Everybody's tired tonight. I think the arrival of mild weather has caused us all to relax a little, and realize how stressed we've been since December 18 when all this snow came and stayed and stayed. But we have good, reviving wines!
Alice et Olivier De Moor Bel Air et Clardy Chablis 2007:
Les: This is not premiere cru, but this is the way Chablis used to taste.
Elaine: Minerals and green apple skin.
Dave: Maybe a little cinammon note. (Drinks) Great lemony mid-palate. I can't put my finger on it, but there's an almost cidery quality. Compared to something like--I'm just pulling a name out of the air--a William Fèvre Premiere Cru, it's a little funky.
Elaine: It's a bit leesy for a Chablis.
Karl: This does not go with 'goons. It doesn't taste very good with cream cheese.
Elaine: I can't think of many of the wines we've tasted that didn't at least work okay with crab rangoons.
Karl: This definitely doesn't. It's kind of nasty-tasting against the cream cheese.
Dave: I am reminded of what happens when you add lemon to tea with milk. It's unpleasant. Just shows what great lemony character this has. It's great Chablis.
[We're sitting next to Ralph who's a server at Horizons at the Grove Park Inn. He used to be at Gabrielle's, the ritziest restaurant in Asheville until it burned down under mysterious circumstances. He tells us Duane Fernandes, who worked for Thomas Keller at Pur Sang in New York, had been the chef at Gabrielle's, and was now at Horizons, and Horizons was offering 20% off to locals on Mondays and Thursdays. He also said the Kobe beef was still $90 or something.]
Brézème Côtes du Rhône 2006, by Éric Texier.
Les: This is land very near Hermitage, that was highly regarded like 100 years ago, and fell into disuse, and Texier found it. It's more like pinot noir than like a Rhone from further south.
Dave: Here's some minty herb on the nose; not medicinal like the Mondeuse from last week.
Karl: Cola and wax.
Elaine: Cherry cola, in fact.
Dave: Black olive.
Elaine: Yes, like those wrinkly black salt-cured ones.
Dave: Bay leaf? Something like Bay leaf? This is fantastically yummy.
Karl: I want to see "fantastically yummy" in the blog.
Dave: I can't really identify any fruit on the palate. There's no one flavor that's sort of anchoring everything else.
Elaine: It really is all about the nose. The palate is satisfying, but you also want to gulp it. It's sort of clean, unburdened by new oak. Really, it's very good. You don't always want syrah to linger. I tasted a bag-in-box wine from this guy. It was like this, although the nose wasn't as interesting. I often look for a charcoal note in syrah, usually accompanied by notes of meat and smoke. All I get in this one is the charcoal.
Elaine relates the story of visiting a store in Augusta, GA, and finding out about the Irish Travelers, who are Irish, and tend to inbreed, and to marry off their daughters at inappropriately young ages to inappropriately older men in their neighborhoods. Consequently, there are only a dozen or so surnames in use, since marrying your cousin seems to be okay. She also says their women act in certain ways like Orthodox Jews (they're very big on wigs) and also like Mormons (they're very big on long dresses). And that they buy these McMansions, and then don't live in them for a few years while they wait for the ghosts to leave. Encouraging ghosts to leave involves covering the windows with aluminum foil and living in a trailer behind the house while waiting for the house to become inhabitable.
I converse with Ralph about the musician's life. His father was one of the smart ones: He went to Nashville and raised his family and worked regular hours more or less. I reminisced about the weird old days in New York with The Cramps and The Ramones and The NY Dolls, and my band, The Burdette Brothers, who were perhaps among the strangest, in that we presented ourselves as aggressively normal. Tommy used to show up wearing a Madras sports jacket and penny loafers; Brother Jeff had a day job at the Radio City Station Post Office; Brother Mike had worked in Off-Broadway pit bands and whatnot. As for Brother Dave, back then he was kinda like Buckaroo Banzai, going at full speed in several directions at once.
P.S.: Having been spectacularly lazy about working on this blog during February, I have a lot of catching up to do. Now that I can see the Sun again, maybe I'll get a little more active. Or not.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
There Are No Great Vintages...
