The Wine Mule

How To Get Through Christmas Eve Without A Tree

2012-01-02T11:08:00.000-05:00

True confession: I have never been very good at dealing with Christmas. I have spent my entire life trying to cozy up to it, trying to get into the spirit of things, and this year I've finally let go of it. No tree, no lights, no presents, no singing “God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen.” The Bach Christmas Oratorio is permitted on the stereo, because The Chef favors Bach at the holidays, as is Huey “Piano” Smith singing a Bourbon Street version of “Twas The Night Before Christmas.” But that's the limit. The only remaining hurdle is convincing myself that I am not a Bad Person for being this way, but that's my problem, not yours.

Well, there is one other aspect of the holidays that we do engage in: We open a lot of bottles of good stuff, and drink it with people whose company we enjoy.

It's supposed to be "photograph, then drink," I know…

On Christmas Eve, our friend The Road Warrior showed up, eyes glazed over from an unspeakable number of hours spent on I-40. We began the business of bringing her back to the living with Champagne from Jacques and Brigette Copinet, who make small quantities of Rosé composed of Chardonnay and Pinot Noir grown in their vineyards in Montgenost, southeast of Reims. There is some confusion over the composition; it is usually identified as 75% Pinot and 25% Chardonnay, but at the Champagne Copinet website it is described as 100% Chardonnay, to which up to 20% Pinot Noir is added after the second fermentation. When I posted a query about this at my preferred geek source, the best response was from Joe Dougherty (aka the notorious SF Joe), who suggested querying some French mathematicians. In the event, it was lovely stuff, with aromas and flavors of raspberry, strawberry, peach, apricot, and a clean, refreshing, mineral-driven finish. It was around $55 and came from Josh at Table Wine.

While the Chef put the finishing touches on cute little plates of tapas, we opened our next bottle, a 2009 François Pinon “Cuvée Silex Noir” Vouvray. Pinon has about 35 acres of vineyards in the form of small parcels scattered around the village of Vernou-sur-Brenne, which is sort of a suburb of Vouvray. He follows organic practices, picks by hand, ferments using indigenous yeasts, keeps racking, fining, and filtering to a minimum, and is sparing in the use of SO2. The “noir” in Silex Noir refers to soil rich in flint. This definitely shows up in the nose, which begins with a note of smoke, then follows with pretty aromas and flavors of ginger, citrus; pineapple, honey, pear, and brown spice. The paradox of rich fruit and very firm minerality caused a few abrupt “wows” when consumed with the Chef's vinegary sweet pepper/fresh anchovy/tuna/green olive/mozarella tapas. This was $23 at Vinsite.

Les and Kathy showed up after closing the store (“They say wine and spirits are still one of the top last-minute gifts,” says Les, who kept the doors open until 8) and brought two organic Burgundies, along with some DVDs to watch. Thierry Brouin, regisseur at Domaine Des Lambrays, in the village of Morey-St.-Denis in the Côte de Nuits, crushes whole clusters with no de-stemming, no fining or filtering, more interested in ageworthiness than fruit. The Domaine is organic but not certified. We drank the 2005 village-level wine, not the Premier Cru, and it was lovely, with clove, tart red berry, and a back end that offered well-proportioned tannin, acid, and minerality. Years ago, I sold a couple bottles of Lambrays, Premier Cru and Grand Cru, and never had an inkling that they were organically produced.

Then there was a bottle of “Bel Air et Clardy” 2009 Chablis from Alice and Olivier De Moor, which made me sing “Oranges and Lemons say the Bells of St. Clement's” in my head. I urge you to read this interview with Alice and Olivier De Moor. They come across on the page as honest, sensible, and charming people, an impression that is reinforced by their wine, which may not be “typical” in the usual sense of Chablis, but definitely speaks to you of limestone, clay, and brisk temperatures.

The Chef's tapas; excellent with Vouvray.

Holiday Wine Retailer "Best Christmas Vest"

2011-12-25T15:05:00.002-05:00

It's a great vest. Not too flashy, just the right amount of Holiday spirit. Just like its wearer. Merry Christmas, Josh!

Five Farmer Fizzes

2011-12-22T20:22:00.000-05:00

Terry Theise, who is almost single-handedly responsible for the presence of Recoltant-Manipulant Champagnes in the Unites States, likes to call them “Farmer Fizz,” which might sound pejorative to some, but that's just Terry trying to cut through the decades of pomp and circumstance that the big Grande Marque houses have laid on with a trowel in their largely successful efforts to present Champagne as a luxury item.

“Recoltant-Manipulant” translates more or less as “Grower-Maker.” This contrasts with “Négociant-Manipulant,” which translates as “Merchant-Maker.” The Grande Marque houses are N/M; the farmer fizz guys are R/M. These letters are usually in microscopic type somewhere on the border of the typical Champagne label. Unlike anywhere else in the world of wine (except Sherry), in Champagne, the people who grow the grapes and the people who make the wine operate separately. The big houses buy fruit, and often finished still wine, from wherever they choose, and then blend to achieve a house style—a wine that will taste the same every year, regardless of vintage. At a time when at least a portion of the wine-drinking public is waking up to the importance of terroir, this arrangement is the world turned upside down. And let's face it, most of the Champagne world is perfectly content with this state of affairs. Farmer fizz, its increasing popularity notwithstanding, still represents a tiny fraction of the U.S. Champagne market.

We, for better or worse, are not most people, so we were very happy when Les Doss of Vinsite announced a tasting of Grower-Maker Champagnes, held this past Tuesday evening. Thus:

Roger Coulon Brut Grande Tradition Premier Cru NV:Eric and Isabelle Coulon, representing the Coulon family's eighth generation, are based in Vrigny, in the Montagne de Reims, a bit more than six miles from Reims (pronounced "Rhhhaams" as though you were clearing your throat). They have just over 27 acres on dozens of tiny parcels in the villages of Vrigny, Pargny les Reims, and Coulommes la Montagne, all on southeast-facing slopes composed of chalk and clay. The assemblage for this wine is 50% Pinot Meunier, 25% Pinot Noir, and 25% Chardonnay. The dosage is quite low at 7 grams per liter, which is feasible thanks to their ability to harvest very ripe fruit.

The wine showed aromas of roasted nuts, brioche, and cocoa powder, followed by a palate of mouthwatering citrus, toffee, vanilla, minerals. Learn more here.

Pierre Peters Brut Cuve de Reserve Grand Cru Blanc De Blancs NV:

The Peters family history in Champagne begins in 1858 with Gaspar Péters, a native of Luxembourg, who married a local girl who owned a few acres of vineyard in Le Mesnil. For many years, they were growers only. Today, the family has 45 acres in the villages of Mesnil sur Oger, Oger, Cramant, and Avize, all on a chalk outcrop in the heart of the Côte des Blancs. Whole bunches are picked by hand, pressed very, very carefully, and fermented in stainless. The assemblage for this Cuvée may contain wines from reserve stock going back 15 years. Click here for more on the wines and their history.

This is a Blanc de Blanc, 100% Chardonnay. It opened with a nose that offered hints of green apple and pear. The palate was very clean, linear, and ended with a burst of citrus. Our friend Jay Murrie at 3Cups compares it favorably to Salon. Our friend Ryan, who sat with (and charmed) The Chef at the tasting, called it “Sushi wine,” and I'm inclined to agree. It is no-nonsense, very focused Champagne, and it is easy to imagine it alongside a few pieces of super-fresh, precisely cut toro. Champagne Peters website.

Jean Lallement Brut Tradition Grand Cru NV:

Jean Lallement (pronounced Lall-Mont, it says here) farms 10 acres between the Grand Cru villages of Verzenay and Verzy, in the Montagne de Reims region. The soil is mostly limestone. Made from 80% Pinot Noir and 20% Chardonnay. Terry Theise says this is the favorite wine in his entire Champagne portfolio, and it is easy to understand why. We got wonderfully integrated aromas and flavors of toast, apple, anise, pear, and lemon, all beautifully balanced, with a pleasing texture—not too austere, not too fat, just right. The combined sensations of toastiness, fruit, and minerally spice have a magnetic appeal. This was the bottle I'd most like to take home. Here's a brief meditation from Peter Liem on Lallement.

Francis Boulard Brut Nature Mailly Grand Cru NV:

Boulard's website is a model of clarity; you can read the details of this wine's production here. Boulard is a by-the-book biodynamic grower; he stopped using weedkillers and chemical fertilizers in 2001, and has been guaranteed biodynamic by EcoCert since 2004. Like a very few other courageous vignerons, Boulard does not “green harvest” to keep yields low. Instead he goes out early in the year and prunes his vines short. This is a Brut Nature, so there is no dosage at all; he depends completely on ripe fruit for his sugars. In a tasting of small-production wines, his is the smallest of all: Just 7.5 acres under cultivation—and fruit from his Mailly-Champagne vineyard, used to make this wine, is just a fraction of this!This was made from 90% Pinot Noir and 10% Chardonnay. It offered aromas and flavors of orange blossom, chalky minerals, and lemon cream. Remarkably, it had not a hint of the harshness that is often a feature of non-dosage wines. In my limited experience of non-dosage Champagnes, this has the best balance of fruit and acidity, and the most pleasing texture.

Guy Larmandier Brut Rosé Premier Cru NV:

The Larmandiers have been growers since 1899. Today, François Larmandier farms 22 acres in four villages in the Côte des Blancs: Cramant and Chouilly (for Chardonnay only) are Grand Cru; Vertus and Cuis are Premiere Cru. All parcels are planted to Chardonnay, except for a small portion of the Vertus vineyard, where Pinot Noir is grown. The rosé contains 12% Pinot Noir from Vertus; the balance is Chardonnay blended from all the villages.

The first bottle stank of brett. Fortunately, there was a second bottle: gamey, meaty, grassy, with lots of minerals. Hints of red berry and kiwifruit developed on the palate over time. Don't let the “gamey/meaty” note fool you: This was light, elegant Champagne, showing lots of finesse.

Thanks to Ryan, Parris, and Cara for sharing their knowledge and insights. I listen to them and feel confident that the future of wine in Asheville is in good hands. And, of course, thanks as always to Les and Kathy for making this all possible. All the wines tasted are available, in varying states of limited quantity, at Vinsite.

PS: This Asimov guy is reviewing some of the same wines. You might want to check him out.

André Ostertag Veilles Vignes Sylvaner

2011-12-20T11:01:00.001-05:00

André Ostertag is my kind of winemaker: He uses biodynamic methods, but prefers not to talk about them; he is deeply suspicious of the mystical aspects of biodynamic practice. And while this may classify him as a practical winemaker, he his hardly one who lacks imagination. For example, he has devised his own classification system. Domaine Ostertag produces 16 different wines classified in 3 different types: Vins de Fruit (Fruit wines), Vins de Pierre (Stone wines) and Vins de Temps (Time and Weather wines--typically, late harvest wines). He is very much a believer in terroir, and, as his classifications demonstrate, he understands how different aspects of terroir can come to the forefront in a wine's production.

He is also my kind of winemaker in that he not only grows the much-maligned Sylvaner grape, but treats it with respect and actually gets something good out of it. Most (but not all--see below) of those growing Sylvaner in Alsace are using it as a blender, where its neutrality, high acidity, and high yield are appreciated, although enthusiasm for the grape has diminished over time: 35 years ago it claimed about 30% of Alsace vineyards; today it is more like 10% (about 3,000 acres). Although it is thought to have originated in Transylvania, Sylvaner (or Silvaner)'s true homeland is southern Germany, far from the Mosel, where it makes the excellent Franken wines.

The Chef wanted to make an “easy” Sunday dinner with one guest, and decided to bake chicken on a bed of cabbage, apples, and sweet onion, spiced with juniper berries and allspice. Here's the link to her recipe. The cabbage/apple combination suggested something from Alsace, and when I went looking, my hand fell to a 2009 Domaine Ostertag “Les veilles vignes de Sylvaner.” It had a bit of cinnamon in the nose, along with notes of pear and yellow fruit. In the mouth, it tasted of pear (skin and flesh) and very forward mineralty. The overall impression mingled rich fruit flavor and crisp mineral character. Sylvaner is noted for high acidity; it was not particularly assertive here. It played very nicely with the baked chicken, demanding no special attention to itself: It was very relaxing wine. This was made from 50-70 year old vines. Mindful of Ostertag's three classifications, I'm guessing this gets filed under Vins de Fruit, since the old vines bring the fruit to the fore, and I don't believe this is a wine intended for aging. Kermit Lynch imports; we got this at Vinsite. I'm embarrassed to say that I don't remember how it was priced; it was well under $20.

There was an earlier encounter with excellent Sylvaner in these precincts; described here.

PS: I'm glad some of you enjoyed the games posted a while back. I don't know about you, but I find these little amusements helpful during the holiday season. So here's the Motherlode.

Holiday Shopping Guide? Really? (Updated) (Up-Updated)

2011-12-12T15:47:00.003-05:00

For two whole years I have resisted the lure of crass commercialism. Well, that's enough of that. When they tell you virtue is its own reward, they're not just kidding around. Hey, don't take my word for it, ask Anthony Bourdain.

We all know the joke about establishing what kind of girl you are. When I start “monetizing” and linking to Amazon, then you'll know for sure. The only thing that holds me back right now is whether it's actually worth the money. We'll see.Without further adieu, here is the Wine Mule's Holiday Shopping Guide!

I like to read. These are worth reading:

The New France: A Complete Guide to Contemporary French Wine (Mitchell Beazley Wine Guides) (Hardcover). Andrew Jefford is a terrific writer, and his survey of French winemaking, published in 2002, is still amazingly up-to-date, anticipating the “natural” revolution that has taken so many French wine regions by storm. And there are some hidden treats. For example, in the section on the Loire is one of the clearest explanations of the biodynamic phenomenon, illustrated with some truly heretical commentary from Nicolas Joly. (I just looked at Amazon, and they're asking $90 a copy, used. So much for great gift ideas! Get it from your local library.)

Barolo to Valpolicella (Classic Wine Library) and Brunello to Zibibbo: The Wines of Tuscany, Central and Southern Italy. Nicolas Belfrage is still the guy I turn to for the details of Italian wines. Again, these were published in 2003, yet they are still timely; none other than Josko Gravner (accurately described as a “radical”) makes an appearance in the section on Friuli. The second volume is especially worthwhile, although admittedly not for the casual reader--unless you're really, really interested in learning about the mediocrity of Sardinia's Nuragus grape. (Oh, this is ludicrous! Amazon wants $69 and $79 each, respectively, in paperback, used. See above.)

Oldman's Brave New World of Wine (Norton). Mark Oldman is a wine popularizer—a guy who writes about wine for Everyday with Rachael Ray and talks about it on TV for PBS. This book was damned with faint praise when it was released in October 2010, and it is true that his complicated charts and celebrity-fawning can be hard to take. On the other hand, he's hip to a lot of the up-and-coming wines and regions; the “Culinary Sweet Spot” gauge is pretty straightforward; and honestly, I'd buy it just for the pronunciation guides. (On sale for $13 at Amazon! This is more like it!)

Reading Between The Wines (University of California Press): Terry Theise is that rare thing, an importer who lives his convictions. He believes in Riesling, especially when it's from the Mosel, with a faith that is profound. He was an early advocate of Recoltant-Manipulant (now known as “Grower”) Champagne, and I feel tremendously grateful for that, because if it were not for Terry Theise, I might never have known the pleasures of Chartogne-Taillet “Cuvée Fiacre,” a wine that literally stunned me into silence when I first tasted it. He's also an advocate of Austrian wines, and was instrumental in introducing Americans to the joys of Gruner Veltliner. I don't know how to classify this book, except perhaps as a long love-letter to the land, the winemakers who work the land, and the wines themselves that have moved his soul. Personally, I have reservations about some of his ideas, but in the scheme of things, these are piffle. As I wrote to a colleague, "It has caused me to re-evaluate the way I evaluate." ($17 and change at Amazon. Well worth it.)

The Science of Wine: From Vine To Glass (University of California Press): Jamie Goode is very knowledgeable about wine, and has a PhD in plant biology. He's also a pretty astute writer. The combination of these qualities make this book very worthwhile, especially for those of us who never took an organic chemistry course. Popular discourse on the making of wine is rife with misinformation, disinformation, and plain ignorance. The Science of Wine is the only antidote I know that can be safely used by non-scientists. ($30 and change at Amazon; you'll make it back winning bar bets.)

Update: Terry Theise has reminded me that science is not static, and that Goode has updated some of the information that appeared in "Science of Wine." So I'm about to order a copy of his latest, "Authentic Wine: Toward Natural and Sustainable Winemaking." ($16 and change at Amazon.)

Up-Update: My friend Jeff Waggoner sent me a link to Eric Asimov's Holiday Reading Guide. Asimov is correct in noting that one of Goode's attributes is that he says "We don't know, because there's no research" quite often. This was the case in "The Science of Wine," too. On the other hand, I think he's read a little too much Alice Feiring, because Goode is absolutely not a stooge for anybody, certainly not Constellation or Diageo or any of the other big boys in the business.

PS: The Oldman book was a freebie, sent last season, from an obviously misguided publicist. I'm supposed to disclose this or risk fearsome penalties from the Federal Trade Commission.

Clos Roche Blanche L'Arpent Rouge Touraine 2010

2011-12-08T22:54:00.001-05:00

Didier Barrouillet, former chemical engineer turned vigneron, and his partner Catherine Roussel, who inherited the land from her family--which had worked the land since the end of the 19th Century--run Clos Roche Blanche, a property of about 44 acres in Mareuil-sur-Cher, a village along the Cher river in the Touraine appellation. The soil there is clay and flint. Barrouillet practices minimal cultivation--the plough is used sparingly if at all. Everything is hand-picked, and fermented in a miscellany of vats and barrels. He prefers CO2 to SO2 as an anti-oxidant. He is a true believer in the power of terroir, as he explains in this quote from an interview:

"The wine I make is the consequence of my work in the vines. I almost never taste in the cellar, because I know what the end result will be. When I first started, I took no interest in the vineyard.But my natural evolution has led me to spend less and less time in the cellar.And this evolution continues in that today, I almost don't pay any attention to the vines and focus principally on what's happening in the soil. The vines are a direct consequence of what is happening in the soil." Read the whole interview here.

Clos Roche Blanche L'Arpent Rouge Touraine 2010: Made from 100% pineau d'aunis, from whatever juice is left over after making rosé (surely the only instance of this in all of winemaking!).I tasted this with Les at Vinsite. On the nose, we got herbs, cinnamon stick, face powder, floral bath salts, orchid, and lily. In the mouth, spicy clove ("Red hots!" said Les), sour cherry, barely ripe strawberry, and a distinct mineral character vaguely reminiscent of aspirin. The wine seems very fresh, very vibrant, very alive. I have been known to say that certain reds from the Loire had "the wild green thing." This one has it. It has been billed as a great "summer red" to be drunk slightly chilled on a warm afternoon. I plan to open some over the course of this winter, to remind me that summer will come again.

I was sorely tempted to not publish any tasting notes on this wine; the specific components of aroma and flavor are really beside the point. The reason to drink L'Arpent is to take your senses on a kind of virtual tour of the vineyards of the village of Mareuil-sur-Cher. When you hold the glass to your nose, and then to your lips, the wine is telling you what it's like to actually be there. It's a lot cheaper than plane tickets.

Another reason to enjoy this wine now is that Clos Roche Blanch is shrinking--a decision of the owners, who want to maintain close control over what they're doing in the vineyard. Scarcity will become an issue. (And a quick note to say that all is well on some of the property they sold off--it is being cultivated by the young and talented Noëlla Morantin.)For more on Clos Roche Blanche, read Chris Kissack's thoughtful report and read the notes and look at the pictures at Bernard Celce's website.

Bodegas Bielsa: A "Natural" From Campo de Borja

2011-12-07T11:51:00.001-05:00

Campo de Borja has nearly 20,000 acresplanted to vines. The climate—dry with extremes of temperature(over 100° F to 19° F)--tends to produce big-bodied wines high in alcohol.Co-ops dominate, and with notable exceptions (Borsao Reserva, Fagus)tend to produce wines of excellent value but a certain predictabilityof style. But the “natural” forces are now at work in Campo deBorja, too. Judging from a newly imported garnacha, the new guys areraising the stakes.

BodegasBielsa Viñas Viejas 2009: This is 100% Old Vine (45 years and older)Garnacha, organically grown by winemaker Roberto Pérez on Rhone-likelarge pebbles (galets). Aromas and flavors of licorice, blackberry,strawberry jam, and earth make a full-frontal assault on the senses.I've been tasting a lot of Loire reds lately, and have grown used toparsing subtleties. Not necessary for this! What sets it apart fromeven the better conventionally produced garnachas from the region iscomplexity. That jumble of aromas and flavors just keep coming on andevolving in the glass. Although well-disguised, there is also sometannic structure at work here. At $12.50 (Vinsite) this really is agreat value. Imported by Farm Wine Imports.

Foryour amusement: Forbes (Capitalist Tool) thinks the stuff is great, too. (You'll need to click through an ad.)

Oregon Wine History Video

2011-12-03T11:45:00.001-05:00

Everybody who likes wine has an “Aha!” moment. Certainly everybody I know who works in the business has one of these stories to tell. Mine is short and simple: I was in San Francisco in 1979, reporting on a metals and mining conference (my chequered career, Part III, I think). One evening I went to Ernie's, which back in the day was quite the place. Probably for the first time in my life, I found myself actually studying the wine list (I was trying to impress somebody). I ordered a bottle of Joseph Phelps Cabernet Sauvignon, because I could pronounce the name. I don't remember much about it, except that I'd never had anything like it before, and it was really good with steak au poivre.

I'm telling this story to explain my relationship with wines from the American West Coast. Obviously, it was a product of the Napa Valley that set me off on what has turned into a life-long exploration of wine, which in turn led to my becoming a wine salesperson. Yet if it weren't for my friends who occasionally put a bottle in front of me, I probably would not drink anything from the West Coast at all. This is partly a matter of personal taste—I'm not a huge fan of Cabernet Sauvignon from anywhere, not even Bordeaux—and partly a practical professional decision. Most of the customers I dealt with over the years did not need or seek my advice on wines from the West Coast. And since hardly anyone ever asked, I pretty much let the whole subject go. I'm not proud of this; it's just how things played out.

