Bouchard is not Bouchard

It's a rookie mistake, one I've made in that past. But I'm not a wine rookie anymore, right? I guess not. Maybe that would explain how I bought one producer's wine thinking I was buying another producer's.

Did you know there are two Bouchards in Burgundy? Even just writing that makes a voice in my heard scream, well, duh. If nothing else, France is legendary for having multiple wine producers with the same name.

I should know. I was a good 16 years ago that I found Mouton Cadet. Hmm, what's this? Mouton? For $7? Of course, I knew is wasn't really Chateau Mouton Rothschild. But maybe it was a close sibling, something of quality well above its price.

Well, no, that wasn't the case then and still isn't. Mouton Cadet may still be close enough to that same $7 price, but it's also still about as far from the first growth Bordeaux that it's named for as it ever was. If you look up the word "plonk" in the dictionary, you see Mouton Cadet. If you look up the word "fool," perhaps on that day you'd have seen my face.

Wish I could say that isn't true today.

I should know better than to assume one Latour is the same as another Latour, or that one Chave is just like the other Chave, and so on. Or that one Bouchard -- that's Bouchard Aine & Fils -- is the same as Bouchard Pere & Fils.

Now I didn't question the "Aine" vs. the "Pere," which of course is my mistake. A simple web search will show you that the two are quite different. One, that's Pere, is among of the larger producers of fine Burgundy out there. The other, Aine, is infamous for lackluster wines.

Of course, it was Aine that caught my eye when shopping for inexpensive Burgundy (probably the other mistake, but I'm afraid I'll never learn that lesson). So I ended up with a few bottles of what Burg geeks would undoubtedly turn their noses up at. At least they were indeed cheap. And what do you know, what I've tried hasn't been half bad. Maybe not worth my time, or at least my liver, but not completely void of pleasure and, well, education.

I reported recently on the decent if unspectacular 2000 Bouchard Aine & Fils Pommard "Signature." Tonight I opened a 2001 Bourchard Aine & Fils Nuits Saint Georges "Les Chaboeufs" 1er Cru. It's not a great year and not a great vineyard, but still it's in a nice neighborhood in a fine village.

And what do you know? The wine is alright. Not great, but not horrible. Maybe worth the $20 I paid but not at all the bargain I hoped I had found. The color is translucent ruby, the aroma pretty and perfumed, with cherries and classic Burgundian forest floor notes. It's certainly more youthful than that Pommard.

But in the mouth...let's just say this is a wine that Burg haters would really hate. It's acidic, even tart, with decent flavors but a short finish. It's the kind of wine that gets you thinking of what's NOT wrong about it. Not too extracted, not alcoholic, but also not so great without food. This is just the kind of wine that people call "elegant" to be kind, which is too bad because the greatest wines are truly elegant, not simply lean and needing food, but gorgeous in a simple yet profound way.

This wine is not elegant. It's simply decent Burgundy but nothing better. Certainly nothing worth its premier cru status, but that only leads to the greatest Burgundy lesson of them all. Don't buy vintage. Don't buy vineyard. Do buy producer. Although these Bouchard Aine wines could be a lot worse, don't buy them. You can do much better for less, and I guess that's a lesson I'll probably continue to have to learn again and again...and again...and...again.

Mother's Day Wines

My parents were up for Mother's Day weekend. With Sunday diner, we had two remarkable Oregon wines, a white and a red. It just goes to show that some now older, well established local producers are famous for a reason.

First, the 2007 Cameroni "Giuliano" from Cameron that's apparently a mix of chardonnay, auxerrois, pinot gris and maybe other things. I must admit, I've mostly ignored this bottling in the past. It's in a different bottle, it has a radically different label. I just looked past it in favor of the more common, delicious pinot noir and chardonnay bottlings.

But this wine was really good. Fresh and clean as you'd expect in such a young wine, and then brightly aromatic and complex, with great focus. The flavors were also bright and fresh, with terrific balance of fruit and acidity and a long finish. This is aptly labeled in Italian, but shows the distinction of good, affordable Oregon white wine. Highly recommended. I'm not so sure about I can say the same for MondoEgo. Is there really more?

Then an old friend, my last bottle of 1999 Evesham Wood Pinot Noir Seven Springs. This bottle again shows why Evesham Wood has been and remains one of the best red wine producers in Oregon. It doesn't hurt that their prices, while higher lately, are still cheap for the quality. Like Cameron, everything's handmade here.

This wine showed a maturing and translucent dark red color, and with some airing it became one of the most interesting aromas I've smelled in Oregon pinot noir in a while. Spicy but not oaky, with just the right amount of fruit and undergrowth as you'd expect in a good, maturing wine. In the mouth it was silky and resolved, but with good acidity giving nice freshness to this nearly decade old wine.

This wine didn't have the amazing depth and complexity of the best grand cru. But, like the Cameron, it was damn good and a clear example of what's good, even great, about local wine.

Two Whites From Edmunds St. John

I've long enjoyed the red wines from California producer Edmunds St. John. But I haven't always loved the whites, probably because I haven't tried enough. Because I recently tried two somewhat recent releases, and they were both delicious and interesting, though not at all what you might expect from a California winery.

As a native Californian, I'm not going to get into wine geek scuttlebutt about how California wine is all oaky and overripe and horrible. It's true, there are some ghastly wines out there. But that's true of pretty much any region in the world. If you look deeper, you'll find many great producers of wine. One is Edmunds St. John.

There's some irony that noted wine critic Robert Parker is the one who introduced me to Edmunds St. John many years back. Parker then loved the Rhone-styled wines from this producer, but lately he seems to have changed his opinion, decrying the tendency toward prominent acidity and preference for soil and mineral flavors rather than simply gobs of hedonistic fruit.

To me, the wines haven't changed. What was admirable then is admirable now, perhaps moreso as the wines seem less variable in quality bottle to bottle. Of course, that might be simply my anecdoatal experience. It's true that back in the early '90s, my first experiences of Edmunds St. John wines were mixed, with some bottles delicious and some flawed. Perhaps it was just back luck, or perhaps it was due the lack of winemaker intervention that Parker claimed to love. But I certainly had some, shall we say, wild bottles of ESJ wine.

The good ones were great, and they've kept me coming back for more. I can't recall the last time any ESJ wine let me down, and here are two whites that hold that line without any issue.

First, the 2006 Edmunds St. John Pinot Gris Witters Vineyard high up in the Sierra Foothills of El Dorado County. Here in Oregon, Pinot Gris is king. But is anyone making such gutsy, perhaps challenging Gris? This wine is more like Austrian Gruner Veltliner than anything else, and it's certainly more interesting than most local Gris. Rich, round and very clean tasting, there's a distinct green pea note that suggest meine liebe Osterreich.

I think this is what my winemaker friends would call a "phenolic" wine, meaning there's extract from the white grapes that can sometimes give undesirable tannin or other bitterness. In this case, the phenolic quality gives a nice richness to the wine. I think this would be good with salmon and capers or something similarly rich with a green element.

