No Beans About It
TASTING NOTES: “Coming on the heels of the spectacular 2021 vintage, many were poised to judge the 2022 vintage harshly. Indeed it was less uniformly good than 2021, owing in large part to the two heat waves we had in September. But vineyards that were harvested early—generally this means Pinot Noir and Chardonnay, and perhaps Sauvignon Blanc—fared extremely well, and the wines, although a bit on the ripe side, are delicious. Cabernet Sauvignon generally ripens late, or at least later than Pinot Noir and Chardonnay, but at Pacheco it ripens early. In fact, we usually pick it just as we are finishing up the Pinot Noir harvest. In 2022 the flavors are a little riper than the 2021, but they are not jammy or cooked. The alcohol is a touch higher but not unreasonably so. Color and concentration are excellent. Pacheco is always a generous wine, with plenty of ripe fruit. And for Cabernet, it is not terribly tannic. It is, I dare say, pretty easy going! It likes big food and lots of meat. It would not be out of place next to a pot of Chili Con Carne or a stack of ribs.” (AbV 14.19%, pH 3.60, TA 5.8 g/L)
VARIETALS: Cabernet Sauvignon 95%, Cabernet Franc 5%.
BARRELS: 16 months in François Frères 500L French oak puncheons and 225 liter French oak barrels, various coopers. Only a small percentage new. After that, they leave it alone. The wine likes that, and so do they.
PAIRS WITH: Chili Con Carne, ribs.
THAT REMINDS ME OF: Chili.
The winemaker says this Cab would not be out of place next to a pot of Chili Con Carne, and now I can’t stop thinking about the great question that has divided this proud nation for generations: do beans belong in chili?
In Texas, this isn’t even a question. The answer is no. Emphatically, unequivocally no. The legendary chili cook-offs in Terlingua — a near-ghost town in the Big Bend region — have explicitly banned beans since the very first competition in 1967. Texan chili, or “bowl of red,” is meat, dried chiles, and spices. That’s it. If you add beans, you’ve made something, but it isn’t chili.
The rest of America, by and large, disagrees. Kidney beans, pinto beans, black beans — they all find their way into pots of chili from coast to coast, without controversy or shame. And then there’s Cincinnati, which serves its “chili” over spaghetti, topped with a precarious mountain of finely shredded cheddar cheese, and which many a Texan would argue isn’t chili at all, but rather a very confused Bolognese.