Note to self: Stop telling people ’07 Côtes du Rhône is a slam dunk. Some people managed to make really lousy wine anyway. Case in point: Domain Nicolas Boiron CDR 2007: On the nose, caramel, sweet herb, artificial strawberry candy. On the palate, cigar box, earth, no fruit to speak of, and hot, hot, hot. And to add insult to injury, it’s not cheap, either. Jose Pastor facilitated the importation of this truly poor example of the fabled ’07 vintage. Boiron has a big rep as a Chateauneuf producer; even Thor Iverson likes his "Bosquet du Papes" although the link is to a review of an '06 (athough referring to "herbed bubble gum" seems like faint praise to me...then again, Thor is a very funny and very clever cat, so who knows what he was getting at...)
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Hangin' At The Usual Suspects #12
A Brief, Gummy Night.
Tonight, we begin with a little something from Slovenia. Les comes out with something called “Toh-Kai,” which is winemaker Aleš Kristancic of the Movia winery seeing what he can get away with now that he’s not allowed to use the words “Tocai Friulani” on his label. Which is only right, since he’s not making Tokai, and he’s not in Friulani (Well, he sorta is, but only partly). Sometimes the EU gets this stuff right. As will be evident, it is already hard to believe this is Tocai, or pinot blanc, or klevener, or whatever. The wine is a release from the “Quattro Mani” series, which is kinda like the Long Shadows Project in the Columbia Valley—celebrity winemakers from elsewhere given access to great fruit. Anyway, Kristancic certainly has license to fool around, if only on the basis of the deep, rich, aristocratic Cabernet Sauvignon he turns out at Movia.
Dave: This really smells like Wrigley’s Spearmint gum.
Elaine: It’s bitter. I’m surprised this is still ’07.
Dave: Maybe a little Maraschino cherry. Odd.
Elaine: His interpretation of the wine is mass-market: It’s juicy and fruity light, but not too light.
[‘Goons arrive.]
Elaine: Look, the color of the ‘goons matches the color of the label: Green and white.
Dave: Parker gave this 91 points? You know, I think it really must be true what they say: The man has a sweet tooth.
Next up, Famille Feillot Bugey Mondeuse 2007.
Elaine: I love these wines! This smells like Ricola.
Karl: Kind of medicinal.
Elaine: That shit that’s good for you. And Heirloom Bing Cherry.
Karl: You really need to swirl to bring up the fruit.
Dave: It smells kinda like Strega, too. Does anybody drink Strega anymore?
Elaine: There is a cru Beaujolais character here too.
Dave: Yeah, I’ve always thought of Mondeuse as Gamay’s crazy country cousin. I’m actually digging the medicinal herb thing.
Elaine: This could be a great flavor for red wine chewing gum.
Dave: That “Toh-Kai” would make a great flavor for white wine chewing gum.
Karl: I bought those wine gums. They all tasted the same.
Dave: Oh, wine gums. Not wine-flavored chewing gum. [Xylis makes a chardonnay-flavored chewing gum, sold in Japan, of course.] (Sips) This has more substance than the Puzelat. I still can't get over that business with Le Telquel. Man knocks himself out to be true to terroir, and gets a vin de pays classification for his trouble.
Elaine: Think of Thierry as traditionally experimental.
Tonight, we begin with a little something from Slovenia. Les comes out with something called “Toh-Kai,” which is winemaker Aleš Kristancic of the Movia winery seeing what he can get away with now that he’s not allowed to use the words “Tocai Friulani” on his label. Which is only right, since he’s not making Tokai, and he’s not in Friulani (Well, he sorta is, but only partly). Sometimes the EU gets this stuff right. As will be evident, it is already hard to believe this is Tocai, or pinot blanc, or klevener, or whatever. The wine is a release from the “Quattro Mani” series, which is kinda like the Long Shadows Project in the Columbia Valley—celebrity winemakers from elsewhere given access to great fruit. Anyway, Kristancic certainly has license to fool around, if only on the basis of the deep, rich, aristocratic Cabernet Sauvignon he turns out at Movia.
Dave: This really smells like Wrigley’s Spearmint gum.
Elaine: It’s bitter. I’m surprised this is still ’07.
Dave: Maybe a little Maraschino cherry. Odd.
Elaine: His interpretation of the wine is mass-market: It’s juicy and fruity light, but not too light.
[‘Goons arrive.]
Elaine: Look, the color of the ‘goons matches the color of the label: Green and white.
