I recently reread one of my favorite wine books, Real Wine by Patrick Matthews. It’s uncommonly well written and one of those truly enjoyable reads that holds up the second time around.
Matthews wrote this about five years ago, yet most of the information seems as current and ahead of the curve today. In it, he surveys wine from vineyard planting and grape growing to vinification and wine selling, telling stories of characters past and present generally possessed by their passion for wine.
The subject, naturally enough, is real wine. Which Matthews defines on p. 167 as “one that tells a truthful story about its growing conditions, and whose concentration of colour, flavor and texture is determined in the vineyard, not the winery.”
Bascially, real wine is authentic to its site, grapes, and vintage. Why else label wine by any of these attributes if we don’t accept the uniqueness that each will provide?
And that’s not code for spoiled, rotten, acidic wine. No, Matthews specifically points out that real wine tastes better. And for all I know, it’s true.
Perhaps the most exciting geek content in this book is that about French soil scientist Claude Bourguignon and the vine’s uptake of soil minerals, transmitting the flavor of the soil to the grape.
That’s a common notion in wine marketing, but apparently not so with the scientists I’ve come across. Yet here I found for the first time a description of soil organisms chelating minerals into forms usable by grape vines. This is one reason Bourguignon promotes farming practices that encourage living soils.
Real Wine is the book that first got me excited about soils and wine, but it definitely has more to offer than just technical stuff. Matthews is a wine lover and journalist, and it shows in his writing. You should read this book.
April 17, 2006
April 13, 2006
Magnum Madness 2006
I’m late again with the report from last month’s annual magnum bottle bash at the Manning's. This year saw another incredible line up, with a few high points missed by yours truly. However, I did manage to taste some marvelous wines in between seeing lots of familiar and friendly new faces. Even a few readers of this, ahem, vanity site.
The whites were nice as always, but none stood out immensly. One exception was the 1989 Zind Humbrecht Hengst Gewurztraminer VT, which smelled sweeter than it tasted.Delicious.
The lighter reds table had the usual array of new and old Oregon Pinor noir, among a broad mix of things. Memorable were the primary but solid 2002 Thomas Pinot Noir Willamette Valley and a more than alive 1995 St. Innocent Pinot Noir Freedom Hill, with a touch of dill but otherwise nice mature aromas and flavors. In the mix was a terrific 2003 Charles Joguet Chinon Varennes du Grand Clos, positively delicious and ageworthy Cabernet franc. But stealing the aromatic show was a 1981 Mt. Eden Pinot Noir from California's Santa Cruz Mountains. Unfortunately, it didn't deliver on the palate as it apparently had when first opened.
By the time I made it downstairs, a few of the bigger red wines were already being finished. I missed the 1989 Vieux Telegraph Chateauneuf du Pape (which was apparently excellent) and the 1995 Jaboulet Hermitage La Chappelle. Still, I loved the 2003 Ridge Geyserville, the classic old vine blend that smelled earthy rather than woody, like Geyservilles of old. The 2001 Produttori du Barbaresco normale that I brought – decanted for a few hours before arriving – was frankly better than I expected. There were many others to enjoy as well.
And I haven’t even gotten to the dessert wines. Among other things were the 1989 Baumard Coteaux du Layon Paon, 1969 Baumard CdL Clos St. Catherine, 2002 Inniskillen Vidal Ice Wine, and 1975 Taylor’s Porto.
The Paon was nice, still youthful and classically sweet. The 1969 Clos St. Catherine I’d had once before, and it was stunning then. Tonight, not nearly as nice, but still a good wine. It just lacks the intensity and depth it showed previously. Hard to quibble with birthyear wine though. Thanks to the generous stranger who brought both of these.
The Inniskillin Vidal from Canada's Niagara Peninsula was courtesy of Roy Hersh, the man behind For the Love Of Port, down from Seattle for the weekend. What a beautiful wine, fat and sweet but crystaline. My first taste of Vidal last year suggested it would make nice dessert wine. Indeed.
And finally the 1975 Taylor’s, which wasn’t a top wine but clearly top shelf quality here, aging nicely if lacking in depth what it has in relative freshness. A nice drink, and a fine way to close the evening.
And once more, to the bus.
The whites were nice as always, but none stood out immensly. One exception was the 1989 Zind Humbrecht Hengst Gewurztraminer VT, which smelled sweeter than it tasted.Delicious.
The lighter reds table had the usual array of new and old Oregon Pinor noir, among a broad mix of things. Memorable were the primary but solid 2002 Thomas Pinot Noir Willamette Valley and a more than alive 1995 St. Innocent Pinot Noir Freedom Hill, with a touch of dill but otherwise nice mature aromas and flavors. In the mix was a terrific 2003 Charles Joguet Chinon Varennes du Grand Clos, positively delicious and ageworthy Cabernet franc. But stealing the aromatic show was a 1981 Mt. Eden Pinot Noir from California's Santa Cruz Mountains. Unfortunately, it didn't deliver on the palate as it apparently had when first opened.
By the time I made it downstairs, a few of the bigger red wines were already being finished. I missed the 1989 Vieux Telegraph Chateauneuf du Pape (which was apparently excellent) and the 1995 Jaboulet Hermitage La Chappelle. Still, I loved the 2003 Ridge Geyserville, the classic old vine blend that smelled earthy rather than woody, like Geyservilles of old. The 2001 Produttori du Barbaresco normale that I brought – decanted for a few hours before arriving – was frankly better than I expected. There were many others to enjoy as well.
And I haven’t even gotten to the dessert wines. Among other things were the 1989 Baumard Coteaux du Layon Paon, 1969 Baumard CdL Clos St. Catherine, 2002 Inniskillen Vidal Ice Wine, and 1975 Taylor’s Porto.
The Paon was nice, still youthful and classically sweet. The 1969 Clos St. Catherine I’d had once before, and it was stunning then. Tonight, not nearly as nice, but still a good wine. It just lacks the intensity and depth it showed previously. Hard to quibble with birthyear wine though. Thanks to the generous stranger who brought both of these.
The Inniskillin Vidal from Canada's Niagara Peninsula was courtesy of Roy Hersh, the man behind For the Love Of Port, down from Seattle for the weekend. What a beautiful wine, fat and sweet but crystaline. My first taste of Vidal last year suggested it would make nice dessert wine. Indeed.
And finally the 1975 Taylor’s, which wasn’t a top wine but clearly top shelf quality here, aging nicely if lacking in depth what it has in relative freshness. A nice drink, and a fine way to close the evening.
And once more, to the bus.
2004 Domaine la Bastide Syrah
Want to know the best under-$10-wine I’ve had in a while? It’s the 2004 Domaine la Bastide Syrah, a Vin de Pays D’Hauterive from Corbieres-based propietor Guilhem Durand. Check out the importer’s web site for more information.
This Syrah, which one local market has for only $8, is year in and year out one of the best buys in wine. But somehow the 2004 strikes me as the best I’ve tried, so bright and lively in the mouth with just enough richness. It has simple flavors but terrific purity, an honest French syrah that beats the pants off industrial shiraz.
The 2003 is still around in places, and it’s also pretty nice though riper and a little squishy. Yet it’s also real wine and well worth buying. Perhaps you’ll like this one better.
This Syrah, which one local market has for only $8, is year in and year out one of the best buys in wine. But somehow the 2004 strikes me as the best I’ve tried, so bright and lively in the mouth with just enough richness. It has simple flavors but terrific purity, an honest French syrah that beats the pants off industrial shiraz.
The 2003 is still around in places, and it’s also pretty nice though riper and a little squishy. Yet it’s also real wine and well worth buying. Perhaps you’ll like this one better.
April 09, 2006
Hill country wine
I’m just back from a week visiting in-laws outside of Austin in the Texas “hill country,” where I envied the white chalky limestone soils. The climate for grapes there is a bit extreme, with drought, heat, flooding rain, humity and high disease pressure.
But oh those fractured soils, limey and delicious.
Oregon’s soils are generally acidic, so we see pine trees and rhododendrens among other acid-loving things. Grapes obviously grow and thrive in our acidic soils. But we don’t share the higher ph limestone soils you find all over France and other key growing regions in the world.
Of course, the Texas hill country has tons of it. And vineyards too, as most of the wineries in Texas seem to be in this large area.
I only tried a few local things on this trip, all of which were surprisingly pleasant as I typically find Texas wines to be. That’s a compliment. And I’m sure there are some really bad wines out there. But whites from Fall Creek and reds from Becker that I tasted were all nicely varietal and drinkable, if not terribly interesting, just like they always seem.
Not sure what they cost, but I can’t say I’d seek any of the wines I’ve tried so who cares. Drink them if you’re there, you might be surprised. Otherwise pay no attention here, at least until my next visit.
But oh those fractured soils, limey and delicious.
Oregon’s soils are generally acidic, so we see pine trees and rhododendrens among other acid-loving things. Grapes obviously grow and thrive in our acidic soils. But we don’t share the higher ph limestone soils you find all over France and other key growing regions in the world.
Of course, the Texas hill country has tons of it. And vineyards too, as most of the wineries in Texas seem to be in this large area.
I only tried a few local things on this trip, all of which were surprisingly pleasant as I typically find Texas wines to be. That’s a compliment. And I’m sure there are some really bad wines out there. But whites from Fall Creek and reds from Becker that I tasted were all nicely varietal and drinkable, if not terribly interesting, just like they always seem.
Not sure what they cost, but I can’t say I’d seek any of the wines I’ve tried so who cares. Drink them if you’re there, you might be surprised. Otherwise pay no attention here, at least until my next visit.
March 28, 2006
More geology from the northern Willamette Valley
Following up on my recent visit to a geological society meeting, I paid a visit to Portland State University geologist Scott Burns for more information on the soils and rocks of the northern Willamette Valley.
First, Burns' office is filled with rocks of all kinds. I think if you look up the word rockhound, you'll see his picture.
Second, Burns clearly loves wine and loves talking about wine and geology. So I asked him a few questions to get a little more insight on the local territory.
I knew our geology here is either volcanic basalt or ocean sediments. But where did the soils on the basalt come from? I wasn't sure if they were wind-blown deposits, but in fact our volcanic soils are mostly eroded basalt. Hence their red color and, given their age of 14 million years, low fertility.
And what about the "bathtub ring" left over from the Missolua floods 10,000-15,000 years ago? These floods covered the Willamette Valley floor with rich "Woodburn" deposits up to a height of 400 feet. However, most of these deposits settled below 200 feet or so, with rapidly thinning deposits the higher you go up to the bathtub ring.
So the best vineyard land in this part of Oregon is above the flood deposits, at least 200-250 feet and ideally higher still. However, there are places below 400 feet particularly in the Eola Hills with shallow and infertile soils that suggest the bathtub ring (or maximum height of the Missolua floods) might vary depending on location.