The point of all this verbiage: Mike Veseth writes a blog called the Wine Economist; he is the Robert G. Albertson Professor of International Political Economy at the University of Puget Sound. I stumbled across this video on his site while looking for something else, and found it very affecting. Not enough to go out and buy a bottle of Ponzi, maybe, but then again, maybe I will. Note: The audio is poor for the first 1:30, then becomes normal.

Oregon Wine History

Link-O-Rama (updated)

2011-12-01T10:30:00.001-05:00

I've thought about doing something like this for a while. So what the hell:

Why I don't review Bordeaux or Burgundy.

Why patience is not merely a virtue, but provides tangible rewards.

Why if I could be anybody, I'd like to be Cathy Ho.

So you think you know France? Prove it!

A report from the Newspaper Of Record....and what really happened.

Not new, but still required reading.

…and since you all enjoyed the Vignobles game, here's another one. You can tell it's English, because there's a butler involved.

Jura, Voilà!

2011-11-30T11:07:00.001-05:00

The sit-down tasting of wines of the Jura, held at Vinsite last evening, came not a moment too soon for me. I'd brought a L'Octavin trousseau to Thanksgiving dinner, and it was a bust: Pale, wan, and fizzing with refermentation. So some faith-restoration was in order.

We began with a sparkler from Dejean & Fils, a Blanc de Blancs NV made from columbard, ugni blanc (trebbiano)--grapes usually associated with the Cotes de Gascogne--and folle blanche, one of the traditional cognac grapes. It was a fine palate-cleanser, with orchard fruit notes, just a touch of the cidery tang we expect from the Jura, and surprisingly fine perlage. Then it was on to the main event:

L'Octavin Chardonnay Pamina 2008: The nose was challenging: Roasted nuts, diesel (“Failing brakes!” from across the table), charcoal, and strong vegetal character. The palate was more conventional, with some healthy citrus and mineral character. Over time, the metal-and-hot-petroleum notes faded out, and the acidity moderated. This was produced by winemakers Alice Bouvot and Charles Dagand, who have been farming biodynamically in the Arbois appellation since 2008.

Bornard Savagnin les Chassagnes Ouille 2006: Opened with a complex nose of high herbs, Christmas spice, roasted nuts, pear, and a sweet yeasty note; on the palate, very pretty pear and citrus flavors, with a touch of sherry-like tang. Over the course of the tasting, the acidity moderated and the texture plumped up. Phillipe Bornard farms about 15 acres in the village of Pupillin, just south of the village of Arbois. Bonard was a disciple of Pierre Overnoy, a pioneer of natural winemaking.

Puffeney Poulsard M 2008: Berries, rose petals, spice, linseed oil, and maybe a hint of smoke on the nose. On the palate, red berries and citrus; with time in the glass, the fruit character really came forward. For a “light” red, this had a very pleasing mouthfeel. Andrew Jefford describes Jacques Puffeney thusly: “...a secret scholar, a quiet theorist, a practical researcher.” Puffeney's Arbois was the first red from the Jura I ever tasted. That first encounter is memorialized here.

Bornard Ploussard La Chamade 2008: Speaking of firsts, it has been more than 20 years since I tasted a Château de Beaucastel Chateauneuf-du-Pape that had some serious age on it; I still remember trying to parse the nose for specific aromas, giving up, and feeling I'd failed some kind of test. Much later on, I realized that when a great wine has aged to the point of fully becoming itself, the component parts of the nose disappear into a kind of unity. At the time, I called it “incense.” Much to my astonishment, this impression came back to me tasting the Bornard Ploussard: While there were identifiable aromas of rose petal and red cherry, the overall impact was more like a fine perfume. This brief romance was brought up short as I heard from the table the words “cow poop,” and the meaty, fecal aroma of chitterlings began to come on strong. By contrast, the palate was pretty simple and straightforward, with pretty red berries and cherries.

Gahier Trousseau 2009: Red licorice and some brown spice (cinnamon?) were the first notes of the nose; I also caught a hint of blueberry (often a sign of youthfulness). There were also some strawberry/raspberry aromas. Again, the palate was straightforward, with pleasant light red berry fruit, and a touch of oxidative and mineral character. Michel Gahier's property is located next to Jacques Puffeney's.

Tasting “Food Wines”

Our hosts, Les and Kathy, were careful to put out bread, nuts, sausage, and a selection of cheeses to accompany the wines. The Chef, who was also in attendance, had me taste some of the wines with the cheeses and sausage. This was revelatory: The L'Octavin Chardonnay, in particular, was transformed after a bite of Tomme. Similarly, the stinky character of the Bornard Ploussard vanished when accompanied by a bite of sausage. Discussing this afterward with Cara and Brian, we agreed that tasting these wines without food did them a disservice. Cara also pointed to a common theme among the wines: They tended to have quite complex aromas, followed by relatively straightforward flavors.

As was the case with the Orange wines, the wines at this tasting are never going to be crowd-pleasers. They require some work to appreciate; they are not produced in volume; and they can be pricey. And, as with the Orange wines, they have their own peculiar charm, and they remind you that wine is a living thing, not something to be “branded” and hyped. On that basis alone I'd recommend giving any of these bottles a bit of your undivided attention. (If you're interested in trying any of them out, here's the link to Vinsite; as Les says, these are so hard to come by he can't get them in case quantities. Act now, etc.)

PS:As we know, tasting is the most subjective aspect of wine appreciation. I hope some of you who were also in attendance will chime in with comments, with the understanding that I reserve the right to be completely wrong-headed about any of the bottles we tasted!

Erbaceo: Biodynamic, Good Quality, From Puglia. Really.

2011-11-20T16:40:00.001-05:00

2009 Erbaceo Colli della Murgia IGTPuglia: I was intending to taste the 2011 Beajolais Nouveau, but Igot sidetracked when Les poured me a taste of this little charmer.It's a blend of 60% Fiano Minutolo and 40% Greco. The back label says“certified organic by ICEA,” and the producer was either thefirst or among the first to apply biodynamic growing methods inPuglia. Take a look at their website.

The wine opens with a nose of ripefruit, dried honey, and juniper berry. “Minutolo” is known foradding floral notes; they did not seem particularly pronounced. Onthe palate, vivid flavors of golden apple and peach, with afloral/herbal note at the end. Fat-textured, countered by goodacidity. Quite fresh-tasting for a two-year-old white. The vineyardsare in Gravina in Puglia, just south of the Alta Murgia NationalPark, about an hour's drive southwest from Bari. If I could find some razor clams, I think I'd like a bottle of this to go with them. Scallops will do.

It is cheering to think that wines ofthis quality are now available from Puglia. Tom Cannavan calledPuglia “the engine room of Italian wine production,” churning outaround 10% of Italy's total production. Even today, most of the production goes to bulk sales. When Franco Ventricelli and Francesco Valentino set up shop in 1986, even the natives dismissed the idea ofquality wine from the region. There was Cantina Botromagno, and notmuch else. So they are to be congratulated both for their foresightand perseverance. An appreciation of the external difficulties aSouthern Italian producers face can be found here.

Available at Vinsite, (check out their spiffy new site design) priced around $15, I think.

Henri Milan and Jesús Lazaro: French and Spanish Organics

2011-11-17T17:13:00.001-05:00

Domaine Henri Milan is a wine estate in Saint-Rémy-de-Provence, Provence. Henri Milan has been running the estate since taking over from his father in 1986. He grows his white grapes in blue marl, soil similar to Chablis, with some clay and limestone and gravel. The total vineyards area is 42 acres (including red grape plantings). I had done a little bit of research on the wine. Jancis Robinson praised his 2004 effusively, but also called it “intellectual,” which as we know can be a warning flag for some. Brooklynguy called the 2007 vintage “polarizing.” So on Sunday evening, when I put a bottle down on the countertop at Bob & Sandy's, I announced that they had permission to hate it if need be.

Domaine Milan “Le Grand Blanc” (N/V, but probably 2008) Vin de Table, St Rémy de Provence:This was made from a blend of Grenache Blanc, Vermentino (even French people have a hard time pronouncing “Rolle”), and Roussanne. Milan is not certified biodynamic, but follows some biodynamic practices. A little cidery tang on the nose says there has obviously been some extended maceration here, although the wine doesn't look “orange.” Our first impressions were of gingerbread, almond, pear, and some very characteristic Southern Rhone floral character. In the mouth, the wine was tannic, oxidative, and showing some flavor of grapefruit zest, with an almost grainy texture. Our next impressions, after about 20 minutes, were of more conventional apricot, anise, and dried honey flavors. At the 90 minute mark, the wine became luscious: The oxidative notes receded, the texture softened, and a rich aroma and flavor of ripe honeydew melon came to the fore (reminiscent of the super-ripe cantaloupe flavor of the Radikon Oslavje Bianco from the Orange wine tasting).

While I was more than happy with the journey the wine took us on, I think next time we'll decant for at least an hour beforehand.

Dinner featured smoked duck; I was invited to look in the cellar for something appropriate, and found a bottle I'd sold to our hosts, back in 2008, I think. The duck was going to want something with some power behind it, and Ribera del Duero is usually a good bet. Thus:

Adrada Ecologica “Raices de Aza,” Ribera del Duero 2004: This wine made a brief appearance in the portfolio of importer José Pastor. It was made at Adrada Ecologica, a certified-organic producer in Ribera del Duero, by Jesús Lazaro. Lazaro works the vineyard as well as makes the wine, which Pastor points out is quite rare in Spain these days. It is 100% Tempranillo, made from head-pruned vines of 70 to 80 years of age, all grown at high elevations on a single estate. It was aged in French oak for 12 months. Sandy likes a big red wine that has lots of secondary and tertiary flavors; this one offered many, including smoke, earth, roasted spice, and vanilla to go along with red, blue, and black fruit flavors and aromas. It was remarkably pure-tasting, and we were surprised at the softness of the tannins. “Raices de Aza”
translates as "Roots of the Town."

2004 is widely regarded as one of the better recent Spanish vintages. Pastor notes that while the 2005 vintage was a dry one, with attendant problems with under-ripeness, wines made on old, draught-resistant vines like those on Lazaro's property may show more refinement and elegance. (A brief search showed no bottles from either vintage still available at retail, although I would be happy to be proved wrong about this.) Read Alice Feiring's appreciation of José Pastor here.

After dinner there was Trimbach Poire William. The Trimbachs have a reputation in Alsace for relatively austere wines; obviously, they have no such compunctions when it comes to fruit brandies. It was like drinking liquid bosc pear.

After the after-dinner drinks, the Chef snagged the duck carcass. You can learn its fate here.

The Henri Milan was from Table Wine; the Raices de Aza was from The Asheville Wine Market.

The Chef's Birthday (Champagne and Barolo)

2011-11-14T18:31:00.001-05:00

It was the Chef's birthday, so the Chef got to eat exactly what she wanted (not that any other day is different in this regard...), which was, surprisingly, steak. She also got to drink exactly what she wanted, which was Champagne, and “a really nice Italian red” to go with the steak.

Back before he opened the New York store and became even busier than he was with the Pennsauken and Wilmington stores, the illustrious Greg Moore of Moore Brothers sometimes wrote wonderful rants about the business. It was reading one of these rants, on the depredations of certain Grande Marque Champagne houses, and especially one that produced a wine that came in a sort of Halloween orange label, that I learned about José Michel. Here's Greg:

José Michel (pronounced “Zhozáy” in French, not “Hozáy,” as in Spanish) farms 21 acres of vineyards around the town of Moussy, a small village just south of Épernay, on hillsides that face the Côte des Blancs (you can see Jacques Diebolt’s vineyards from José’s exceptional single vineyard, Clos des Plants de Chênes). He grows all three varieties: Chardonnay planted in the lower vineyards with calcareous soil, and Pinot Meunier and Pinot Noir in the upper vineyards that have more clay in the soil. Fermentations are carried out in old oak casks or enameled steel vats.

José Michel is best known as the foremost récoltant-manipulant (estate-bottling producer) of Champagnes that are made from Pinot Meunier, a variety that gives lovely floral-toned, red fruit aromas in Champagne, but that is decidedly unfashionable with most producers. Many Champagne houses are reluctant even to admit that they use Pinot Meunier in their blends. They believe it doesn’t live long enough in the bottle. José Michel proves them wrong. In fact, the Blanc de Blanc, made from Chardonnay grown in several different plots in and around Moussy, and the Clos des Plants de Chênes, also planted to Chardonnay, are the only exceptions to the rule that the entire range of vigorous, longlived José Michel Champagnes is based on Pinot Meunier.

A few years back, Michel's 100% Pinot Meunier Champagne became available, and I did my best to put it into the hands of as many people as possible while working at the Asheville Wine Market. It was the kind of Champagne that made friends: It was $39.99, and it was distinctive without being off the charts. I used to tell people it would give them an instant Hip Merit Badge. I still believe that.

So imagine my delight when I walked into Table Wine back during the summer and Josh put a bottle of 2002 José Michel “Spécial Club” in my hands. It's a 50/50 blend of Pinot Meunier and Chardonnay, made from fruit grown on vines that were planted by José's grandfather in 1929. On the nose, notes of tangerine, meyer lemon, bittersweet chocolate, red berries, and cashews. On the palate, strawberry mousse, citrus zest, and bracing mineral character. On the finish, more minerals and hints of red berry. The wine gave an initial impression of sweetness, which faded into the intense mineral character.

Then it was time for a really nice Italian red.

Azelia Barolo 2000: Luigi Scavino, in the words of Nicolas Belfrage, makes “wine of modern tendency.” He's not certified organic, but he keeps the use of copper sulfate to a minimum, and when he uses fertilizer, it's organic. He uses French oak, but only a little; he tends to shorter periods of maceration, so his wines don't have the huge tannic structure that can make Barolo difficult to enjoy without long bottle aging.

There are lots of people who will tell you that opening an 11-year-old Barolo is a form of infanticide. (We try to avoid people who speak this way about wine; we think they lack a sense of proportion, but then we're just a bunch of moldy figs here anyway.) We did give it a few vigorous whirls in the decanter, just to show that we meant business, but in the event the wine showed beautifully, with the classic aroma combo of roses, red berries, truffly funk, and just a hint of asphalt. In the mouth there was a near-perfect balance of fruit, tannin, and acidity, with a surprisingly soft texture. The classic match for Barolo is wild boar, but grass-fed steak sauced with a beef and veal demi-glace with red wine reduction was just lovely. (Now you know why the Chef likes to cook her own birthday dinner.)

Beef Stew, Not The Worst Wine After All, A Bargain, A Disappointment, And An Italian Merlot a la française

2011-11-11T09:53:00.001-05:00

Pelee Island is the southernmost Canadian vineyard, as they like to say, on the same latitude as the Napa Valley (and the Macôn). The bottle pictured above was the gift, after a fashion, of a Canadian customer. “This is the worst wine I've ever tasted,” she said, handing it to me. I promised I'd give it due consideration, and for the last four years or so it's been in the cellar, considering itself. The Chef was making boeuf à la Bourguignonne and hollered from the kitchen that she needed a cheap Pinot Noir for the pot. Somehow, I knew exactly what to reach for (I also reached for a backup bottle—another Pinot, this time from Patagonia—just in case). With no little trepidation we tasted it—and it was...Pinot Noir. A bit dilute, and just starting to show a little brown on the rim, but fine for the pot, which is where it went.

Les and Kathy brought some bottles. We started with a sparkler from the Marches, made by Garofoli from Chardonnay and Verdicchio. Guelfo Verde Vino Frizzante 2010 is light, gently fizzy, had some nice orchard fruit notes and a sturdy mineral finish. It was delightful, and became even more delightful when we found out it was priced at $9.99.

The featured wine with our beef stew was an els jelipins 2004. It is a “natural” wine, a blend of two grapes, the rare Sumoll (60%) and garnacha (40%). It is produced in the Penedès by the young and attractive Glòria Garriga & Oriol Illa, who hand-pick, making passes through the vines at various intervals, ferment at low temperatures with indigenous yeasts, and age the wine for 30 months in old French and Slavonian oak vats. Now you know we were primed to fall pantingly in love with this wine, but this particular bottle wasn't quite there. I got a little whiff of peppermint candy on the nose, which was…unusual. It was nicely textured, and had some red and black fruit to it, as well as some notes of sweet spice and cocoa. But there just wasn't all that much going on. Les and Kathy, who'd had it before, were clearly disappointed; Les said the last bottle had been much more substantial. Maybe the stew was too much for it. Although one does not like to be in the position of making excuses for a $90+ bottle. Then again, the whole point of natural wines is that they are not factory-made products, and there will be bottle variation. And as has been noted in this space before, managing expectations can be a bitch.

Feeling a bit let down, I went back to the cellar and pulled out another bottle that had been gathering dust—a merlot picked up on a visit to Tuscany in 2004, that made its way back to the U.S. during that Golden Age before the damned three-ounce rule: Fattoria La Rendola IGT Merlot 2001, from the winery of the same name, in the village of Montevarchi, not too far from Arezzo.

The wine was made by the highly regarded Fabrizio Moltard, a consultant agronomist, native of Piemonte, who moved to Tuscany to work for Angelo Gaja then went out on his own. These days he consults with many wineries in Maremma. He's the go-to guy if you're growing French grapes around Scansano. You'll recall that in the mid 1990s French grapes aged in French oak were all the rage in certain parts of Tuscany; everybody wanted to get on the Super Tuscan bandwagon. Fattoria La Rendola was no exception, and they brought in Dottore Moltard to produce wine in the Bordeaux style, and that's what they got with the 2001 IGT Merlot: Red plum, blackcurrant, and lead pencil on the nose, a silky-textured palate with more plum and a touch of cocoa, and a nice lift of acidic red berry on the finish. With air, it developed a creamy richness, at which point it became a little too much of a good thing.

It's tempting to try to find a moral here about the calculatedness of what Fabrizio Moltard does for a living vs. the deliberate lack of calculation at els jelipins, but it's only two bottles, folks. And I don't want Tom Wark to get mad at me for suggesting that winemakers might have any motivations beyond wanting to sell what they make. I have to admit that despite some recent disappointments, as a class, I find the “natural” stuff very appealing these days. How're they gonna keep me down in Paree, now that I've seen the farm?

The els jelipins and the Guelfo Verde are available at Vinsite.

An Offal Experience

2011-11-05T11:51:00.002-04:00

Last night we ate testicles. And penises. And duck hearts and tongues. We ate pig's ears, pig's blood, cockscombs, tongue, veal brains with cauliflower/bone-marrow puree, ox heart with cockles, and kidney, cheek, and tail pie.

This was a “pop-up” dinner by the Blind Pig Of Asheville, a group of chefs and miscellaneous other crazies who take a transgressive approach to cuisine. Matt Dawes (of Table) and Jeremy Hardcastle (the new Hot Dog King of Asheville) did the cooking. The carnage took place at City Bakery.

For more on the eats and some background on the Blind Pig Supper Club, check out Mackensy Lunsford at MountainX.

The event was BYOB, and several malefactors from the local scene showed up with organic lambruscos and cavas, Arbois wine from the Jura, a killer Cote du Rhone (La Ferme du Mont Cotes du Rhone Premiere Cote 2009), a sleek Ca'Marcanda from Maremma (Tuscan coastline) from Angelo Gaja, of all people, and a bunch of other stuff. We brought a Danilo Thomain Enfer d'Arvier which had suffered a bit of secondary fermentation. It was drinkable, just. For those who were asking about the grape, I mis-identified it: It's Petite Rouge, not Petite Arvine.

We also brought one of two bottles of Mas d'Agalis Yo No Puedo Mas (Russell Garrett from Sour Grapes brought the other one) which for me, at least, was the vinous highlight of the evening. The name translates as “I Can't Take Anymore” and reflects the sentiments of young winemaker Lionel Maurel, who produces this blend of 50% Syrah, 40% Grenache, and 10% Mourvèdre at his family's property in the village of Nébian, which is in the Hérault appellation of the Languedoc. Not that you'd know it from the label—the INAO has declared his organically produced wine Too Strange for the regular appellation, and insists that he label it as “vin du pays” and not give vintage information (the vintage is displayed in roman numerals—ours was VIII). In the event, the wine showed the kind of rusticity you want when you're eating offal: Aromas of game and the barnyard, spice and red fruit, followed by more solid dark fruit, earth, and a nice bite of acidity. I've seen it on the shelf at Table Wine and Vinsite, about $20 and I'm guessing it will be an essential beverage for the next Blind Pig outing.

BYOB! Yeah!

Loire vs. Languedoc

2011-11-03T15:05:00.001-04:00

I know, I know, it seems I just toggle from one obsession to another. Now we're back at the old French North/South rivalry.The area where the Vienne meets the Loire--Saumur, Bourgueil, and Chinon--is capable of producing red wines of plainspoken elegance, and even a kind of self-effacement. I can think of some Bourgueil wines--"Les Galluches" from James Petit comes to mind--that don't really express themselves fully except in the context of a meal. Or as former colleague Elaine Thomas said, "This wine wants dinner and candlelight!"

Then there's the South, especially Languedoc/Roussillon, where hot sun, drying winds, and an abundance of soil types can result in wines that show an abundance of fruit and spice. Sometimes I think the job of the winemaker in this part of the world is to keep all that abundance in check, lest a bit of playful hedonism become debauchery.

Clos Cristal Hospices de Saumur Saumur Champigny 2009: Black cherry, hint of cranberry, “cool” herbs, then firm cherry fruit on a lightish frame, and somewhat subdued tannins, well-balanced. The 2009 is a pleasure to drink on its own, but showed best with food; in this instance, the Chef's “fake Cassoulet.” (“It's not traditional, and doesn't have all the traditional ingredients.”) Winemaker Eric DuBois has gradually shifted to organic growing practices and minimal intervention during fermentation, including keeping the use of SO₂to a minimum. Click here to learn more about his winemaking and enjoy the wonderful photography of Bertrand Celce.