Dave: Parker gave this 91 points? You know, I think it really must be true what they say: The man has a sweet tooth.
Next up, Famille Feillot Bugey Mondeuse 2007.
Elaine: I love these wines! This smells like Ricola.
Karl: Kind of medicinal.
Elaine: That shit that’s good for you. And Heirloom Bing Cherry.
Karl: You really need to swirl to bring up the fruit.
Dave: It smells kinda like Strega, too. Does anybody drink Strega anymore?
Elaine: There is a cru Beaujolais character here too.
Dave: Yeah, I’ve always thought of Mondeuse as Gamay’s crazy country cousin. I’m actually digging the medicinal herb thing.
Elaine: This could be a great flavor for red wine chewing gum.
Dave: That “Toh-Kai” would make a great flavor for white wine chewing gum.
Karl: I bought those wine gums. They all tasted the same.
Dave: Oh, wine gums. Not wine-flavored chewing gum. [Xylis makes a chardonnay-flavored chewing gum, sold in Japan, of course.] (Sips) This has more substance than the Puzelat. I still can't get over that business with Le Telquel. Man knocks himself out to be true to terroir, and gets a vin de pays classification for his trouble.
Elaine: Think of Thierry as traditionally experimental.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Tasting Bar #11: Elyse Winery
John from Juice came by the other day and tasted us on the latest releases from Elyse. I admit to having a soft spot for Ray Coursen, partly because we both lived on Cape Cod (he was there in the '70s, I was there in the '90s) and I can appreciate the imagination and courage it must have taken to quit slinging hash (because that's what there was on the Cape back then) and move to California to tackle winemaking. And, partly because Coursen nearly always speaks of his wines in terms of the table: I don't think he always realizes his ambitions in this regard, but at least he has them.
Elyse Rosé 2008: I'm pretty sure this is the first rosé I've ever tasted whose principal ingredient was Valdiguié (56%). This is the grape that was brought to California under the mistaken impression that it was Gamay, and was for years grown as "Napa Gamay." The wine also contains 34% Carignane (someday I gotta find out where the extra "e" came from…) plus small amounts of Grenache, Mourvédre, Counoise, and Cinsault. It does a very good impersonation of one of the better Provence pinks, although this is no great achievement. I have drunk my share of tasteless pink carafe wine in the lovely public squares of Toulouse, thanks anyway. Good solid strawberry/raspberry/rhubarb fruit, and refreshing acidity. At $14 it's worthwhile.
Elyse L'Ingénue 2007: This is Coursen's take on a white Rhone; 38% Roussane, 34% Marsanne, 22% Viognier, and a bit of Grenache Blanc. On the nose, peach, lychee, and honeysuckle; some tropical fruit and yellow fruits on the palate, with some sweet vanilla from the barrel on the finish. The texture is rich, the acidity is enough to offset all that big fruit, but at the end it just didn't sing, and at $30 retail, I want a choir. Or two bottles of the '08 Andre Brunel CDR white.
Elyse C'ést Si Bon 2005: We had this in stock a year or so ago, and it was well-received. I don't know whether Coursen considers himself a Rhone Ranger, but he could be with this blend of 50% Grenache, 22% Mourvédre, 19% Syrah, and tiny amounts of Cinsault, Counoise, and Viognier. The nose is distinctively spicy, with notes of red berry, citrus, sweet herbs, and maybe a hint of black tea. The palate has lots of very soft red and black fruit; it's the kind of user-friendly wine that makes people say "oh, it's so smooth." This might pass for one of the super-ripe '07 Rhones. It doesn't hurt that the price is a bit lower this year.
Elyse Zinfandle Morisoli Vineyard 2006: Wild berry, herb, and cocoa on the nose, followed by a nice palate of bright red fruit, smooth finish with a bit of sweet toasty vanilla oak. Intentionally or not, the fruit has been throttled back compared to '05. This wine puzzles me: It seems to be heading in the direction of something that will actually work at table, which means sacrificing some of the brash fruit character that is expected of a zin that's on the shelf for more than $30. I want to applaud Coursen for taking this direction; I'm just not confident it will work.