I'll investigate that further as I delve into the further refinement and reclassification of many soils in this area. Stay tuned.
First, Burns' office is filled with rocks of all kinds. I think if you look up the word rockhound, you'll see his picture.
Second, Burns clearly loves wine and loves talking about wine and geology. So I asked him a few questions to get a little more insight on the local territory.
I knew our geology here is either volcanic basalt or ocean sediments. But where did the soils on the basalt come from? I wasn't sure if they were wind-blown deposits, but in fact our volcanic soils are mostly eroded basalt. Hence their red color and, given their age of 14 million years, low fertility.
And what about the "bathtub ring" left over from the Missolua floods 10,000-15,000 years ago? These floods covered the Willamette Valley floor with rich "Woodburn" deposits up to a height of 400 feet. However, most of these deposits settled below 200 feet or so, with rapidly thinning deposits the higher you go up to the bathtub ring.
So the best vineyard land in this part of Oregon is above the flood deposits, at least 200-250 feet and ideally higher still. However, there are places below 400 feet particularly in the Eola Hills with shallow and infertile soils that suggest the bathtub ring (or maximum height of the Missolua floods) might vary depending on location.
I'll investigate that further as I delve into the further refinement and reclassification of many soils in this area. Stay tuned.
Giacomo Conterno tasting at Liner & Elsen
A week ago Saturday saw yet another terrific event at my favorite wine shop in Portland, Liner and Elsen.
This time it was the wines of Giacomo Conterno, one Barbera and three Baroli, all at no charge. Pouring was Bob Liner of Galaxy Wine Co., a Portland-based wine distributor, alongside Roberto Conterno in town from Italy.
The wines of G. Conterno fit the traditional house style, showing very young and mostly unforgiving early on. Yet these are all wines of quality, even if I can't afford any but the first.
As G. Conterno no longer produces Dolcetto, we began with the 2003 Barbera Cascina Francia. Healthy dark ruby in color, this is ripe and even a bit roasted aromatically with a fleshy texture and good length with healthy but unobtrusive acids. If all '03 Barbera are this good, wow. Even at $26, this is a deal in top quality Piemontese wine that tastes good now but should hang on for several years.
Then the Baroli, designated Cascina Francia as are all the wines of this Serralunga-based producer. First the 2001 Barolo, in three words tight, tight, tight. Floral aromas with nice red fruit but criminally young.
Second, the 2000 Barolo, which is ripe as this warm vintage would suggest, but with young and stern acidity, mouthfilling but in need of time.
Finally, the 1999 Barolo, the most expressive of the three today but again simply too young for complete enjoyment. More tar and floral aromatics, tannic in the mouth but promising.
With each of the Baroli priced at $110, I can't exactly recommend buying. But if you like ageworthy, authentic Barolo, and you have the cash, you'd be hard pressed to find better things to toss into the cellar.
You might also make sure you're young. These are wines for drinking in 20 or 30 years, especially the 2001.
This time it was the wines of Giacomo Conterno, one Barbera and three Baroli, all at no charge. Pouring was Bob Liner of Galaxy Wine Co., a Portland-based wine distributor, alongside Roberto Conterno in town from Italy.
The wines of G. Conterno fit the traditional house style, showing very young and mostly unforgiving early on. Yet these are all wines of quality, even if I can't afford any but the first.
As G. Conterno no longer produces Dolcetto, we began with the 2003 Barbera Cascina Francia. Healthy dark ruby in color, this is ripe and even a bit roasted aromatically with a fleshy texture and good length with healthy but unobtrusive acids. If all '03 Barbera are this good, wow. Even at $26, this is a deal in top quality Piemontese wine that tastes good now but should hang on for several years.
Then the Baroli, designated Cascina Francia as are all the wines of this Serralunga-based producer. First the 2001 Barolo, in three words tight, tight, tight. Floral aromas with nice red fruit but criminally young.
Second, the 2000 Barolo, which is ripe as this warm vintage would suggest, but with young and stern acidity, mouthfilling but in need of time.
Finally, the 1999 Barolo, the most expressive of the three today but again simply too young for complete enjoyment. More tar and floral aromatics, tannic in the mouth but promising.
With each of the Baroli priced at $110, I can't exactly recommend buying. But if you like ageworthy, authentic Barolo, and you have the cash, you'd be hard pressed to find better things to toss into the cellar.
You might also make sure you're young. These are wines for drinking in 20 or 30 years, especially the 2001.
March 20, 2006
Dinner at Tabla
This past weekend saw three wine events, which is three more than I usually seem to attend these days. But this is Magnum Madness weekend, with an added bonus of a little Giacomo Conterno tasting that I’ll get to later.
Friday night I arranged a dinner at Tabla in NE Portland with Magnum Madness hosts Marshall and Carolyn Manning, the Portolover himself Roy Hersh and friend Justin down from the Seattle area, and Becca Hunt and Jimmie Wellman from out Yakima way. The theme: Mediterranean and friends, meaning anything made in or inspired by the region. Not that we kept to that.
These being good and generous folks, we drank well with a truly eclectic line up that ended up complementing Tabla’s diverse flavors nicely. By the way, Tabla is hot, and Eddie Robinson is tearing it up in a well-staffed kitchen. Definitely eat here.
We started with the 1998 Rudi Pichler Riesling Smaragd (designation missed), that was very fresh but showing nice aromas of early maturity. Bright, almost piercing on the palate, very focused, delicious and still young. No rush here.
Next came an out of order red, the 2001 Edmunds St. John Los Robles Viejos. An hommage to Chateauneuf du Pape from the Berkeley producer wine from all over California, this mourvedre, grenache and syrah blend from the limestone soils of west Paso Robles delivers. Neutral cask ageing, natural fermentations, and terrific, pure fruit and earth flavors. One of the few California wines that easily suggests France but in the end displays what California can produce.
We went back to white for the 2002 Chave Hermitage Blanc, paired with a substantial Amuse Bouche of chorizo on a chickpea base with whipped chive crème fraîche. Nice combination of spice and sweet cream, and once the Chave warmed up, what a pure aroma of marsanne and roussane. Not so thick and oily on the palate as a better vintage might be, but lovely in the mouth with minerality good length.
Then the 1995 Chateau Musar, a favorite obscurity of mine, red wine from the Bekka Valley of Lebanon. A blend of cinsault, grenache, and cabernet sauvignon in unclear amounts, this wine is never for the unadventurous. Tonight’s bottle was good but not great, young to be sure but showing some volatility without too much depth. Round on the palate, more like a southern Rhone than anything else, typcially farmy and certainly a nice drink. Not a match to my organic greens but what is?
The 1989 Produttori di Barbaresco Montestefano seemed less intense than I expected, but it was a pretty wine with nice nebbiolo fragrance and a silky texture if not so complex and long. A nice accompaniment to parpadelle with rabbit ragu.
Next came my contribution, the impossibly tight 1990 Ch. Pradeaux Bandol. The color of a 2000 with a narrow aroma of black fruits and eventually some forest notes. Tight, tight, tight on the palate. Will this ever come around? A fine drink and better with food, but a few people wondered aloud if this would ever turn into something special. Hold for ten more years if you have any. Need more sap.
Then the coup de grace, my first Unico. Specially the 1986 Vega Scilia “Unico” Ribera del Deuro. Again, impossibly dark and youthful color. How does something kept in cask for so many years stay so vibrant? Well integrated fragrance of berries, American oak cedar and light dill notes (I don't mind dill, unlike many in the wine world), and charred earth, this wasn’t an oak bomb but a beautifully textured, silky and fairly long drink. If you like Spanish reds, this is really nice though perhaps not a blockbuster Unico that other vintages deliver. I tried this and a few others with my duck confit, which (again) was delicious. As one taster noted, what a good use of salt at Tabla.
Finally, the 1986 Ch. Climens Barsac for dessert. Still a bright, lightish color with a fresh pineapple and slightly volatile aroma. Sweet and pure on the palate, ginger, tropical fruit but not heavy with botrytis, I really liked this and thought it plenty long. The most persnickety in the bunch thought it not as good as ooooother vintages. Yeah, sure.
Then exeunt, satisfied.
Friday night I arranged a dinner at Tabla in NE Portland with Magnum Madness hosts Marshall and Carolyn Manning, the Portolover himself Roy Hersh and friend Justin down from the Seattle area, and Becca Hunt and Jimmie Wellman from out Yakima way. The theme: Mediterranean and friends, meaning anything made in or inspired by the region. Not that we kept to that.
These being good and generous folks, we drank well with a truly eclectic line up that ended up complementing Tabla’s diverse flavors nicely. By the way, Tabla is hot, and Eddie Robinson is tearing it up in a well-staffed kitchen. Definitely eat here.
We started with the 1998 Rudi Pichler Riesling Smaragd (designation missed), that was very fresh but showing nice aromas of early maturity. Bright, almost piercing on the palate, very focused, delicious and still young. No rush here.
Next came an out of order red, the 2001 Edmunds St. John Los Robles Viejos. An hommage to Chateauneuf du Pape from the Berkeley producer wine from all over California, this mourvedre, grenache and syrah blend from the limestone soils of west Paso Robles delivers. Neutral cask ageing, natural fermentations, and terrific, pure fruit and earth flavors. One of the few California wines that easily suggests France but in the end displays what California can produce.
We went back to white for the 2002 Chave Hermitage Blanc, paired with a substantial Amuse Bouche of chorizo on a chickpea base with whipped chive crème fraîche. Nice combination of spice and sweet cream, and once the Chave warmed up, what a pure aroma of marsanne and roussane. Not so thick and oily on the palate as a better vintage might be, but lovely in the mouth with minerality good length.
Then the 1995 Chateau Musar, a favorite obscurity of mine, red wine from the Bekka Valley of Lebanon. A blend of cinsault, grenache, and cabernet sauvignon in unclear amounts, this wine is never for the unadventurous. Tonight’s bottle was good but not great, young to be sure but showing some volatility without too much depth. Round on the palate, more like a southern Rhone than anything else, typcially farmy and certainly a nice drink. Not a match to my organic greens but what is?
The 1989 Produttori di Barbaresco Montestefano seemed less intense than I expected, but it was a pretty wine with nice nebbiolo fragrance and a silky texture if not so complex and long. A nice accompaniment to parpadelle with rabbit ragu.
Next came my contribution, the impossibly tight 1990 Ch. Pradeaux Bandol. The color of a 2000 with a narrow aroma of black fruits and eventually some forest notes. Tight, tight, tight on the palate. Will this ever come around? A fine drink and better with food, but a few people wondered aloud if this would ever turn into something special. Hold for ten more years if you have any. Need more sap.