Chateau de Lascaux Coteaux du Languedoc 2008: A blend of 60% Syrah, 35% Grenache, and 5% Mourvèdre. Black pepper, herbs, and red berries on the nose; quite luscious on the palate with more red fruit and a creamy mouthfeel. Little kick of spicy pepper and acidity at the finish; lovely stuff, and at $19/bottle, reasonably priced. A Wine Dictator Spectator “Top 100” pick, but worthwhile even so. It's easy to understand why the Spec gives it a big score; it really is a pretty "easy" wine, where the fruit borders on voluptuousness, and the oak gives it a polish like a newscaster's hair. Yet there's enough complexity here to let the maquillage slide by. (Besides, sometimes we're in the mood for maquillage.) This is made by Jean-Benoît Cavalier, President of AOC Languedoc, which is doing away with the “Coteaux du Languedoc” appellation, not sure why, except to keep us all as confused as possible about Southern Provence wines. You'll find more here about M. Cavalier and his activities.

As of this writing, both wines are in stock at the Asheville Wine Market.

An "Ir de Tapeo" in Seville with Shawn Hennessey; and other Adventures

2011-10-31T17:59:00.000-04:00

Our Seville story begins with Shawn Hennessey, a Canadian expat, ex-fashionista, now proprietor of a website called “Azahar-Sevilla.” She is, to use a somewhat antiquarian expression, a woman of parts. She writes, she teaches, she leads culinary tours, and probably a lot else that she doesn't necessarily let on about. What we know for sure is that if you visit Seville, you want her at your side when it's time to eat. She took us to the good places, steered us to the house specialties, and coached us on the rhythm of the ir de tapeo, or tapas tour: Step into the place, pick the two best items in the house, have a glass of something, and then move on to the next adventure. We ate cigalas and oysters at Modesto, morcilla and veal cheeks at Enrique Becerra, and various postmodern dishes at Albarama. We ended up at 2 a.m on the roof of the Hotel Doña Maria, facing the Giralda cathedral tower, pleasantly drunk and basking in the soothing rays of the full moon.

Shawn Hennessey. A woman with duende.

In the event, that evening was just a warmup, because Shawn had all sorts of great ideas for us. I'm going to skip over Vineria San Telmo, Casa Antonio, and the delightful La Bodega (which became our “local” for the week), marvelous though they all were, and go straight to the best of the best: La Azotea.

It's a tiny place on a street called Jesus del Gran Poder, in what is euphemistically referred to as a “neighborhood in transition” near the Alameda de Hercules. The place opens at 9 pm, and unlike other restaurants in Seville, which tend to start off slowly and really get rolling after 10:30, there is a crowd waiting for the door to open. We went two nights: Wednesday, the place was packed within 15 minutes; Thursday, within 5 minutes. We will stipulate that everything we tried was of surpassing excellence. We ordered a parade of tapas, and it is no exaggeration to say that we finished every dish thinking “How can they top this?” and were repeatedly delighted with the answer. The chef's name is Jesús Rosendo Domingues. As the lovely Elena told us, “He did not go to culinary school. He grew up in his father's bar.” His food is phenomenal.

He's back there, at la ventana (the window), behind the dupes...Jesús Rosendo Domingues. A chef to watch for.

Elena gives us The Professional Smile.

The wine-by-the-glass list was deep, interesting, and priced right; I don't recall anything that cost more than 4 euros.

Our favorite wine at La Azotea was a 2009 Tempranillo from the Cigales D.O. Called “13 Cántaros Nicolás,” it was a gamey, meaty, spicy, jammy red-fruit wine that was completely delicious with morcilla (blood pudding), bull's tail, and other fine bits of Andalusian offal. The name comes from a document found on the wall at Bodegas César Príncipe (the winery) that referred to a debt of 13 “pitchers” of wine owed to a certain Nicholas. Who Nicholas was, and why he was owed the specific amount of wine, is lost to history. The Bodega, like others in the Cigales appellation, once produced rosé wines only; it wasn't until 2000 that the first reds were produced for sale. César Muñoz is the winemaker. The wine is 100% Tempranillo, aged 8 months in French and American oak. Cigales is considered a rising star in the D.O. Firmament; most of it is along the Pisuerga, a tributary of the Duero. Like Ribera del Duero, it has a very dry climate with extremes of temperature, ideal for growing Tempranillo and Garnacha vines that produce wines of great power. The wine is brought into the U.S. by Vinum Wine Importing.

Another favorite was a bottle from something called the “Proyecto Garnachas de España” (Spanish Grenache Project), a 2009 La Garnacha Salvaje del Moncayo (Ribera del Queiles). WinemakerRaul Acha produces garnacha in a variety of styles and terroirs within the Ebro Delta, a large area (not a Denominación de Origen) that encompasses several appellations, including Aragon, Priorat, and Rioja. Ribera del Queiles is a sub-appellation of Aragon. The Garnacha Salvaje (“Salvaje” translates as “wild”) was soft and round and not in the least sauvage or rustic, similar in style to the better Garnachas of the Campo de Borjas region, with pretty strawberry and plum notes, and the aforementioned roundness thanks to five months' aging in French oak. The wine is in limited distribution in the U.S. by St. Louis-based Bakkehia Imports.

Juan, with a Legal Smile.

We sat at the bar, and chatted with our neighbors. The Chef sat next to a couple from The Netherlands, who were just finishing up a 12-day tour. I sat next to a guy from Queens who was interested in sherry, and who inadvertently provided one of the evening's many highlights: Juan (an exceptionally personable young man, a native of Seville, who owns the place with his wife, Jeanine, who is from California) brought him an unlabeled bottle of something golden. I asked what it was, and he waved it in front of me so I could see that there really was no label, and announced “Arab herb liquor! Illegal!” Well, we just had to have some too, didn't we?

Dave, with an Illegal Smile.

Orange: The Fourth Color

2011-10-27T14:04:00.000-04:00

From a strictly contemporary viewpoint,you could say that “orange” wines were tailor-made for the winehipster cognoscenti: Rare, not inexpensive, “difficult,” anddemanding. The fascination with these wines in the U.S. can safely beattributed to one man, Levi Dalton, who held the first-ever orangewine dinner in midsummer 2009 at the now-legendary (and now-defunct) Convivio in New York City. You can read Thor Iverson's take on that historic event here. (Iverson can be long-winded, but always in anentertaining and informative way. Stay with him, and learn.)

Since that first tasting, there havebeen a few more around the country, but not many. The conservativeconsensus estimate is less than a dozen. So when Les Doss and KathyTaylor announced an orange wine tasting at Vinsite, some of us werepretty jazzed about it--especially having it here in little ole Asheville.

From an historical viewpoint, “orange”wines have a very practical origin. SašaRadikon, son of Stanko, grandson of Franz Mikulus, explains: “In1995 we started making white wines with lengthy periods of skincontact. This was a technique that my grandfather used because hewanted to preserve his wine for a whole year. Before my fatherstarted selling our wines, my grandfather would make wine for thewhole family from our vines, but this was for personal consumptiononly and it had to last an entire year until the next vintage.”[from an interview with the late Joe Dressner].

Lengthy skin-contact,of course, is what makes red wines red. It seems to make white winesorange, and hence the name.Leavingthe wines on the skins (maceration) for weeks and months makes whitewines last longer because the skins are a source of tannins, whichact as anti-oxidants. There is a catch: While lengthy macerationprotects the wine from oxidizing over the long term, the processitself actually increases oxidation during fermentation.Consequently, the wines all have a distinctive oxidative tang thatcan come across as sherry-like or cider-like. Yet another catch:While the wines are built to last, especially after they've beenopened, they typically need hours and hours of exposure to air tobecome palatable. The wines at the Visite tasting were all opened anddouble-decanted four hours ahead of time; some of them would probablybenefit from two or three times as much exposure to air.

Gotall that? Good. On to the wines:

Coenobium Rusticum Bianco 2009: Made from a blend of malvasia, grechetto,trebbiano toscano, and verdicchio, fermented in stainless steeltanks, and left on the skins for 15 days. Aromas of raisins,sassafras, and roasted nuts, followed by a palate of all kinds ofdried fruits, the barest hint of melon, and big, bold tannins. Forbackground on the Cistercian nuns who make these wines, read Alder Yarrow's excellent backgrounder. It is worth noting that theappellation for this wine is Lazio, a region north of Rome knownmostly for “Est! Est! Est!”--a wine whose name is far moredistinctive than what's in the bottle.

DenavoloDinavolo Vino da Tavola 2007: This wine is a personal project of Giulio Armani, best known for his work at La Stoppa, a producer ofhigh-end wines, mostly from French grapes, in the village of Piacenzanear Bologne. The Denavolo vineyards in Emilia (another not verydistinguished wine region) are at 1,500 feet, an exceptionally highelevation for the area, and are biodynamically farmed. As is the caseat La Stoppa, Armani is working with some unusual grape varieties.The Dinavolo blend is 25% malvasia di candia aromatica, 25% marsanne,25% ortugo, and 25% “yet unknown varietals.” These are28-year-old vines. The wine is naturally fermented in stainless steeltanks over 7-14 days on the skins, with vigorous pumping-over for thefirst few days. No SO₂ is added, and the finished wine isunfiltered. The nose offered a strong note of apricot, and also ofcamphor (“Vicks Vapo-Rub!” said one taster. We agreed.) Therewere floral notes and what our colleague Cara Freije called“vitamins.” The palate resists any kind of conventionaldescription; there were some dark, spicy, fruity notes, and a wholelot of tannins.

PaoloBea Arboreus Bianco 2004: This is the very first vintage of this wine,made from trebbiano spoletino, a high-end version of Italy'subiquitous workhorse white grape, grown on 125-year-old vines. Thevines are trained high (“Arboreus” is from the Italian word for“tree”) and artichokes are grown beneath them. The wine spends16 days on its skins, and is aged for four years after that. We tastedbottle #0394 of 1,066 produced. Of all the wines tasted, this was themost conventional in style, with very agreeable notes of apple, pear,and orange zest (“An orange wine that tastes of orange!” washeard at the table), followed by notes of fermented soy, some deep,dark, dried honey character, a slight vinegary note, and a bit ofsalinity at the finish. For background on the Bea family and theirwinery, visit their website, which is chock-full of usefulinformation (just like their wine labels).

RadikonOslavje Bianco 2003: This was made from a blend of chardonnay, pinotgrigio and sauvignon blanc, grown on the Radikon family's 26-acreproperty in Oslavia, a small Italian town right at the border withSlovenia. Cara Freije's notes on this wine were far more evocativethan my own, so here they are: “Of all the wines, this had the mostvinegary quality; it reminded me of a gueuze [a style of Belgianlambic ale known for its dry, cidery, musty, sour, acetic/lactic acidflavors], and even looked like one—kind of cloudy. Did you ever eata cantaloupe that was just past its prime? Still sweet, but with anextra funk to it? This had some of that, also.”

GravnerBreg Anfora Bianco 2003: Josko Gravner (neighbor of Stanko Radikon)made a splash in the wine world in 2001 when he reached backthousands of years to revive the technique of fermenting his wines inamphorae (very, very large terra-cotta vases). In the style of theancients, he lines the amphorae with beeswax, then buries them in theground up to their necks, where the wine remains on its skins formonths, before being transferred to oak barrels for two or more yearsof ageing. The Breg is a blend of Sauvignon Blanc, Chardonnay, PinotGrigio and Riesling Italico. It is the darkest of the wines at thetasting, showing a deep cherry color, closer to cognac than to wine.It has a nose like cognac, also, showing notes of roasted nuts andcaramel. There is also a kind of peaty quality, reminiscent of Scotchwhisky. The palate continues these impressions, with some dried honeynotes and the barest hint of maraschino cherry.

Therewere 23 particpants in the tasting, which had been advertised acouple weeks in advance and sold out quickly. The wines came fromseveral different sources; special thanks to Mike Tiano of Haw RiverWine Man, who brings in the Coenobium and Paolo Bea wines, and was onhand to provide insights into the world of orange. Special thanksalso to Cara Freije of Wisdom Beverages, who generously shared hermeticulous tasting notes. And thanks again to Les Doss, who seems at times to be single-handedly bringing Asheville into the wine vanguard.

photo by the Chef

Afew thoughts: Orange wines, clearly, are never going to be verypopular. They are idiosyncratic, to put it mildly. They requirepatience (many hours of decanter time before drinking) and someserious sensory open-mindedness. They simply are not comparable toconventional red, white, or roséwines. They are various in aromas and flavors, although Cara pointsout that there is some commonality in that they all had aromas thatpromised sweetness, yet were dry (some to the point of astringency)on the palate.Noneof these wines are produced in great quantity; all of them are pricednorth of $30, some quite a bit more than that. There is also thematter of pairing these with food: What goes with a big tannic white?The Radikons like their wines with the local pork ragù;Levi Dalton made history by serving sea urchin pasta at his tasting.Perhaps it is best to say that the field is wide open toexperimentation.Andfor all these obvious reservations, these wines hold a powerfulattraction, too. Drinking them is an adventure, and some of us arelooking for exactly that kind of experience. They have that wild,feral, untameable quality that makes you sit up and pay attention.They are alive, and they make you feel alive.Salud!

Domaine des Deux Anes

2011-10-11T09:55:00.000-04:00

Magali and Dominique Terrier, of Domaine des Deux Anes, are “natural” winemakers based in the village of Peyriac-de-mer, about a 20-minute drive south of Narbonne. Their property is close to a national park, and sits on the Etang du Doul, a salt-water pond that eventually feeds out into the Mediterranean. They follow biodynamic principles, promoting healthy soil with composts rather than chemical fertilizers, fighting powdery mildew with seaweed extract, managing yields by pruning vigorously, and picking by hand.

While the vineyard practices are very hands-on, the winery is quite modern, using temperature controlled stainless steel vats with controls that sensitively monitor the indigenous yeast-induced fermentation. Sulphur use is kept to a minimum, and all other additives are excluded.

The Domaine des Deux Anes “Premiers Pas” Corbières 2008 is a blend of carignan and grenache, grown on red clay with limestone on vineyards that slope toward the Etang. The nose is pleasingly rustic, with notes of sweet herbs, minerals, pomegranate, and an animal aroma that is referred to at our house as “roadkill,” in a non-pejorative way. On the palate, red and blue berries, and a mingling of herbs and licorice. As we never tire of saying of wines from this area, there is richness without heaviness. No trees were harmed in the production of this wine. It matched well with ribs rubbed with five-spice powder.

The wine is imported by Jenny & Francois, who have come a very long way since 2004, when a tasting of their “natural” wines turned into a clinic on wine faults! You can learn more about Magali and Dominique Terrier here.

For a wine of limited production (1,600 cases) this seems to be widely available. We got it at Vinsite, and I think I've seen it at the Asheville Wine Market and at Table Wine.

Asheville Sherry Shopping Bulletin

2011-10-03T17:35:00.010-04:00

OK, I went to Spain and got a little bit nuts on sherry. I will try not to beat this horse to death, but I am absolutely going to ride it for a little while. At the moment, there are two fine local opportunities for trying out these wines: Vinsite, where Les Doss has the La Cigarrera manzanilla, produced only in Sanlúcar de Barrameda, and the La Garrocha fino, produced in El Puerto de Santa María, at the mouth of the Guadalete, just southwest of Jerez (these are among the dryest, lightest sherries, although La Cigarrera gets an asterisk for power). Les also has the super-rich El Maestro Sierra Pedro Ximénez sweet sherry, and the Cesar Florido “El Dorado” Moscatel, from the little beach town of Chipiona, just down the road from Sanlúcar. The Moscatel is not sherry, but it is from the area, and is well worth making an exception for.

The other great local opportunity, and you really want to Act Now as they say on the infomercials, is at the Asheville Wine Market, where Eb has the very latest, freshest shipment of two sherries from Bodegas Lustau: The Puerto Fino and the Papirusa Manzanilla. I took a bottle of the Papirusa home, and can confirm that this is as fresh as it gets—it tastes just like the manzanillas we drank from the barrels in Seville and Sanlúcar: Yeasty, briny, and actually showing a bit of orchard fruit. The finish is clean, soft, and demands another sip. The ideal accompaniment would be fresh shrimp—not too big!--fried quickly in a very light batter (see photo below). If that's too ambitious, there's always a handful of marcona almonds and some of those Ybarra stuffed olives.

Any of these wines will serve at very least as a great introduction to the world of sherry; as is obvious, I find them exceptionally pleasurable to drink, and excellent values for money.

Casa Balbino, the best tapas bar in Sanlúcar de Barrameda, and a fine place to drink manzanilla.

Tortillitas de Camarones from Casa Balbino; in our estimation the ideal food to enjoy with a cold glass of fresh Manzanilla.

"A Farmer's Wine Dinner"

2011-09-30T11:12:00.000-04:00

While The Chef and I were in Seville (of which more later, I promise), I got a note from Josh Spurling of Table Wine in Asheville asking us to be his guests at an event billed as "A Farmer's Wine Dinner." That got a fast "yes" out of us, and a quick post to the calendar on the iPhone. This was a Good Thing, as we began the next day immersing ourselves in the joys of eating and drinking in Spain, and forgot entirely about everything related to our lives back home. Yeah, it was a great time, a description of which will eventually occupy many megabytes and pixels here.

The dinner was last night, and it was the kind of event we like best: A complete surprise, in the best possible sense. Now, as you know, I am an advocate for wine dinners. Wine's highest calling is as an accompaniment to food; thus, wine dinners put wine in the most appropriate context. That's one reason for advocacy. Another one is we like to eat and drink and have a good time. Anyway, I've been to a lot of 'em, but never one quite like this: It was held at the store, it was very casual (folding chairs and tables, paper plates, self-serve) and the owner did all the cooking. Well, almost all. Josh made a soup (a puree of butternut squash, sweet potato, and ginger--at once subtle and substantial) and a nifty slow-braised pork loin. The redoubtable George Lowe produced a puttanesca sauce-based vegetable lasagna, which we enjoyed greatly, even in the face of our own prejudicial belief that a lasagna that does not contain a pork product is not really lasagna at all.

Why “Farmer”? Because all the food (and some of the wine) was organically farmed.

As an apéritif, Josh poured a pair of sparklers, both of which are old friends: Domaine de Martinolles Blanquette de Limoux, made in the traditional style, mostly from the local Mauzac grape, with a little bit of chardonnay and chenin blanc; and Domaine du Pas St. Martin Saumur Blanc, made from chenin blanc. The former had aromas and flavors of citrus and apple, with a little yeasty, slightly oxidized character, and the latter with similar fruit qualities, plus that good mineral quality we expect in wines from the Loire.

The reds included Pierre Chermette's basic Beaujolais, a nice little berry bomb, possibly the world's most food-friendly red wine (which is why every bistro in France pours one); a wonderful Cahors (the original home of malbec, as has been discussed at length elsewhere) made by the highly regarded Philippe Bernède of Clos La Coutale, a modernist whose vineyards have been in his family since before Napoleon, and who uses stainless steel and temperature control and a dollop of merlot to produce this early-drinking gem; and a fat, rich, fruity Coteaux du Languedoc, a Rhone-like blend of Syrah and Grenache, from winemaker Gerald Bru of Chateau Puech-Haut.

The standout of the evening, though, was a beautiful white Burgundy, the Domaine du Prieuré Savigny les Beaune from the Maurice family (Jean-Michel and his son Stephen). It is made in what I call, for lack of a better term, the “clean” style of chardonnay: Bold apple and citrus aromas and flavors, distinct mineral character, moderate body, and not a hint of the hazelnut note that is a common calling-card of whites from the region. It was the most expensive bottle of the evening, but quite possibly the best value, since it compares favorably with village-level Burgundies that cost twice as much.

As they say in the colorful patois of my homeland, it was a Wicked Good Time, and thanks to Josh, the lovely Lynn, and First Mate George for a great evening. It was inspiring. In fact, it's inspired me to start paying more attention to the local scene than before.

To which end: There is another wine dinner/tasting coming up very soon (Wednesday, October 12) of wines from importer Neal Rosenthal's French portfolio. It will be in two parts; a tasting at Vinsite, followed by dinner at Table. Rosenthal's Trey Stephenson will be on hand to pour. Price is $65/person, all-inclusive except tax. Call Les at Vinsite (828.252.4545) for details.

Our host.

Our hostess.

Lasagna-maker extraordinaire, George Lowe.

French Metro Wine Map

2011-09-01T11:38:00.000-04:00

This is just too cool not to share:

You can buy one here. I'm waiting for the t-shirt.

h/t Dr Vino.

Macho Manzanilla!

2011-08-29T16:45:00.005-04:00

A visit from Andre Tamers of De Maison Selections renewed our long-dormant interest in manzanilla sherry. We tasted several courtesy of Les at Vinsite, and found the La Cigarrera especially appealing. We tested it on friends who could not remember the last time they'd drunk any sherry, in any style, serving it along side the Chef's Andalusian gazpacho, which is a very simple preparation that depends on fresh, flavorful tomatoes found at the UNCA tailgate market.

La Cigarrera Manzanilla Fino NV: If there is such a thing as macho manzanilla, this is it: You know the cliché about aromas “leaping out of the glass?” Got it right here. This is briny, ashy, tangy, a bit funky, and then super-clean and refreshing in the mouth. I realize not everyone goes for the oxidative tang, but even so, it is a terrible injustice that so many Americans still think of sherry as something grandmother drank. As enjoyable as the wine was with the gazpacho, it should be pointed out that manzanilla is considered an ideal accompaniment to all kinds of seafood. (I have heard that Sanlúcar de Barrameda is a seafood-lovers paradise; we are going to test that proposition next month on site.)

During the tasting Andre explained that the quality of La Cigarrera, along with all other manzanilla sherries, has to do not so much with the vineyards as with the location of the bodega where the sherry is aged. Sanlúcar de Barrameda, which is the only Spanish appellation for manzanilla, is on the Atlantic, near the mouth of the Guadalquivir River. What is seldom mentioned by the big sherry houses is that Sanlúcar has two subzones: The Alto and the Bajo. La Cigarrera is in the Bajo, or lower, subzone. It is much closer to the ocean. As Andre explains: “Sanlúcar goes straight up a cliff, and most of the wineries are in this Alto subzone, they're more chamomile-like, fresh and light. Down in the Bajo, the air gets trapped, it's like a sail...Ignacio [the winemaker] is in the dungeon where the flor's that thick!” Flor being the yeast that forms on the surface of the wine as it ages in the barrel. The more robust the flor, the more robust the wine. Yes, this is an over-simplification. If you want to know more, find yourself a copy of the Julian Jeffs book. You can also read more about La Cigarrera here.