Elyse Cabernet Sauvignon Tietjen Vineyard 2005: This is certainly sumptuous, with notes of cedar and cinammon spice, black fruit, and vanilla. And it will satisfy anyone's lust for a big, full-bodied red. The problem is, there are dozens and probably hundreds of Cali Cabs that fit this description. At least the price on the shelf has been seriously scaled back--it's good to know somebody in Napa is no longer in denial about the dropoff in sales of high-end bottles.
Elyse Nero Misto 2007: On the nose, lots of jammy stewed strawberry and sweet spice; the palate continues the jammy fruit theme, and adds notes of earth and tobacco. It is composed of 37% Petite Sirah, 25% Zinfandel, 19% Carignane, and small proportions of Primitivo, Charbono, Barbera, and Valdiguié. I like this, although I don't get the "Nero Misto" tag. There's nothing remotely Italian about this wine.
On a separate and perhaps relevant note: Katrina Heron has a big piece in this morning's New York Times about what Napa Valley producers are doing to bolster their sagging sales. I find it telling that there is not a single word in the story about the wines themselves and whether or not they appeal to their intended audience.
Elyse Rosé 2008: I'm pretty sure this is the first rosé I've ever tasted whose principal ingredient was Valdiguié (56%). This is the grape that was brought to California under the mistaken impression that it was Gamay, and was for years grown as "Napa Gamay." The wine also contains 34% Carignane (someday I gotta find out where the extra "e" came from…) plus small amounts of Grenache, Mourvédre, Counoise, and Cinsault. It does a very good impersonation of one of the better Provence pinks, although this is no great achievement. I have drunk my share of tasteless pink carafe wine in the lovely public squares of Toulouse, thanks anyway. Good solid strawberry/raspberry/rhubarb fruit, and refreshing acidity. At $14 it's worthwhile.
Elyse L'Ingénue 2007: This is Coursen's take on a white Rhone; 38% Roussane, 34% Marsanne, 22% Viognier, and a bit of Grenache Blanc. On the nose, peach, lychee, and honeysuckle; some tropical fruit and yellow fruits on the palate, with some sweet vanilla from the barrel on the finish. The texture is rich, the acidity is enough to offset all that big fruit, but at the end it just didn't sing, and at $30 retail, I want a choir. Or two bottles of the '08 Andre Brunel CDR white.
Elyse C'ést Si Bon 2005: We had this in stock a year or so ago, and it was well-received. I don't know whether Coursen considers himself a Rhone Ranger, but he could be with this blend of 50% Grenache, 22% Mourvédre, 19% Syrah, and tiny amounts of Cinsault, Counoise, and Viognier. The nose is distinctively spicy, with notes of red berry, citrus, sweet herbs, and maybe a hint of black tea. The palate has lots of very soft red and black fruit; it's the kind of user-friendly wine that makes people say "oh, it's so smooth." This might pass for one of the super-ripe '07 Rhones. It doesn't hurt that the price is a bit lower this year.
Elyse Zinfandle Morisoli Vineyard 2006: Wild berry, herb, and cocoa on the nose, followed by a nice palate of bright red fruit, smooth finish with a bit of sweet toasty vanilla oak. Intentionally or not, the fruit has been throttled back compared to '05. This wine puzzles me: It seems to be heading in the direction of something that will actually work at table, which means sacrificing some of the brash fruit character that is expected of a zin that's on the shelf for more than $30. I want to applaud Coursen for taking this direction; I'm just not confident it will work.
Elyse Cabernet Sauvignon Tietjen Vineyard 2005: This is certainly sumptuous, with notes of cedar and cinammon spice, black fruit, and vanilla. And it will satisfy anyone's lust for a big, full-bodied red. The problem is, there are dozens and probably hundreds of Cali Cabs that fit this description. At least the price on the shelf has been seriously scaled back--it's good to know somebody in Napa is no longer in denial about the dropoff in sales of high-end bottles.
Elyse Nero Misto 2007: On the nose, lots of jammy stewed strawberry and sweet spice; the palate continues the jammy fruit theme, and adds notes of earth and tobacco. It is composed of 37% Petite Sirah, 25% Zinfandel, 19% Carignane, and small proportions of Primitivo, Charbono, Barbera, and Valdiguié. I like this, although I don't get the "Nero Misto" tag. There's nothing remotely Italian about this wine.