Then the coup de grace, my first Unico. Specially the 1986 Vega Scilia “Unico” Ribera del Deuro. Again, impossibly dark and youthful color. How does something kept in cask for so many years stay so vibrant? Well integrated fragrance of berries, American oak cedar and light dill notes (I don't mind dill, unlike many in the wine world), and charred earth, this wasn’t an oak bomb but a beautifully textured, silky and fairly long drink. If you like Spanish reds, this is really nice though perhaps not a blockbuster Unico that other vintages deliver. I tried this and a few others with my duck confit, which (again) was delicious. As one taster noted, what a good use of salt at Tabla.
Finally, the 1986 Ch. Climens Barsac for dessert. Still a bright, lightish color with a fresh pineapple and slightly volatile aroma. Sweet and pure on the palate, ginger, tropical fruit but not heavy with botrytis, I really liked this and thought it plenty long. The most persnickety in the bunch thought it not as good as ooooother vintages. Yeah, sure.
Then exeunt, satisfied.
March 13, 2006
Winemaking update
After five months élevage, I’m pleased to report that I haven’t yet screwed up the wine I started making last fall in my garage.
Honestly, in my early years of homebrewing, I can’t tell you the problems I faced. Some of them with my encouragement, just to see what would happen.
My best wine to date was a very – very – modest 2002 Willamette Valley Cabernet Sauvignon. 2002 was a nice harvest, and the last weekend in October I learned the true meaning of something being “ripe for the pickin’” – cabernet of all things, on Ribbon Ridge.
But it was ripe...enough. Around 22.5 brix with some nice flavors, if heavily varietal in a pleasantly cabernet way.
The wine turned out light – I only made 3 gallons and you won’t get much flavor out of that. But I did nothing to the wine aside from adding a little sulfur and letting it soak until fermentation started naturally. And it turned out sound. All 15 bottles. I still have a few.
With this year’s wine, I did things in the manner I was learning while working harvest.
When I last reported, my 2005 Pinot Noir from Courting Hill Vineyard was resting in my basement in a 4-year-old, 50L Slovonian oak barrel with 5 liters of topping wine. I’m down to less than half of that, probably due to my cool but dry cellar. I’ve been religious about topping up the barrel, and sampling the wine as it really becomes finished wine.
What is “finished wine?” After pressing, the new wine is raw and hard, having not gone through the softening malolactic fermentation nor seen the beneficial, slow oxidation of cask ageing.
Wine is finished when the winemaker decides, though the keys are biological stability and a flavor and aromatic profile that just seems right. Sometimes there’s also the fact that you need to free up space for new wine.
Over time, even my modest Pinot Noir has become more round on the palate, with greater length and an overall sense of harmony. Slowly I can see the finished wine emerge. Grand cru stuff, this will never be. More on the gamay side with brightly acidic flavors, but with some sweetness if not much soil character. Already it’s something I’d be happy to drink, which is saying something.
Most people ask me when I will know when to bottle. I don’t really know. I hope I can tell through tasting, but I can’t see holding it beyond August. This is a wine for early drinking, I think. The fresher the better.
Honestly, in my early years of homebrewing, I can’t tell you the problems I faced. Some of them with my encouragement, just to see what would happen.
My best wine to date was a very – very – modest 2002 Willamette Valley Cabernet Sauvignon. 2002 was a nice harvest, and the last weekend in October I learned the true meaning of something being “ripe for the pickin’” – cabernet of all things, on Ribbon Ridge.
But it was ripe...enough. Around 22.5 brix with some nice flavors, if heavily varietal in a pleasantly cabernet way.
The wine turned out light – I only made 3 gallons and you won’t get much flavor out of that. But I did nothing to the wine aside from adding a little sulfur and letting it soak until fermentation started naturally. And it turned out sound. All 15 bottles. I still have a few.
With this year’s wine, I did things in the manner I was learning while working harvest.
When I last reported, my 2005 Pinot Noir from Courting Hill Vineyard was resting in my basement in a 4-year-old, 50L Slovonian oak barrel with 5 liters of topping wine. I’m down to less than half of that, probably due to my cool but dry cellar. I’ve been religious about topping up the barrel, and sampling the wine as it really becomes finished wine.
What is “finished wine?” After pressing, the new wine is raw and hard, having not gone through the softening malolactic fermentation nor seen the beneficial, slow oxidation of cask ageing.
Wine is finished when the winemaker decides, though the keys are biological stability and a flavor and aromatic profile that just seems right. Sometimes there’s also the fact that you need to free up space for new wine.
Over time, even my modest Pinot Noir has become more round on the palate, with greater length and an overall sense of harmony. Slowly I can see the finished wine emerge. Grand cru stuff, this will never be. More on the gamay side with brightly acidic flavors, but with some sweetness if not much soil character. Already it’s something I’d be happy to drink, which is saying something.
Most people ask me when I will know when to bottle. I don’t really know. I hope I can tell through tasting, but I can’t see holding it beyond August. This is a wine for early drinking, I think. The fresher the better.
March 08, 2006
Taiwan - it was a good shift
I travelled to Taiwan recently, my first time in Asia. What a place.
It's actually hard for me to find the right words to describe my experience. If I'd never travelled much outside the U.S., I think I would have been bewildered by how truly different the culture and feel of the place is to home.
Sure, they have donut shops and Starbucks, but under the surface things are really different there. And really interesting.
First, I discovered how pleasantly familiar it was to be foreigner again. It felt great to be an outsider.
But really the smells were the story. Incense, street food, even bakeries that sometimes reminded me of France. Not that the bread was anything like France, though the pastries in many places were delicious and cheap.
The fragrant night markets and street carts littering the city are obvious attractions for even novice foodies like me. But most impressive were the smells in the basement of a department store in Kaohsiung. The food court of a department store, reeking of ginger and spices! It was amazing.
There was even a McDonald's in the corner, and sure, it drew a crowd. But there were maybe a dozen other outlets all offering various Asian cuisine, cooked fresh with real ingredients (for the most part) served on reusable wooden trays and big soup bowls or cast iron skillets with your order. And it all smell so good.
In a department store food court!
Plus, for about $5US you can eat really well in many places. Just be ready to try stuff you've either never heard of or don't want to ask about. G.I. tract lovers, you'll be well served.
But what about the wine?
Taiwan is warm and even I'd rather drink beer in most occasions just because of the climate. But I was surprised to find a nice selection of things, with prices high but not as high as you might think given how low demand probably is.
Perhaps I'm wrong, but the people eat so traditionally that I can't imagine they drink outside of their tradition (beer and whiskey as far as I can tell). Certainly I didn't see too many people consuming wine in public eateries. And it seems like everyone eats out, and often.
I found the predictable Australian producers on store shelves. Looked like the Antinori salespeople make regular calls in the higher end locations. There was also lots of Bordeaux, though not many deals. And in one spot I even found some Oregon wines, notably from Willakenzie and Henry Estate. Neither was cheap, but then again probably only half again what you'd pay here, which isn't bad for export.
Where to find wine? The internet didn't give me much information before I went. Apparently the big box stores in the larger cities are good, places like Carrefour, Tesco, and RT Mart. However, I didn't make it to any of those.
The upscale market Jason's in Taipei and Kaohsiung had the best selection I found, but higher prices too boot. Ultimately, I found the market halls in the basements of local department stores to occasionally have great selections and probably the best deals I saw. Still, I didn't find anything I couldn't live without. A wine shopping desitnation this isn't.
In the end, I drank more beer, and really it tasted great with the food. Anything notably good? No, really it was just about crisp, fresh and cold beer, none of it distinguished or memorable.
The same can't be said for the classic line uttered by a family friend, who's no wine geek but sure likes his beer and knows the local bartenders well. He'd crack open a cold one, smell the contents and exhale before declaring, "it was a good shift."
It's actually hard for me to find the right words to describe my experience. If I'd never travelled much outside the U.S., I think I would have been bewildered by how truly different the culture and feel of the place is to home.
Sure, they have donut shops and Starbucks, but under the surface things are really different there. And really interesting.
First, I discovered how pleasantly familiar it was to be foreigner again. It felt great to be an outsider.
But really the smells were the story. Incense, street food, even bakeries that sometimes reminded me of France. Not that the bread was anything like France, though the pastries in many places were delicious and cheap.
The fragrant night markets and street carts littering the city are obvious attractions for even novice foodies like me. But most impressive were the smells in the basement of a department store in Kaohsiung. The food court of a department store, reeking of ginger and spices! It was amazing.
There was even a McDonald's in the corner, and sure, it drew a crowd. But there were maybe a dozen other outlets all offering various Asian cuisine, cooked fresh with real ingredients (for the most part) served on reusable wooden trays and big soup bowls or cast iron skillets with your order. And it all smell so good.
In a department store food court!
Plus, for about $5US you can eat really well in many places. Just be ready to try stuff you've either never heard of or don't want to ask about. G.I. tract lovers, you'll be well served.
But what about the wine?
Taiwan is warm and even I'd rather drink beer in most occasions just because of the climate. But I was surprised to find a nice selection of things, with prices high but not as high as you might think given how low demand probably is.
Perhaps I'm wrong, but the people eat so traditionally that I can't imagine they drink outside of their tradition (beer and whiskey as far as I can tell). Certainly I didn't see too many people consuming wine in public eateries. And it seems like everyone eats out, and often.
I found the predictable Australian producers on store shelves. Looked like the Antinori salespeople make regular calls in the higher end locations. There was also lots of Bordeaux, though not many deals. And in one spot I even found some Oregon wines, notably from Willakenzie and Henry Estate. Neither was cheap, but then again probably only half again what you'd pay here, which isn't bad for export.
Where to find wine? The internet didn't give me much information before I went. Apparently the big box stores in the larger cities are good, places like Carrefour, Tesco, and RT Mart. However, I didn't make it to any of those.
The upscale market Jason's in Taipei and Kaohsiung had the best selection I found, but higher prices too boot. Ultimately, I found the market halls in the basements of local department stores to occasionally have great selections and probably the best deals I saw. Still, I didn't find anything I couldn't live without. A wine shopping desitnation this isn't.
In the end, I drank more beer, and really it tasted great with the food. Anything notably good? No, really it was just about crisp, fresh and cold beer, none of it distinguished or memorable.
The same can't be said for the classic line uttered by a family friend, who's no wine geek but sure likes his beer and knows the local bartenders well. He'd crack open a cold one, smell the contents and exhale before declaring, "it was a good shift."
The best inexpensive sparkling wine of late
Really good, inexpensive sparkling wine is not easy to find.