Then the 2004 Edmunds St. John Shell and Bone white wine from Paso Robles. This particular blend of marsanne, roussane and viognier from the Rozet and Tablas Creek vineyards is simply gorgeous. Not a heavy wine, it's true to its limestone soil and grapes without any oak flavor. The round yet precise aromas and flavors echo the northern Rhone valley, but there's a ripe sort of golden character that's pure California. I have a single bottle of the 2004 ESJ Rousanne Tablas Creek, and I'm very interested now to see what it's like.

50% Off: These, Not Those

I had an unusual, though nice, experience in a wine shop recently. I was browsing in a shop that I don't normally visit. It's not in my immediate area and it's actually one of those half wine, half gifty thing shops. That's typically more than enough evidence that the shop isn't worth a geek's time, but rules have their exceptions and this is one.

Nevermind the shop's odd shelf arrangement, with wines placed on what is to me a vague "ligher to heavier" and "earthy to fruity" axis (what does that mean?). Once you get over that, you find a well thought out selection of wines from around the world. Not a geek fest, but much more serious than the modest locale otherwise commands.

What struck me was the final shelf, with a 50% off sign on the top. That's quite a discount, and you might think that means the wines probably stink. But in this part of the world, there are some amazing things to find in wine bargain bins.

Yet the 50% off shelf had some of the exact same wines as on the regular shelves. Not different vintages or vineyard. No, the exact same wines.

At first I thought there must be a mistake. But no. I asked the proprietor and he said he just didn't have enough room for all the bottles, so a few extras go to the bargain bin. Such as a brand new 2006 Cotes du Rhone that's $12 here, but hey, $6 there.

What caught my eye was the 2003 J.M. Raffault Chinon "Clos du Capucins," which an importer refers to as the producer's grand cru. The shelf price was $23.99. But here were two bottles at half off, and I grabbed them both. Nevermind the over the top 2003 vintage. I'm excited.

But one wine in the same shop at two different prices? I've never seen such a thing. Have you?

Meanwhile, a beer note. I've heard about the Duchesse de Bourgogne, a Flemish beer, but until now I've never tried one. Well isn't this interesting. The label says it's blend of oak-aged ales from 8 to 18 months old. It's indeed reddish brown in color with a complex malty aroma laced with sherry notes. In the mouth it's lightly sweet with a full malty flavor with dried plum and other fruit notes. There's clearly a dry sherry quality on the finish, but it nicely balances the sweet elements and draws out the finish. The oak notes are muted, or perhaps integrated rather than sticking out obviously. In sum, this is delicious old world ale that drinks more like wine than "beer." Find some and try it for yourself.

2004 Nigl Gelber Muskateller Kremstal

At least a year ago, I bought one bottle of the 2004 Nigl Gelber Muskateller, a dry white wine from the muscat grapes made by one of Austria’s top producers. I love wines like this, oddities from great producers that don’t cost much but promise interesting drinking.

The only problem is that I end up with too many one-off bottles. More than a few, like this one, are also weird enough to leave me wondering when to open them. Sure, this should be nice with spicy food, but I have a bunch of wines that fit that bill. So bottles occasionally sit longer in the cellar than I intend.

Then tonight, we’re having Thai take-out from a great little place in the neighborhood – Chaba Thai for you locals. And our neighbors are coming over. They’re game for unusual wines, so out comes the Gelber Muskateller.

First, a quick thought about screw caps. This has one, and I’ve read reports of people suggesting that screw caps can be tough to open sometimes, especially if you have arthritis. I don’t, but sometimes screw caps are a bit of a struggle. The good advice I got is that you should hold the lower part of the screw cap capsule with one hand and the bottle in the other hand. Twist the bottle and the screw cap will crack open without much effort at all.

Once opened, this wine is crystal clear and pale with a fresh, faintly muscat aroma. Instead of heavily floral aromas, this wine shows more grapefruit and mineral notes. In the mouth, it’s dry with some fat fruit and then piercing acidity and a long, mouthwatering finish.

This wine isn’t terribly complex, but it’s really delicious and much more pleasingly subtle than other dry muscats I’ve had. Not many it’s true, but that’s because they tend to taste more like dessert wines than table wines. Maybe I ought to try more, if this one’s any indicator. But then again, when will I get around to drinking them? The wine queue is only getting longer.

Auction Wines

No, not high-end rieslings from the famous German wine auctions. You go do that. I’m simply talking about buying wines from online auctioneers like Winebid.com. I got into it a number of years ago when Winebid was new and I didn’t have a mortgage or kids. Being me, I never spent much money. But I was amazed then at what I could buy for relative peanuts. For $20 or less back then, I got things like:

1978 Stag’s Leap Wine Cellars Cabernet Sauvignon Napa Valley “Lot 2”
1976 Ch. Ducru Beaucaillou St. Julien
1990 DeLoach Zinfandel Russian River Valley Pelletti Ranch

And lots more…wines you couldn’t find on store shelves, wines that weren’t necessarily great, but wines that were very interesting if not outright delicious. Certainly more fun for this wine geek than the swath of mostly new release stuff I usually have access to on local shelves.

Then came kids and the house, and my Winebid days ended. That is until a few months ago, when the happy mix of Christmas money and free time led me back to the fold. I even remembered my old password, so in I logged and off I went.

Auctions used to be something like 10 days long, maybe starting on a Thursday and then ending the week from Sunday, with a few off days before the next auction opened. Now auctions start and end each Sunday, with just 15 minutes for things to reset before the next week’s auction begins. I like this new schedule.

It used to be that you could buy dribs and drabs of bottles over a number of auctions, then consolidate everything into one shipment to make sure shipping charges didn’t negate the good deals. Perhaps my Winebid days ended way back when after the policy apparently changed where they’d charge you for storing wines not shipped immediately. That was probably reasonable for them, but this customer didn’t like the change on bit. Especially since the change seemed a bit pourous. The policy wasn’t entirely clear, and the whole confusion just turned me off.

Now, with the weekly auctions, Winebid has a clear policy and shipping schedule such that you can amass wines from two consecutive auctions without storage charges. My goal – to fill out a case over two auctions, so that with ground shipping from California to Oregon I’m paying only about $2 a bottle for packaging and transit.

So far, it’s working too well. My wife isn’t reading this, right? Seriously, I’ve managed to get some fascinating things without spending too much money. My goal for the wine cellar is to find some newer relase, high quality things at discount prices and fill in older vintages that my cellar largely lacks. Thus far, I’ve managed some interesting things within my old budget, like:

1981 Beaulieu Vineyard Cabernet Sauvignon Napa Valley “Rutherfold”
2004 Selbach Oster Rielsing Auslese* Zeltinger Schlossberg
1997 McKinlay Pinot Noir Willamette Valley “Special Selection”
2001 Bouchard Nuits St. Georges 1er Cru “Chaboeufs” Signature

And others…including the following two wines that I’ve tried so far.