We got our La Cigarrera at Vinsite; Les also has some other killer sherries in the house; get them while you can!

Champagne Vouette et Sorbeé “Saignée de Sorbée”

2011-08-03T11:10:00.001-04:00

Bertrand Gautherot is one of a very few Champagne producers who is Demeter-certified biodynamic. Here is an excellent essay by Peter Liem on Gautherot, what he does, and why he does it. He is out to prove that terroir counts in Champagne just as it does in Burgundy or any other appellation. Quoted in a NY Times story that ran on July 13, Gautheron said: “A big problem in Champagne is that wines are easy to make by recipe. It’s much harder to learn the taste of your vineyards. That’s why it’s called Vouette & Sorbée rather than Bertrand Gautherot.”

Champagne Vouette et Sorbeé “Saignée de Sorbée” Extra-Brut NV: Disgorged January 17, 2009 (There's the disgorgement date, right on the label. How hard can this be, O Mighty Bollinger?). "Vouette" and "Sorbeé," as alluded to above, are the names of Gautherot's vineyards in the village of Buxières-sur-Arce. In the glass, it shows a dusty rose color, definitely not star-bright. The nose is powerful, with a seemingly endless series of notes: Ripe strawberry, espresso, bitter chocolate, minerals, balsamic, grilled orange, and that ain't the half of it. In the mouth, amazingly persistent, tiny bubbles, fascinating spicy and rich red berry notes, and some sherry-like character that anchors itself toward the back of the tongue. I would put this up against the very best the Grande Marque houses have to offer. It lacks the power/finesse combination that marks a top-of-the-line vintage Champagne, but in my opinion it yields to none of them in terms of complexity of flavor and the sheer pleasure of tasting something extraordinary. Formerly available in Asheville at Vinsite, and perhaps one day to be available again. At about a hundred and fifteen bucks, it's priced better than Dom, and twice as much fun to drink.

Susucaru 3: "Natural" With A Vengeance

2011-07-30T15:24:00.000-04:00

“Susucaru 3” Vino da Tavola Rosato, no vintage indicated, but the “3” is from 2010. This is “natural” winemaking with a vengeance, from the famous eccentric Frank Cornelissen, who makes it from Nerello Mascalese grapes grown on Mt. Etna in Sicily. It's not like he doesn't warn you that the contents might be a bit, ah, variable. It says right on the label: “ATTENTION This wine has not been modified, neither chemically, nor mechanically and does not contain preservatives or stabilizers. It will develop natural sedimentation as our wines are not filtered or altered. It is important to store the wine below 60.8ºF (16ºC)”

On the nose, dipalmitoylethyl hydroxyethylmonium methosulfate, aka fabric softener, White Shoulders perfume, and hints of other commercial cleaning products. After 30 minutes the nose subsided a bit, or maybe we just got acclimated. There is some spicy red berry and cherry fruit somewhere on the palate, underneath the ongoing chemical assault. It's hugely ironic that a wine that has been so painstakingly produced without the aid of any additives should emerge from the bottle with the aromas of a surfactant factory.

We are told that every now and again, one of these wines can be magnificent, but not this bottle, not this time. It was tried again the next day: The nose had subsided a bit more, but the olfactory and other organoleptic references to cleaning products remained durable.

Those who have read this and still want to roll the dice on one of these should have a word with Les at Vinsite.

Dis-Tinto

2011-07-28T18:20:00.000-04:00

I was in Charleston for a couple days last week, and on Les & Kathy's recommendation visited a few places, including the Social Restaurant & Wine Bar, Pearlz, and the Bar at Husk. The Social started out as a wine bar, or so I'm told, and it really does have a super by-the-glass list, but it also has gone the big-flat-screen-TV route; it just looks like a bar now. Similarly, Pearlz started out as a Champagne bar with oysters; now it's just a bar with oysters. Geezer that I am, I found both the Social and Pearlz too young and too noisy; 20 years ago I probably would have loved them.

The buzz on Husk (the restaurant) and it's next-door bar had reached Asheville some time ago. All our favorite chefs knew about the fearsome Sean Brock of McCrady's and his new ultra-locavore place. “If it doesn't come from the South, it's not coming in the door,” is one of his better-known declarations. Husk is the apotheosis of this attitude: Everything, and I mean everything, is “house-made.”

Except the wine, thank goodness. I got to chat with Sommelier Adam Burnelle for a bit about his by-the-glass list, which included such goodies as the Do Ferreiero Albariño and a wonderfully fresh Vouvray from Lionel Gauthier's Domaine du Viking. The bar menu offered “Smoked Trout Paté with Heirloom wheat thins,” which cause a certain amount of eye-rolling, except when the dish arrived damn if those wheat-thins weren't house-made. There was a burger on the menu, also, and Weaver, the bartender, explained that it was made with three different cuts of beef (all, of course, raised south of the Mason-Dixon) plus a little bacon thrown in for lagniappe. Adam happened by, and recommended a new Valencia red he'd picked up:

Bodegas Enguera Dis-Tinto D.O. Valencia 2008: This is a 50/50 blend of Tempranillo and Syrah, from mostly 25-year-old and older vines, grown in sand and limestone (the former retains heat, the latter provides good drainage, both important for the relatively cool and wet climate). Diego Fernandez is the winemaker. There is no indication, but I'm guessing this never saw any barrel age. The nose is floral, with black and blue berry notes; tangy dark fruit flavors follow, with some black pepper notes and just a bit of mineral edge. I don't often talk about color, but in this case it's worth remarking on: A very dark, yet vivid, almost black ruby hue. The medium weight and dark fruit/pepper combination was in fact an excellent match with the burger. I would imagine this retails for less than $15, if you can find it (5,000 cases made; no idea how many of those make it into the U.S.). It's imported by Olé Wines.

Carignan: With Old Age, Nobility?

2011-07-18T17:17:00.003-04:00

Martine Pages and her brother Christophe Moliner run Domaine de la Bouysse, a 124-acre property in Saint Andre de Roquelongue, in the heart of the Corbières region. About one-fifth of their land is in the Boutenac commune, where the soil combines clay, limestone, and quartz pebbles.

The 2007 Corbières Boutenac Cuvée Mazérac is made with 60% very old Carignan vines from Boutenac (80 to 110 years old) 20% Grenache, and 10% Mourvedre. All the grapes are hand-harvested. The Carignan undergoes carbonic maceration, for greatest freshness of fruit and color extraction. The Grenache and Mourvedre are destemmed and conventionally vinified in temperature-controlled stainless. Once blended, the wine is aged 12 months in French oak barrels.

On the nose, cooked strawberry and plum, with hints of licorice, cocoa, and roasted herbs. In the mouth, bright fruit and that deluxe, pinot noir-like mouthfeel that imparts richness without weight. With time in the glass, the wine reveals more dark fruit, and the texture softens while retaining a sense of freshness. Experiences like this are beginning to make me think that Carignan, so long dismissed as high-yielding easy-growing material for the production of vin ordinaire, is in fact—given the necessary four decades or so to find itself—capable of nobility. This was $20 at the Asheville Wine Market, and worth every penny.

The Chef, in an acquiescent mood, made us a dinner to go with the wine, and the ingredients were mostly local: Hangar steak from Hickory Nut Gap (rare, yeah!), baba ganoush made with local eggplant and garlic, local corn, and local green and red tomatoes. And a few foreign interlopers: Fancy Italian olive oil (Tiburtini, from La Ferrata Tivoli, first cold pressing, organically grown, unfiltered, from Villa Adriana in Lazio, blah-blah-blah.) And frozen “oven fries” from Alexia, which were done on the grill—not exactly a failure, but not in the same league with the rest of dinner. (The Chef wishes to point out that the frozen taters were my idea, not hers, and that she would have served local fingerlings, cut and brushed with olive oil, and done on the grill, and that they would have taken just as long and tasted better. So there.)

Calce Report

2011-07-07T14:00:00.005-04:00

"The Cellars Strike Back!" Poster for a tasting of Calce-based wines. (That's Lionel Gauby, son of Gérard, in the pink sweater)

I got a field report from my friend Michael Culley (aka Michele Colline from his years in Italy) who visited Roussillon earlier this year, which he was kind enough to let me share with you. These notes and observations are from his visit to the village of Calce, home of Domaine Gauby and several other notable producers. I've added a few links. Take it away, Michael:

The best way I've thought to describe the hills leading up to Calce is like a huge, spread out 'bald'..few trees and tons of scrub and other low lying shrubs like heather, blueberries, and huckleberries (don't know for sure if they were or not). We were approaching from the west side. Tons of little vineyards set in the landscape as space allowed, planted in different directions and curves.

On the day of the tasting we elected to drive the 'main' road past and around through Baixas (pronounced Bay-sha) which, coming from the east, was much quicker and easier. The soil here is mostly red clay with limestone. But the color! I've seen a lot of soils in my time, but this kind of electric/transparent orange-pink has something magical about it...like it's really alive....soaking in all the solar rays and energy. The main (and only) road through the village snakes past three of the five famous caves, all located like little cantinas on the ground floors of the buildings. It is simple to walk to all of them in minutes. My kind of tasting...small, focused, and uncrowded. The weather was a bit cold and blustery, and grey. We got there at opening time so never had to deal with the probably more crowded afternoon.

Domaine d'Horizon had two wines, a red and a white that were both excellent, and, I guess, worth 30 euros each but we passed. Thomas Teibert is the young winemaker.

Domaine Padié was my favorite. We barrel sampled Jean-Philippe's white and tasted two reds (both excellent). You may remember that my quest was for carignan, carignan, carignan and he has one from old vines that he now mixed with a little syrah. It should be noted that each varietal comes from its own parcel because of the soil type. We brought back a bottle each of his reds. With just 2,000 cases a year he doesn't sell in the US...yet.

Gauby and Matassa were next a bit of a walk down the hill and side by side since Tom Lubbe, a young South African guy who owns Matassa married a Gauby...his wine were all good but his white from muscat and viognier (a Cotes des Catalanes) was pretty uniquely aromatic and since I have long been a viognier fan we are looking forward to uncorking it here in Bend this summer.

At Domaine Gauby we talked with a young woman there who was passionate, strongly opinionated, and very knowledgeable. To give you an idea, everyone has lots of small plots of vines of specific varieties depending on soils with Gauby having (I'm pretty sure) the most. Consequently, it is almost an insult to ask what the blends are because the soil is most important. It's like blending the soils is really what it's all about, and the grape varieties just happen to grow in them. Three whites, three reds..all good...even tasted the 'grand cru' white Muntada (accent on the first syllable). I told her I had sold the wines back when Kermit Lynch had them in the mid-nineties but she was unfazed and could only remember someone in NY buys a couple pallets a year in the US.

I found a tremendous carignan while in Roussillon but it was a "Vin de Pays de la Cité de Carcassonne", labeled Plo Roucarels 2008. It was made by a youngish couple (Julien Gil and Julia Hubrich) that bought a hectare and a half of old vine carignan in the village of Couffoulens, a few miles southwest of Carcassonne. It was amazing stuff: polished, plush, and complex, and delicious even at 14% alcohol. I figured the second day it would fall apart, but no—it tasted the same as the first day—unprecedented!

We also found, in a SuperU supermarché, a producer I recognized from some blog in the recent past so we bought it and gave it a go and it was excellent. It was a 2009 St. Chinian from Domaine des Soulies' that cost 4.95 euros.

We did drink one wine from Eric LaGuerre, the 2008 Le 20 that was pretty unique from what else we drank. It, at times, reminded me of pinot noir and was only 12.5% alcohol. It was the only wine we had under 13% the whole trip. We did taste some old Maury from the co-op there and wished we had room for the 750 ml (there were no 375s) as they were really inexpensive. So much wine there, and so much ground to cover....

Trebbiano: Beyond Hamburger Helper

2011-06-28T18:40:00.000-04:00

“A typical tasting note on a varietal Trebbiano is characterized by its brevity: pale lemon, little nose, notably high acid, medium alcohol and body, short. And that, I'm afraid, is it.” That's Jancis Robinson, from Vines, Grapes, and Wine. I often refer to Trebbiano as “The Hamburger Helper of Italian white wine,” since it shows up in some proportion in wines made all over Italy, from Soave in the north to Sicily in the south. I can think of one producer who made “serious” wine from the grape, and that was the late Gianni Masciarelli, whose Marina Cvetić Trebbiano d'Abruzzo can still be obtained, as long as you're willing to shell out $60 for Trebbiano. I'm not.

But I willingly parted with $12.99 to taste a Trebbiano-heavy blend from the distinguished Giuseppe Mazzocolin, winemaker at Fattoria di Fèlsina, who made his name producing some exceptionally fine Chianti Classico. Fèlsina is based in Castelnuovo Berardenga, a lovely village that will forever have a good association for me, since back in the day it was the only lovely village outside of Siena that had an ATM.

Pepestrino 2009 IGT Toscana: This was made from 70% trebbiano toscano, 15% chardonnay, and 15% sauvignon blanc. The grapes are from the Pagliarese vineyard at the northernmost end of the Fèlsina property. On the nose: roses, lavender, grass, hint of melon. On the palate: pear, citrus, tropical fruit, hint of hazelnut, very soft, with an impression of richness. Hint of cinnamon spice on the finish. This provided a very nice change-up from my recent obsessive consumption of Muscadet and similar briny, mineral-driven wines. I admit to being somewhat startled to find this wine reviewed by the Wine Advocate (87 points); I guess the Fèlsina label gives it visibility and respectability. Erin at the Asheville Wine Market gave us the steer on this one.

Gamay As Steak Wine

2011-06-23T18:04:00.000-04:00

Maybe you've heard of “La France Profound.” Its U.S. Equivalent might be “the heartland,” although I think the Australian expression “the back of beyond” is probably closer to the truth of it. It is the land in the center of France defined by the Central Massif. Just about smack in the middle of it is the little town of Marcilly-le-Châtel, where Jacky Logel and Odile Verdier grow gamay grapes and make wine. Their appellation is called Côtes du Forez, and while wine has been made in the region since 980, AOC status was granted only in 2000. Domaine Verdier-Logel is one of a very few independent grower/makers in the region; most of the wines are produced by Les Vignerons Foréziens, the co-op in the village of Trelins. Few of these wines make it into the U.S.; this one is imported by Wine Traditions out of Falls Church, VA.

Domaine Verdier-Logel “Volcanique” (not vintaged; most of the fruit is from 2008): It opens with aromas of black raspberry and a hint of spice; bright red and black berry fruits follow, with a bit of mineral character and quite firm tannins. Imagine Beaujolais as steak wine. The wine was made from organically grown vines on vocanic soil, as the name indicates. According to their website, superstar sommelier Eric Beaumard gave guidance in production. At $14 a bottle (from Table Wine) this is a serious value. As is the case with Beaujolais, this responds well to 20 minutes in the refrigerator.

Petillant, Frizzante, Crackling, Spritzy...

2011-06-21T15:51:00.000-04:00

I've posted before about the glories of vinho verde. Like a lot of you, I go for the petillant, frizzante, crackling, spritzy, low-alcohol white wines when the temperature rises to 80 degrees. And now I've found one so compelling I feel obliged to call attention to it, even though it's already received all kinds of good press. I'm referring to the 2010 aVinYó “Vi D'Agulla” from J. Esteve Nadal, a winemaker in the Penedes known best for his cavas. (For some amusing background on the Nadal family, click here for comments from Jay Murrie at 3Cups.) On the nose, lemon zest, honeysuckle, and oceanic brininess. On the palate, more lemon, a bit of green apple, and even more briny mineral character. It is as though someone took the best characteristics of Txacoli, Vinho Verde, and Gaillac Perlé (might throw in Muscadet, too, since we're on the “briny” thing) and rolled them into a single, irresistable wine.

As if that weren't enough, this is made from 100% organically grown Muscat Blanc à Petits Grains, a grape shunned in certain precincts for fear of sweetness. If this wine doesn't cure the “muscat is always sweet” crowd of their prejudices, I guess nothing will.

At 10.5% alcohol, this is an eminently gluggable thirst-quencher. Although at $15 a bottle, you may want to glug with a bit less abandon.

Rivesaltes Ambré Hors d'Age

2011-06-09T11:59:00.005-04:00

Arnaud de Villeneuve was born in 1238, and was physician to kings and Popes. He was also an alchemist, and he invented the vin doux naturel style of wine in the 13th Century. The process used is called mutage, in which distilled grape spirit is added to the must to stop fermentation. It is similar although not identical to the process used to make port. This particular wine seems a near relation to a fine medium-sweet sherry.

Arnaud de Villeneuve Rivesaltes Ambré Hors d'Age 1982: This bottle was purchased at the Rivesaltes Cooperative in Roussillon, and transported via backpack. Yes, those were the happy days before TSA and the three-ounce rule. To be called "Hors d'Age" the wine must be aged in wood for at least five years; it is expected to acquire some oxidative character. Appropriate to a wine of its age, the color was on the darker side of golden. This opened with notes of walnut, dried fruit, and just a hint of brown spice. The palate follows with more dark dried fruit, a touch of dried honey, and a nice streak of refreshing acidity and some creamy texture. The finish is long and almost juicy. There is a definite family resemblance to a medium-sweet sherry. Made from a blend of 90% Muscat of Alexandria and 10% grenache blanc. As best I can tell, Les Vignobles du Rivesaltais, the producers, do not distribute their products in the U.S. Of course, all is not lost. Find a bottle of Domaine Lafage “Grain De Vignes” Muscat de Rivesaltes, from the talented Jean-Marc Lafage. It won't have the finesse of a nearly 30-year-old bottle, but it does share the seemingly contradictory juicy dried fruit character, with notes of honey, spice, and pleasing lightness of weight. Lafage's wines are distributed in the U.S. by Polaner Selections.

Occhipinti, A to Z

2011-06-01T12:43:00.003-04:00

Occhipinti SP68 Sicilia Bianco 2009: Bob and Sandy brought this to dinner the other night. I confess that my taste for dry muscat was an acquired one—the experience of a wine whose nose promises sweetness, only to be followed by an almost austere dryness was off-putting to me at first, and while I got over it with time, I can easily understand how others might not find it worth the effort. It amuses me to call the SP68 Bianco the “A to Z” wine, because it is made from Albanello and Zibibbo grapes. “Zibibbo” is the local name for Muscat of Alexandria, which in most parts of the world is considered inferior to Muscat Blanc à Petits Grains, but not in Sicily, where the hot climate gives generally excellent results. Both grapes are grown at an altitude of just under 1,000 feet, in soil that is a mix of sand and limestone (not unlike that found around Pouilly Fumé). The juice was left on its skins for 15 days, and the wine spent six months in stainless, was bottled unfiltered, and given another month of aging in the bottle. The initial impression was of floral and herbal notes, plus dried honey. In the mouth, the wine was light, crisp, limpid, with lemony citrus flavor and a nutty note that we were divided over: Some thought almond, some pistachio. If fresh air can be said to have a taste, this wine had it.

Ms. Occhipinti, of course, is a superstar of the biodynamic world, as is her uncle Giusto, who runs the COS winery. This is her first commercial release of a white wine; I look forward to many more vintages.

Texier's Wild Rosė

2011-05-13T15:31:00.002-04:00

Les and Kathy stopped by the other night with some bottles to try. The hit of the evening was a wild new rosė from Éric Texier. There is a vineyard near Charnay, about a half-hour's drive northwest of Lyon, where grapevines are mostly left to their own devices. Following the Fukuoka principles of non-interventionist farming, the vines are pruned, but not trellised or ploughed. As I understand it, the property is cooperatively owned by local farmers and townspeople of Charnay. According to the importer David Bowler (from whom I've cribbed some of this), there are 26 different kinds of vines planted in this vineyard, using massale selection (new vines made from cuttings from the best older vines, as opposed to clonal selection, when all vines come from a single “mother vine”). Given the location, we assume most of the vines are Gamay, some of which no doubt have seriously eccentric origins.

Vignenvie VDT Rosė L'Anecdot'hic 2010: Opens with big aromas of sassafras, sorrel, and red berries, with very fresh-tasting red berry fruit on the palate, and a nice clean finish. Kathy said “It tastes like Thanksgiving,” and that seems as neat a summary as any. I think it is a great introduction to the world of non-interventionist winemaking: It really does have that sauvage character, yet it seems quite user-friendly. I am still pondering an appropriate food match beyond turkey with cranberry sauce. There used to be a Senegalese restaurant in Paris that served lamb stew with okra and palm nuts, and this rosė, at least in my distant memory, might have matched well with its earthy, barky aromas and flavors. (Here's a link to what seems to be the original place's successor—I'm pretty sure this is the same guy, in a new, bigger location.)

No idea what kind of wordplay is involved with the name. Francophones, please respond in comments!

The New Wave: Aged Muscadet

2011-04-25T10:39:00.002-04:00

It is worth remembering that the very idea of a superior, much less profoundly delicious, Muscadet is still quite new. Ten years ago even most advanced wine critics condemned the Nantais to the production of wines “...best drunk as soon as purchased, by the mouthful, without the magnifying glass of scrutiny.” No one had reckoned that people like Guy Brossard and Marc Ollivier would come along and demonstrate that the humble melon de bourgogne grape could produce wines for cellaring on a par with cru Chablis.

Domaine de la Pépière Muscadet Sèvre et Maine Granite de Clisson 2007: This wine has been on its lees for two years, long enough that it exceeds the permissable limits for “sur lie,” so those words do not appear on the label. Someday the INAO is going to have to catch up with all the new developments. While we're waiting, we'll enjoy the aromas of lime, oystershell, and asian pear, and what one of us called the “full-spectrum citrus” (lemon, lime, orange, grapefruit) flavors and beautiful broad, briny character of this effort from Marc Ollivier. (We got this bottle from Josh at Table Wine, price was in the vicinity of $25, which seems like a lot for Muscadet, but only if you're still using the Old Paradigm of gulpable white.)

The appellation Le Cru Clisson is scheduled for review by the INAO in June, covering the granite-rich soils of the village of the same name and the surrounding area. “Granite de Clisson” is an example of a Le Troisième Niveau wine—Muscadet made at “the Third Level” of quality. For more on the ins and outs of Muscadet appellations, read Chris Kissack's excellent review of Nantais wines.