On a separate and perhaps relevant note: Katrina Heron has a big piece in this morning's New York Times about what Napa Valley producers are doing to bolster their sagging sales. I find it telling that there is not a single word in the story about the wines themselves and whether or not they appeal to their intended audience.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Hangin' At The Usual Suspects #10
Les comes out from the back of the house and just looks at me and smiles. "I'm not even going to ask you tonight. I know what you're drinking." Back he comes with two bottles. Karl and Elaine arrive, and barely have time to get their coats off before there are glasses in front of them.
Les: You know the Puzelat wines are a negociant business; Thierry does it because he's young and energetic and his brother, who is ten years older, doesn't want to be involved. But these wines are from the actual family vineyards. The white is made from menu pineau, which hardly anybody grows. Gros pineau is also known as Chenin Blanc."
Clos du Tue-Boeuf Touraine Le Brin de Chèvre 2007:
Karl: This smells like those stollen we got in for Christmas.
Dave: Yes, fruitcake! Fruitcake and over-ripe pear, and lots of lime.
Elaine: Walnuts. I feel like just gulping this down. It's a bit oxidative. And it tastes like somebody put Vitamin C in it. It's so acidic it's burning my lips. What is Vitamin C?
Dave: It's ascorbic acid. This is like a super-limeade for grownups. No wonder we want to gulp it.
Elaine: Not an easy wine to match food with.
Dave: The ceviche is only on the menu in warm weather.
Karl: Maybe some fried calamari drizzled with lemon juice. But that's not on the menu now, either.
Dave: What it really needs is a grapefruit and chevre salad.
Elaine: (Looking at TV screen) That's Barbara Streisand. She looks like an actor.
Dave: Wow, it's "Funny Girl." Yeah, she was in the original Broadway production.
Elaine: They're all acting. They're not just smirking or looking blank.
Logan: Should I open the red now?
Dave: Yeah, I guess. Les said something about not opening it until we were ready. We're ready.
Clos du Tue-Boeuf Cheverny "La Grevotte" 2008:
Elaine: This smells like something not edible.
Karl: Like a scented candle.
Elaine: It smells like a goat's butt-hole smeared with cherry jam. I mean that as a compliment.
Dave: Acetone and lanolin. This is why my father would never eat lamb: He was fed mutton when he was in the Marine Corps; he didn't like to even smell it cooking.
Elaine: I still haven't actually tasted it. My brain keeps going 'No, wait, wait!' (She drinks) Oh, okay. Cran-Grape with nail polish.
Dave: If I hadn't been told, I would not have guessed this was pinot noir.
Elaine: Maybe it isn't. It needs air.
Karl: Gotta lift the tail.
Dave: No, this definitely is pinot noir. I'm not used to the cranberry being so front-and-center.
Elaine: It smells like a rose plant now. Not just rose aroma, the whole plant.
Karl: Only Elaine can turn a goat's butt-hole into a rose.
Elaine: This is like a Santenay…
Dave: Something from the Côte Chalonnaise? Maybe a Mercurey?
Elaine: Yes, I tasted a Mercurey from the Jenny and Francois collection; this wine reminds me of it. [Probably a Domain Derain?--Dave] There are some very specific flavors the two wines share.
The sausage/peppers/cheese/red sauce hoagies were okay, although I wished they'd used regular sweet Italian sausage and not the smoked stuff…
Then it was off to play a few rousing games of pinball.
Les: You know the Puzelat wines are a negociant business; Thierry does it because he's young and energetic and his brother, who is ten years older, doesn't want to be involved. But these wines are from the actual family vineyards. The white is made from menu pineau, which hardly anybody grows. Gros pineau is also known as Chenin Blanc."
Clos du Tue-Boeuf Touraine Le Brin de Chèvre 2007:
Karl: This smells like those stollen we got in for Christmas.
Dave: Yes, fruitcake! Fruitcake and over-ripe pear, and lots of lime.
Elaine: Walnuts. I feel like just gulping this down. It's a bit oxidative. And it tastes like somebody put Vitamin C in it. It's so acidic it's burning my lips. What is Vitamin C?
Dave: It's ascorbic acid. This is like a super-limeade for grownups. No wonder we want to gulp it.
Elaine: Not an easy wine to match food with.
Dave: The ceviche is only on the menu in warm weather.
Karl: Maybe some fried calamari drizzled with lemon juice. But that's not on the menu now, either.