Sure, there's good, cheap stuff to be had. But there's a lot more garbage, overly sweet wines that taste like soda pop and watery, flavorless stuff that gives sparkling wate a bad name.
I've enjoyed a variety of things around or even under $15 that represent their typcially modest terroir well. There are some real values in Prosecco, Cava, sparkling Vouvray, even a few California and Oregon producers, among many examples the world over.
But really good, inexpensive sparkling wine? Nope. Just doesn't really happen. Mostly, they're just good, especially for the money.
Then there's the latest bottling of NV Hubert Clavelin et Fils "Brut-Comte" from the Cotes du Jura, a 100% chardonnay bottling that positively dazzles. And it costs just $13.50.
What? You've never heard of the Jura? Yes, some of you have. But for the less obsessive, it's a range of hills in France due east of Burgundy, with similar limestone soils that produce terrific wines that don't get much play in the U.S. Perhaps that will change.
The Brut-Comte has fine bubbles with a frothy mousse and a fragrant, well integrated and complex aroma of apples, dough, and minerals. In the mouth, it's flavorful and rich but so light on its feet, with a mix of apple, citrus, toast, and mineral flavors, good length but weightless and truly elegant to the end.
I'm amazed a wine this natural and pure, so rich and yet so cool, can sell for so little money. Seek this out, even if it's hard to find. The importer is Weygant-Metzler, which has a little write up on its web site.
And if you can't find this, don't miss the well distributed NV Gruet Blanc de Noirs sparkling wine. Straight out of...Albequerque, New Mexico, Gruet offers consistently nice, reasonably priced Blanc de Blancs and this especially attractive Blanc de Noirs. It's light copper in color from its Pinot noir grape, with strawberry and clean earth aromas and flavors, and a hint of sweetness. It's terrific with Sunday brunch. And it usually costs around $14.
Sure, there's good, cheap stuff to be had. But there's a lot more garbage, overly sweet wines that taste like soda pop and watery, flavorless stuff that gives sparkling wate a bad name.
I've enjoyed a variety of things around or even under $15 that represent their typcially modest terroir well. There are some real values in Prosecco, Cava, sparkling Vouvray, even a few California and Oregon producers, among many examples the world over.
But really good, inexpensive sparkling wine? Nope. Just doesn't really happen. Mostly, they're just good, especially for the money.
Then there's the latest bottling of NV Hubert Clavelin et Fils "Brut-Comte" from the Cotes du Jura, a 100% chardonnay bottling that positively dazzles. And it costs just $13.50.
What? You've never heard of the Jura? Yes, some of you have. But for the less obsessive, it's a range of hills in France due east of Burgundy, with similar limestone soils that produce terrific wines that don't get much play in the U.S. Perhaps that will change.
The Brut-Comte has fine bubbles with a frothy mousse and a fragrant, well integrated and complex aroma of apples, dough, and minerals. In the mouth, it's flavorful and rich but so light on its feet, with a mix of apple, citrus, toast, and mineral flavors, good length but weightless and truly elegant to the end.
I'm amazed a wine this natural and pure, so rich and yet so cool, can sell for so little money. Seek this out, even if it's hard to find. The importer is Weygant-Metzler, which has a little write up on its web site.
And if you can't find this, don't miss the well distributed NV Gruet Blanc de Noirs sparkling wine. Straight out of...Albequerque, New Mexico, Gruet offers consistently nice, reasonably priced Blanc de Blancs and this especially attractive Blanc de Noirs. It's light copper in color from its Pinot noir grape, with strawberry and clean earth aromas and flavors, and a hint of sweetness. It's terrific with Sunday brunch. And it usually costs around $14.
February 28, 2006
Imagine finding a bottle of 1943 Dom Perignon in your house
The Oregonian's Margie Boule, not a wine writer, wrote a column the other day about a local woman who found a bottle of 1943 Dom Perignon Champagne in her grandfather's old house. What a mystery - the grandparents didn't drink and no one knows how the bottle ended up tucked away in an odd corner of a kitchen cupboard, undisturbed for years.
But really, what a peculiar column exemplifying the nonsense even wine "experts" will toss out to the unsuspecting.
The woman who found the bottle claims to be a restaurant industry veteran with experience running a number of wine lists. Yet she clearly doesn't seem to know much about wine, which may say something about many of the folks out there putting together restaurant wine lists. At least she knows that Dom is "relatively expensive."
First, there's her suggestion that maybe the wine was purchased in 1943, her grandparents' wedding year. After all, her grandfather worked for the Piggly Wiggly. Never mind that the grapes weren't even harvested until fall that year. Sort of like Boule writing this column prior to its publishing date, the wine was made long before it was released to public.
Boule obviously had to dig deeper to solve the mystery, so she called on wine writers Don and Petie Kladstrup for more information. Based on what they said, I can only wonder how little they know or how badly Boule misunderstood what they said.
They say its surprising to find a bottle of this wine in the US at all, given that the Germans were known to plunder many vinous treasures of the day. The French answered by hiding as much of the good stuff as possible behind hastily constructed walls in their cellars. That is true, but the '43s? Maybe while in production, but the treasures the Germans wanted were finished wines. In the article, the Kladstrups reportedly say the French gave them the lesser wines from the '30s instead, but not because the '43s were so special. The '43s nary had a sparkle before D-Day.
But the Kladstrups continue. There's surprise the bottle doesn't bear the embelem of the Wehrmarkt. Maybe that's because the bottles that came to the US bearing the emblem of the sole US importer, Schieffelin and Co. I know, I have a bottle that's left over from a stash my great uncle purchased here in the good old USA.
And the Kladstrups seem giddy at the thought of getting a taste of such historic wine. Stored in a pantry upright for decades. Sounds to me like a recipe for bad vinegar. Am I alone in not wishing such drinks on my worst enemies?
Happily, Boule professionally skates through it all with a few subtle but key hints that the experts don't seem too expert. Still, the story ends with the inital woman still wondering whether to drink it.
For god's sake, just keep it as a relic. It is history in a bottle. But put it in your glass and you'll be sorry. Go out and get a bottle of the '96 Dom instead. I haven't had it, but apparently it ain't half bad.
But really, what a peculiar column exemplifying the nonsense even wine "experts" will toss out to the unsuspecting.
The woman who found the bottle claims to be a restaurant industry veteran with experience running a number of wine lists. Yet she clearly doesn't seem to know much about wine, which may say something about many of the folks out there putting together restaurant wine lists. At least she knows that Dom is "relatively expensive."
First, there's her suggestion that maybe the wine was purchased in 1943, her grandparents' wedding year. After all, her grandfather worked for the Piggly Wiggly. Never mind that the grapes weren't even harvested until fall that year. Sort of like Boule writing this column prior to its publishing date, the wine was made long before it was released to public.
Boule obviously had to dig deeper to solve the mystery, so she called on wine writers Don and Petie Kladstrup for more information. Based on what they said, I can only wonder how little they know or how badly Boule misunderstood what they said.
They say its surprising to find a bottle of this wine in the US at all, given that the Germans were known to plunder many vinous treasures of the day. The French answered by hiding as much of the good stuff as possible behind hastily constructed walls in their cellars. That is true, but the '43s? Maybe while in production, but the treasures the Germans wanted were finished wines. In the article, the Kladstrups reportedly say the French gave them the lesser wines from the '30s instead, but not because the '43s were so special. The '43s nary had a sparkle before D-Day.
But the Kladstrups continue. There's surprise the bottle doesn't bear the embelem of the Wehrmarkt. Maybe that's because the bottles that came to the US bearing the emblem of the sole US importer, Schieffelin and Co. I know, I have a bottle that's left over from a stash my great uncle purchased here in the good old USA.
And the Kladstrups seem giddy at the thought of getting a taste of such historic wine. Stored in a pantry upright for decades. Sounds to me like a recipe for bad vinegar. Am I alone in not wishing such drinks on my worst enemies?
Happily, Boule professionally skates through it all with a few subtle but key hints that the experts don't seem too expert. Still, the story ends with the inital woman still wondering whether to drink it.
For god's sake, just keep it as a relic. It is history in a bottle. But put it in your glass and you'll be sorry. Go out and get a bottle of the '96 Dom instead. I haven't had it, but apparently it ain't half bad.
February 09, 2006
John Gilman’s new wine journal
File this under recommended reading.
I’ve never met John Gilman, but have read his writings about wine on the internet on and off for years. He’s a bit verbose, not that there’s anything wrong with that. Provided you don’t mind long paragraphs of course.
And I mean long paragraphs.
That aside, John clearly has a terrific palate and his passion for fine wine shows in his writing. While fine wine can often mean expensive wine, I’ve always been impressed by John’s attention to the lower end bottlings of top producers.
For example, I never tried the wines of Burgundy producer Joseph Roty until learning about them from John. I still haven’t tried things like Roty’s expensive Grand Crus, but I enjoy reading about them and some day will get there.
In the meantime, I’ve taken John’s advice and enjoyed a variety of Roty’s Bourgogne rouge and blanc, as well as Marsannay rouge and rosé. In fact, Pinot noir rosé doesn’t get much better than Roty’s.
So I was pleased to hear John is launching a new publication called View from the Cellar. A cursory skim of the first issue looks promising, with features on Robert Chevillon, classic Piedmont wines from 1978, other Burgundy features, and tastings of various southern Rhone wines.
View from the Cellar is available by subscription. If you email John at jbgilman@ix.netcom.com, you can get more information and perhaps a free sample of the first issue.
I’ve never met John Gilman, but have read his writings about wine on the internet on and off for years. He’s a bit verbose, not that there’s anything wrong with that. Provided you don’t mind long paragraphs of course.
And I mean long paragraphs.
That aside, John clearly has a terrific palate and his passion for fine wine shows in his writing. While fine wine can often mean expensive wine, I’ve always been impressed by John’s attention to the lower end bottlings of top producers.
For example, I never tried the wines of Burgundy producer Joseph Roty until learning about them from John. I still haven’t tried things like Roty’s expensive Grand Crus, but I enjoy reading about them and some day will get there.
In the meantime, I’ve taken John’s advice and enjoyed a variety of Roty’s Bourgogne rouge and blanc, as well as Marsannay rouge and rosé. In fact, Pinot noir rosé doesn’t get much better than Roty’s.
So I was pleased to hear John is launching a new publication called View from the Cellar. A cursory skim of the first issue looks promising, with features on Robert Chevillon, classic Piedmont wines from 1978, other Burgundy features, and tastings of various southern Rhone wines.
View from the Cellar is available by subscription. If you email John at jbgilman@ix.netcom.com, you can get more information and perhaps a free sample of the first issue.
February 08, 2006
Peynaud's Knowing and Making Wine
Peynaud est arrivée!