First, the 2000 Bouchard Pommard Signature, a translucent red Burgundy from what’s known as a soft, early drinking vintage. This shows some oak in the aroma and there’s nice mature fruit and spice notes. The taste is a bit unbalanced, with tannin and drying fruit flavors, but it’s flavory as the Brits would say and a nice drink with dinner.

Then, the 1991 Stony Hill Riesling Napa Valley, which has a light gold color and smells nice with honey and petrol notes. The flavor though is a bit light and watery, not showing the intensity I expected from this notably cool vintage in California. Really though, it’s almost 17 years old, what should I expect even from a producer that’s known to produce long-lived wines. Sure enough, on the second day it seems more complete and well worth drinking, not something to hold on to but really interesting to drink now.

I’ve looked at other wine auction sites, but none seem to have the small, well priced lots I favor like Winebid. Anyone know of other sites that do?

Vins Sans Soufre

Maybe it's me, but it seems like there are more and more red wines out there with no sulfur added. Sure, the number of "sans soufre" bottlings out there is still minimal. Yet I see them on the store shelves, and not always clearly labeled as such.

For example, Marcel Lapierre's delicious Morgon is typcially sans soufre. Unfortunately, the importer's label or the government "health" warning label usually covers up the small back label that tells you in French that the wine has no sulfur added and needs to be keep in cool conditions to be in optimum condition.

Happily, our picture shows that Pierre and Catherine Breton's 2000 Bourgeuil "Nuits d'ivresse" is clearly labeled. Provided you read French, of course. For the monoglots, the label says that the wine was not sulfured or filtered, that the grapes used were certified organic by Ecocert, and that the wine should be kept below 14C, or around 56F.

Of course, I found this bottle and a few of its siblings recently while browsing a local Fred Meyer that's never very warm inside but certainly no less than 68F at any given time. The 2000 vintage was released four or five years ago, and these bottles were simply on the regular shelves, slightly dust covered and suggesting they'd been waiting for a suitor for quite a while.

Everything about the bottles looked fine. Fill levels were perfect. Labels were clean, capsules and corks apparently pristine. What I might expect from fragile wine stored in imperfect conditions would be corks bulging out of the bottle tops, pulling at the capsules, perhaps with dried drips of wine down the sides of the bottles. Any poorly stored wine might look that way, as heat causes wine to expand and push out the cork, allowing spoilage and leaving evidence of the disaster within. But no-sulfur-added wines would seem to be even more likely to show damage, because sulfur is used to inactivate yeast and otherwise harmless bacteria in the wine. No sulfur means there's nothing from keeping chemical reactions from occuring, producing CO2 gas that pushes out the cork a bit an allows the wine to spoil. Cold temperatures slow down or essentially negate the risk, hence the warning to keep non-sulfured wine cold. But no sulfur and room temperature conditions for even just days or weeks is surely doom for wine.

At least, that's the conventional wisdom. Yet here are these bottles that appear in perfect condition depsite obviously imperfect storage. So I buy a bottle and try it out. And wouldn't you know, it's pretty delicious stuff. I don't have a "perfectly" stored bottle to compare it to, so who's to say that one wouldn't show aromas and flavors much more young and primary than our poorly treated bottle. The color was a bit mature, lacking the vibrancy that Loire cabernet franc shows in its youth, but the wine is almost eight years old. The aroma was clean and still pretty fresh, with a nice mix of gravelly cassis and herb aromas and flavors, and a softening tannic structure. There isn't great intensity here, and this bottling (the "drunken nights") doesn't seem to be intended for long aging. But this is still perfectly good wine and either an epiphany for the resiliance of no-sulfur wine or at least evidence that no sulfur, no filtering, and no real concern for storage conditions isn't certain doom for otherwise fragile wine.

I'm left wondering what producers are thinking in bottling wines for export without sulfur. Do they think the wines are less fragile than we typically assume? Are they aware that even the best wine shops might not heed with label warnings? Because it's not just the supermarkets that pay no attention to the warnings on storage conditions. I saw the 2004 version of this same wine on the room temperature shelves of one of the top wine shops in Portland. If any place would pay attention to such details, this shop is the one. Yet, again, no bulging corks, no drip stains on the labels, no evidence that anything's wrong with the wine. Judging by this 2000, I'd bet the 2004 is fine. And considering I'm preparing to sulfur my 2007 wines, maybe I don't need to hit them as hard as I think. Sulfur is a magical thing for winemakers, but perhaps the risks to our wines aren't quite as great as we think.

Homebrew, and a Belgian

This past vintage was a tough one for this homebrewer, though things may be turning out better than I feared.

Last October was pretty rainy here in the northern Willamette Valley. I picked chardonnay in the middle of the month that was nicely ripe and pretty clean despite the conditions, and I was hopeful I'd make my best white wine yet. The next day I got pinot noir from another vineyard that simply wasn't that ripe. Things didn't look good for my 2007 red wine.

My goal for the chardonnay was simple - make a clean, early drinking white wine aged in glass that would be ready for the coming summer. I picked the most industrial of industrial yeasts, EC-1118, for its reliability with little impact on the final wine. Of course, things don't always turn out so well, and months after harvest I had a couple carboys of juice that wouldn't finish fermenting. What happened? Who knows, but I brought the carboys into my kitchen to try to encourage the yeast to finish off the remaining sugar.

One month later, nothing. Two months later, nothing, except my growing fear that the sugar fermenation wouldn't ever finish, the malolactic fermentation would begin and then end ruinously as the lactic bacteria eat the remaining sugar instead of malic acidity, producing nasty volatile acidity.

Then three months later, today, I find the carboys are finally dry and actually taste pretty fresh, one moreso than the other but that's ok. This is an experiment, and I'll end up bottling them separately to see how they do. I have another small amount of chardonnay that finished fermentation in the fall and has been happily resting all winter. All together, they should provide some interesting lessons before the coming harvest. Considering that I expected this chardonnay to be total failure, I'm now very hopeful for something at least decent.

With the red grapes, I knew I'd have trouble with dilute, unripe flavors due to the rain, so I took off a few gallons of juice after one night of soaking on the skins to make rose. That also allowed the remaining juice to gain a bit more density as the color and flavor from the skins still had largely not been extracted. And I had nicely pink juice to make rose, something I messed up a little the year before by leaving my rose on the skins too long and ending up with a color closer to light red than the pale salmon I really like in most rose.

The rose juice fermented quickly, also with EC-1118, and has been resting all winter like the small amount of chardonnay. Today I tasted it for the first time in months and it's really nice, crisp if not a bit tart with nice purity though simple flavors. I'm interested to see if this doesn't end up being more nervy than most local rose, more like European versions that emphasize minerality and austerity rather than sweet, gummy fruit. We'll see, but I'm excited.