There Are 59 Appellations in Languedoc/Roussillon. "Vin de Pays du Val de Cesse" Is One Of Them.

2011-04-18T21:48:00.004-04:00

Alain Rochard & Laurent Farre own a restaurant in Montreal, The Continental Bistro, and a bar called Plan B Bar. They also own a winery in Minervois called Vignoble du Loup Blanc. All the links are in French; these guys are Quebecois before all else. Rochard trained as a sommelier, and he and Farre decided that what they really needed was their own vineyard; since they were Quebecois, that meant a vineyard in France. They aquired property in the tiny village of Roueyre in the Bize-Minervois district, where the Aude and Herault appellations share a border. The wine under examination tonight is labeled “Vin de Pays du Val de Cesse” which is a sub-appellation of the Aude, and which means the grapes were grown south of the winery near the village of Ginestas. Yeah, I know. There are 59 appellations in the Languedoc/Roussillon AC. Or maybe 61? This is one of them. So:

Les Trois P'tits “C” Vin de pays du Val de Cesse 2007: Made from an unusual blend of 40% Grenache, 35% Carignan, 20% Tempranillo, 5% Alicante Bouschet. The first note out of the glass was charcoal, followed by big, billowy black cherry aromas, and a note of chocolate mint. This is another one of those Southern reds that has a ton of fruit yet still manages to achieve full dryness on the palate. The tannins are fine, and the texture is slightly grainy; dark fruits, brambly notes and just a hint of oak at the end. Nicolas Gaignon is the winemaker; his wine is certified organic; he picks by hand, uses indigenous yeasts, and ages the wine in old neutral barrels. Our bottle accompanied a dinner of ribs done in the oven, rubbed with Penzey's Southwest mixture; broccoli rabe, and rice with black currants. It was one of our first dinners on the front porch of 2011; and for once everything lived up to our unrealistically high expectations. We got the bottle at Vinsite.

White Grenache From Spain

2011-04-11T12:41:00.000-04:00

Back in 2006, English wine writer Julian Jeffs called the Terra Alta district of the Catalunya D.O. “a place to watch.” As is the case with other continental climate regions, Terra Alta is brutally hot in the summer, very cold in the winter, with an average rainfall of just under 20” a year. Most vineyards are planted at elevations of between 1,000 and 1,500 feet. Until recently, this was the back-country, with little in the way of highway access. Things are changing, and one example of how they've changed is Celler Xavier Clua, now in its fourth generation of family ownership. Xavier Clua got his degree in oenology in 1994, got some experience working in Bordeaux, and returned to Terra Alta a year later to announce that he would get the winery out of the bulk wine business and concentrate on producing bottled wines of good quality. To the great good fortune of all concerned, he also married a local girl, Rosa Domènech, herself an oenologist, and also from a vineyard-owning family.

All this by way of introducing a wine that arrived on my doorstep last week, courtesy of Chad Turnbull, head of Brooklyn-based Savorian Wines. Called “Bogatell,” after the beach (and subway stop!) of the same name in Barcelona, this is a 100% garnacha blanca, made from 100-year-old vines and produced by Cellers Xavier Clua. The wine isn't labeled organic, but Clua makes it clear that he is following “natural” precepts: “I don’t like to interfere with nature,” he says. “I just grow ripe fruit, and get out of the way.”

I brought the bottle to Vinsite, to get another palate involved, and the notes reflect both Les's and my own reactions.

Bogatell Garnacha Blanca, D.O. Terra Alta 2010: On the nose, spring pea, herbs, a hint of citrus zest; a bit angular at first. With time, the citrus zest takes center stage, some tropical fruit notes emerge, and the texture becomes fuller and smoother. The wine finishes with the barest snap of acidity and refreshing mineral character. This was very clearly a Spanish take on the grape; we found little family resemblance to grenache blanc, a common component of whites of the southern Rhone. Bogatell is promoted as something to accompany light summer fare; we're inclined to agree. No idea what the pricing on this stuff will be; from talking with Chad Turnbull, it sounds like he's still in the early stages of finding wider distribution for the wine.

Vinsite is open

2011-04-06T10:29:00.001-04:00

Doors opened last Friday. I would have pix but the notoriously camera-shy Les is not interested in having his mug broadcast on the Intertubes. The website is coming along, coming along...

Asheville wine notes (update!)

2011-03-23T12:31:00.002-04:00

I finally got down to Table Wine on Saturday, for a long overdue visit with Josh Spurling. His store is done up in quiet colors and nice natural-wood library shelves; upscale without making a big deal out of it. He's got some nice stuff on the shelves, including a number of Louis/Dressner selections, and a healthy offering of Bordeaux, which I will have to go back and examine more closely. Josh is the same guy I knew back in the Asheville Wine Market days: Warm, enthusiastic, and very, very knowledgeable. Showing great restraint, I left with only five bottles, including a Jose Michel 2002 Special Club that just had to go home with me. I'd seen the "Special Club" designation before, but didn't really know what it meant, so Josh explained that in a very good vintage, recoltant-manipulant (grower/maker) producers will band together and create a cuvée from their very best wines. Read more about it here.

Later on, I stopped in at the old stomping grounds to find that Eb is installing a pair of automatic wine dispensers in the back of the store. You buy a card, stick it in the machine, and it gives you a sample pour. One machine for red, one for white, and one slot dedicated to "expensive." I think they're supposed to be operational as of today. And, after 18 years, he's done the wild thing and bought shopping carts. They are small and very easy to steer, and they are obviously an encouragement to stock up. (Which I did, of course.)

Finally, it's not quite here yet, but Vinsite is coming soon: Les Doss and Kathy Taylor's excellent adventure in wine retailing. Followers of this blog will recall the "Hangin' At The Usual Suspects" series from a couple years ago. I can't say for sure, but I'm betting that all those crazy, exciting wines that Les tried out on us then will be available at the new place, plus lots, lots more. What there won't be, as I understand it, are the clichés of wine retailing: You will not be able to duck in for a cheap bottle of pinot grigio. You will be able to go seriously adventuring in the world of wine. I'll take that tradeoff any day.

Update (3/25/11): Vinsite will have not one but two pinot grigios on the shelf. So there. According to a Vinsite representative who would not speak for attribution because of the confidential nature of the information, there is a very good chance that the store will open its doors for business sometime during the week of March 28.

Coteaux du Tricastin: Does It Glow?

2011-03-19T10:02:00.001-04:00

No one will ever believe this post is coincidental to the news from Fukushima, but here goes anyway:

One of the great bargains of the last 12 months has been the 2007 Domaine des Rozets Coteaux du Tricastin, a nifty little Rhone blend (65% Grenache, 30% Syrah and 5% Cinsault) that went for $9.99. Dominique Bernard is the winemaker; her property is in Donzere, a village about 20 miles north of Chateauneuf du Pape. She vinifies using stainless steel only.

The appellation is situated on eastern bank of the Rhône, between Montélimar and Saint Paul Trois Châteaux. It's the northernmost part of the southern Rhone. In general, the vineyards are at slightly higher elevations than elsewhere in the Rhone, resulting in wines of somewhat lighter character. Although not well-known in the U.S., it's big, with 6,500 acres planted. Only 9% is exported, mostly to Belgium. In France, most of the wine is sold through supermarkets. The U.S. importer is Seattle-based Chloè.

The connection to current events is that beginning with the 2010 vintage, Coteaux du Tricastin will be offered under a new appellation name, Grignan-Les Adhemar. The reason for the switch: an accident at the Tricastin nuclear power plant. In July 2008, 4,755 gallons of Uranium solution containing natural uranium were accidentally released. You can read the details at wikipedia. Needless to say, this did not help sales. I have not seen any bottles from the 2008 or later vintages, but my understanding is they do not glow in the dark. The '09s, like '09s from elsewhere in the Rhone, are highly regarded. Here's a Jancis Robinson review, complete with nuke plant photo.

On the nose, lots of red and black berry character, with notes of brown spice, licorice, and vanilla. On the palate, pleasantly rich cherry/berry fruit and a little herbal character. These are meant to be drunk young: I bought a case of the '07 last September, and while the wine is still lively upon opening, a half-bottle with the cork re-inserted was already flattening out after 24 hours. I don't use Vacu-Vin or gas; either might be a good idea.

Radish and Kiwifruit From The Loire

2011-02-14T12:23:00.000-05:00

Philippe Foreau has 30 acres of (I'm told) beautifully groomed chenin blanc vines in Vouvray. The soil, a mix of flint and clay known as "perruches" (it means "parakeets" in French…) produces wines known for their mineral character and, in the case of Foreau, for their ability to age seemingly for ever and ever. Chris Kissack has a great profile of Foreau, along with the story of his various travails in trying to get an audience with the winemaker. Worth the click, really.

We opened a 1996 demi-sec for some friends (globe-trotting Sandy was just back from Poland, and we decided she needed sustenance). The wine showed notes of green herbs and flowers, honey, radish, peach, and flint. Yes, the radish thing sounds strange, but I've picked up the same note in Huet's wines, in context it provides an appealing bite in the midst of all that lucious honeyed fruit.

Domaine de la Pépière Cuvée La Pépiè Cot (VdP du Jardin de la France) NV: Hey, look, it's malbec from Nantes! Marc Ollivier, famous for his beautiful, ageable Muscadet (read about his white wines at Joe Dressner's site) makes this wine from young vines (less than 10 years old). The color is translucent, like many other Loire reds. The nose offers notes of fresh red berry and mint, and the palate follows with bing cherry, earthy minerals, and a refreshing note of kiwifruit (strawberry/watermelon), all with a light, glossy mouthfeel. It reminded me just a bit of the Georges Vigouroux Pigmentum Malbec Rosé, which I recall being somewhat scandalous in 2004 (I'm pretty sure Vigouroux was the first Cahors producer to use the word "Malbec" on his label, and this was the first of those wines). The goofy label illustration is by Eric Tirilly. Bertrand Celce has a lovely photo essay on Ollivier and his vineyards.

Non-wine-related news: Check out my new band. (They'll get a photo of me up eventually).

"Alpine" Wine Dinner

2011-01-14T22:00:00.005-05:00

January in Asheville. It's cold. Last night, the low was 14 degrees, and the snow that fell last Sunday and Monday was still around (it's still around as this is written). If you were looking for a theme for a wine dinner, you might consider the Southern Hemisphere (hey, it's in the 90s in Mendoza right now!), or you could do what Jacob Sessoms (chef-owner of Table) and Mike Tiano (co-owner of Haw River Wine Man) did, and swing with the snowy concept.

Hence, a Thursday night "Alpine" themed dinner at Table.

We began with a Prosecco-based cocktail enlivened and emboldened with a little St. Germain elderflower liqueuer and calvados. ("You can see the Alps from Valdobbiadene," said Mike.) A platter of crostini was passed around, each toasty little guy topped with either lardo, sea trout rillettes, or quince butter. I'm a sucker for lardo, which is sorta like speck, except there's even more fat.

Everybody chit-chatted for a while (so easy to do when you have a sparkling cocktail in one hand and a piece of toast covered with artery-clogging pork product in the other), then sat down for some canederli di speck soup (Dumplings with speck! This is living!). Mike explains that this dish is ubiquitous in the Alto Adige. I make a mental note to hie myself to Bolzano at the next opportunity. With the soup comes a glass of Colterenzio's "Thurner" Pinot Bianco 2009, which has a straightforward nose of green apple, and pleasant ripe apple and pear flavors.

Next: A warm, folkloric dish of brussles sprouts, pumpkin, and cheesy croutons, accompanied by an astonishingly good Sylvaner from the eccentric (and exceptionally talented) Charles Schleret. This was a 2006, in the bottle long enough to develop a slightly oxidative character and a beautiful deep gold color. Schleret has 17 acres in Turckheim, right in the heart of Alsace's Grand Cru country. The wine has powerful mineral and floral aromatics--I mistook it at first for Riesling. It's not at all what you'd expect from Sylvaner, which has a reputation as a vinous also-ran. Mike says Schleret (who has been decribed as having an "avant-gardist" temperament) is in his 80s now, and has no heirs, but clearly doesn't want to let go of his superbly situated vineyards. "He's got the property on the market for about three times what it's worth," says Mike. I can't say I blame the old guy. His wine is fantastic.

Next: I guess they must have crayfish in the French Alps, because that's where Nantua is, and the next dish was "Poularde aux Sauce Nantua," chicken in crayfish sauce. It, too, was homey and comforting. (This is part of the art of wine and food pairing: Jacob knows to offer dishes that are really good but don't shout "Hey look at me"--just as Mike wants the wines to show well with the food, so does Jacob want the food to show off the wines.) The wine in this instance is a 2007 pinot noir from Arbois, an appellation within the Jura, produced by the estimable Jacques Puffeney (Andrew Jefford calls him "...a secret scholar, a quiet theorist, a practical researcher"). This wine, with its forceful red cherry-driven aromas and flavors, and deep color, reminds you that Arbois and The Jura (as in "Jurassic," yes, indeed) are only 50 miles from Beaune. The color alone is a shocker; I've drunk many an Arbois (mostly made from Poulsard) that was pale and wan by comparison, in all respects.

Dessert: "Savoie gateau grenoblois," is walnut cake with caramel icing and ice cream. Huh. I wonder how many Grenoble ski resorts serve pink peppercorn ice cream. I ended up eating the caramel with my fingers, as it repelled all advances from a spoon. I didn't care. It was real, buttery, burnt-sugary caramel. The wine was a yeasty little rosé sparkler, Patrick Bottex Bugey-Cerdon "la cueille," which made me think of that crazy Camillo Donati Malvasia dell' Emilia Frizzante, endearingly known to us now as "beer wine." The Bugey is lighter on its feet, with pretty red berry aromas and flavors, which are attributable to the large proportion of Gamay in the blend (80%, with 20% Poulsard)

After dinner, I got to chat for a moment with Jessica Gualano, who runs The Wine Studio over on Charlotte Street; she's the only wine seller in town who actively courts women as customers (they buy 60% of all the wine sold in the U.S., according to the Wine Market Council). All the wines tasted are available from Jessica's shop.

Mike Tiano and Jacob Sessoms, The Alpine Allies:

Domaine Des Soulié

2011-01-06T14:52:00.005-05:00

It's three days after my last day at work, so what do I do? I drive out to Chapel Hill and visit 3Cups, that's what. And find the 2009 Domaine Des Soulié Cuvée Rémy there on the shelf for $8.99. This has to be one of the all-time great wine values. It is aromatic and fruity, in the appropriate Southern way, with enough acidity to provide a bit of firmness. It is absolutely delightful to drink. It is also a somewhat unusual blend: 80% cinsault, 20% syrah, which explains its rather obscure appellation: Even though the Domaine is within the geographic bounds of Saint Chinian, the preponderance of cinsault excludes it from AOC status, which requires that grenache, syrah, and mourvèdre must combine to total at least 60% of the blend. Thus, the label reads "Vin de pays des Monts de la Grage." If this seems confusing and a little nutty to you, you're not alone.

For your amusement, here's a short video of the winemaker (a little bit in English: he's with a group of Norwegians who are on a trip organized by Spaniards.) He seems like a happy guy.

Fondreche Fayard '08

2010-12-27T19:26:00.000-05:00

Le Domaine de Fondreche Côtes du Ventoux 2008: I've really got to tear myself away from the Southern Rhone. Soon. But not right now. Grenache, syrah, carignan, mourvedre, lots of pretty herbal notes, a bit of meatiness, then deep, sweet, red and black berries, and a mineral-reinforced finish. If you've been following along in the hymnal, you already know about Vincenti and Barthelemy and their 100 organically farmed acres. The big critical guns (Parker, Robinson) have already given them raves. Anyway, it's $17 and beats the crap out of a lot of village-level Rhone wines. I've been drinking the '08; I think it is not far-fetched to believe the '09 will be even yummier. As delicious as this is now, I think it will take a few years of bottle age, lose some of its baby-fat, and become "serious," or something.

This Too Shall Pass...

2010-12-26T14:31:00.000-05:00

I've worked at the Asheville Wine Market (full time, then part time, then full time again) since 2005, so when I take off the blue apron for the last time this coming week, it'll have been more than five years, which is pretty long for me. Since my last abortive attempt at higher education in the early '80s, I can remember holding 10 different jobs (I may have left out one or two…).

No job is perfect, but this one has been close. I wasn't exactly a novice when I walked in the door, but even so my knowledge of wine and the business of selling wine increased exponentially thanks to Eb, Larry, and the host of wine industry folks who have walked through the door at 65 Biltmore Avenue over the past half-decade.

…Not to mention all the customers who have shared knowledge and stories and generally been enthusiastic about wine. You all know who you are!

I won't be working at the Wine Market anymore, but it's not like I'm leaving town. I'll be around. And you can still pick my brain by leaving a comment on this thread, or e-mailing me: winemule@hotmail.com.

There will still be reviews and various forms of navel-gazing here on the Winemule blog; they may even become more frequent.

Oh, yeah: I've been working on some musical projects. You can get on the mailing list for upcoming gigs, recordings, who-knows-what at bassmule@gmail.com.

Thanksgiving Wines

2010-11-21T15:27:00.003-05:00

Let me be clear: I think you should drink whatever the hell you want with Thanksgiving Dinner. Or any other dinner, for that matter. We are not having turkey at our house this year; we're have capon, because that's what the chef wants to make, and the stove is her domain. So this is already kind of a pointless exercise, but a couple people asked, so here are my recommendations:

Georges DuBoeuf Beaujolais Nouveau 2010: Hey, why not? This is harvest wine, and this is a celebration of the harvest, right? This is merely an excellent vintage, not spectacular like 2009, and anyway we're talking about something that was bottled maybe a month ago. Big strawberry/raspberry flavors, simple and direct. Even your Great Aunt Madeleine who only takes a bottle of cream sherry now and then for her health will drink it and ask for another glass. It's $8.99! If you really feel like you've got to lay out for something classier, get the Chermette Vielles Vignes 2010. It's so good it doesn't even taste like Nouveau, and it's $14.99. (My inner child is still amused by the idea of new wine from old vines.)

Château de Raousset Chiroubles 2006: It's light, it's graceful, it has notes of cranberry and pomegranate, it will satisfy the wine snobs at the table, and it's under $20.

Meyer-Fonné “Edelzwicker" 2009: It's got Pinot Blanc in it plus whatever else was to hand at harvest time--Riesling, Sylvaner, Pinot Gris, whatever. I think there might be a bit of Gewurztraminer in this year's bottling, but I'm just guessing. It's got more richness and ripeness than you'd expect for $12.99, and a nice clean finish, and it's fun to say.

There will probably be Champagne, too, because Champagne is always appropriate for celebration. I am happy to shell out $40 for some Jose Michel Brut Tradition. As luxuries go, it's not such a bad deal. Ordinarily, I would at this point say something vile about $40 meaning less than it once did because the Government is rolling the printing presses, etc. And something really mean about Sarah Palin. But nobody wants to hear that, so I refrain, I refrain.

I will probably not be splurging on a bottle of Meo Camuzet Fixin 2007, which is too bad, really, I'll bet it is fantastic stuff. It appears in the market thanks to the efforts of Jeanne Marie De Champs, who is possibly the coolest person I've ever met in the Burgundy business. Read her blog here.

Again, drink what you like at Thanksgiving, and at all other times, too.

Almost Vin Jaune

2010-10-31T18:03:00.000-04:00

Domaine de l'Aigle A Deux Têtes Cotes du Jura Vieilles Vignes Chardonnay 2007: Henry Le Roy has a small property in Vincelles, a little town somewhere between Chalon-sur-Saône (to the northwest) and Geneva (to the southeast), where he grows Chardonnay. This one is labeled "En Quatre Vis" which may mean "in four faces" or may not. The translator-in-chief is not on hand today, so I don't really know. I do know that this is Chardonnay unlike any other I've tasted, as it was made in the typé style of the region, meaning the wine has been subject to a certain amount of oxidation. If you're unfamiliar with the mechanics, you can read about that here.

This wine is not vin jaune, in that it is not made from the Savagnin grape. But the process was the same (although obviously a lot shorter than that for vin jaune, which may age 10 years in the barrel before bottling), and the result is a wine that offers a vigorous nose of green apple, lime, minerals, and sherry-like nuttiness. On the palate, the general impression is of bright green citrus, minerals, walnuts, and a hint of caramel. If you're not ready to plunk down $60 for a Château-Chalon, this might serve as a more economical introduction to the genre. I should probably point out that the Château-Chalon wines are famously long-lived; I doubt whether Le Roy expects this '07 Chardonnay to be aged 10 years before opening.

Lava Falanghina Beneventano IGT

2010-10-19T16:08:00.004-04:00

Campania may be in southern Italy, but its best vineyards are at high altitudes, since the Apennines run right through it. The wine reviewed here is from the province of Benevento (IGT Beneventano); which is also home to some DOC-level areas, including Taburno and Solopaca. Just saying that it should not come as a surprise to find world-class white wines here. (No disrespect to Mastroberardino, which was an outpost of quality for decades when wine from Campania was mostly mediocre.) Anyway:

Lava Beneventano Falanghina 2009: This opens with startlingly big notes of peach, pear skin, melon, and flowers. There was also some kind of red berry note going on. On the palate, yellow fruit and a rich texture, partly the result of the wine being unfiltered, and possibly the result of lees-stirring. The wine was made by young winemaker Marco Flacco under the Lava name by Terre del Vulcano da Vesevo, which is owned by Valentino Sciotti and Camillo De Iuliis, who in turn own Farnese, which is one honking big operation based in the Abruzzo. Flacco also spends part of his time there, where he presumably absorbs wisdom from head winemaker Filippo Baccalaro and consultant Mario Ercolino.

Tajinaste

2010-10-10T11:01:00.002-04:00

Tajinaste Tinto Tradicional 2008: This is from the Valle de la Orotava appellation on the north coast of Tenerife in the Canary Islands. The wine is made from the Listán Negro (I've also seen it spelled "Negra") which is the black version of the Palomino grape, which produces great sherry under that name, and boring wine everywhere else under the name Listán. It's dark brother is another matter entirely; you may not like it, but it sure isn't boring.

Some of the grapes were grown in the traditional braided manner, and some on the Cordon de Royat-style espalier. Frementation was via carbonic maceration. Twenty percent of the wine was aged oak.

