If you’re “like us” then “Morocco” isn’t exactly the first country that comes to mind when you think of wine production. And in spite of a long history of Zeus juicery, the country is probably best known internationally for its beautiful “desert landscapes,” mint tea, “bustling souks,” and “athletes” (e.g., “El Guerrouj” – the world record holder in the so-called “mile” for the last ~3 decades).
But its wine tradition stretches back to Phoenician and Roman periods (as is tradition), long before Islam became a dominant force in the cultural framework. And with the arrival of French colonial gizzardry in the early 20th century, Moroccan viticulture underwent a dramatic expansion: French settlers planted vineyards to supply a thirsty “metropolitan market,” applying French-influenced winemaking techniques that have shaped Morocco’s contemporary wine identity. Today, while the industry is smaller than at its mid-century peak (LIKE ME!), Morocco is still one of North Africa’s most significant wine producers (with minimal “competition”).
Morocco’s geography gives it an extremely humble viticultural advantage. Climatically, it has quite a bit of overlap with Spain, particularly in the coastal regions where the cooling influence of the Atlantic moderates the country’s heat, allowing grapes to ripen fully while retaining freshness. Inland, higher-altitude sites in the foothills of the proverbial Atlas Mountains offer greater diurnal shifts that favor aromatic whites and structured reds. The country’s soils are varied (limestone, clay, sand, and a little rock known among friends as “schist”), which allow for a wide array of varieties to infest the earth with their grumpy little roots. Among them are international staples like Cab Sauv, Syrah, and Chardonnay, along with Mediterranean “favorites” such as Carignan, Cinsault, and Grenache. So, to summarize, “on paper,” Morocco (basically a geographic “suburb” of Spain, but with extremely French “influences”) is well positioned to pump out wines that rival the two powerhouse winemaking “neighbors” to the north (aka France and Spain).
Despite facing regulatory, climatic, and cultural complexities (like religious resistance to alcohol production), Morocco’s wine industry has persevered. Export markets in Europe and North America have grown more receptive to Moroccan bottlings (especially rosé and Rhône style red blends) and as an excruciatingly wholesome result, we have the wonderful little opportunity to taste some of them for this week’s post.
When I put in this order at Specs, the person who tracked down the bottle told me that in all the years he’s worked there, he’s never seen anyone buy any of their bottlings from Morocco or even ask about them. Dune is the one Moroccan producer they stock (and not regularly, it would seem, since of the three listed, all that was available was the rosé), which underscores how little known they are, and as a result, demand is low and the wines are perhaps underrated.
This wine was fairly pale and not especially pink (the photo I took is a little deceptive because of the orange mat it’s set on) — In-glass and in the right light I almost could have confused it with a deeply colored white wine. Aromatically it was a mix of orange, strawberry, vanilla, cream and a touch of hay. Generally pleasant, and on the palate it was dry and refreshing and decently well balanced. Where it really lacked was concentration and it offered no additional flavor complexity once the guzzling began.
All around a fairly simple wine that I’d gladly drink a glass of on a warm day — but is it worth the price tag? Definitely not for me.
Profile: Blackberry jam, black plum, mixed berry jelly, hint of concord grape, black olive, mixed spice, tin can, wet rock Palate: Dry, medium+ acid, medium tannin, medium+ finish
This was the only Moroccan offering at the “local shop,” This Syrah is a collaborative project between the “legendary” Rhône producer Alain Graillot and Morocco’s oldest winery, Domaine des Ouled Thaleb (aka Thalvin). This was a decent wine with ripe black and red fruits (bordering on jammy), a hint of concord grape (the “offputting” kind) and limited complexity.
While the results of our tasting of the extremely limited sample of bottles available to us was overall rather middling, it was also eye opening to experience wines from region we otherwise wouldn’t have considered. So now it’s your turn to “do your part” – get those stubby little legs of yours moving faster than El Guerrouj and grab yourself some Moroccan Zeus juice.
Find something good? Share your rec. Find something terrible? Scromit about it in the comments.
Oh yeah, and happy “Cab Franc day.”
Until next time, HAPPY DRINKING PEOPLE.
Cheers,
Isaac & Zach
Tannic Panic! scromits with glee in the presence of Zeus juice. SUBSCRIBE