Dave: What it really needs is a grapefruit and chevre salad.
Elaine: (Looking at TV screen) That's Barbara Streisand. She looks like an actor.
Dave: Wow, it's "Funny Girl." Yeah, she was in the original Broadway production.
Elaine: They're all acting. They're not just smirking or looking blank.
Logan: Should I open the red now?
Dave: Yeah, I guess. Les said something about not opening it until we were ready. We're ready.
Clos du Tue-Boeuf Cheverny "La Grevotte" 2008:
Elaine: This smells like something not edible.
Karl: Like a scented candle.
Elaine: It smells like a goat's butt-hole smeared with cherry jam. I mean that as a compliment.
Dave: Acetone and lanolin. This is why my father would never eat lamb: He was fed mutton when he was in the Marine Corps; he didn't like to even smell it cooking.
Elaine: I still haven't actually tasted it. My brain keeps going 'No, wait, wait!' (She drinks) Oh, okay. Cran-Grape with nail polish.
Dave: If I hadn't been told, I would not have guessed this was pinot noir.
Elaine: Maybe it isn't. It needs air.
Karl: Gotta lift the tail.
Dave: No, this definitely is pinot noir. I'm not used to the cranberry being so front-and-center.
Elaine: It smells like a rose plant now. Not just rose aroma, the whole plant.
Karl: Only Elaine can turn a goat's butt-hole into a rose.
Elaine: This is like a Santenay…
Dave: Something from the Côte Chalonnaise? Maybe a Mercurey?
Elaine: Yes, I tasted a Mercurey from the Jenny and Francois collection; this wine reminds me of it. [Probably a Domain Derain?--Dave] There are some very specific flavors the two wines share.
The sausage/peppers/cheese/red sauce hoagies were okay, although I wished they'd used regular sweet Italian sausage and not the smoked stuff…
Then it was off to play a few rousing games of pinball.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Hangin' At The Usual Suspects #9
I walk in, take a vacant chair at the bar, see that the two customers to my right have their check and their plastic to-go box. By the time Elaine and Karl arrive, there will be space.
Kathy: Just you?
Dave: The whole crew is coming.
I can see a woman to my left, she is trying to decide what "whole crew" might mean, but despite my Ramones-era black leather jacket, it is very plain to see that I am not leading any kind of horde, barbarian or otherwise.
Les: French or Italian tonight?
Dave: I want some of that orange wine you were talking about last time. Do you still have it?
Les pauses, pretends to be deep in thought. I look at him in disbelief.
Les: Yes, I have it. You realize that this is "intellectual," which may not mean "enjoyable." It will probably be one of the strangest wines you've had.
Karl and Elaine arrive. I tell them the first wine will be Camillo Donati Malvasia dell' Emilia Frizzante IGT. Elaine, natch, is already hip to this wine, as it is a Dressner selection and she seems to know all of them, and she is of course game for anything, but she's dubious about Malvasia.
Elaine: It's not my favorite grape.
Les pours.
Dave: Wow. Clove.
Elaine: Clove and peach and ginger
Karl: Like biting into an orange seed.
Elaine: It's a very intense nose. Sometimes Malvasia reminds me of some household cleaning product. Citrasol orange spray?
Dave: There's this sort of artificial mint aroma here, too. Maybe that contributes to the "cleaning product" note.
Elaine: There should be a Malvasia-scented version of Febreze.
Karl: This is more like beer than wine. It's consistent all the way through.
Dave: Yeah, it's not exactly evolving is it? It does have a great nose.
Elaine: The finish is more interesting than the mid-palate.
We pause to view a montage of scenes from Elvis movies on the TV.
Les overhears our "cleaning product" comments and walks over.
Les: I could put out some soap scum for comparison.
Dave: It sure is orange. The color, I mean.
Elaine: This is actually pretty enjoyable, especially if you think of it as a beer rather than a wine. It's somewhere between a Lambic and a dry cider. I'd rather drink this than most beer. It's lighter, and I think it will go better with food.
Dave: (Looking up from plate of lamb sausage with mint yogurt sauce) It goes nicely with this!
Karl: What's the history of this? Is frizzante Malvasia typical in Emilia?