And the red, now in barrel for nearly six months, is smelling better than ever. I've been fighting H2S as the wine goes through its malolactic fermentation, so I've gently stirred the barrel with a copper tube periodically to encourage the stinky smells to bind with the copper and stop smelling. It's working I think, as the wine shows more generous fruit and spice on the aroma than I've ever noticed. Rich, plush wine this isn't. But gone (mostly) is the aroma of farts and other stinky things. In the mouth, this wine still lacks fruit though I'm hoping things continue to change as the malolactic fermentation concludes. It may never appeal too much, but if the flavors come around like the aroma, I'll be very pleased. At this point, I have much more hope than I did a few months ago.

The lesson with all these wines? Patience truly is a virtue. The old sayings tell us that the farmer must not miss anything in the vineyard, lest the grapes suffer from rot or mildew. Yet the winemaker must be willing to neglect wines in the cellar, that is to resist the temptation to muck with the wines before they've had a chance to do their thing, for lack of a better phrase. I'm learning that. Often, the best thing to do in the cellar is wait. Though that's sure easier when you have many barrels of a wine and you can afford a few clunkers. The homebrewer has just one, and it's tough to sit there and wait for things to get better on their own.

My reward? A cool bottle of Duvel Golden Ale from Belgium. Poured into a wine glass to allow the aroma to develop, it's urine yellow in color with a frothy, white head and a malty, yeasty aroma that simply captivates. In the mouth, there's a pleasant tang from the yeast and a long, lightly sweet flavor that's, rightly, golden. I could drink a lot of this, except it's 8.5% alcohol. So one is plenty. And plenty good.

Recommending Jacob's Creek

I didn't really foresee the day I'd recommend not one, but two Jacob's Creek wines. Yet here we are.

I don't mean to seem snobbish. It's just that there's plenty written about mass market wine brands. And, usually, I find you can get better wines for less that $10 from smaller producers than the giants. Think of it this way. With $5 for lunch, would you choose McDonald's or one of a selection of lunch carts? I go with the best lunch cart I can find. You can simply do better with individuals making their own food, perhaps with some love and attention, versus the consistent mediocrity of the industrial giant.

With that in mind, we consider Jacob's Creek, a brand from the Australian wine giant Orlando. First, if you need a good, cheap sparking wine that mimics something in the neighborhood of Champagne, the current crop of NV Jacob's Creek Brut Chardonnay/Pinot Noir is pretty swell. I heard about it from Matt Kramer in the Oregonian newspaper, and he's correct that it's more than decent stuff. Two caveats: batches change without notice, and freshness in a wine like this counts. Don't buy dusty old bottles of most sparkling wine.

But the real interest here is the 2002 Jacob's Creek Riesling Steingarten Barossa Valley. I came upon it the other day in the Hollywood Fred Meyer store here in Portland for just $6.99. The display suggested it was a huge markdown, and despite the Jacob's Creek name I grabbed one. Then I looked it up on the internet, as I like to do with wines that I find.

The first thing I found was that this is a limited release wine usually marketed under the Orlando name for $20 or more. It's been around for decades and it seems to be a highly regarded bottling in its home country. The 2002 vintage is apparently infamous for being the year Orlando thought they'd change things up and brand it with the Jacob's Creek name, much to the chagrin of longtime fans who thought it cheapened the wine. Perhaps that led to the local close out.

The most useful notes I found on the wine are at the Auswine forum, which I've read for years without participating much (not at all in the past five or so years). Read here, here, here, here, here, here, and here for more, including some very positive comments and even some evidence of clamor for the wine before release, at a notably higher price. It's always interesting how something so hot in one country or city can languish on the shelves in another. Another proof that prices does not equate to quality.

So how is it? Terrific, actually. This is really one of the most interesting non-European rieslings I've ever tried, no matter the price. For $7, it's a ridiculous bargain. It's indeed lightly honeyed smelling as others have reported, with light petrol aromas and grapefruit, sometimes mint and other interesting things that come and go with time in the glass. In the mouth, the wine is auslese rich with bright acidity but little if any residual sugar, meaning that it's rich and full tasting but also dry and lively with a long finish. The flavors are fruity, mineral, and earthy, really integrated and complex tasting with great intensity and terrific balance. I know, vague winespeak, but this wine is really good and simply the kind of wine you try and immediately know it's serious stuff that will last and probably only get better. As Robert Parker might say, run, don't walk.

Closeout Wine Product

Ah, spring is here and it's time to drink some Beaujolais Nouveau.

What's that you say? Nouveau is too old in spring? It's just for Thanksgiving, if ever? Bollocks. Not when there's "Close-Out [sic] Wine Product" in our midst.

Yes, the finest vieilles vignes Beaujolais Noveau is on clearance in at least a few stores in this town. Me being a cheapskate, I buy when prices are low.

And what do you know? This 2007 J. P. Brun Terres Dores Beaujolais Noveau Vieilles Vignes is as good as I'd heard. I suppose you could fault it for being atypcial, enough so that one wonders if it might ever be refused its appellation for being, well, too good. The French do this on occasion, and it might be warranted here. Most nouveau tastes like bubble gum. This wine most certainly does not.

I'm not sure I've ever seen a Beaujolais Nouveau made from "old vines" like this Brun example. And the usual $18 regular price is certainly the most expensive Nouveau I've seen.

If you can believe it, this wine is worth that price and might even be worth cellaring for a little while. It has a lovely perfume and shows all the bright raspberry fruit, rocky earth and pleasant leafy qualities of the regular Brun Beaujolais I've loved for years, with just the slightest grapey edge that suggests Nouveau (made and bottled within weeks of harvest and usually meant to be drunk very young).

In fact, I wonder how Brun does it. The wine tastes like regular Beaujolais, good regular Beaujolais that is another example of wine that allegedly doesn't last in the cellar but in fact can.

I suppose there's no reason to cellar such a wine. Its charm will inevitably fade with time, and there's always a new vintage around the corner. But how can you resist? It's delicious, it's substantial, and it's sad when the bottle's empty.

So go and seek out some closeout wine product. You may be surprised. Nouveau may not be fashionable anymore, but it can be darn good wine.

Ah, Bordeaux

Thank you faithful reader for your encouragement that I update my blog. So…

Back in my San Francisco days, I was more of a Bordeaux buyer and drinker than I am today. There are several reasons for the change.

One is simply that I don’t drink nearly as much cabernet- or merlot-based wine than I used to. If I do, it’s likely to be Loire cabernet franc, which I find to be the Burgundy of cabernet-based wines. Lighter in body, emphasizing its perfume and simply a better fit on the dinner table. My table, at least. And it’s more ageable than conventional wisdom suggests. Far more. Ignore those writers who tell absurdly you that Chinon and the others cannot age and improve with time.

Second, the Bordeaux selection here in Oregon is abysmal. Why is this? Portland’s wine selection is terrific in depth and breadth for bottlings from around the world. One very notable exception is Bordeaux, and what Bordeaux we do see is usually horribly priced. I know I could order from afar (i.e., Premier Cru), yet I don’t. See reason one above.

