. And when the Jews arrived in America, the only grape they had access to was the Concord, which needed to be diluted with sugar—making wines like Manischewitz so sickly sweet.

But there is nothing in the rules of kashrut that makes bad wine inevitable. For a wine to be kosher it needs to either be flash-pasteurized—heated to 90 degrees Celsius—or it needs to be made by Sabbath-observant Jews. Wine experts disagree about whether flash-pasteurization has negative effects on taste (though most believe it does), but regardless, nothing about shomer Shabbat vintners makes for crappy wine.

And given that we're living in the age of gourmet, where food and drink is as much about status as it is about nourishment and chefs like Jean-Georges Vongerichten and Daniel Boulud are celebrities known by their first name, it's only fitting and proper that the moment is ripe for an excellent, upscale kosher wine. Why should Jews be left out? Let the gourmet kosher wine revolution begin.

Not a gentile in sight: Wine is kosher as long as it's made by Shabbat-observant JewsThe last decade has seen signs of just that sort of uprising. Israel, France and California have all been churning out top-notch labels at extremely high prices. California-based Covenant, for example, retails for $110 and can be found on the wine lists at Per Se and French Laundry. Other kosher wines, like Recanati, are as shy about their kosher status but considerably less expensive. To see the revolution in progress, I canvassed a number of wine stores and wine experts and came up with a list of the best wines the kosher world has to offer. Then, for the sake of research, I sampled all of them with a friend.

THE WINES

	2003 Castel Grand Vin, $69.99			Carmel Winery Limited Edition blend, $74.99
	Capcanes Peraj Ha’abib Cabernet, $64.99			Yatir 2005 Sauvignon Blanc, $24.95
	Ramim Cabernet Sauvignon, $20.			Yarden Blanc de Blancs, $18.99
	2004 Yarden Odem, $21			2006 Recanati Cabernet Sauvignon, $11

THE TASTING

Wine list in place, I invited my (gentile) pal Tracy Eberhart over on a rainy Sunday afternoon to help determine whether kosher is the new treyf. We started with the Yarden Odem, an organic chardonnay.

"It's nice," she says. "Sweet."

Next we went to the Yatir, a wine from the Negev which came highly recommended by Tom Smith at Union Square Wines & Spirits in Manhattan. We pulled away from the glass the moment we poured it.

"Do you smell that?" Tracy said.

I nodded.

We sipped again.

"It doesn't translate into the taste," she said, "which is a good thing. It's a little bubbly. That always surprises me." The two of us pondered in silence. "You know," Tracy finally said, "it's a little like a stinky cheese." Ouch. Not Tracy's favorite. (Or mine. Sorry Tom.)

We moved onto the Recanati Cabernet Sauvignon 2006, which is the only kosher wine I could find at Trader Joe's. At $11, it was the cheapest wine of the day.

"It's light," Tracy said. "That's a good thing in my book." It tasted a little too fruity for me, but it wasn't at all bad.

After that we tried the Ramim, a Cabernet Sauvignon from the Galilee which was my favorite. It was bold, but it didn't seem overwhelmed by alcohol. According to Frank Locker, who sold me the bottle at Is Wines in Greenwich Village, customers often buy Ramim for Shabbat and like it so much they come back asking for a non-kosher version, which says a lot about the way people view kosher wine.

"I think I like this one best," I said.

"It's stronger than the Recanati," Tracy said. "But not too dry. I tend to like light wines, though."

I had not procured a wine bucket for this mini-tasting, and as the afternoon wore on the wines began to hit me. There was one to go: the Yarden Blanc de Blancs, but by that time I no longer trusted my judgment.

Tracy wrote down in her notes, "Cannot generate [illegible] right now, but basically underwhelmed."

I remember the Blanc de Blancs was pretty good, but that was all I remember. Tracy went home, and I went to bed sick as a dog. Which answers one question: Kosher wines can indeed get you hammered. I was sicker than I had ever been downing Manischewitz. You can call that a victory for the kosher wine of today. When Jews are stumbling into work the next morning with wicked hangovers, you know that the wine has finally "passed."

OUR FAVORITES

The Jewish Pick: Ramim, a full-bodied Cabernet Sauvignon from the Galilee ($20). Stronger than the rest, but not overwhelmed by the alcohol.

The Shiksa Pick: Yarden Odem, a 2004 Chardonnay ($23). Light and fruity, concentrated in flavor, but not overwhelming.

* Also in Jewcy: Amy Guth scours the New World for kosher wines even Robert Parker could love.