This opens with notes of toasted cinammon stick, fresh plum, cherry, black pepper, juniper, and an exotic woodsy/earthy character that is beyond my descriptive capabilities. On the palate, there is an almost-jammy plum and strawberry character; some of this fruitiness recedes after about 20 minutes in the glass. The finish is fruity and earthy, with a hint of gamey, animal quality. Whatever reservations I may have had about it were blown away after having a glass while eating some ground lamb that had been charred on the grill and garnished with the last of the fresh tomatoes and a big dollop of home-made hummus, served on a home-made hot dog bun. It was perfect.

This was purchased at 3 Cups in Chapel Hill, from the stalwart Jay Murrie. Long may he wave.

(Blurry photo taken with my brand new ITouch. I have resisted allowing 21st Century technology into my life, mainly because I have found the 21st Century to be spectacularly ugly on the content side, if you know what I mean.)

Three Spanish Bargains

2010-10-07T08:53:00.000-04:00

Celler de Capçanes Mas Donís Barrica 2007: It's true what they say, this is a very good wine at a very good price. Notes of rhubarb, strawberry, graphite, and a little oak spice on the nose, then bright red berry fruit on the palate. Angel Teixido, Jurgen Wagner, and Francesc Perello are the three young winemakers who produce this and a bunch of other wines (including the marvelous Peraj Ha'Abib, aka the world's greatest kosher wine).
Read more about Capçanes here.

Bodegas Borsao Monte Oton Garnacha 2009: "Bodegas Borsao" is an amalgamation of three big cooperatives, in operation since 1958. They control about 3,400 acres in the Campo de Borja, most of which is planted to garnacha. Oceans of this garnacha are bottled under the "Viña Borgia" name; the Monte Oton is sort of the business-class version: Bigger, richer, more refined, with aromas and flavors of black fruit, anise, and vanilla. Now that I think about it, there's a real luxury-class version of this wine, too--the "Tres Picos," which is a joven (not barrel-aged) but sure doesn't act that way. Like its cousin from Calatayud, the fabulous Atteca, it is an unapologetic fruit bomb, its bomb-ness ameliorated by lots of mocha and anise and earthy character.

Bodegas Juan Gil Honoro Vera Merlot Jumilla 2009: I confess, when the bottle was put in front of me, I was extremely skeptical. Merlot from Jumilla? Well, Juan Gil and Paco González at Bodegas Juan Gil (and their importer, the ever-resourceful Jorge Ordoñez) are full of surprises, and this merlot is one of them, offering very soft but not jammy red berry fruit with just a hint of cocoa.

Domaine Huet: Managing Expectations

2010-08-29T17:14:00.000-04:00

Domaine Huet Vouvray Pétillant 2005: Opened directly from the fridge, which was a mistake. The wine shows little when it is very cold. After about 15 minutes, a mild nose of honeysuckle, peach, and apricot, with a hint of mineral character. On the palate, ripe, juicy peach and apricot, big flavors yet elegant, with fruit well-balanced against acidity. I kept waiting for some big mineral character to emerge (this is a feature of many rave reviews), but it didn't really happen for us. This may have had something to do with context: Last night we drank some of that '08 Lucien Crochet Sancerre, which has enough mineral character to open a quarry.

This is without doubt the best sparkling Vouvray that I've ever tasted, and at under $30 a bottle, it represents pretty good value. Yet I confess to being somewhat underwhelmed by the experience of drinking it, because I'd already read so many rave reviews of Domaine Huet. Somehow I expected The Earth To Move. Unrealistic, of course, but there you go. Those doggone expectations, they get in the way sometimes.

Superior photography of Domaine Huet by Bertrand Celce at Wine Terroirs, from 2004.

Dry Spätlese, A Purple Dwarf, And Recalling An Adventure In Maury

2010-08-24T12:10:00.003-04:00

Karl and Elaine, my friends, former colleages, and tasting buddies from the good old days at The Usual Suspects, came to dinner Saturday night. The Chef was in a mood to impress, so there was, as we say in our house, Cuisine. First were home-made noodles made with white anchovies, "sweated" sweet white onion, walnuts, and pecorino. This was followed by a grilled pork loin with grilled peaches. Dessert was a panna cotta made extra-light by the addition of egg whites, then finished with a drizzle of pomegranate molasses. This is one of the many advantages of being married to someone who trained at Cordon-Bleu. It's a tough life, I know.

Trying to pair a wine with the first course drove me a little crazy, although after the fact I probably would have gone with a big Gruner, the Tegernseerhof Bergdistel, or similar. But at that moment, there was nothing appropriate in the cellar. What I did find, however, turned out to be all right with the pasta, and completely appropriate with the main dish.

Dr Bürklin-Wolf Ruppertsberger Gaisböhl Riesling Spätlese Trocken 1999: This was a gift; I'd forgotten I had it. A muted golden color in the glass. The first aroma--no surprise--was of diesel and slate, followed by a kind of high note of mint, and then the beginnings of intense ripe yellow fruit. After a few minutes, what I can only call a profound aroma of peach, as though I was somehow inside the fruit, began to assert itself. In the mouth, the initial burst of acidity is shocking. Then more peach and apricot, and citrus, and minerals, all in a richly textured form. At the end, a long finish, just off-dry, driven in part by fruit and in part by acidity. I don't have as much experience with Riesling as I'd like, and most of it has been with wines from the Mosel or from the Donauland in Austria. As a rule of thumb, I approach such wines expecting elegance and nuance. This wine from the Pfalz is a powerhouse! (Ruppertsberg is a village just a bit east of the huge Palatinate Forest in southwestern Germany) On the heels of a wine like this, it is hard to resist the notion put forward by certain individuals I know that Riesling is the planet's most expressive white grape.

After the main course, the first bottle was gone, and as conversation was moving along, it only seemed natural to open something else, especially a bottle with a little story attached.

Domaine de la Pertuisane "Le Nain Violet" 2004: When it first appeared, this was a second label for the Domaine, created by two English winemakers, Mark Hoddy and Richard Case. Recent vintages of the wine are 100% Grenache; the 2004 was a blend of 60% Grenache, 25% Carignan, and 15% Syrah. The nose on this is full to bursting with roasted herbs, licorice, and cooked strawberry and raspberry. In the mouth, the fruit is dark, rich, and full, yet saved from fruit-bombdom by fresh-tasting acidity. The finish is long and filled with fruit and Asian spice.

Ever since I visited Maury in 2006, I have been a fan of this wine and wines made in this style. Jancis Robinson has done a better job than I ever could explaining the appeal of these wines. I brought this particular bottle home in my backpack (yea, those were the days before the idiotic three-ounce rule). Before visiting, I had conversed via e-mail with Richard Case, hoping to arrange a visit to the Domaine. His first response: "As long as you realize that the Domaine is in our garage…" In the event, we were unable to meet, but he told me there was a cooperative in Maury where the wines could be purchased. In fact, there were two shops, across the street from each other, and we went into the wrong one first. Politely directed to the correct one, I went up to the door and found it…locked. I looked in the window and could see bottles of Le Nain Violet on the shelf. I also could see all the way to the back of the shop, where the back door stood open. I was around the block, psyching myself up for climbing a fence and getting past the dog to get in there and get me some of that wine, damn it, when a Peugeot station wagon, driven by the owner, pulled up behind me. I think she was asking me what I was doing, but my French is not so good, especially when I've ben preparing for breaking-and-entering, but I did manage to wave my arms at her and say "Un moment, sil vous plait!" and run back to the main street looking for my French-speaking friends to explain all. And that's how this particular bottle came into my possession.

The Other Basque Country

2010-08-18T08:44:00.005-04:00

Eric Asimov recently wrote about Txakolina, the wines from Getaria in Spain's Basque country. The region also extends into France. The appellation of Irouléguy occupies about 500 acres in the Pyrenees, 20 miles to the south of Biarritz.

A brief history, cribbed from Paul Strang: The region has been producing wine since the Middle Ages, although production very nearly ended when phylloxera arrived in 1912. A few vignerons kept the faith, and AOC status was granted in 1970. That was the year the Brana family moved to St. Jean Pied-du-Port, where Etienne Brana decided to go into the distilling business (the family produces top-quality eaux-de-vie to this day). His son, Jean, was friends with Jean-Claude Berrouet (Chateau Petrus), one thing led to another, and the first Domaine Brana wines appeared in 1989.

One of the Brana family's best wines is also one of the least expensive.

Domaine Brana Irouléguy "Ohitza" 2007: This is a blend of 50% Tannat, 30% Cabernet Franc, and 20% Cabernet Sauvignon (Thanks to David McDuff for correcting the proportions). It opens with a nose of black currant, plum, sweet red pepper, and a hint of roast meat. The palate follows with more black and purple fruit, a hint of black licorice, and mouthwatering acidity. Tannat is famously tannic, but here the tannins seem fully ripe; they barely make themselves known until well into the finish. I also pick up a bit of mineral character.

Wines from Irouléguy are commonly characterizes as "rustic," but I don't get that at all--there is a polished, almost Bordeaux-like quality here.

Here's a link to the Brana website (French only).

Chateau Malartic-Lagravière Blanc (Pessac-Léognan) 2001

2010-08-12T09:19:00.002-04:00

Some people (customers) think I am a wine connoisseur. I am not. I'm a guy who sells wines and is reasonably knowledgeable about the products. This by way of saying in the usual course of things, I don't get to taste many bottles that have seen a substantial amount of age. But once in a while it happens.

We were at The Usual Suspects on Monday night, coming to terms with the news that Les and Kathy are selling the place, and the Esoteric Wine train will be pulling out of the station for the last time very soon. So when Les asked whether we wanted to drink an amazing bottle of wine, we were not about to say no.

Chateau Malartic-Lagravière Blanc (Pessac-Léognan) 2001: It begins with aromas of cantaloupe and fresh-cut pineapple. Later on, notes of lime and honeysuckle appear. In the mouth, the texture is almost creamy, but there is plenty of citrus to keep things lively. Toward the end, soft vanilla notes emerge. This particular bottle may be one of the best arguments ever made in favor of oak aging. The effects of the barrel never intrude--they're like a choir humming softly behind the main vocalists. (Sorry, I'm getting carried away--it really was a very good bottle.)

Chris Kissack has an excellent backgrounder on Malartic-Lagravière.

I'll have more at a later date on the phenomenon that was The Usual Suspects. (The place is not closing, it's just changing hands. But the most extraordinary wine list in all the Carolinas is going away.)

Vinho Verde, with a short rant on distribution

2010-08-08T14:02:00.001-04:00

I'm going to guess that anyone looking at this page knows Casal-Garcia, because it's the Budweiser of Vinho Verde (I mean that in the sense that it is ubiquitous in the market, not in terms of quality). I am partial to its producer, Sociedade Agrícola e Comercial da Quinta da Aveleda, SA, if only because they rank Simplicity as one of their core values (just behind Devotion--not sure what that denotes, but I'm good with it). Most of the time, I don't think about Vinho Verde at all. But lately, what with the temperatures in my part of the world hovering around 90º F, it's become something of a necessity: A light, refreshing white that doesn't clobber your poor heat-addled head with alcohol. Anyway, as enjoyable as Casal-Garcia is, there actually are other wines in the style worth seeking out. Thus:

Conde Villar Vinho Verde 2009: It's light, it's slightly crackling, in has some pear and citrus aromas and flavors, and a pleasing snap of acidity on the finish. It's made from a blend of 40% Loureiro, 30% Trajadura, and 30% Arinto. The high proportion of Loureiro is a signal of quality: This is the preferred grape for vinho verde, favored for its aromatics, and somewhat difficult to grow. It's produced by Quintas Das Arcas.

Encostas do Lima Vinho Verde 2009: Lima is one of the six official sub-appellations of Vinho Verde. I found this to be the most interesting of the Vinho Verde wines I've tasted over the summer. The lime aroma and flavor has a real presence, along with notes of more generic citrus character and a bit of white peach. This also has a pronounced mineral character, reminiscent of a good Muscadet. It's sorta like drinking a gin and tonic, except you can drink more of it because the alcohol content is around 10%. Encostas do Lima is imported by Fran Kysela.

Finally, a note about Broadbent Vinho Verde: Made from 50% Loureiro, this is very good quality wine, although it did not cause me to gush as effusively as Mr. Mackay. It is worth noting that Broadbent claims to be the only producer to ship the wine overseas refrigerated. Unlike some other producer/importers, Broadbent's wines are properly handled by our local distributor.

You would think that every self-respecting producer/importer would do its utmost to be sure its products are delivered to the consumer in the best possible shape, and would be very selective about the distributors who handle their products, but you would be wrong. It's kind of like Alan Greenspan being unable to imagine that corporations would ever be dishonest, because it would be bad for business. Hard though it may be to believe, there are wine distributors who don't handle their products properly, and who lie about it to their customers. (Well, they don't lie about everything: It's hard to claim you use air-conditioned delivery trucks when your customer is right there, unloading bottles that are still warm to the touch.) Barring some kind of horribly intrusive Big Gubmint Regulation, this is a problem that resists easy fixing: If a customer wants Wine A, and that wine is only available from Distributor X, there ain't much to be done about it, except push the reps to push the warehouse to get deliveries to the store as early in the day as possible, etc.

Basque Rosé (with update)

2010-08-06T09:01:00.007-04:00

Ameztoi Rubentis Txakolina 2009: Pale pink, the color of a really cheap costume-jewel. Fizzy. Nose of Strawberry Jolly Rancher, with just a hint of sweet herb and maybe white peach. Slightly tart red cherry and lemony citrus on the palate, a bit of a surprise, with good mineral character. Made from 50% Hondarribi Beltza (indigenous red grape) and 50% Hondarribi Zuri, (indigenous white grape); I can't locate information on either one. (If you can, please post!) Pleasant and refreshing, but grossly overpriced at $17.99. For more on the wine and the winemaker. visit the Domaine Selections website.

Update: Eric Asimov has an informative post on his recent visit to Basque wine country.

A Couple Northern Sparklers

2010-06-21T09:09:00.001-04:00

Domaine Moltés Antoine et Fils Cremant d'Alsace Brut NV: Roland Moltés owns three plots in the village of Pfaffenheim, including a parcel in "The Steinert," one of the most highly regarded (and steepest!) vineyards of Alsace. He blends Pinot Blanc, Riesling, and Pinot Noir, resulting in a wine that opens with notes of ripe apple, ripe pear, and a hint of toast, and is dry and almost nutty on the palate. Some lemony notes and and attractive mineral character appear on the finish. You're not likely to confuse this with Champagne, the way you can with, say, Clavelin's Cremant du Jura; even so, this is a very good quality sparkler, with fine bubbles and a long-lasting mousse.

Interesting factoid from the Moltés website: "…[T]he estate carries out the visual selection of the most robust vine plants by multiplying the selected plants in the old vines. This method should be distinguished from clonal selection, which involves reproducing the best plants and which can reduce the diversity of the gene pool over the long term."

Champagne Grognet Blanc De Blancs NV: Cécile Grognet is a grower-maker of Champagne from the village of Etoges, in the Marne Valley, where she has a tiny (8-acre) property. She makes Champagne from Pinot Noir and Pinot Meunier and Chardonnay, but it is her blanc de blancs (100% Chardonnay) that has given her recognition among Champagne aficionados. With so many producers aiming for a big, powerful style of blanc de blancs, it is startling to come across one of such delicacy and subtlety. The nose gives a hint of graham cracker and green apple; the palate is subdued yet refreshing, with notes of lemon, green apple, and a bit of lime at the very finish. I am the first to admit being easily dazzled by a Grand Cru powerhouse like Roland Champion, but there is also great pleasure to be had in a wine that asks you to acknowledge its subtle qualities.

A Couple Southerners

2010-06-17T12:40:00.001-04:00

Mas de Guiot Vin de Pays du Gard 2009: The wine begins with aromas of cherries, strawberries, anise, and a hint of cocoa powder. The palate follows with rich, liqueuer-like red fruit flavors and a mild, pleasant note of sweet tobacco. At the finish, notes of Indian spice emerge. For $12 this offers a lot of complexity and exotic character. Sylvia and François Cornut produce this charmer from vineyards near St. Gilles in Costières de Nîmes. The wine is labeled "Vin de Pays du Gard" because the Cornuts insist on putting the grape names on the label (in this instance, 60% Syrah, 40% Grenache.) They also grow Cabernet, and blend it with Syrah to good effect; the Alex cuvee is worth seeking out.

Château Saint Roch Chimères Côtes du Roussillon 2007: This has already received a rave from The Wine Advocate, which you can read here. I have little to add, except to point out that this is yet another very good production from Jean-Marc Lafage, who first came to my attention as the winemaker behind Eric Solomon's famous Las Rocas Garnacha, and now seems to be everywhere in Catalonia, making wine under his own name and the "Cote Est/Cote Sud" and "Novellum" names. And he is still active with Solomon, producing Evodia, which is sort of a successor to the "Las Rocas" project. He has become a force to be reckoned with in Roussillon, not yet on a par with Gerard Gauby, but just wait…anyway, it's always amusing to point out that Lafage's resume includes a stint with Ernest & Julio.

Oooooh, I'm Wicked And I'm Lazy

2010-06-01T17:00:00.001-04:00

Ooooooh, don't you want to save me?

Of Tea-Baggers and Basilicata

2010-05-30T10:11:00.000-04:00

I was re-reading Nicolas Belfrage's Brunello To Zibibbo the other day and ran across this passage, which struck me for reasons which will be obvious. He is talking about his experience in southern Italy, but you can substitute "tea-bagger" and get the same result, I think:

"I am bound to say that, in the course of considerable dealing with southern Italians, I have more than once come upon delay, denial and evasion, tortuous thinking and dealing, even when such behaviour seems patently to run against the subject's own interests. A southerner is likely to have an idea about this or that wedged firmly in his head, and nothing you can say will dislodge it. After a while one is simply obliged to recognise that reason will get you nowhere and that you might as well stop banging your head against the wall.¹

Just below the paragraph quoted above, is another one, which I believe provides a well-reasoned critique of the type of government bureaucracy that tea-partiers love to rave against (that is, as long as it isn't a bureaucracy that provides them some tangible benefit, as in the classic "get your government hands off my Medicare.") Thus:

"The southern Italian bureaucrat's special function in life is to make sure that he justifies his existence and covers himself, especially in relation to his superiors, in such a way that if anything goes wrong he is not to blame. The best way to ensure that nothing goes wrong is to arange for nothing to happen at all. This helps no end to frustrate inward investment and maintain status quo in a situation where rationalists might consider change to be urgently needed.¹

¹Nicolas Belfrage, Brunello to Zibibbo: The Wines of Tuscany, Central and Southern Italy (London, Mitchell Beazley, 2001).

I have a slightly different take on the bureaucrat's function as it applies in the U.S., which is that an American bureaucrat justifies his existence by defending the rights of the well-heeled, whether as individuals or as corporations. But that's just me.

Cingalino, Borgoforte, and Portosecco

2010-05-20T09:29:00.002-04:00

Villa Pillo is a 1,235-acre property in the middle of Chianti owned by Americans John and Kathe Dyson, who also own and operate the Millbrook Winery in New York's Hudson Valley and Williams Seylem in the Russian River Valley. This is the same John Dyson who was Deputy Mayor of New York City and came up with the "I ♥ NY" campaign.

Villa Pillo Cingalino Rosso di Toscana 2008: Made from 65% merlot and 35% cabernet franc, this is a medium-bodied charmer showing light red and black berry aromas and flavors, wrapped in a bit of oak spice, reflecting six months of aging in French oak. Somehow, the cab franc seems to dominate, which is fine by me. The label is kinda goofy:

Villa Pillo Borgoforte IGT Toscana 2007: A nose of soft black cherry, a bit of cedar, and a hint of tar; followed by a palate of red and black currants, a hint of cocoa, and nice ripe tannins. This is a blend of 50% Sangiovese, 40% Cabernet Sauvignon, and 10% Merlot, which, at the price, qualifies it for mini-Super-Tuscan status. This is of quality equivalent to Villa Antinori, and, in my opinion, a better value.

And:

Portosecco Sangiovese IGT Toscano 2004: From producer Fabio Bassanelli comes this traditional yet stylish expression of Sangiovese. On the nose, a little cedar and some bright red berries. The palate is bright with acidity, and delivers more red berry flavors plus some tangy cranberry. This is much, much easier to drink than the last vintage, which smelled/tasted primarily of cedar. It is still very far away from being a big-fruited wine, but my guess is that it will play well with a plate of rare steak and a bitter green (which is, as you know, my preferred accompaniment to almost any red Tuscan bottle).

Thanks for your patience and support, everyone.

Hiatus

2010-04-28T21:25:00.000-04:00

The Wine Mule has encountered various obstacles, certain of which will be obvious to all 20 of the regular visitors to this site. These obstacles, combined with a completely separate problem of inspiration and motivation, are almost certainly going to curtail posting activity for a while. I'm not giving up the site, and I am deeply grateful to those of you who have encouraged me in this modest enterprise, but there won't be much new here for a while.

Hangin' At The Usual Suspects #13

2010-03-09T09:21:00.003-05:00

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 Per Se 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.

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.

Hangin' At The Usual Suspects #12

2010-03-02T16:50:00.000-05:00

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.

Hangin' At The Usual Suspects #10

2010-02-02T15:50:00.000-05:00

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.

Hangin' At The Usual Suspects #9

2010-01-28T15:44:00.004-05:00

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.

Virtual Basque Dinner

2010-01-25T09:17:00.001-05:00

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...

"Lo Sang Del Pais"

2010-01-13T13:14:00.001-05:00

No hangin' at the Usual this week, Les and Kathy closed Monday night for a belated staff Christmas party. So I have some notes from the weekend on a truly wonderful bottle Les put before us from the moderately obscure appellation of Marcillac. It's in the Lot, a healthy drive east of Cahors, and it is the home of a grape widely known as fer servadou or braucol, and locally as mansois. According to Paul Strang, it may be a relative of cabernet franc. (There's a new edition available of his "South-West France: The Wines and the Winemakers," I recommend it highly.) It has some of the same grassy character, and aromas and flavors of soft red fruits, currants, and red berries, all of which were present in the wine we tasted:

Domaine Du Cros "Lo Sang Del Pais" Marcillac 2008: In addition to a lovely ripeness and freshness of fruit, this also displayed the iron mineral character that is characteristic of the terroir. The locals call the soil "rouergue" or "rougier," literally "red earth." The winemaker is Philippe Teulier. The wine's name, according to Strang, translates as "blood of the countryside." It is certainly a dark red, although not at all muddy. Teulier has a website worth a visit (click in the appropriate spot for a single, informative page of English). Frankly, the wine is a great introduction to the region: It is quite distinctive, easy to drink, and retails for well under $20.