Third, with the 1995 vintage, Bordeaux pricing went absolutely crazy. Sure, older timers will say that 1982 changed everything. Those older still will point to the 1970 vintage, which led to such a run up in prices that a few (poor) years later the market crashed. People have predicted another Bordeaux crash ever since, without success. The latest run up indeed started with the well-hyped 1995s, then the 1996s, then the 1998s from the right bank (St. Emilion and Pomerol), then the 2000s, 2003s, and now 2005s. Will it ever end? Sure. But people have been predicting it for so long, no one should claim credit when things finally do change.

Finally, though I’m loathe to bring it up, there’s clearly been the dramatic change in grape growing and winemaking in Bordeaux wines in the past decade or two. Suffice it to say that, indeed, more wines from Bordeaux taste like California cousins than ever before. Whether that’s a good thing is debated endlessly. I prefer more traditional examples. Clearly the American press in general sees it differently. So I find myself simply bored by the whole topic of Bordeaux.

At least, until I try something like the 1994 Ch. Grand Mayne St. Emilion.

Back in the late 1990s, after prices started to rise, good but not great vintages like 1994 fell out of favor. So there were some terrific deals to be had. It didn’t hurt that I met my wife in that year, and spent a good part of that summer in France. I loaded up on ‘94s, but these were wines I knew I’d need to wait on. The press faulted the rainy harvest (after a nicely warm growing season) and its firm, tannic wines. To me, they tasted like classic young claret, provided you were patient.

More than a decade later, the ‘94s I’ve tried are still a bit tough. The ’94 Leoville Barton was still too firm for my taste at Christmas more than a year ago. But it’s early yet. Good Bordeaux can age for decades, so we’re still early on with things. And if this Grand Mayne is any indicator, good things are on the horizon.

The 1994 Grand Mayne has its own controversy. Robert Parker liked this producer in the late ‘80s but felt that the ’93 and ’94 were possibly flawed in the cellar, with repeated samples showing elements of “cork” taint that can come from bad barrels or even a mold-infected cellar. I tasted this wine young and found it promising, so I bought a few cheap on close-out after Parker readers must have passed it over. Back on Thanksgiving 2000, it tasted tight and hard, not bad, certainly not corked, just lackluster and in need of time. I didn’t open another until last week and, wow, what a difference.

Let’s be clear. This isn’t first growth quality. But after nearly 14 years, this wine shows a nicely maturing ruby color and that vague sweetness of bottle age in its perfume, like the way onions caramelize and sweeten with cooking. There are also nice red fruits in the aroma and herbs from the merlot, and that clean, rocky earthiness I love in Bordeaux. In the mouth, the texture has become more smooth, the tannins a bit softer though still clearly there, the flavors of oak, fruit, and earth coming together as a whole rather than parts. On its own, this wine would be too dry for many drinkers I know. But with food, I found this simply delicious. My wife too, and we easily finished the bottle over the evening.

The lesson here? Don’t always believe what you read, this blog included. You may hate 1994 Bordeaux, but I found advantage in the critics’ distaste for this vintage. Same, too, with reports that a producer’s entire harvest is suspect. That’s not the case here, unless I’ve been incredibly lucky. If so, I suppose I’ll just smile all the way to the cellar.

Bubbly de Savoie

To celebrate the fact that my 2006 red wine is nearing the bottle, I popped a bottle of NV Domaine Labbe Brut Vin de Savoie Methode Traditionnelle. That's French for delicious sparkling wine from the Savoie.

It has a fine frothy mousse with crisp, fresh aromas of yellow fruits and stones. The flavors are similar with a lemony tang, so lively and pure with tantalizing minerality. Yes, that word's thrown around way too much. But this wine shows that unmistakeable stony flavor that you simply don't find in many (any?) local wines. Dry but not austere, my less educated palate regarding vins des Savoie might guess this was good Loire sparkling wine. For something like $14, this is stealing.

2006 Pinot Noir Update

Just got back the ETS report on my single barrel of 2006 Pinot Noir and I'm very surprised and glad to see the chemistry. Here are the numbers:

Free sulfur dioxide -- 23 mg/L
Total sulfur dioxide -- 75 ml/L
Volatile acidity (acetic) -- 0.056 g/100mL
Titratable acidity -- 0.54 g/100mL
pH -- 3.54
Molecular SO2 -- 0.42 mg/L

I'm not a technical guy, but seeing these numbers really helps give perspective to what I've been experiencing, and thinking I've been experiencing, with this wine over the past year and a half. I wish I'd done a "juice panel" before fermentation to know the initial pH and TA. I'm not sure the measurements we did on this at the time were very accurate.

I thought the free SO2 might be really low. Instead, it's pretty close to where I want it for bottling in the next month. Total SO2 is a bit of a puzzle. I recently added 60ppm after the long malolactic fermentation finally concluded. I'm confident in my calculation, and the only other SO2 added to this wine was (I think) 40ppm at the crusher. Certainly no less, perhaps a bit more. So how do I only have 75 total SO2? Shouldn't total SO2 be the sum of all adds? I'll have to read up on that.

VA is both higher than I'd like, but lower than I feared. Actually, I have no idea about how much VA I should tolerate. I've just read Peynaud and he suggests keeping it below 55-60ppm. My wine shows some lifted notes that suggest a little VA. I want more purity in the wine. Maybe it's not VA. Maybe it's just the ripeness of the vintage. Seeing the VA at 56 ppm makes me think it could have been lower with a better ML. Yet, I'm relieved that it isn't higher. At this level, is it generally noticeable?

TA is about what I would expect, but given where I thought I started with pH and how the wine tastes, I would have thought my pH now was 3.7. The lower number simply helps me keep bugs out of the wine with less SO2. Meaning, molecular SO2 is very good, I think. I need to read up on this some more. Molecular SO2 represents the anti-bacterial properties of sulfur (anti-oxidation is the other main property). One table I found so far suggests I'm in great shape, but I'll read further before drawing conclusions.

Anybody have thoughts? Am I a slave to science? Or is this like putting a instant read thermometer in the bird you're roasting in the oven?

I'm hardly a technical guy

Wine That Tastes Better Than Its Price

I'm always looking for good, inexpensive wine that is really worth drinking. Sometimes unknown labels deliver pleasant surprises. But the easier bet for finding worthwhile bargains in my experience is in the cheaper labels of the better producers. It's not always true (ahem...Mouton Cadet), but the exceptions prove the rule.

But let's get one thing straight. I'm not advocating for those who hype those "just outside the AOC" wines. You know the ones you read about in wine shop newsletters. "This would be Chateauneuf but the owner didn't bother with the forms, so it's Cotes du Rhone in name only." These stories are sometimes true. But more often they seem as ridiculous as the idea that some generic Bourgogne is distinguished because it's "just a nine iron from [such and such] Grand Cru." A nine iron? Isn't the basement just an elevator ride away from the penthouse? That's a short ride but a big difference.

N0, I'm thinking of the bargain bottlings from producers that don't typcially mess around with bad wine. Evesham Wood in Oregon is a great example with its red wines. The basic Pinot Noir is always nice. Even the "Bruno" label they do for their local distributor for even less money is worthwhile. A. et P. de Villaine in Burgundy is similar. Their wines always seem interesting, no matter the price. They even make reference standard Aligote, and if anything is going to get its corners cut, it's Aligote.