According to Dressner, there has been demi-sec Malvasia for some time, but Camillo Donati now makes this dry version. Camillo Donati's website doesn't appear to be available in English, and a Google search brings up a comment by a Norwegian guy who drank the Barbera version of their wine and reported that his wife thought it tasted like rat poison, and he wasn't sure he disagreed. All we know for sure is that they're organic/biodynamic, and they obviously don't believe in filtering or fining, since the Malvasia looked more like unfiltered wheat beer than sparkling wine.
The second wine on the bill was a 2006 Marco Cecchini Refosco "Rosso Autoclono." Unfortunately, we had used up all our faculties of discrimination on the Malvasia, and the most I can say is that it was very pleasant, and had all the nice ripe black cherry fruit and requisite almond scent in the nose. There was a bit of meaty funk also, which was intriguing. There was a little too much oak present for yours truly, but then that is often the case these days. I am sorry to report that I did not even once make reference (as I usually do in the presence of Refosco dal Peduncolo) to Pliny the Elder, who was a fan of Refosco and wrote about it in whatever it was people were reading instead of the Wine Advocate 2,000 years ago.
Kathy: Just you?
Dave: The whole crew is coming.
I can see a woman to my left, she is trying to decide what "whole crew" might mean, but despite my Ramones-era black leather jacket, it is very plain to see that I am not leading any kind of horde, barbarian or otherwise.
Les: French or Italian tonight?
Dave: I want some of that orange wine you were talking about last time. Do you still have it?
Les pauses, pretends to be deep in thought. I look at him in disbelief.
Les: Yes, I have it. You realize that this is "intellectual," which may not mean "enjoyable." It will probably be one of the strangest wines you've had.
Karl and Elaine arrive. I tell them the first wine will be Camillo Donati Malvasia dell' Emilia Frizzante IGT. Elaine, natch, is already hip to this wine, as it is a Dressner selection and she seems to know all of them, and she is of course game for anything, but she's dubious about Malvasia.
Elaine: It's not my favorite grape.
Les pours.
Dave: Wow. Clove.
Elaine: Clove and peach and ginger
Karl: Like biting into an orange seed.
Elaine: It's a very intense nose. Sometimes Malvasia reminds me of some household cleaning product. Citrasol orange spray?
Dave: There's this sort of artificial mint aroma here, too. Maybe that contributes to the "cleaning product" note.
Elaine: There should be a Malvasia-scented version of Febreze.
Karl: This is more like beer than wine. It's consistent all the way through.
Dave: Yeah, it's not exactly evolving is it? It does have a great nose.
Elaine: The finish is more interesting than the mid-palate.
We pause to view a montage of scenes from Elvis movies on the TV.
Les overhears our "cleaning product" comments and walks over.
Les: I could put out some soap scum for comparison.
Dave: It sure is orange. The color, I mean.
Elaine: This is actually pretty enjoyable, especially if you think of it as a beer rather than a wine. It's somewhere between a Lambic and a dry cider. I'd rather drink this than most beer. It's lighter, and I think it will go better with food.
Dave: (Looking up from plate of lamb sausage with mint yogurt sauce) It goes nicely with this!
Karl: What's the history of this? Is frizzante Malvasia typical in Emilia?
According to Dressner, there has been demi-sec Malvasia for some time, but Camillo Donati now makes this dry version. Camillo Donati's website doesn't appear to be available in English, and a Google search brings up a comment by a Norwegian guy who drank the Barbera version of their wine and reported that his wife thought it tasted like rat poison, and he wasn't sure he disagreed. All we know for sure is that they're organic/biodynamic, and they obviously don't believe in filtering or fining, since the Malvasia looked more like unfiltered wheat beer than sparkling wine.
The second wine on the bill was a 2006 Marco Cecchini Refosco "Rosso Autoclono." Unfortunately, we had used up all our faculties of discrimination on the Malvasia, and the most I can say is that it was very pleasant, and had all the nice ripe black cherry fruit and requisite almond scent in the nose. There was a bit of meaty funk also, which was intriguing. There was a little too much oak present for yours truly, but then that is often the case these days. I am sorry to report that I did not even once make reference (as I usually do in the presence of Refosco dal Peduncolo) to Pliny the Elder, who was a fan of Refosco and wrote about it in whatever it was people were reading instead of the Wine Advocate 2,000 years ago.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Virtual Basque Dinner
We had to skip another week at The Usual Suspects, so we made up for it with a big dinner at our house. We ended up having a sort of Virtual Basque Dinner. Lucy made a Gigot d'Ageau Basquaise, from a recipe out of a Patricia Wells cookbook, with lots of garlic, smokey red pepper, and mustard. Margo made a squash-and-porcini bisque. Elaine brought a wild Savagnin, and Karl and Bryan and I tried to make ourselves useful; me by opening an M. Maillart Brut NV, which was very nice, but didn't really live up to the "just like Bollinger" hype.