Hangin' At The Usual Suspects #8

2010-01-05T17:08:00.001-05:00

We've had a long layoff from the Usual Suspects, the holiday season created commitments for all of us, and back there in mid-December when I was working holiday hours at the shop and also working musician's hours with the band, I was pretty beat anyway.

But now we're back, North Carolina's no-smoking rule has gone into effect, Elaine got a big new job (we would never be so insensitive as to ask how much she's making, but I think it is quite a bit more than she was being paid to sell wine, since this is a much bigger job for a much bigger company), and--not that this was a big surprise--Elaine and Karl are dating. It's nice.

And I couldn't help but notice, looking around, that the smoking ban didn't seem to have chased away any regulars. And we can all stop complaining about smoke interfering with our enjoyment of the wines.

Anyway, we had a lot to catch up on, even though we see each other almost every day at the job, and I'm afraid conversation about the wine was sparse. Not that the wines weren't worth talking about: First up was a 2005 Condrieu from Éric Texier, which showed the characteristic nose of yellow fruit and orange blossom, as well as some hints of aromatic herbs. In the mouth, the wine managed to be both brisk with acidity and quite full. With food, a little creaminess showed up. This was very different from the '05 Delas I'd tasted a year or so back, which showed a lot of orange and a lot of creaminess, and was pretty straightforwardly in the off-dry camp. A creamsicle for grownups, I called it then.

We also discussed the generally poor results we got from cheap viognier. The only one we really liked was the '08 Domaine la Bastide, from Guilhem Durand, which had freshness and vivacity that was lacking in comparably priced wines (including the wildly popular Yalumba, which tastes to me of canned fruit salad). Elaine was of the opinion that good cheap viognier was essentially a matter of luck: "They're never consistent from year to year," she said.

Next up was a Canon-Fronsac from Chateau Moulin Pey-Labrie 2000, which made Elaine smile. "I've been buying this wine for almost as long as I've been in the business," she said. Naturally, it is a Joe Dressner pick, although the bottle we had did not have the fancy artwork shown on the Louis/Dressner web site. I got a big snootful of chocolate mint on the nose, and Karl mentioned a kind of green wood note, "…like when you scratch the bark off a tree in early Spring." Elaine added that it was also really juicy, "…like blackberry juice, and raspberry juice." I agreed, and thought the juicy quality was worth remarking on since the wine was 99% merlot (plus a pinch of malbec), and some of my recent merlot-heavy Bordeaux notes had included references to "chocolate milk." In this wine, it's just a hint, not the whole show.
Happy New Year, everybody, thanks for looking at this, whoever you are, and no, I would never dream of inflicting a 10-best list on you. There are plenty of those already.

What To Drink With Fruitcake

2009-12-24T13:19:00.001-05:00

Tyler Colman has a nice thread about fruitcake over at Dr. Vino. I'm making note of it because unlike most Americans, I actually like fruitcake, and I was impressed with the photo of one cut very thin, so light shows through the glace fruit.

I was also frankly disappointed with the pairing suggestions. Port, Madeira, Auslese...jeez, guys. Here's what to drink with fruitcake: Vin du Bugey-Cerdon "La Cueille" VDQS sparkling wine from Patrick Bottex. His winery is in Ain in the Rhône-Alpes, and he uses the Altesse grape, very successfully. It's light, it's bright, it's refreshing, with just a bit of cidery sweetness.

h/t Fredric Koeppel at "Bigger Than Your Head" for the image.

Hangin' at The Usual Suspects #7

2009-12-11T17:41:00.002-05:00

It's December, when everybody in The Business works overtime. So this entry is being somewhat hastily assembled, and will more than likely be subject to revision.

On this night, Les challenged us to move beyond our usual Francophilia, so the proceedings opened with a bottle that actually has a regular place on his wine list: The one and only R. López de Heredia Viña Tondonia Rosé 1997:

Elaine: There is some yellow fruit here, and something green...green pea tendrils.

Dave: I'm mostly picking up oak spice. No red fruit. Is this grenache or tempranillo or what?

Elaine: Oh, look, it's actually on the label: 60% grenache, 20% tempranillo, 20% viura. It's kind of spicy and citrusy, and there's a note of baked or maybe stewed apple.

Dave: A little caramel at the end. To me, this seems to be mostly about barrel flavors.

Karl: Don't write this down, I'm getting a little sherry note.

Dave: Why not? It makes sense, it should be a little oxidized. It's 12 years old!

Elaine: The tannins taste of grape skin.

Dave: Now I'm finally getting some red fruit.

Elaine: This isn't really doing anything for the food.

Dave: Maybe it's a bar wine.

Elaine: Yeah, a 12-year-old bar wine.

At some point during this dialogue we ordered the duck appetizer and the all-important crab rangoons. About which Elaine clarified an earlier opinion. "It's not the perfect universal match for wine," she said. "It's more like a good control--it softens the effect of tannins and acids."

D. Ventura Vina Do Burato Ribiera Sacra 2008:

Elaine: This smells like a fruit-rollup.

Karl: An organic one.

Elaine: I haven't seen one in years. Whatever happened to them? This wine smells like the apricot one. And grape.

Dave: It smells like a Twizzer!

Elaine: Is that a hint of cigarette?

Dave: January is coming soon. What's the grape?

Elaine: Mencía.

Karl: (Reads the label) "Grown on slate and loess. Unfiltered."

Dave: Who is D. Ventura?

Karl: Jesse Ventura's brother...wait, here's the actual winemaker's name: Ramon Losada Fernandez.

Elaine: Violets, roses, minerals...very like a cru Beaujolais.

Dave: I'm getting cherry, and some cherry-pit-like tannins.

Elaine: It smells like sour cherry pie; there's so much mineral character, it's stoney, dusty--minerals entwined with tannins.

There followed an enlightening discussion of fried pies. Elaine is an aficionado, who knew? I asked her if she meant those horrible things from Hostess that you find in C-stores attached to gas stations, and she said no, not those, but ones that were made locally. And sure enough, there is a local producer, called Towne House Fried Pies. You can get them at the Enmark station on Tunnel Road in East Asheville. The bakery is on Parker Road in Riceville, which is less than 15 minutes away, so we assume a degree of otherwise unobtainable freshness.

Hangin' At The Usual Suspects #6

2009-12-01T11:46:00.003-05:00

The moon won't be full until Wednesday, but that ol' satellite was nonetheless tugging on some synapses.

As promised, tonight is Cab Franc night. Les has two for us, a Bourgueil and a Chinon. My last experience of Chinon was the truly astounding Château de la Bonnelière '05 from Marc Plouzeau, which tastes of intense dark cherries and berries and blood. So the bar is high.

James Petit Cuvèe des Gallucher "Tradition" 2007:

Dave: Cherry. Cherry and almond.

Elaine: Cherry all the way; even cherry-skin in the tannins.

Dave: Maybe a note of sweet tobacco?

Elaine: This is not as purple, not as floral as I remember the last vintage.

Karl: It's light and fruity like Beaujolais, except with tannin.

Dave: I'm not picking up minerals at the end. Certainly not iron.

Elaine: I don't know, this seems pretty developed, like it spent a lot of time in barrels. There's a style here, but I can't put my finger on it. Almost like Beaujolais, but with the structure of a Chianti.

We pause to order the miso-glazed pork-and-green-apple kebab with kimchi. And crab rangoons.

Olkey-Morey "Cuvèe des Tireaux" Chinon 2005:

Elaine: Look how much darker this is!

Dave: Yes.

Elaine: It is possible that crab rangoon is the perfect wine food. I'm willing to research this. Anyway, we're wine snobs, we're supposed to have wine and cheese. I knew this guy who was just totally against having wine with cheese.

Dave: That's nuts. All those old pictures you see of the peasant with a wheel of cheese and a bottle of wine? There's a reason for that. Cheese cuts the tannins. Wait, I have a real-world example! If you brew tea, and make it too strong, you can add all the sugar you want, but the tea will still be bitter. If, instead, you add milk, then the tannins are ameliorated. (Here's a link to why.)

Elaine: This has the bloody quality.

Dave: Olive. Green olive.

Elaine: Definitely less clarity of fruit than the Bourgueil, more savory. Although there's plenty of fruit…blueberry.

Dave: Very pure fruit, with the savoryness.

Elaine: It's hard to know what people mean sometimes, although I had an "aha!" moment with a pair of customers the other day. One said she thought pinot grigio felt like linen going down her throat. I told her she was probably tasting the minerality in the wine. And you could see the lightbulb going off over her head. I have no idea what linen tastes like.

Dave: I think of linen and lanolin. Maybe because they both start with "L"? A kind of waxy character. In texture, also.

Karl: Kimchi makes the wine burn in your mouth.

Elaine: The Chinon doesn't seem that tannic on its own.

Dave: I'm getting more berry aromas and flavors now.

Elaine: Yes, some raspberry there.

Karl: Chinon with lamb, mushrooms, and penne works. With the meat, the tannins are a plus.

Elaine: These just aren't bar wines. They're dinner wines. I feel like we're not doing them justice; they're very subtle.

Then we went in back and found the "Lord of the Rings" pinball machine. The moon isn't full yet, but it's full enough for some multi-ball play.

PS: My band, The Wellhouse, will be at The Still this Friday night out on the New Leicester Highway. If you've ever wanted to get in touch with your Inner Redneck, this is the time and place. (The Still doesn't have a website. Most of the customers I've met there didn't seem to give a rat's ass about Social Networking, or anything else, for that matter.)

Wine, Business, and The New York Times

2009-11-29T10:54:00.002-05:00

On the front page of this morning's New York Times business section is a lengthy article, complete with color photography, about rich businesspeople going into the wine business as a second career. Here's the link. I found myself scratching my head as I read about the former Dallas real estate developer and his wife the former ambassador to Austria, now relocated to Napa, and the couple who used to work for Intel, now running a winery in Texas.

I searched the phrase "to make a small fortune in the wine business start with a large one," and while I couldn't find the origin, I did find it over and over again, often with the preamble "There's an old saying..."

So...how is this news? How did this end up occupying precious column-inches in the Sunday New York Times? More to the point, who is having their back scratched? My candidates include (in order of appearance in the story): Jon Fredrikson of Gomberg, Fredrikson & Associates, a wine industry consulting firm; or Bill Nelson, president of WineAmerica.

Or who knows? I can easily think of a non-conspiratorial explanation: Maybe something else got pulled at the last minute and this story was handy. Or maybe the Times thinks its readers are up for a little winemaking fantasy amid the news about Dubai.

The Problem With Puzelat

2009-11-26T11:24:00.006-05:00

The problem with Thierry Puzelat's wines is that once you've tasted them, everything else seems calculated. Les poured some "Le Telquel" the other night, and it was simply wild: Wild berries and some kind of musky, green character on the nose that evokes the untended grassy fields of my youth--former farmland, turning back to grassland while waiting for the developer's backhoes and front-loaders to invade so that even more split-level ranches might be erected to house refugees from Queens and Brooklyn, yearning for their very own lawns.

Anyway, the wine was cloudy and tasted of red raspberry at the front of the tongue and fresh strawberry at the back. As explained by David McDuff, Puzelat's treatment of the gamay grape, while rigorously natural, did not fit in the INAO's frame of what Touraine gamay should be like. Hence, it is "vin de table" and has no vintage information. (Unlike David, neither Les nor I could find a code on the label.)

Which I suppose gets back to my original point: Puzelat's wines are literally too wild for the INAO, and they make most other wines seem housebroken. Maybe that's why the dog is wagging his tail?

Hangin' At The Usual Suspects #5

2009-11-23T22:21:00.011-05:00

Into each heart, some tears must fall. Though you love and you lose, you must stand tall. So sang The Marvelettes, and the truth of the song is eternal. Which is to say, we had our first Bummer Night At The Usual.

Les, great host that he is, offered us ways out, but no, I had to taste this SB that I'd read about on Jamie Goode's blog. And when offered structured tastings of Cru Beaujolais or Loire Valley Cabernet Franc or "grab bag," I went for grab bag. I can't help it, that's the bait I rise to every time.

Maycas Limarí Sauvignon Blanc, made 3/11/08, an effort by Concha y Toro. Les said: "It's pillowy," meaning it just kinda disappeared at the end of your tongue.

Elaine: "It smells like pudding. Tapioca pudding with a hint of passionfruit."

Me: "Clean white socks."

Elaine: There's some Granny Smith apple at the finish. Not much finish."

Me: "What finish? It disappears halfway across your tongue."

Karl: "As it warms up, it loses some of that acidity. When it was really cold, it was all acid."

Elaine: "It makes me salivate, it's so acidic. I don't like that."

Me: We say "mouth-watering acidity," and it's good. That is, if it's Italian and it's red. And I'm not getting any mineral quality.

Elaine: It's chalky. Like it has tannins from stems.

Karl: If the binary decision is buy/not buy, I say "Not buy."

Me: All the way at the back of the palate, maybe some apple skin.

Elaine: "Apple skin" is generous. It's a lot of tannin.

Karl: Who is "Royal Imports, Old Brookville, NY?"

Through the magic of google, now we know.

And thus ended the Limarí Valley obsession.

But wait, there's more.

"Les états d áme du Mas Jullien" Languedoc 2006:

Fone Foto by Karl.

Karl: Is this candy or pie? I shouldn't make fun of the label, but I've been doing label design on the side, and the flaming hair is my signature.

Me: I'm getting chocolate mint cherry cordial. And rosemary and maybe even more chocolate.

Karl: The herbs are coming out, the pie fruit is going away. Meaty, too. Now it's like pork tenderloin roasted with rosemary.

Me: Well, now we know what to pair it with.

We are distracted by hearing Marilyn Manson on the jukebox, and engage on a discussion of Goth vs. Emo. Elaine mentions Depeche Mode, a band that has been around so long that I remember them. "It's all music by depressed people," I say. What was that band that sang "Everybody Wants To Rule The World," A Flock of Seagulls?"

"No," said Elaine. "That was Tears for Fears."

"Yeah, so what's the difference?" I said.

Elaine: This wine is too tight, too rough, too disjointed...too young. It needs another two years in the bottle.

Me: It really is tannic. It reminds me more of '06 Bordeaux than '06 Languedoc.

Next week, I'm plumping for the cab francs.

Hangin' At The Usual Suspects #4

2009-11-10T11:53:00.007-05:00

Les discussed with us the possibility of tasting through all 10 of the Beaujolais crus (except probably St. Amour, which I've always thought of a wine for Valentine's Day, and was never especially impressed with anyway) over the next few weeks so we could discuss the influence of terroir. He also proposed a tasting of cabernet franc from the Loire. "Or, you could just do random bottles," he said, and plunked down in front of us an Arbois and a Valle D'Aosta. We like to do what's in front of us, and Elaine has already had both of these wines and loved them, so that's what was opened.

Jacques Puffeney Poulsard Arbois DOC 2006: "There is some complete aroma in here," I said. "I'm trying not to break it into components. Strawberries when they're still green? And a layer of cherry."

"There's something like red currant, and I'm definitely getting cinammon," said Elaine. "Cranberry...something botanical. There is also something that reminds me of sawdust--like the wine is corked, but it's not. And something floral."

"Rhubarb," I said.

"I'm getting rhubarb too," said Karl. "It really reminds me of my mother's strawberry-rhubarb pie, right down to the cinammon."

"I think of rhubarb as something sour," said Elaine.

"Not in my mom's pie," said Karl.

"I'm also getting a note of crisp green pear," said Elaine.

"It's moving from fugitive to evocative," I said. This provoked laughter. "Hey, I went to college," I said.

We paused to order apps: Duck breast, gnocci with gorgonzola, and crab rangoons.

"This is really opening up now," said Elaine. "Tannins are present and accounted for. This is real mountain wine."

"It needs yodeling," I said.

"And goats," said Elaine.

"I'm getting a little pickle note," said Karl.

"Dill?" asked Elaine. "I'm getting a little cranberry jelly note...cranberry and lemon...and the texture of aspic. Like trout in aspic?"

"Wow, when was the last time I had trout in aspic?" I wondered aloud.

"Cream cheese really cuts the acidity," said Elaine. "It's all fruit now...I could eat this for breakfast."

We were distracted for a few minutes by a montage of movie scenes featuring Yul Brynner on the TV. (Kathy usually has the TV tuned to Turner Classic Movies.)

We were additionally distracted by an ounce or two of "Axia" Syrah/Xinomavro 2006, which Les told us had been open since Saturday, and consequently had little nose left, but a whole lotta barrel char.

Then, on to Alpine Wine #2 (see, there really is a theme here).

Grosjean "Torrette" Valle D'Aosta 2007: This is petit rouge and a few other grapes, from high in the French-speaking Italian Alps. After the Poulsard, which was as light as a lot of rosés, this seemed positively beastly.

Karl: "Smoke!"

Me: "Yes. Also some red cherry and plum."

Elaine: "And that bitter walnut-skin finish."

Me: "That's how we know it's Italian."

Alfred Hitchcock's "Topaz" is now showing on the TV. Kathy advises us that it is one of the Master's worst movies.

Me: "I'm getting a note of watermelon." Incredulous looks from both sides. "Well, like that strawberry/watermelon note you get out of a Tavel," I said, defensively.

Elaine: "This is bloody. I don't know what is going on with the soil, but this is the same taste I get when I accidentally bite my tongue. I'm also getting some ripe apple."

Me: "Thank you for saying that! Sometimes I find my self censoring out aromas or flavors that I associate with white wines."

Karl: "Like an apple orchard when some of the fruit is rotting on the ground."

Elaine: "It's really open now. Loose and easy."

Me: "We say 'user-friendly.'"

Elaine: "Slutty."

Me: "OK, it's a little harlot, as Peter Tryba used to say. It's showing everything."

Elaine: "It's like a really good Brouilly or Morgon."

At some point, we'd ordered sandwiches; shrimp "poorboys" ("That spelling makes me nervous," said Elaine.) for Elaine and Karl, fried chicken with cheese, pickles, and mustard for me.

"I'd just like to confirm your pickle note," I said to Karl. "It's right here."

Hangin' At The Usual Suspects #3

2009-11-03T09:51:00.006-05:00

Les presented us with several choices: For whites there was an aged Muscadet and new sauvignon blanc from Maycas in the Limarí Valley in Chile (supposed to be the latest and greatest); for reds a A "baby" supertuscan, a Grignolino, a Lagrein. We're bored with supertuscans, and Les advised us that the Grignolino was super light, and I said I didn't want to drink anything super light under a full moon, so we went with the Lagrein. I was excited at the prospect of the Limarí wine, because I'd just read about it at Jamie Goode's blog, but I bet I get another chance at this, while the chances of running into another 2004 Muscadet were probably slim...so off we went:

Luneau-Papin "L'el D'or" Cuveé Medaille Muscadet Sèvre et Maine 2004: Les said it would drink more like a white Burgundy than a Muscadet, and I got hazelnut on the nose right away. Elaine picked up pineapple, tasted it and thought it was a bit hot with alcohol. Karl got ripe apple, and pointed out that as it moved to the back of the mouth, the acidity receded.

"Woody," I said.

"Like a fresh stick kind of woody," said Elaine. "And the mineral quality is like really soft water."

After a decent interval while we ordered stuffed figs, Moroccan chicken kebabs, and yet another American Napoleon, we went back to it. "It's still pretty fresh," I said, thinking this was exceptional for a five-year-old Muscadet. "The '95 is still fresh," said Elaine. "It's insane."

Niedermayr Lagrein Aus Greis "Blacedelle" Alto Adige 2006:

"I'm getting asphalt and blackberries," I said.

"That's UV inhibitor spray," said Karl. "It smells exactly like the Mothers spray you use to clean your dashboard."

"With pie crust!" I said.

"Eucalyptus," said Elaine.

"I wonder what "Aus Gries" means," I said.

"I'm going to text Mike Tiano at Haw River right now," said Elaine. "He's used to getting messages from me at all hours. And I'm getting some black peppercorn in the finish now, like the fresh ones that smell very floral."

"The UV spray thing is gone now," said Karl.

To general astonishment and hilarity, Mike texted back within a few minutes: "Aus Gries refers to a zone for Lagrein production right outside of Bolzano."

"The blackberry is running to blueberry now," I said. "Tannins are asserting themselves."

"It's like blackberry seeds," said Elaine. "Blackberries are seedy."

As the evening wound down, I decided that the batter-fried little cubes of okra that decorated our pimiento-cheese burgers (Monday night special) were kinda like Tater Tots, except lighter and therefore nicer.

Hangin' At The Usual Suspects #2

2009-10-28T21:05:00.012-04:00

Les and Kathy have rolled out the Winter Menu, which has the American Napoleon on it, which is basically an egg and sausage breakfast item, but with more pizazz, and a tuna steak, which was not ordered, but sounded pretty interesting, and a falafel sandwich special, which I did order, because falafel always reminds me of the little joints in the Marais.

All of which is completely beside the point. We like the food at the Usual, but that's not why we go there. We go there to drink wine!

Elaine saw the Nikolaihof Hefeabzug Gruner Veltliner '06 on the list last week, and was obviously pining for it, so we had some. The nose was typical, in that it had some citrus notes, and a touch of ginger, and a hint of smoke (Elaine complained that she had a hard time detecting smokey notes when cigarettes were in the vicinity. I reminded her than on January 2nd that problem would go away.) and quite untypical because there was this fugitive aroma of what I thought of as red fruit and Elaine specifically identified as lychee fruit. "Not the stuff in syrup, but the fresh fruit," she said. We got earthy pear fruit on the palate, kind of Bosc pear, the kind with the brown skin. And after the wine had been open about 20 minutes, this Concord grape aroma came up at us. Bizarre.