At last, I found a cheap (actually free) copy of the book I’ve been wanting to read for a long time, Emile Peynaud’s classic Knowing and Making Wine.
The catch is I only have it for three weeks on interlibrary loan, with the option of just one renewal. So I have six weeks, I better get cracking.
Peynaud, the leading French winemaker of the 20th century, starts right where winemaking texts ought to start – tasting the wine.
He breaks down wine tasting finer than I’ve ever considered it. I'm even rethinking my pedantic dislike for terms like “attack,” which refers to a wine’s initial taste in the mouth. If Peynaud thinks it’s ok, maybe I can feel the same.
In truth I’ve barely begun reading, but already I know this is going to be something special. So I’ll read it during my upcoming excurion across the Pacific, then figure out a way to get a copy for myself without dropping anywhere near the $100 shelf price.
Anybody got a spare copy lying around that you don’t want?
At last, I found a cheap (actually free) copy of the book I’ve been wanting to read for a long time, Emile Peynaud’s classic Knowing and Making Wine.
The catch is I only have it for three weeks on interlibrary loan, with the option of just one renewal. So I have six weeks, I better get cracking.
Peynaud, the leading French winemaker of the 20th century, starts right where winemaking texts ought to start – tasting the wine.
He breaks down wine tasting finer than I’ve ever considered it. I'm even rethinking my pedantic dislike for terms like “attack,” which refers to a wine’s initial taste in the mouth. If Peynaud thinks it’s ok, maybe I can feel the same.
In truth I’ve barely begun reading, but already I know this is going to be something special. So I’ll read it during my upcoming excurion across the Pacific, then figure out a way to get a copy for myself without dropping anywhere near the $100 shelf price.
Anybody got a spare copy lying around that you don’t want?
Alsatian wines of Marc Tempé
I’m a fairly adventurous wine drinker, and I certainly don’t shy away from naturally made wines with more than their share of rusticity. But the wines of Marc Tempé, tasted last week with my irregular wine group, leave me puzzled.
Tempé is a biodynamic wine producer from the Alsace region of France. He makes wines about as naturally as you can, with no added yeast, acid, or sugar, and he uses minimal sulfur dioxide. Not to mention the yeast foods, enzymes, and other things you find in many cellars these days that I’m guessing aren’t part of Tempé’s “program.” Instead, he relies on carbon dioxide to keep the wines fresh, and long aging on the protective lees.
Nevertheless, these are downright weird wines. Even if you tolerate less than squeaky clean wines, you’ll be challenged with these. After this tasting, I am still interested in learning more about this producer. But I’m not buying any of these for my table or cellar. They’re more a curiosity to me than pleasurable, intriguing but ultimately not something I’m going to serve.
We started with the 2001 Riesling Zellenberg, a wooly, earthy wine that first had me thinking it was Chenin blanc. Then came the telltale petrol aroma of Riesling, beautiful if not complex. The flavor was soft, earthy with a hint of sweetness but lacking intensity, a good enough wine and my favorite for its aroma. Still not compelling.
Then came the 2001 Pinot Blanc Zellenberg, fizzy upon pouring and positively reeking of cider and sherry. Prickly on the palate, apricots and walnuts, it actually seemed a little better with time but clearly something’s wrong here.
Next was the 2001 Pinot Blanc Priegel, overripe and marked by ethyl acetate aromas, later more typical yellow fruit. Tangy on the palate, clean apple and lemon flavors but bland.
Then the 2002 Gewurztraminer Rodelsberg, a darker gold color than the others with some fizz, leesy aromas with apricots, roses, and wild dill and brown sugar notes. Apricots on the palate with earthy, lightly sweet flavors, tangy acid and a silky texture, a showy Gewurz that sounds nicer than it was. More a glimpse into what this producer is rumored to be able to achieve, even if this was a little over the top.
Finally, the 2002 Pinot Blanc Zellenberg, not fizzy like the ’01 but more Oregon Pinot gris like with bland yellow fruit, mineral, and yeast aromas. Fresh on the palate, easiest to drink of the bunch but utterly bland in the mouth, lightly sweet and inoffensive but not better than good.
In sum, Marc Tempé is clearly up to something. But maybe his produce simply doesn’t travel well. I’d love to see what these wines are like in his cellar, but I’ll leave it to my favorite blog wineterroirs to check into that sometime.
Tempé is a biodynamic wine producer from the Alsace region of France. He makes wines about as naturally as you can, with no added yeast, acid, or sugar, and he uses minimal sulfur dioxide. Not to mention the yeast foods, enzymes, and other things you find in many cellars these days that I’m guessing aren’t part of Tempé’s “program.” Instead, he relies on carbon dioxide to keep the wines fresh, and long aging on the protective lees.
Nevertheless, these are downright weird wines. Even if you tolerate less than squeaky clean wines, you’ll be challenged with these. After this tasting, I am still interested in learning more about this producer. But I’m not buying any of these for my table or cellar. They’re more a curiosity to me than pleasurable, intriguing but ultimately not something I’m going to serve.
We started with the 2001 Riesling Zellenberg, a wooly, earthy wine that first had me thinking it was Chenin blanc. Then came the telltale petrol aroma of Riesling, beautiful if not complex. The flavor was soft, earthy with a hint of sweetness but lacking intensity, a good enough wine and my favorite for its aroma. Still not compelling.
Then came the 2001 Pinot Blanc Zellenberg, fizzy upon pouring and positively reeking of cider and sherry. Prickly on the palate, apricots and walnuts, it actually seemed a little better with time but clearly something’s wrong here.
Next was the 2001 Pinot Blanc Priegel, overripe and marked by ethyl acetate aromas, later more typical yellow fruit. Tangy on the palate, clean apple and lemon flavors but bland.
Then the 2002 Gewurztraminer Rodelsberg, a darker gold color than the others with some fizz, leesy aromas with apricots, roses, and wild dill and brown sugar notes. Apricots on the palate with earthy, lightly sweet flavors, tangy acid and a silky texture, a showy Gewurz that sounds nicer than it was. More a glimpse into what this producer is rumored to be able to achieve, even if this was a little over the top.
Finally, the 2002 Pinot Blanc Zellenberg, not fizzy like the ’01 but more Oregon Pinot gris like with bland yellow fruit, mineral, and yeast aromas. Fresh on the palate, easiest to drink of the bunch but utterly bland in the mouth, lightly sweet and inoffensive but not better than good.
In sum, Marc Tempé is clearly up to something. But maybe his produce simply doesn’t travel well. I’d love to see what these wines are like in his cellar, but I’ll leave it to my favorite blog wineterroirs to check into that sometime.
January 21, 2006
A winter pruning adventure
I drove out to the Dundee Hills the other day to meet up with a friend who works an old vineyard planted with pinot noir and a few other things. I had asked him if I couldn’t come out and give him a hand with winter pruning.
I don't have much pruning experience, so the afternoon quickly turned into a terrific lesson in the art of pruning. Winter pruning is structural, where you cut back last year’s growth to leave only the healthiest and best positioned cane and renewal spur for next year. The cane will produce fruiting canes in the coming season, and the spur will provide a few additional fruiting canes positioned to be selected as next year’s main cane and renewal spur.
Despite having read some about winter pruning, and knowing a thing or two from my gardening and vineyard experience, I still couldn’t quite envision how vine pruning happened. My friend suggested that I start by focusing on what I would definitely eliminate, which meant virtually everything. Then I could select from what remained with relative ease.
I was impressed with his quick analysis of the vine and crisp cuts of the woody growth. My attempts were slow and uncertain, but I could see how the puzzle of deciphering each vine’s unique shape could become addictive.
Even this time of year, sap may weep harmlessly from the cuts on the otherwise dormant vine. With the vine now pruned, the leftover cane is tied down to the lowest trellis wire, carefully so that no buds are rubbed off. The cuttings are collected and burned or composted. Winter pruning is done.
We moved down the vineyeard row, studying each vine, making cuts, and moving on. After some time, another friend came by and we happened upon a nearby place to sit and check out the view and sample a couple local wines.
This is the heart of the Dundee Hills, vineyards like Arcus, Goldschmidt, Maresh, Prince Hill, and Le Pavillon among many others on the southern exposure of Worden Hill Road. The engorged Willamette River lay in the distance on this unusually dry afternoon. The air was chilly and fresh, this special place glowing in this late sunlight.
We tasted two Pinot noir from 2003, both warmly alcoholic and not to my taste though well made and enjoyable in the setting. Then we decided to take an impromptu and possibly illicit tramp by and though some of the local vineyards. We talked about vine age, training, growth habits apparent in the unpruned vines, and pruning techniques displayed on the recently cut vines. I couldn't help but think of returning during the growing season to see how the vines transformed during the year.
Then the tramp turned a bit grueling, over a fence and across a rushing creek, and then a long uphill climb on a path cut mysteriously through brambles. Our destination was a recently established vineyard and winery of another friend, producing small amounts of high quality, previously homebrew-only wine.
We tasted from two barrels of ’05 chardonnay, naturally fermented, both gorgeously pure and fresh with uncommon minerality. The new barrel is particularly impressive for not being woody. Of course, they’ve yet to go through ML, so it’s very early. But I suspect this will become fine wine and I’ll be happy to elaborate then.
And then outside again, through a hazelnut orchard and another vineyard with old Riesling vines with their ungodly thick tendrils, and back to where we began. The sun was down now and it was time to head out, my boots muddy and my head spinning with satisfaction.
I don't have much pruning experience, so the afternoon quickly turned into a terrific lesson in the art of pruning. Winter pruning is structural, where you cut back last year’s growth to leave only the healthiest and best positioned cane and renewal spur for next year. The cane will produce fruiting canes in the coming season, and the spur will provide a few additional fruiting canes positioned to be selected as next year’s main cane and renewal spur.
Despite having read some about winter pruning, and knowing a thing or two from my gardening and vineyard experience, I still couldn’t quite envision how vine pruning happened. My friend suggested that I start by focusing on what I would definitely eliminate, which meant virtually everything. Then I could select from what remained with relative ease.
I was impressed with his quick analysis of the vine and crisp cuts of the woody growth. My attempts were slow and uncertain, but I could see how the puzzle of deciphering each vine’s unique shape could become addictive.
Even this time of year, sap may weep harmlessly from the cuts on the otherwise dormant vine. With the vine now pruned, the leftover cane is tied down to the lowest trellis wire, carefully so that no buds are rubbed off. The cuttings are collected and burned or composted. Winter pruning is done.
We moved down the vineyeard row, studying each vine, making cuts, and moving on. After some time, another friend came by and we happened upon a nearby place to sit and check out the view and sample a couple local wines.