Here we go:
Philippe Bouzereau, Meursault 1er Cru, 'Genevriéres' 1999:
Sort of a miracle to me that this was still in good shape: It still has its red markdown sticker from Marty's, where I bought it, probably in 2003. The nose was expressive for a Genevriéres, with apple, honeysuckle, and hazelnut notes. In the mouth, the fruit was vivid, without a trace of flabbiness. The finish was rich with minerals. It accompanied Margo's bisque of winter squash and porcini cream beautifully.
Domaine de Montbourgeau Savagnin L'Etoile 2002:
L'Etoile is a tiny appellation in the Jura, where the savagnin grape is fermented and aged like sherry. Elaine brought this bottle, and it was even brinier and nuttier than the '92 Château-Chalon we'd enjoyed last summer. Elaine proposed drinking it with the leg of lamb, which Lucy had made in the Basque style, with just a hint of smokey pepper. Some of us thought the briny character of the wine stood up well to the big flavors of the lamb, but when the chef called for a glass of red, we were ready for her…
Château Montus Madiran 2001:
Alain Brumont had a falling out with his father in 1980, and bought this property in Maumusson so he could make 100% Tannat wines the way he wanted to. He has long since patched things up with his family, and now Montus is more of a second label to Château Bouscassé. We didn't decant, and we probably should have--the wine was still young with some vigorous tannins at the finish. Even so, it was a great match with the lamb, being almost a Basque wine anyway, and showing much more polish than an Irouleguy, for example. The elegance of this otherwise big, burly wine may be attributable to Brumont's love affair with wood. He is said to be meticulous in his use of barrels, and I can believe it.
Lucy had scattered jellybeans across the dining room table (She started doing this a year or so ago, I forget why) and a certain amount of hilarity ensued at dinner's end, as we observed Bryan, the Gummi Bears fiend, scooping up all the Jelly Bellys he could reach...
Here we go:
Philippe Bouzereau, Meursault 1er Cru, 'Genevriéres' 1999:
Sort of a miracle to me that this was still in good shape: It still has its red markdown sticker from Marty's, where I bought it, probably in 2003. The nose was expressive for a Genevriéres, with apple, honeysuckle, and hazelnut notes. In the mouth, the fruit was vivid, without a trace of flabbiness. The finish was rich with minerals. It accompanied Margo's bisque of winter squash and porcini cream beautifully.
Domaine de Montbourgeau Savagnin L'Etoile 2002:
L'Etoile is a tiny appellation in the Jura, where the savagnin grape is fermented and aged like sherry. Elaine brought this bottle, and it was even brinier and nuttier than the '92 Château-Chalon we'd enjoyed last summer. Elaine proposed drinking it with the leg of lamb, which Lucy had made in the Basque style, with just a hint of smokey pepper. Some of us thought the briny character of the wine stood up well to the big flavors of the lamb, but when the chef called for a glass of red, we were ready for her…
Château Montus Madiran 2001:
Alain Brumont had a falling out with his father in 1980, and bought this property in Maumusson so he could make 100% Tannat wines the way he wanted to. He has long since patched things up with his family, and now Montus is more of a second label to Château Bouscassé. We didn't decant, and we probably should have--the wine was still young with some vigorous tannins at the finish. Even so, it was a great match with the lamb, being almost a Basque wine anyway, and showing much more polish than an Irouleguy, for example. The elegance of this otherwise big, burly wine may be attributable to Brumont's love affair with wood. He is said to be meticulous in his use of barrels, and I can believe it.
Lucy had scattered jellybeans across the dining room table (She started doing this a year or so ago, I forget why) and a certain amount of hilarity ensued at dinner's end, as we observed Bryan, the Gummi Bears fiend, scooping up all the Jelly Bellys he could reach...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