Then we went to the Domaine du Clos du Fief 2007, made by Michel Tête, who has a 17-acre-plus vineyard in the Juliénas cru of Beaujolais. On the first encounter, it had that big bubblegum aroma that causes the word "amylic" to form on my lips. I mean not just a note, but a big ol' snootful of Bazooka Joe. Fortunately this subsided, to be followed by a pleasing note of bing cherry. "Bing cherry but more acidic," said Elaine. There were some mineral notes, too. (In light of the Big Controversy over "minerality" in wine, I ask you to resist the urge to make snarky comments about what kind of aroma rocks have, and how they get into wine. Let's just say that it's wicked complicated, and nobody can explain it exactly, but, you know, if you can't smell rocks in a great Chablis, then you shouldn't be drinking it. Actually, step right up and make snarky comments. They're better than no comments.)

Have we actually tasted the wine yet? Yes, we have! Gorgeous red fruit: strawberry, raspberry, cherry, fresh and ripe--all the stuff that makes Beaujolais so appealing to everyone except a bunch of stuffed shirts who don't think wine is Serious unless it contains bludgeoning tannins and etc. And those of you who, through no fault of your own, know only Beaujolais Nouveau, which used to be a charming harvest wine, and now is just a way for Georges Duboeuf to sell his inventory lickety-split.

Then there was an interval during which we paid attention to the food, and Karl was able to get a few words in edgewise.

Then:

"The fruit is falling off. There's less focus. Maybe it will come back."

"Juniper!"

"Red Currant!"

"Pomegranate!"

Then we passed around a wee dram of Balvenie DoubleWood, and it was 10 o'clock, and we adjourned.

Parker's Blind Tasting

2009-10-25T10:37:00.005-04:00

It's all over the blogs, I guess it might as well be here, too. Big Bob Parker blind tastes 2005 Bordeaux! Ranks his favorites low, his dogs high! Whooeee! At Tyler Colman's blog, this devolved into that evergreen dispute about Parker's 100-point system. Harry sent me a link about the physiological/psychological process of tasting, which led me to Tyler's blog. I sent Harry a comment, which I will share here, because I'm too lazy to come up with another take on the subject:

"Two thoughts: First, anyone, even Big Bob, can have a bad day. It's worse for him, because he has hyped himself so shamelessly for the past decade, but otherwise it could happen to anybody. I taste blind about once a week; once in a while I nail something (Donnafugata Ben Rye! On the first sip!), and once in a while I am so incredibly far off I tell myself I should just give it up (Tasting a '94 Nuit St. Georges and deciding it was Cannonau from Sardinia).

"Second, the Parker episode has re-ignited a long-standing argument about the 100-point system. Its defenders say it isn't meant to be precise, but that, to me, is exactly the problem: People who don't know any better assume there's some real quantitative difference between an 89 and a 90; and people who do know better exploit this ignorance to their profit."

Of course, in my work, I play Parker like a violin. If he gives something I like a big score, I tell the customer "Look! Parker gave it a 93!" And if he gives something I like an 82, I tell the customer "Parker's just a fat old lawyer from Maryland! Who cares what he thinks!"

Hangin' At The Usual Suspects

2009-10-23T08:41:00.007-04:00

Karl had done me a favor while I was traveling, so I told him I'd take him out for a beer and a burger. As I recall, Elaine was just standing there minding her own business while we decided to go to The Usual Suspects, and I said "Hey, why don't you come along with us." Poor Karl. Here he's thinking he's going to go have a few IPAs and talk Jeep parts, and instead he winds up on a barstool with a wine geek on either side. Then Les comes over and tells me--for the first time!--that he's been keeping a little locker of wines for me to try.

No time like the present, so out comes a bottle of Occipinti SP68, an all-organic blend of Nero d'Avola and Frappato, IGT Sicilia 2008. It's made by Arianna Occipinti, who pulls no punches with her wines. The nose was funky, with tar, potpourri, and red berries. In the mouth, the wine was surprisingly light, with more red berries and pomegranate, and this heavy earthy note that Elaine first called volcanic ash, and later amended to "basalt." She also pointed out that the two grapes don't blend so much as they lay on top of each other. I agreed that there was a definite upstairs/downstairs feel. Karl thought it was pretty good, but I suspect he was also trying to decide whether the two of us were going to be entertainingly lunatic or pedantically boring.

Well, the wine was very good, and as so often happens, the bottle became empty, and it was time to open another one, and next in Les's line-up was a Touraine Le Tesnière Pineau d'Aunis 2007 from Thierry Puzelat. Like Ms. Occipinti, Puzelat is another wild-eyed biodynamic minimal-interventionist, who resists herbicides, pesticides, chemical fertilizers, sulfites, and probably reads by candlelight.

As the incredibly exclusive club of readers of this blog (all three of you! Don't worry, I'm not gonna name names!) know, I tend to be utilitarian in my note-taking. I have read one too many reviews by Parker that include the phrase "scorched earth," and I always want to ask him how he knows what that is. But by now I already have a couple glasses in me, and Elaine clearly has no such compunctions, so I start writing it all down:

"Resinous!"

"Pulpy!"

"Beet greens!"

"Weird acidity!"

"Roses and white peppercorns!"

"Weeds!"

and finally:

"It smells like rolling down a grassy hill in late September when some of the grass is still green and some of it has turned brown!"

There was probably more, but I didn't get it all. Oh, yeah: The tannins in this baby never backed off. If anything, they became more assertive as the evening progressed.

Karl was still there when I finally got up and called it a night.

"Deleted" follow-up

2009-10-17T08:15:00.006-04:00

Erol Senel has a thoughtful post on the Broadbent/Wallace brouhaha, and it made me remember something:

In September of 2007 an article called “The Jefferson Bottles” appeared in The New Yorker. Written by Patrick Keefe, it includes this fascinating passage:

“In his book ‘Vintage Wine: Fifty Years of Tasting Three Centuries of Wines,’ Broadbent acknowledges that it was through Rodenstock’s ‘immense generosity’ that he was able to taste many of the rarest entries. Much of his section on eighteenth-century wines consists of notes from Rodenstock tastings.”

If it were ever demonstrated in a court of law (and for the record, it has not) that Rodenstock was a purveyor of counterfeit wines, then where would that leave Broadbent, as a recipient of Rodenstock’s “immense generosity”?

Keefe’s article is still on line. You can read it here.

Update: It seems Rodenstock was once found guilty of fraud, although he appealed and the matter was settled out of court:

"A German collector, Hans-Peter Frericks, accused Mr. Rodenstock in a Munich state court, which found in favor of Mr. Frericks on Dec. 14, 1992, saying "the defendant adulterated the wine or knowingly offered adulterated wine." Mr. Rodenstock appealed, and the men also filed criminal complaints against each other for defamation. The charges were dropped and the cases eventually were settled in 1995. The details of the settlement are confidential." (Link to original story in The Wall Street Journal, and h/t to Ted Simon on the Dr. Vino blog for the reference.)

Deleted.

2009-10-13T17:39:00.004-04:00

A comment I made about Michael Broadbent's settling of a libel case against Random House, publisher of "The Billionaire's Vinegar," had to be deleted over at Jamie Goode's wine blog. I'm upset that Goode has had to remove posts because he is being bullied by Broadbent's son, Bartholomew. And "bullied" is the word--go read the sequence of posts for yourself.

Fortunately, the long arm of strict United Kingdom libel laws, and the threats by Bartholomew Broadbent to employ them to defend his father's honor, don't reach to North Carolina. I don't remember exactly what I posted, but it went something like this:

"Broadbent may celebrate his victory against Random House, but this isn't over. Jim Koch is still out there, and he's an angry guy with a lot of money to spend on lawyers. If he can prove that Hardy Rodenstock defrauded him in a U.S. Court, that will not do anything to help Michael Broadbent's reputation. I have only the highest respect for Michael Broadbent, and it is my opinion that he simply had a moment of acting foolishly (which could happen to any of us) with regard to Rodenstock and his wines."

It's not exact, but that's pretty much all I said.

I think this whole episode is sad, for everyone, especially Michael Broadbent himself; there are probably people who never knew his name until today, who don't know about his lifetime of achievement in the wine business, who are now going to associate his name with this nasty bit of business.

In Cahors: Château de Haute-Serre

2009-10-10T08:35:00.001-04:00

Cahors has a long and often unhappy history. Its days of glory go back to 1225, when Eleanor of Aquitaine (and all of London) was sufficiently impressed with the wines to dispatch English engineers to make the Lot River safely navigable for shipping. Unfortunately, producers in Bordeaux were all too aware of the reputation of these wines, and by the 15th Century had created as many roadblocks as possible, in the form of taxes and other restrictions, to discourage winemaking in Cahors. On-and-off war between France and England (a major Cahors market) through the 16th and into the beginning of the 18th Century did not help matters.

Then, in the mid-19th Century, disease (oidium) struck Bordeaux but spared Cahors, and the region came back to life—but only for about 30 years, when phylloxera arrived and very nearly destroyed the wine business. The vines recovered, but there was little cause for celebration, because by the 1930s Cahors was suffering another onslaught, this time from cheap imports from Algeria. The region survived even this, and not long after the end of World War II was gaining strength—until the crippling frosts of the mid-1950s. But Cahors came back yet again. In 1971, Cahors achieved AOC status, and the canny Georges Vigoroux celebrated by replanting his 165 acres with new vines.

Vigouroux, depending upon who you talk to, is either the savior of Cahors or Satan incarnate. For centuries, the red grape of Cahors was identified either as “Cot” or as “Auxerrois.” The name “Malbec” wasn't used. No one seems to know for sure, but I'd put my money on Georges Vigouroux as the first vigneron in Cahors to put “Malbec” on his label. I first saw “Rosé of Malbec” on a wine from his Pigmentum line in 2004. The following year, “Malbec” appeared on his “Château de Haute-Serre” label. Today, of course, the vignerons of Cahors and those of Mendoza actually have a joint-marketing agreement to promote Malbec, and Vigouroux looks just as prophetic as he did in 1971. He has quite an empire these days, including a chain of retail stores under the “Atrium” name. Château de Haute-Serre is his flagship property, now under the direction of his son, Bertrand-Gabriel Vigouroux.

We arrived there on Wednesday the 7th. The vendage had been underway since Sept. 29, but there didn't seem to be any great sense of urgency to bring the fruit in; the weather was cooperating—warm but overcast, and no threat of rain. The big blue mechanical picker was chugging across the vineyards just to the north of the handsome winery, known as “Atrium,” which was opened in 1987. (See photo)

Walking through the vineyard, our guide, Camille, remarked on the soil, which is basically chalk with quartz pebbles and a little alluvial soil. Asked what else would grow here besides grapevines, she paused for a moment and replied, “Trees.” Most of the vineyard is planted with Malbec, along with small amounts of Merlot and Tannat. There is also a small area—less than four acres—set aside for the production of chardonnay.

Back at the chais, we watched as a tractor-load of grapes were dumped into a feed hopper. An augur fed the grapes into a crusher-destemmer. The resulting juice was pumped via an overhead line into an assigned fermentation tank. The tanks had concrete bases, but the upper two-thirds were steel—a design I hadn't seen before. Each tank holds juice from a particular part of the vineyard, and fermentation is controlled accordingly. The whole setup—no sorting tables, no bladder presses—seemed almost casual compared to the relentless modernity of the wineries I saw earlier this year in Mendoza.

Fermentation takes about seven days; maceration about 20 days, with regular pumping-over. The regular Haute-Serre wine is then aged for about a year in neutral-oak tuns of 70 hectoliters (about 1,850 gallons). The estate's first wine, the Château le Fleur, is bottled from these tuns without further aging. The Haute-Serre and the Cuvée Géron Dadine de Haute-Serre (the estate's new prestige cuvee, created by Bertrand-Gabriel Vigouroux) receive additional aging in a combination of French and American oak, of which one-third is new each year.

We tasted the 2005 Haute-Serre, which had a lovely nose of licorice and cedar, and a sturdy palate (I think it is law that every Cahors tasting note include the word “sturdy.”) of plum and red berries, with a distinct tangy note of cranberry, and a finish emphasizing forthright tannins and earth. The 2005 “Prestige” had a similar aroma and flavor profile, but was softer and more polished. Harry bought a sixpack of the Chardonnay, called Albesco (“I Become White” in Latin). We drank some that evening and found it innocuous. I have heard that many French winemakers who specialize in reds feel obliged to produce at least a little white to be used as a starter wine for formal tasting. When I mentioned this to Eb, he told me it could also be that the Chardonnay might have a more practical purpose: adding a little bit to kick-start fermentation of the reds.

As we prepared to depart for downtown Cahors for lunch (at the excellent Restaurant du Marché—thanks for the steer, Camille!) we were advised that the 2009 vintage was expected to be an exceptional one. Can't wait to find out...

(Check out the wineglass with the round fingerhold in the stem. This is, I'm told, the "classic Cahors wineglass.")

PS: In the event, we were unable to make it to Château de Chambert. I hope to be able to take advantage of Phillipe Lejeune's offer to visit in the not-too-distant future.

Sparkling wine from New Mexico

2009-10-07T02:19:00.001-04:00

There's a fine story at Kevin Lynch and Amber Share's Native Food and Wine blog about the Gruet winery in New Mexico. There's a video interview with Sofian Himeur, Gilbert Gruet's grandson, in which he describes Gilbert's efforts to find a foothold in the United States. At the shop, Gruet is something of a tough sell--people simply cannot believe that something priced so low can be so good.

Nosing Around Brive

2009-10-04T04:19:00.001-04:00

A moment of travelogue: Yesterday, the plan was for our hosts Harry and Susan to drop off their friend Nicole at the train station in Souillac early in the morning. (Nicole is a professional photographer and photography instructor based in South Africa, check out her stuff, she's pretty amazing.) Then Lucy and I would meet them and we'd go shopping at the Friday market. Instead, SNCF decided to cancel the train stop, so they raced up to Brive-La-Gaillarde to catch the train there. We were to meet them at the big Carrefour in Brive. Well, we were late getting out of the house, and it takes longer for me to drive to Brive than it does for Harry, and by the time we got there, they'd finished their shopping and it was time to turn around and head back to Souillac before the market ran out of everything.

Over coffee, we decided that Susan and Lucy would head back to Souillac, and Harry and The Mule would take in the sights of the wine shops in Brive. We had a very good time; Harry took me to DeNoix, a tiny distillery right downtown. We tasted liqueuers made in the traditional method, using only real herbs and fruits, and best quality cane sugars. Here's a virtual tour of the place. They also sold wine at the front of the store; I left with a bottle of "Eclipse" because I saw Eric LaGuerre's name on it. I also took a bottle of something called "Triple Zero" made by Jacky Blot of Domaine de La Taille Aux Loups. This is a sparkling Chenin Blanc from the Montlouis Sur Loire AOC, with no chaptalization, no liqueuer du tirage, and no liqueuer du expedition. I got aromas and flavors of green apple, toast, and a kind of very, very dry chocolate note. Needless to say, the wine was bone dry.

We also visited La Maison Du Vin, where Jean Dubech-Janoueix presides over an impressive collection of bottles, including many that had a good amount of bottle age. This interested Harry, who has grown weary of waiting for his collection of Bordeaux to achieve maturity. What interested me was a bin filled with bottles of Domaine Gauby "Le Calcinaire" 2006, one of which I greedily grabbed. M. Dubech-Janoueix, as a good wine saleman should, pointed out that he also had bottles of Gauby's fabled "La Muntada" 2002. In a moment of uncharacteristic restraint, I refrained from laying out 70 euros for a bottle, fabled or no.

I did, however, pick up a bottle that was next to it. It was from Domaine d'Aupilhac, which I'd never heard of; it was "Vin de Pays de Mont Baudile" which I'd also never heard of. What made me buy it was the words "Le Carignan" on the label. I reasoned that anyone who was bottling that grape on its own back in 2000 must have known what he was about. The "non-Filtre" part was reassuring, too. Had I made a find? Hah! That is what Google is for, to clue you in on what the rest of the world already knows. (Nothing like finding out that your Mystery Bottle is considered "a Languedoc reference" by Andrew Jefford.) In the event, it was delicious, with a nose of black fruit, tar, and herbs, and a rich palate of sweet red and black fruit and earth, and just enough structure provided by ripe tannins and acidity.

A Brief Rumination on Château Mourgues du Grès

2009-10-04T03:37:00.002-04:00

François Collard's father was a farmer. He grew grapes, and also fruit trees. Today, the vines and the fruit trees are managed separately (François's younger brother runs the orchard business) but the vines and the trees still grow side by side. As François says, the aroma of the viognier grape reminds him of the aroma of the apricots that grow nearby. You can learn more about Collard's beliefs about the total effect of sun, soil, water, and agriculture here.

I spent a little time with Emeric Garcia, "maître de chai" at the winery. When we arrived he was busy with the new vendage; it was a hot, dry summer right up to a week or so before harvest, when it rained. They waited while the Mistral came through and dried everything up—which turned out to be the right decision. We tasted a tank sample of the syrah; it’s just a few days old, but on the tongue you can already taste the abundance of fruit. The winery uses concrete tanks to ferment the reds in the traditional style of the region. Garcia says he gets plenty of extraction with minimal pump-over. He ferments a small amount in barrels; he jokes that these are the only places he does any punching-down. White wines and rosés are fermented in new stainless tanks (there is also just a bit of barrel fermentation). He is a careful winemaker, but not “organic.” Hoping a wild yeast will initiate a healthy fermentation is too much of a risk for a winery like this.

While Château Mourgues du Grès is neither organic nor "biodynamic," this is clearly a property run with great sensitivity to the interaction of man and nature. So to me, it is no surprise that the wines are excellent and very much of their place.

Thanks again to Anne and François for their hospitality (We agree that "eggplant" is a very strange name for aubergine.)Thanks to Sophie Laurent for the vineyard tour and the tasting. I'm sorry we didn't get a photo of Sophie as good as the one you'll find here.
The Mule with the Collards (and dogs). Behind us, on the wall, Anne's design for the winery: "Sine Sole Nihil" "Without the Sun, Nothing."

Tasting At Château Mourgues du Grès

2009-10-03T02:17:00.002-04:00

We tasted wines with Sophie Laurent, who handles exports at Château Mourgues du Grès. A native of Madiran, Sophie at a young age already has an extensive background in wine marketing, and what sounds like a daunting schedule of international travel ahead of her for the remainder of 2009, including what sounds like a hectic schedule of fairs and tastings in Asia.

Here's what we tasted:

Les Galets Dorés 2008: Grenache blanc and vermentino (80% combined) plus Rousanne, Marsanne, and Bourbolenc, all from young, north-facing vines. On the nose, herbs, light floral character, citrus and a note of honey. On the palate, bright citrus, very refreshing, with a bit of grapefruit pith at the back; then a last note of dried honey on the finish. This would be very good with the local brandade de morue or with a strong cheese.

Terre D’ Argence Vin du Pays du Gard 2007: Among the last bottles of the vintage. 40% Viognier, with roussane and marsanne. 5% of the viognier was barrel aged; the rest was aged seven months in stainless tanks. On the nose, lemon verbena and sweet mint; on the palate peach and apricot, maybe the barest hint of orange. Good acidity cuts the richness. Very appealing. The ’08, unsurprisingly, shows more fresh acidity.

Capitelles Rosé 2008: Barrel-aged for 3-4 months. Mostly mourvdre, with a bit of carignan. Vivid salmon color. Aromas and flavors of red cherry and other red fruits, oak spice, and red licorice.

Galets Rouge Rosé 2008: A little more carignan and more red fruit—bitter cherry, exotic spice, juicy, but with solid structure lent by minerality.

Terre d’Argence 2007: 85% Syrah, 15% Grenache, 5% oak-aged. Oriental spice, black olive, hint of meatiness on the nose. Follows through with deep plum, black fruits, minerals, and a long mineral-driven finish. A big wine, made from vines 40 years old and older. These are the vines below the top of the bluff; they face directly south. The deep color is the result of month-long maceration. The wine is aged up to a year in concrete.

Terre de Feu 2007: This is one that is not exported to the US. Peter Weygandt passed on it, and while I can understand why, it still seems a pity, because this is a unique wine. The “feu” refers to a fire that started near the top of the slope of the lower part of the vineyard in the famously hot, dry summer of 2003. There’s an SNCF track that runs along the crest of the hill, and a spark from a train ignited a fire that burned and slightly damaged some of the oldest Grenache vines. As she opens the bottle, Sophie says, “If you have difficulty breathing, open this wine.” It is spectacularly aromatic, releasing all the fragance of the vineyard—the wild fennel, the sweet mint, the garrigue. In the mouth, sweet tobacco vies with powerful unto jammy red raspberry and earth. The very dry finish is carried by tobacco, earth, and spice. This is an extreme wine, made only in the hottest vintages. The alcohol is labeled at 14.5%, but is almost certainly more like 15.5%. It is a bit hot at the end, just like the summers during which it is made.

Capitelles Rouge 2007: 85% syrah, 15% Grenache. The nose on this is almost like American petite sirah: Strong, rich aromas of blueberry, boysenberry, pepper and chocolate. There is also a distinctly local aroma of rich herbs. The biggest difference between this wine and a big California Petite Sirah is focus: The aromas and flavors do not disperse, but follow straight through to the finish. It's dense, rich stuff, and it is no surprise to learn that Mr. Parker thinks highly of it.

Château Mourgues du Grès

2009-10-01T14:13:00.001-04:00

Château Mourgues du Grès sits on top of the Costieres, which despite the plural is a single long, low bluff that stretches east-west for miles, just south of the city of Nîmes .This is where the vines for the Galets wines are grown: Grenache blanc and vermentino for the whites; syrah and Grenache for the reds. Standing on the edge of the hill (where I took the accompanying snapshot), you can look south across the Plein du Boucade and see the Camargue, southwest and see the Baux de Provence. The air is filled with the scent of wild fennel, thyme, rosemary, and sweet mint.

The soil (shown at left) is unmistakably Rhone-like: a sea of large pebbles and marl that goes down as much as 7 meters. Small oak trees—bushes, really—grow beneath a line of cypress trees. François Collard says the reason he loves the ’07 vintage so much is because he can taste the sap of the garrigue in it. Anne and François Collard were exceptionally generous hosts, and I'll have more on the visit, including tasting notes, when I'm a little less jet-lagged.