This is the heart of the Dundee Hills, vineyards like Arcus, Goldschmidt, Maresh, Prince Hill, and Le Pavillon among many others on the southern exposure of Worden Hill Road. The engorged Willamette River lay in the distance on this unusually dry afternoon. The air was chilly and fresh, this special place glowing in this late sunlight.
We tasted two Pinot noir from 2003, both warmly alcoholic and not to my taste though well made and enjoyable in the setting. Then we decided to take an impromptu and possibly illicit tramp by and though some of the local vineyards. We talked about vine age, training, growth habits apparent in the unpruned vines, and pruning techniques displayed on the recently cut vines. I couldn't help but think of returning during the growing season to see how the vines transformed during the year.
Then the tramp turned a bit grueling, over a fence and across a rushing creek, and then a long uphill climb on a path cut mysteriously through brambles. Our destination was a recently established vineyard and winery of another friend, producing small amounts of high quality, previously homebrew-only wine.
We tasted from two barrels of ’05 chardonnay, naturally fermented, both gorgeously pure and fresh with uncommon minerality. The new barrel is particularly impressive for not being woody. Of course, they’ve yet to go through ML, so it’s very early. But I suspect this will become fine wine and I’ll be happy to elaborate then.
And then outside again, through a hazelnut orchard and another vineyard with old Riesling vines with their ungodly thick tendrils, and back to where we began. The sun was down now and it was time to head out, my boots muddy and my head spinning with satisfaction.
January 17, 2006
The mystery of rock(s)
No, not the majesty of roll. It’s the mystery of terroir in the northern
Such was the title of Dr. Scott Burns’ presentation the other night to the Geological Society of Oregon. More than 60 people filled a lecture hall at
Burns is a passionate speaker, not what you might expect in a geologist. He began by apologizing for his scratchy voice, worn out from a heavy dose of consultation and media requests in the wake of recent rain-triggered landslides. Then he launch into a high volume, fast-paced hour-long presentation covering everything from the origins of the
Burns is rare in bringing obviously extensive knowledge about geology together with great knowledge and clear passion for wine. Frankly, I expected a geologist who knew little, really, about wine, but Burns is one of the most articulate and, in my opinion, informed wine lovers out there. Generous too.
I was hoping he’d spend less time on background material and more on the rocks. This was a geology meeting after all, my first ever. But the audience was clearly beyond the typical rockhound, so I suppose Burns was smart to give context even if it was old news.
But once Burns started talking about the earth, wow. He provided great information I hope I convey at least mostly accurately. First of all, good news. The soils are old here, meaning low nutrient levels in general for grape growing. 96% of grapes in the region are on either very old, or just about very old soils.
The underlying geology of the northern
Local soils largely came from
The most common soil types in northern
Willakenzie soils are apparently being reclassified more specifically than before. But as we know them, they are marine sediments found in the
Demonstrating the different tastes of soil types, Burns closed by generously poured samples of two 2001 Chehalem Pinot Noir.
First the Stoller Vineyard, from the far west of the Dundee Hills on a lower hill exposed perfectly to the sun. Jory soils all the way. This wine smelled rich and alcoholic, with macerated cherries and a roasted quality. It was actually quite nice, wood-marked as both wines are, but soft and a little squishy.
I preferred the Ridgecrest Vineyard, with its wood spicy, light black currant aroma and brighter flavor. Willakenzie soils here,
So are all Geological Society meetings like this? The meeting ended, but there was a buffet after-party in the department office that looked interesting. Then I thought, don’t push your luck. So off into the rainy night.
January 07, 2006
Tastings: Belle Pente and Cameron
I took the opportunity recently to taste new releases from two of
Belle Pente is located just outside
I’ve tasted many Belle Pente wines over the years. As good as the reds have always been, the whites impressed me first, particularly the Riesling made typically in an Alsatian style – drier and fuller bodied than you tend to find in
On this day, Brian was pouring two whites and three reds. While the reds are usually fermented with “wild” yeasts, Brian says that
The ’03 Pinot Noir Murto vineyard, from 30-year old vines, smelled a bit oaky at first, but shows more restraint that might be expected from this torrid year. Black cherries, spicy earth and oak, young wine that should settle down some with age. The ’03 Pinot Noir Estate showed lots of Christmas spice, with gingerbread and mulling spices mixed in with good fruit and clean earth flavors. Another nice wine and not too large scaled. Clearly a step up was the ’02 Pinot Noir Estate Reserve, a long, very refined and elegant wine with great depth and intensity, beautifully integrated flavors, good structure, the is perhaps the most impressive wine I’ve had from Belle Pente. Highly recommended and among the best ‘02s I’ve tried.
Next to Brian was the impresario of
John was pouring only one white, the top shelf ’03 Chardonnay Abbey Ridge. He says matter of factly that you need to think about white
On to the reds, first was the ’03 Pinot Noir Gherts vineyard from the Dundee Hills, the source of all these Cameron wines. Located below Domain Drouhin on the southwestern side of the appellation, the Gherts vineyard bottling seems promising. I enjoyed the ’02 for its freshness and drink younger personality, but this ’03 seemed a bit muddled and unfocused. Either it’s in a bad place or perhaps it’s just a victim of the hot year.
Next was the ’03 Pinot Noir Abbey Ridge, which I’ve tried twice now and find delicious. Ripe, fairly rich wine but still elegant as I like this grape to be, with good structure. Abbey Ridge may have produced the best wine of the ’03 vintage. Finally, the ’03 Pinot Noir Clos Electrique, from Cameron’s “estate” (which looks more like a shack, a really cool shack but this ain’t no grand estate) vineyard. Planted in the mid-to-late 1980s with wide spacing, it’s lower in the Dundee Hills than most and seems to produce a richer, black fruited wine where most of the Dundee Hills vineyards give redder, cherry flavors. As with the ’02, the ’03 is dark and brooding, young and unevolved, with fine tannin and good length. This is a wine to cellar but I expect it will show more complexity and subtlety in time.
But wait, John’s a passionate Italophile (Ital-o-phile? Ital-i-phile? Fan of
December 28, 2005
Tasting 2002 Loire Reds
Another gathering of the loose tasting group of local industry people I fell into earlier this year. This month’s theme was 2002
1. Darkest color, with a very ripe, oaky, smoked sausage and sweet raspberry aroma, some nice tobacco with time but clearly the most new world-esque wine of the bunch. Full and a little alcoholic on the palate, ripe sweet fruit flavors with some chalky tannin, shows the delicacy of the Loire but disjointed now, who knows if it will ever come around. This is the 2002 Domaine de la Butte Bourgueil Mi-Pente, the infamous Jacky Blot’s top-end bottling. Jacky, lay off the new barrels.
2. Medium dark ruby with a stony cherry aroma, some soil, pipe ash, and cranberry in there too. Tastes bright with cranberry flavors, herbs and earth but not much else, stony and drying on the finish, tastes like a decent lightweight
3. Sweeter than number 2, but not as overt as number 1 with nice pie fruit, earth, and stone aromas. Silky and elegant on the palate, with ripe cherry and light raspberry flavors, earthy soil notes with bright acid, nice now and perhaps in the future. This is the 2002 Gauthier, Domaine du Bel Air, “Les Vingt lieux dits” Bourgueil.
4. Dark color, with an oaky sweet aroma, jammy fruit with a creamy note, odd smelling. Drying tannin, clearly the most tannic of the bunch, with stony cranberry flavors, hard wine, over pressed or macerated?, nice leafy after taste but in a weird place now. This is the 2002 Bernard Baudry Chinon La Croix Boisee.
5. Medium/dark color, with a farmy, bretty horse saddle aroma at first, opens with sweet berry fruit and meat, a little Rhonish, more complex still with time. Classic stony flavors, nice juicy red berry fruit with bright acid, young and promising but delicious now. This is the 2002 Bernard Baudry Chinon Les Grezeaux, [comment about this being mid-tier in price compared to the higher end La Croix Boisee moved to the "backroom"]. This was my favorite of the tasting and a decidedly non-mid-tier wine.
6. Medium/dark color, with a jammy, bit oaky ripe aroma, smoked sausage notes, initially a little too much but opens nicely. Cranberry and cherry flavors with a tangy profile, dry tannin, lean on the palate, clearly needs time but promising. By far the favorite of the group, though not quite mine. This is the 2002 Charles Joguet Chinon Clos la Dioterie.
We tasted the wines, then passed around a variety of cheeses that paired nicely, taming the sharp profile of some of the wines and creating harmony with the earthy smells and flavors.
December 23, 2005
A Case of Wine for Christmas
For Christmas, two of my sisters and I went in on a case of wine for our parents, who appreciate good wine but aren’t crazy about it like I am. I got to pick out the wines, so I thought I’d put together a sampling of wines from Oregon and places they’ve travelled to or otherwise seem to like quite a bit.
With the help of my favorite local wine shop, Liner & Elsen, here’s what I picked:
Whites:
2003 Evesham Wood Chardonnay Les Puits Sec
This is the estate chardonnay from the producer I worked for this fall, which I figured my parents would want to try. Warm vintage, sometimes a lackluster grape in Oregon, but you wouldn’t know it from this beautiful Burgundian-styled white wine, with subtle oak influence and lovely ripe but not overripe fruit. If I could make chardonnay like this, I’d be happy. I like Evesham Wood more for their reds, but this wine was a revelation.
2004 Francios Pinon Vouvray Cuvee Tradition
My parents visited the Loire valley a few years ago and came away with new respect for the chenin blanc grape, otherwise known to most Americans as the main ingredient of white jug wine. I haven’t tried this year’s model, but Pinon is a terrific producer. This wine is typcially only lightly sweet – sec tendre as the French would say – with great minerality or mineral aromas and flavors.
2004 Hirsch Gruner Veltliner Kammerner Heiligenstein Kamptal
This fall, my parents visted Austria for the first time, so I thought some classic, dry Austrian white wine would be in order. And packaged in a screwcap too! Gruner Veltliner is the main wine grape of Austria, grown rarely elsewhere and producing a subtle, refreshing wine that sometimes includes the flavor of really good fresh green peas.
Bubbly:
NV R. Dumont et fils Champagne
What case of Christmas wine would be right without bubbly? This small producer isn’t widely distributed but what a tasty Champagne at a reasonable price. Highly recommended if you haven’t tried it. On the crisper side, but with good richness I think from a majority of pinot noir in the wine (along with chardonnay).
Reds:
2003 Evesham Wood Pinot Noir Cuvee J
Cuvee J is the special selection from the Les Puits Sec vineyard, the fanciest wine in this bunch and a great example of top quality Oregon pinot noir. Again, the 2003 vintage was hot and this wine is fairly ripe and alcoholic for Evesham Wood. But if anyone can make tasty, ageworthy wine from even the hottest years, it’s winemaker Russ Raney.