With that in mind, I don't have much experience with Guy Bocard wines from Meursault. But I've heard they're good and figured they probably make good cheap wine. So I bought a bottle of Bocard's 2002 Bourgogne Blanc, and sure enough this was delicious and, while certainly not Meursault, really showed Cote d'Or character for very little money. This isn't a current release, so I had the added chance to see how good cheap wine might keep for a few years.

The wine started a bit stale, not oxidized as many people are finding their aged white Burgs. Rather, something less severe that just suggests the wine is getting a bit too old. Happily this element receeded with air time in favor of really nice baked apple and seashell aromas. In the mouth the wine was bright but flavory, with nice length and a mineral note that mixed well with the ripe yellow fruit flavors. I wouldn't keep this too much longer, but at 5 1/2 years this is terrific, distinct and inexpensive white Burgundy.

Who says you have to pay a lot for interesting wine? And no 9-irons required. Just don't refer to it as "baby Meursault."

Selbach-Oster Tasting

Yesterday I stopped by Liner & Elsen in NW Portland for a free tasting of Selbach-Oster rieslings. Johannes Selbach was scheduled to be there but apparently wasn't well and had to return to Germany. Local German wine guy Ewald Moseler -- the last name sort of gives away where he's from -- filled in and poured six wines.

The first few were fine enough but nothing special. Noteably, the 2006 Selbach-Oster Estate Kabinett and Spatlese Riesling both showed the gushing ripeness of the vintage. I prefer a bit less sweetness and lushness in these lower pradikat levels, but these aren't bad wines at all. I didn't note the other initial wine, but it was equally fine if a bit too sweet and fat.

A few people commented on how well the 2006 Selbach-Oster Zeltinger Sonnenuhr Riesling Spatlese showed. Again, it's nice wine, but the ripeness of the vintage seems to overwhelm any other element in the wine at this point. I enjoyed it and would recommend it if sweet fruit is what you're looking for.

As a nice contract, the last two wines showed more acid structure. The 2005 Selbach-Oster Zeltinger Himmelreich Riesling Auslese was hardly sweeter than the other wines. But it showed a spectacular aroma of red and yellow fruit and lots of slatey mineral notes. The taste was piercing, nicely sweet with zingy acid. I don't usually buy $34 wines, but this is one to buy if you're looking for something special. Wow.

Finally, the 2004 Selbach-Oster Zeltinger Sonnenuhr Riesling Auslese was a bit more tight, without the incredible aroma and more coiled in the mouth. This isn't tart wine, but coming after some fat examples of riesling, this seemed almost austere. Very good but I think you might hold this one for a while to see its best.

All in all, a couple very impressive wines and the rest, if made in Oregon, would be revelations. Maybe German rieslings, even sweeter than I prefer, are still so good and pure that really I'm just jaded.

Wine As Background Music

I love music, but the older I get, the more music seems to be in the background of my life. In my teen years, I largely spent weekend nights with friends in secondhand record shops -- usually Rhino in Westwood. We'd always go straight home to listen intently to our latest purchases. These days, music is mostly something I listen to alone, unless we have friends over. Only then we rarely listen to the music. It's usually just background noise.

Wine seems to be similar. With non-wine geek friends, wine becomes background music, something considered for ambiance. At the least, something that should be inoffensive. But I wish you could talk about the background music more without interrupting the evening. Especially if you want to be a bit critical.

For example, the other night our neighbors had us over and we drank the 2006 Gascon Malbec from Argentina, which seems to be the latest brand to saturate the local market. To my taste it was sweet, either from sugar or some other enhancements that give a sweet impression, and had a "liquid smoke" smell and taste that just repulsed me.

I countered with two wines, one a 2006 Casa Silva Carmenere Reserva that I'd opened the night before as an experiment. I never drink Chilean wine after tasting too many long ago and learning to hate the weedy, vegetal flavor that seemed pervasive in the category. Then I heard about Casa Silva on a GrapeRadio podcast that mentioned their syrah, with the suggestion that things have changed in Chile. Researching the producer on the internet, I found positive tasting notes on this Carmenere, which is available locally. I bought one and wouldn't you know it -- it has all the vegetal notes of the old days of Chile. But this wine, like so many others these days, has twice or three times the level of extraction and a most unoriginal mix of unripe and overripe qualities that defy taste imagination. This is simply bad merlot.

Of course, the wine geek pick didn't do much better. The 1998 Chateau la Roque Pic St. Loup Cupa Numismae from southern France smelled and tasted a bit old though the cork looked fine and storage hasn't been an issue. The last bottle was considerably richer and youthful, but this one was more gamey and lean with some bottle sweetness but some oxidation as well. Still, I'd rather drink this flawed example of a good wine, but I'm sure the non-geeks hated it. But who knows? We didn't discuss the wines, and I'm not sure how much we even heard them. But like the other two bottles, we had no problem consuming this one. The background music keeps playing.

Nice write up, and a tasting note update

First, thanks to Andy Perdue for his post yesterday about this little site. It turns out Andy's an Élevage reader and coincidentially the editor of WinePress Northwest magazine. He happened upon this site last year after I posted a critique of the publication's coverage of Oregon wine. Apparently, when you write about someone's magazine or winery or whatever on the internet, it seems they find you pretty quickly. Happily in this case I didn't get the usual weird phone call. Rather, some very kind words.

Meanwhile, last year I tried the 1999 Clos Roche Blanche Touraine Cabernet, a blend of cabernet franc and maybe cabernet sauvignon from France's Loire valley. Then it wasn't showing so great. But tonight it seemed much more alive and pleasing, possibly even something to age five more years. The color is dark purple, but already there's a nice bottle sweetness emerging in the wine. The effect amplifies the aroma, rounding out the texture and sweetening the flavors. It's something I prize in aged wine, and though this wine is still not mature, it's getting there I think. Yes, my wife found this a bit "green" though she later enjoyed it with dinner. If you don't think you like Loire red wines, I suppose you might not like this one. For the rest of us, this again shows how so-called "bad" vintages can produce interesting and delicious wines. Ageworthy ones, too.

Peter Liem Blog

Thanks to whomever wrote on Wine Therapy about Peter Liem's blog.

Long ago Peter lived here in Portland and worked in the wine business, most notably as a co-founder of the terrific but long shuttered Riesling Report.

Peter moved to New York and maybe elsewhere working for Wines & Spirits magazine and other wine related things. Now he's in Champagne researching a book and writing a terrific blog.

Naturally, Peter's writing a lot about Champagne. But don't miss his recent Loire valley trip with the Louis/Dressner clan, among other things.

I also love the photo of his nephew celebrating Chinese New Year. That alone is worth your time, but Peter's clear but expressive writing is unusually pleasing to read. And he seems to write regularly. We hate blogs that don't get updated regularly.

Um...never mind.