2003 Belle Pente Pinot Noir Yamhill-Carlton District
Without other Evesham Wood wines currently available, I went with a couple of selections from Belle Pente, another favorite of mine among Oregon producers. This is a lighter but no less tasty pinot noir meant to drink young.
2002 Belle Pente Pinot Noir Murto Vineyard
As a counterpoint, here’s an older vine bottling (30 years) from the same producer. This one comes from the Murto vineyard in the Dundee Hills, made in a terrific vintage by a skilled but hands-off winemaker Brian O’Donnell. Lovely fragrance with good richness and balance, young and pehaps a touch oaky but good now or in a few years. I like Brian’s touch with pinot noir – never too dark and extracted, always fragrant and spicy without too much oak. He’s also been kind to me as a home winemaker looking for tips and grape sources.
2003 Fattoria Petroio Chianti Classico
The latest release from Petroio, a terrific little producer well known to Portland, where the Italian wine market is surprisingly deep (very deep). Nothing super fancy here, just good, fleshy, mostly sangiovese-based wine that’s like a quick trip to Tuscany in your glass – one of my parents’ favorite destinations.
2001 Felsina Chianti Classico Riserva
Again, a counterpoint that shows more depth, richness, and structure compared to a “basic” Chianti Classico. If I had to pick one producer from Tuscany, Felsina would be it. Just terrific wines, good young and old, well-priced (especially after their former price-gouging importer was cut loose), and like a quick trip to Tuscany, but first class.
2003 Pasquero Sori Paitin Barbera d’Alba “Serra Boella”
My dad has always liked the barbera grape, and this is a great example of the grape from a great producer of everything from dolcetto to Barbaresco.
2001 Domaine Les Pallieres Gigondas
Gigondas in Berkeley, CA? Yes, Kermit Lynch, of the eponymous wine import and retail firm in Berkeley, is part owner of this estate in the southern Rhone valley of France. Pallieres just happens to produce one of my favorite Gigondas, a wine made of mostly the grenache grape with some syrah and mourvedre in the mix. Dark colored wine, with flavors of wild berries, dry herbs, and (as if you don’t know what they taste like) rocks. A nice blend of old world rusticity with new world fresh fruitness, with fine tannins that melt away if you drink with with dinner. I’m getting thirsty just writing about it.
2003 Edmunds St. John Rocks and Gravel California
A final counterpoint, this is a Berkeley-made wine from winemakers Steve Edmunds in the image of the great wines of the southern Rhone valley. Again, a mix of grenache, syrah, and mourvedre, this too mixes old world and new world styles well, with a nice earthiness amid the fresh pie fruit that California wines (aside from this one) usually have way too much of. Not nearly as tannic as the Pallieres, these are two wines to compare if you’re interested in seeing the similarity and difference between wines from France and California. By the way, the wine name comes from a Bob Dylan song.
So there it is…Merry Christmas and happy tasting.
With the help of my favorite local wine shop, Liner & Elsen, here’s what I picked:
Whites:
2003 Evesham Wood Chardonnay Les Puits Sec
This is the estate chardonnay from the producer I worked for this fall, which I figured my parents would want to try. Warm vintage, sometimes a lackluster grape in Oregon, but you wouldn’t know it from this beautiful Burgundian-styled white wine, with subtle oak influence and lovely ripe but not overripe fruit. If I could make chardonnay like this, I’d be happy. I like Evesham Wood more for their reds, but this wine was a revelation.
2004 Francios Pinon Vouvray Cuvee Tradition
My parents visited the Loire valley a few years ago and came away with new respect for the chenin blanc grape, otherwise known to most Americans as the main ingredient of white jug wine. I haven’t tried this year’s model, but Pinon is a terrific producer. This wine is typcially only lightly sweet – sec tendre as the French would say – with great minerality or mineral aromas and flavors.
2004 Hirsch Gruner Veltliner Kammerner Heiligenstein Kamptal
This fall, my parents visted Austria for the first time, so I thought some classic, dry Austrian white wine would be in order. And packaged in a screwcap too! Gruner Veltliner is the main wine grape of Austria, grown rarely elsewhere and producing a subtle, refreshing wine that sometimes includes the flavor of really good fresh green peas.
Bubbly:
NV R. Dumont et fils Champagne
What case of Christmas wine would be right without bubbly? This small producer isn’t widely distributed but what a tasty Champagne at a reasonable price. Highly recommended if you haven’t tried it. On the crisper side, but with good richness I think from a majority of pinot noir in the wine (along with chardonnay).
Reds:
2003 Evesham Wood Pinot Noir Cuvee J
Cuvee J is the special selection from the Les Puits Sec vineyard, the fanciest wine in this bunch and a great example of top quality Oregon pinot noir. Again, the 2003 vintage was hot and this wine is fairly ripe and alcoholic for Evesham Wood. But if anyone can make tasty, ageworthy wine from even the hottest years, it’s winemaker Russ Raney.
2003 Belle Pente Pinot Noir Yamhill-Carlton District
Without other Evesham Wood wines currently available, I went with a couple of selections from Belle Pente, another favorite of mine among Oregon producers. This is a lighter but no less tasty pinot noir meant to drink young.
2002 Belle Pente Pinot Noir Murto Vineyard
As a counterpoint, here’s an older vine bottling (30 years) from the same producer. This one comes from the Murto vineyard in the Dundee Hills, made in a terrific vintage by a skilled but hands-off winemaker Brian O’Donnell. Lovely fragrance with good richness and balance, young and pehaps a touch oaky but good now or in a few years. I like Brian’s touch with pinot noir – never too dark and extracted, always fragrant and spicy without too much oak. He’s also been kind to me as a home winemaker looking for tips and grape sources.
2003 Fattoria Petroio Chianti Classico
The latest release from Petroio, a terrific little producer well known to Portland, where the Italian wine market is surprisingly deep (very deep). Nothing super fancy here, just good, fleshy, mostly sangiovese-based wine that’s like a quick trip to Tuscany in your glass – one of my parents’ favorite destinations.
2001 Felsina Chianti Classico Riserva
Again, a counterpoint that shows more depth, richness, and structure compared to a “basic” Chianti Classico. If I had to pick one producer from Tuscany, Felsina would be it. Just terrific wines, good young and old, well-priced (especially after their former price-gouging importer was cut loose), and like a quick trip to Tuscany, but first class.
2003 Pasquero Sori Paitin Barbera d’Alba “Serra Boella”
My dad has always liked the barbera grape, and this is a great example of the grape from a great producer of everything from dolcetto to Barbaresco.
2001 Domaine Les Pallieres Gigondas
Gigondas in Berkeley, CA? Yes, Kermit Lynch, of the eponymous wine import and retail firm in Berkeley, is part owner of this estate in the southern Rhone valley of France. Pallieres just happens to produce one of my favorite Gigondas, a wine made of mostly the grenache grape with some syrah and mourvedre in the mix. Dark colored wine, with flavors of wild berries, dry herbs, and (as if you don’t know what they taste like) rocks. A nice blend of old world rusticity with new world fresh fruitness, with fine tannins that melt away if you drink with with dinner. I’m getting thirsty just writing about it.
2003 Edmunds St. John Rocks and Gravel California
A final counterpoint, this is a Berkeley-made wine from winemakers Steve Edmunds in the image of the great wines of the southern Rhone valley. Again, a mix of grenache, syrah, and mourvedre, this too mixes old world and new world styles well, with a nice earthiness amid the fresh pie fruit that California wines (aside from this one) usually have way too much of. Not nearly as tannic as the Pallieres, these are two wines to compare if you’re interested in seeing the similarity and difference between wines from France and California. By the way, the wine name comes from a Bob Dylan song.
So there it is…Merry Christmas and happy tasting.
December 22, 2005
Joe Davis of Arcadian on Grape Radio
Grape Radio. I know, it threw me for a loop, too.
But after winning one of those iPod things in a drawing, I’ve listened to some of the Grape Radio podcasts and been fairly impressed.
No, not by the name (I can’t claim much better though). Nor the cheesy music and amiable if unpolished hosts. But many of the guests in the first year have been top notch. I’m not sure of its appeal to novices – the wine geek factor can be high. Still, Grape Radio is pretty cool, and sailing into uncharted waters of informative, entertaining wine media.
Perhaps controversial, too. The most intriguing episode yet features Joe Davis of Arcadian Winery in central
He’s also simply one of the most unscripted people I’ve observed in the wine industry, either in this podcast or on any number of interesting (mostly) threads on pinot noir on the erobertparker.com discussion group. Even if sometimes he might regret his candor, one has to appreciate his intent and passion.
Yet, in this episode even Joe’s passion can’t save him from his own words that verge on slander. I was shocked at what I heard him say.
I won’t rehash the whole thing, you can listen for yourself. But let’s just say that, as much as I find myself in Joe’s philosophical camp about pinot noir, and as right as he may be (MAY be) about his concerns for other, less experienced vintners enjoying recent success, he goes too far in calling them out personally for potential issues in their wines based on pure speculation.
Even if his words aren’t slander (I’m not sure they are, though I might feel differently if he were talking about me), Joe’s successful enough, and I hope smart enough, to realize he needn’t worry so much about other vintners nor talk about them in such a way to the media.
But let’s assume Joe’s right. My point isn’t that his opinion is off base, necessarily. Just that he’s not going to achieve his goal, whatever that may be, by calling people out this way.
He sounds like a dad criticizing his kid, which would be weird enough. Actually, it’s like he’s talking about someone else’s kid, which is too weird. If you’re so concerned, and especially if you’re so right, go talk to the person, especially when it involves someone’s passion and livelihood.
And that’s not code for “be politically correct.” No, be smart. At the least, be polite. As with making pinot noir, less is usually better.
Still, it makes for intereting listening. For a counterpoint, check out earlier podcasts here and here.
UPDATE - Check out this thread on erobertparker.com. Looks like there will be a follow up interview in January with Joe and some of the people he spoke about in this interview. I'll definitely be listening.
December 21, 2005
2003 Sakonnet Fume Vidal Reserve Southeastern New England
A friend gifted me this white wine from Rhode Island, made from the vidal blanc grape. I have to say, I’m woefully inexperienced with hybrids and other non-vinifera grapes and wines. Of course, that’s probably because what experience I have has left me largely unimpressed.
I had heard of Sakonnet Vineyards but never tried any of their wines. They apparently have a good reputation and, judging by this bottling, it’s well founded.
The “Fume” in Fume Vidal refers to oak aging, which this wine shows in its smoky, toasty oak aroma that reminded me at first of chardonnay, bad chardonnay. But with time the oakiness seemed balanced by a mix of fresh aromas that reminded me of pinot gris, riesling, and muscat. There were aromas of flowers and honey, with some earthy petrol notes and nice purity.