Cheap, Classic Zinfandel

Being a native Californian, I left my home state some years back with a few reservations. One of them was about leaving zinfandel behind.

Zinfandel isn’t from California, but it’s an archetype of California wine like no other. Sure, Napa has its cabernet and the Sonoma coast has its pinot noir. But California had zinfandel long before either of those grapes meant much.

Nothing seems to reflect the ripeness, the precociousness, the tradition-busting nature of California better in my opinion than zinfandel. Sometimes I wonder if all red wine in California, if you aren’t careful, ends up tasting like zinfandel.

Zinfandel was also my conduit to winemaking. I thought I’d be in California forever, making zinfandel in my garage and hoping to go pro some day. Zinfandel was my first winemaking love. Turns out I’m in Oregon and that zinfandel in the garage is actually pinot noir. It seems pinot noir has become the love of my winemaking life.

Still, I love a good zinfandel. The trouble is, aside from the relatively poor selection of California wine here in Oregon, too many zins bore me with overripeness, high alcohol, and too much new oak flavor. So I find that I don’t drink much zin any more.

Even my wife questions me if I bring up a bottle of zin. Are you sure, she asks. Is it going to taste like vodka? Isn’t there a nice Italian wine down there?

All that changed with a simple, inexpensive wine that in one glass brought me back to zinfandel glory. Yes, it’s the 2004 Sierra Vista Zinfandel from El Dorado County in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada mountain range.

The wine itself is medium ruby in color, with a fresh, classically zinfandel berry aroma mixed with a little tobacco and pepper. In the mouth, it’s silky with that classic berry flavor, bright acidity with very soft tannin and a clean finish. Hardly wine for the ages, this modest bottle reminded me of delicious zinfandel I’ve had over the years but for whatever reason don’t seem to find so much any more.

This wine probably costs around $10. So for cheap wine, this is really good deal. If you like classically bright and medium bodied zinfandel, this might even be a great deal. A “bigger” wine will “blow it away” in a tasting. But if you’re looking for something interesting for the dinner table, this one’s a rare California bargain.

Wine Dinner at Alba Osteria in Portland

I attended a nice offline dinner this past Friday night here in Portland at Alba Osteria. As you might expect, Alba prepares food in the style of the Piedmont, and I found the variety of dishes we sampled, sort of family style, to be delicious across the board. This restaurant’s reputation locally seems well deserved.

For starters, we tried the 2006 Ferrando La Torrazza Erbaluce di Caluso, a white from the northern Piedmont that paired nicely with a Dungeness crab dish. Lanolin, flowers, and pretty yellow fruit aromas with a round, soft and then bright texture, fresh and clean wine and a completely new experience for me. Never had an Erbaluce before.

Then on to a mix of reds. Overall I enjoyed most of the wines, even though they were mostly more modern in style than I typically prefer. Lately I’m finding myself more pleased by some “new worldy” old world wines, and tonight was a good example of that.

First, a huge throwback. The 1982 Dessilani Caramino Riserva Vino da Tavola, a humble nebbiolo that is as old school as old school gets. Funky merde aromas at first that ease into nicely sweet tar and flower scents. Then nicely bottle sweet in the mouth, silky and a bit tart on the finish but really nice, especially with the tajarin with beef.

Next, the 1999 Clerico Barolo Pajana, which is pretty modern smelling with an oaky sheen and a dark crimson color. But in the mouth this is all nebbiolo, finely tannic and rich but clearly varietal if primary, a common them this night. I’m sure this will be more distinctive in another decade, but it’s solid now.

Then the 1997 Seghesio Barolo La Villa, with a slightly ligher color more in line with what I expect from nebbiolo. The aroma was deep and rich, oaky yes, but so nice with tar and flowers. The crime here is youth, as the finely tannic texture and tight flavors show this wine still needs many years to show its best. One diner said this and the Clerico were just too oaky, and it's true they aren't old school by any means. But they seemed like interesting wines and certainly not ruined by their less than traditional upbringing.

The 2001 Cabutto Barolo Riserva del Fondatore Vigna Sarmassa is controversial at first. Is it corked? Or does it normally smell like tree bark and mothballs? Neither. These elements fade with airing to reveal a nicely spicy, cherry smelling nebbiolo with another finely tannic, tight and primary flavor profile. Nice, but needs time.

My contribution was an odd bottle of 1999 Varaldo Barbaresco Bricco Libero, again a more modern-styled wine despite the import sticker of Casa Bruno, a local group I tend to associate with more old school stuff. Some ethyl acetate notes at first, then cherry pie aromas with oaky “crust” mixed in. Flavors were again cherry pie with a fine tannin structure, but the finish was marred by alcohol. Hard to read, I want to say this needs more time, but the heat the end is worrisome.

Then something different, a 1994 Quilceda Creek Cabernet Sauvignon. This was tremendous cabernet even if it still needs at least another decade. Strong cassis and nicely integrated oak aromas, without the wood sticking out, with cassis flavors that mix with a nicely earthy, woodsy note that I really liked. This isn’t mind blowing wine, and back in the day Quilceda Creek wasn’t the hot property it now is. But this is terrific wine and well worth holding for many more years if you have some.

Decanters got mixed up and I was tiring of red wines, but I think I tried the 2003 Giorgio Toscano IGT. If correct, this was inky, shoe polishy modern Tuscan wine with a rich, saturated flavor and lots of tannins. I wasn’t moved.

Finally, the 1996 Albert Mann Tokay Pinot Gris Vendanges Tardives from half bottle. Pale, very young looking color with a bright, slightly petrolly aroma that is otherwise bright and youthful. Bright, fresh flavors with light honey notes and terrific, mouthwatering acidity, a medium body and a lingering aftertaste. A heavier, richer sweet wine would blow this out of the water. But in this context, this was fabulous and that’s more than enough for me.

My 2006 Pinot Noir And A Tasting Note

There's no other way to put it. I've struggled with my 2006 Pinot Noir.

There was some hydrogen sulfide stink during primary fermentation back in October 2006, but it went away with some gentle stirring of the fermenting juice. Aeration helps gets rid of stinky smells. And stinky fermentations aren't usual.

Then last January I racked the wine after it had been in barrel a few months and became stinky again. But I think I made a mistake. I was relying on malolactic fermentation to happen naturally, and when I racked the wine I knew it hadn't finished ML. But I think I left too much of the lees behind, meaning I took away the key ingredient to natural ML fermentation, the fine lees sediment that you get after primary fermentation.

Without the lees, I probably should have innoculated for ML. But I didn't. Instead I waited for spring, and indeed the wine began to fizz as spring arrived and the temperature warmed up a bit. I thought ML was progressing normally, but the fizzing never subsided during the summer.

For whatever reason, I waited until September to see if there was malic acid left in the wine. Turns out there was still 1.4 g/L of malic, not a lot if we were just beginning ML but a huge amount nearly one year after harvest. We need to get ML done and get the wine sulfured to keep it fresh. So I innoculated with freeze dried ML culture and kept the wine relatively warm (mid 60sF) to promote the acid fermentation. Immediately the fizzing increased and I was happy.

But the fizzing didn't stop, and after Christmas I tested the wine again. No malic left. Hmmm, then why is it fizzing? A winemaker friend suggested that maybe the wine isn't dry, and that the ML bacteria might be working on the sugar. But it tastes dry and seemed to ferment dry (-1.5 or -2 on a hydrometer, meaning essentially dry). And if there was even a little sugar, wouldn't the ML bacteria start on that and only get to the malic acid once the sugar was gone? The important thing here is that, when malic acid bacteria feeds on sugar, the result is volatile acidity that can make the wine smell like nail polish remover.

Who knows what was happening, but with malic definitely gone, I hit the wine with 60ppm of sulfur dioxide and the fizzing stopped. So how does the wine taste?

Before the SO2 addition, I feared that the wine lacked freshness. Too much time in relatively warm cellar conditions can take a toll on even sturdy, young wine. SO2 can mitigate the aldehydes that give that stale, not so fresh flavor, and SO2 is one of the key things winemakers use to "clean up" a wine before bottling. Meaning, use sulfur to bind up the compounds in a wine that muddy the aromas and flavors, making the wine appear fresher to our senses.

Happily, my fairly large SO2 addition seems to have helped freshen the wine. But I look back on the evolution of this single barrel of Wahle vineyard pinot noir and think of all the things I'd do differently. Beginning with staying on top of ML much better and intervening sooner.

I'll send a sample out to the lab to see how my ph and free SO2 (sulfur that still is active in the wine, meaning the sulfur I've added that is still available to react with oxygen or other compounds that can threaten a wine). Then I'll add SO2 to make sure I have enough for bottling, then rack into a bottling tank and bottle this stuff. That's probably in April.

A barrel sample yesterday seemed a little funky at first, but I was pretty happy with it as it opened up. This is ripe, typcial 2006 Willamette Valley Pinot Noir, not as delicate and lacy as I'd like, but full of stuffing and probably something that will please more people than my ideal wine. I just want to make sure it stays as fresh as possible, so that the ripe fruit flavors don't wade into cooked, raisiny areas. That's not great for something like zinfandel, but it's absolutely horrible for pinot noir.

Which leads me to a tasting note of the 2006 Bruno Pinot Noir Willamette Valley. This simply bottling is made by Evesham Wood for its local distributor, Casa Bruno. Hence the name. I found a couple bottles of this at Storyteller locally for $9. It's usually about $15 locally, and for either price it's a steal.

This isn't big, rich pinot noir. And good for that, especially considering this is a 2006, not a year known for delicate, fragrant wines. And this isn't rich wine made for aging or impressing your friends. Instead, it's indeed delicate and fragrant red fruited pinot noir, perhaps as classic a Willamette Valley Pinot Noir as I've ever tasted. Light, fresh, bright, with alluring fragrance and mouthwatering acidity, this wine simply begs you to drink and eat a bite, and drink and eat another bite, and so on.

If you find this one, do decant as there is a lot of fine sediment at the bottom of the bottle. But if you told me this was Evesham Wood's basic Willamette Valley Pinot Noir, I'd believe it and say it's good. In fact, maybe a bit better to my taste than recent WV bottlings, which seems richer and fatter than in the past.

This Bruno wine is simply delicious. If you like John Thomas' Acme nonvintage Pinot Noir, this will be right up your ally. And for $15, or $9 (!!!), it's a ridiculous bargain. It's good to live in Oregon.

2005 Mastroberardino Lacryma Christi del Vesuvio

Here's another of those bargains I found recently at a local grocery discounter. I recently tried a 1995 Taurasi from Mastroberardino and liked it quite a bit. That red wine from the aglianico grape demonstrated why some people think aglianico is the nebbiolo of southern Italy. Lots of earthy, truffly, and red fruit aromas and flavors. Nice ageing potential.

Then, amid a variety of close outs recently, I saw a stack of 2005 Mastroberardino Lacryma Christi del Vesuvio for super cheap. I've never tried this DOC white wine (there is also red wine of the same name), and generally like trying things I've never tried. Am I glad I did.

Yes, I can now say with authority that Christ's Tears of Mt. Vesuvius makes for delicious drinking, alone or with food.

Actually, this is made from 100% Coda di Volpe, and if I tasted it blind I might have guessed this was a nice Loire chenin blanc. This light yellow colored wine has a gorgeous perfume that opens up nicely after being open for a day. Honeydew melon, some lanolin that I associate with chenin, then lots of minerals. In the mouth, it's not super complex but fresh, rounded but still bright tasting with yellow fruit flavors and a savory quality that makes you salivate. And wonder what's for dinner.

This is simply delicious wine and a steal at its close out price. I wouldn't have a problem buying it at the regular price either. But don't buy too much. This isn't a wine to keep very long. I suspect its charm will fade with time. Save more tightly wound whites for the cellar.

Blending Trials

A local winemaker whom I know called me recently with a nice invitation. He was doing blending trials and wondered if I could help him out. I jumped at the chance.

Winemakers it seems will let almost anyone sort fruit at harvest time. But it takes a while before you get the chance to really taste through their wines and give input on blending decisions.

Blending trials are when you taste through every barrel that's ready for bottling, evaluate the qualities of each sample, and make decisions about what wines will go into which bottlings. They are also a physical and mental challenge.

Seriously.

They are the vinuous equivalent of three days of interviewing potential new hires. Add in a mouth that feels like you've eaten a dozen bowls of Capt'n Crunch and you might understand how you can feel at the end. Wine is the last thing you want with dinner, that's for sure.

So three of us took nearly two days to taste many dozens of barrel samples in small groups, sniffing and spitting, of course, again and again. Then we talked about the wines and rated them on a rough scale, and moved on to the next group. Again and again.

It was nerve-wracking to give completely off the cuff comments in this rapid fire tasting environment, especially when I went first, ticking off the wines, what I smelled and tasted, the texture, the balance, what flaws, and what rough quality level the sample seemed to be.

The winemaker of course always spoke last. But I was amazed at how well I felt I did, finding the obvious issues in a few samples and generally feeling like I knew what I was doing. Not that we didn't disagree on things. But I never felt lost, like I shouldn't be there. And I think that the other taster and I had some valuable things to contribute to the winemaker.

We spent the last day coming up with sample blends, which were interesting to blend in cylinders and taste through. One blend of 10 barrels tasted radically different from that same blend with one additional barrel. How could they be so different?

The winemaker mentioned how he finds blending non-linear, so that adding an acidic wine to a blend won't necessarily yield a more acid tasting wine. Or more tannic, or more fruity, or whatever you might want to "add" to a blend to improve it or otherwise affect it in a certain way.

In the end, we didn't make final blending decisions, though we did come up with some blends that might end up pretty close to the final bottlings. But what a tremendous experience for me, seeing how to conduct trials and prepare sample blends. Makes me want to make a bunch of my own wine and do this for myself.