The flavors were also oaky at first, but with time there was a nice honeyed taste and a touch of white grapiness that I’m guessing is classic for the variety. The wine was lightly sweet but lively with good acidity, holding up well over two nights.
Overall, I’m impressed. This was an interesting, elegant wine and makes me want to seek out more vidal. Given its honeyed character, I’d love to taste late harvest wines from this variety. It’s definitely something to check out further.
I had heard of Sakonnet Vineyards but never tried any of their wines. They apparently have a good reputation and, judging by this bottling, it’s well founded.
The “Fume” in Fume Vidal refers to oak aging, which this wine shows in its smoky, toasty oak aroma that reminded me at first of chardonnay, bad chardonnay. But with time the oakiness seemed balanced by a mix of fresh aromas that reminded me of pinot gris, riesling, and muscat. There were aromas of flowers and honey, with some earthy petrol notes and nice purity.
The flavors were also oaky at first, but with time there was a nice honeyed taste and a touch of white grapiness that I’m guessing is classic for the variety. The wine was lightly sweet but lively with good acidity, holding up well over two nights.
Overall, I’m impressed. This was an interesting, elegant wine and makes me want to seek out more vidal. Given its honeyed character, I’d love to taste late harvest wines from this variety. It’s definitely something to check out further.
November 07, 2005
Home winemaking 2005
I wasn’t planning to make wine at home this year. After setting the goal of working harvest at a winery and then lining up a good position, I figured I wouldn’t bother making my own stuff.
Then the opportunity presented itself, unfortunately due to the rain and the subsequent break in the harvest. I suddenly had time, and after a few calls I had lined up some pinot noir from Courting Hill vineyard in Banks, west of Portland on a beautiful south-facing slope.
The vineyard elevation is 350-480 feet, similar to the estate where I worked. There, pinot noir grapes in the last week of September were beautiful, well above 23 brix and delicious with moderate browning of stems and seeds.
After the rain, I would have liked to wait to pick, but working at the winery was my priority. I wanted to be available for any good picking day for the next few weeks, if not a few bad ones so I could do cellar work. So I picked on Sunday morning, October 2, in showery weather two days after the big rain that turned summer to fall.
What did I get? 204 lbs. of pinot noir at 22 brix, diluted probably but still not as ripe looking as the other fruit I’d seen before the rain. More green in the stems and occasional seed. I tried to find the ripest fruit in the upper block where I could pick. The Courting Hill site is pretty far north for Willamette Valley pinot, so it might have been smart to pick later to get as much ripeness as possible. But I saw lots of grapes from many vineyards after I picked, and 22 brix would be right in the ballpark of what you’d expect to see. I can’t say there weren’t vineyards with higher brix in October, but I wonder how many got to 24.
I crushed and destemmed on site into a Rubbermaid bin. There was no rot or other disease, but I added approximately 70ppm SO2 as I learned at the winery. The sulfur at crushing is intended to protect the must as it soaks for a few days before fermentation starts.
I would have added less if none at all, as other winemakers suggest. But as with many decisions I made with this wine, I chose to practice the techniques I was learning – many of them from Germany and France, and largely intended to let terrior speak through the wine.
I learned about Jayer’s methods in Burgundy, adding more sulfur at the crusher to allow for a cold soak, to extract color and flavor before alcohol is present from fermentation. And allowing extended maceration, typically up to three weeks from crushing to pressing, with the intention of allowing the tannins to grow longer and smoother than you might get in a wine pressed earlier.
So I practiced. After picking Sunday and adding some dry ice to really cool the must down, I let the must soak until Thursday night when I inoculated the bin with a pail of must I had started with some liquid Assmanhausen yeast that morning. Fermentation took off within two days, and I put a heater near the bin out in the garage to keep the air temperature up – and hopefully the fermentation temp up – due to the cold weather.
The ferment peaked a few days later with a cap temp of 86F before punching it down into the juice. The juice peak was 85F, but only for a short while. The temp was probably only over 80F for a day, after I turned off the heater one morning when the day was supposed to warm up significantly. It never happened, and when I got home late that night the must was down to 77F. I turned the heat back on for the rest of the week, but the temps were slowly downhill from there. I wanted more heat to cure the wine a bit, give it some depth and hopefully burn off some of the greenness I expect in the wine. A bigger fermentation is the solution, so that’s on the docket for next year.
Early in the week I chaptalized a bit, to raise the brix by .5 but mainly to extend the fermentation. I added plain table sugar to a small amount of juice, then stirred that into the bin. The wine was essentially dry by Friday, but I let it sit until Monday night before pressing. The total skin contact time was 16 days. With a bigger fermentation, I would have waited longer but I was concerned about oxidation and allowing too much volatility into the wine.
Fermentation smells followed the arc I noticed on pinot noir fermentations in the winery. The crushed must smells sweet and a bit green, like most crushed grapes. The early fermentation shows lots of CO2. Then you move into the more maturing smells of wine, rich fresh and preserved fruit along with yeast. After the fermentation peaks, there’s a "roasty" period where you get coffee and other roasted scents. The best lots from before the rain were really nice during this period, just beautiful to smell. Then as the fermentation ends there is some volatile acidity pungency from the shallow cap, more vinous smells that wines pressed too early seem to lack (in favor of sweet candied fruit). In my wine, I noticed all of these stages. Actually, I was most excited by my wine during its own "roasty" period. The smells were very ripe but earthy and vinous. The wine is still very young and is expected to go through many phases, but I’d love to see that quality back in this wine before its bottled.
I pressed with a small stainless steel press rented from a local homebrew supply shop. I ended up with a 50-liter barrel and two 1-gallon demi-johns of wine for topping. The barrel I also got used from a guy at the shop. It’s four year old Slovenian oak, a small cask and perhaps prone to oxidation. It’s in my basement, which is cool and somewhat humid, but not a perfect cellar environment. We’ll just have to see how it goes.
So far, the wine tastes a bit harsh and astringent though it does have some pinot noir fragrance, so I do have some hope. I’ve seen wine change dramatically over time before bottling. But I don’t expect too much from this year’s wine. It’s a nice experiment, one I’ve executed pretty well to this point but too bad about the less than ideal ripeness and the small fermentation size. I’m not sure where I’ll get the money to make a full barrel next year or where I could do it. But I’m going for it and now I think I have every reason to expect I won’t f#*! things up.
Then the opportunity presented itself, unfortunately due to the rain and the subsequent break in the harvest. I suddenly had time, and after a few calls I had lined up some pinot noir from Courting Hill vineyard in Banks, west of Portland on a beautiful south-facing slope.
The vineyard elevation is 350-480 feet, similar to the estate where I worked. There, pinot noir grapes in the last week of September were beautiful, well above 23 brix and delicious with moderate browning of stems and seeds.
After the rain, I would have liked to wait to pick, but working at the winery was my priority. I wanted to be available for any good picking day for the next few weeks, if not a few bad ones so I could do cellar work. So I picked on Sunday morning, October 2, in showery weather two days after the big rain that turned summer to fall.
What did I get? 204 lbs. of pinot noir at 22 brix, diluted probably but still not as ripe looking as the other fruit I’d seen before the rain. More green in the stems and occasional seed. I tried to find the ripest fruit in the upper block where I could pick. The Courting Hill site is pretty far north for Willamette Valley pinot, so it might have been smart to pick later to get as much ripeness as possible. But I saw lots of grapes from many vineyards after I picked, and 22 brix would be right in the ballpark of what you’d expect to see. I can’t say there weren’t vineyards with higher brix in October, but I wonder how many got to 24.
I crushed and destemmed on site into a Rubbermaid bin. There was no rot or other disease, but I added approximately 70ppm SO2 as I learned at the winery. The sulfur at crushing is intended to protect the must as it soaks for a few days before fermentation starts.
I would have added less if none at all, as other winemakers suggest. But as with many decisions I made with this wine, I chose to practice the techniques I was learning – many of them from Germany and France, and largely intended to let terrior speak through the wine.
I learned about Jayer’s methods in Burgundy, adding more sulfur at the crusher to allow for a cold soak, to extract color and flavor before alcohol is present from fermentation. And allowing extended maceration, typically up to three weeks from crushing to pressing, with the intention of allowing the tannins to grow longer and smoother than you might get in a wine pressed earlier.
So I practiced. After picking Sunday and adding some dry ice to really cool the must down, I let the must soak until Thursday night when I inoculated the bin with a pail of must I had started with some liquid Assmanhausen yeast that morning. Fermentation took off within two days, and I put a heater near the bin out in the garage to keep the air temperature up – and hopefully the fermentation temp up – due to the cold weather.
The ferment peaked a few days later with a cap temp of 86F before punching it down into the juice. The juice peak was 85F, but only for a short while. The temp was probably only over 80F for a day, after I turned off the heater one morning when the day was supposed to warm up significantly. It never happened, and when I got home late that night the must was down to 77F. I turned the heat back on for the rest of the week, but the temps were slowly downhill from there. I wanted more heat to cure the wine a bit, give it some depth and hopefully burn off some of the greenness I expect in the wine. A bigger fermentation is the solution, so that’s on the docket for next year.
Early in the week I chaptalized a bit, to raise the brix by .5 but mainly to extend the fermentation. I added plain table sugar to a small amount of juice, then stirred that into the bin. The wine was essentially dry by Friday, but I let it sit until Monday night before pressing. The total skin contact time was 16 days. With a bigger fermentation, I would have waited longer but I was concerned about oxidation and allowing too much volatility into the wine.
Fermentation smells followed the arc I noticed on pinot noir fermentations in the winery. The crushed must smells sweet and a bit green, like most crushed grapes. The early fermentation shows lots of CO2. Then you move into the more maturing smells of wine, rich fresh and preserved fruit along with yeast. After the fermentation peaks, there’s a "roasty" period where you get coffee and other roasted scents. The best lots from before the rain were really nice during this period, just beautiful to smell. Then as the fermentation ends there is some volatile acidity pungency from the shallow cap, more vinous smells that wines pressed too early seem to lack (in favor of sweet candied fruit). In my wine, I noticed all of these stages. Actually, I was most excited by my wine during its own "roasty" period. The smells were very ripe but earthy and vinous. The wine is still very young and is expected to go through many phases, but I’d love to see that quality back in this wine before its bottled.
I pressed with a small stainless steel press rented from a local homebrew supply shop. I ended up with a 50-liter barrel and two 1-gallon demi-johns of wine for topping. The barrel I also got used from a guy at the shop. It’s four year old Slovenian oak, a small cask and perhaps prone to oxidation. It’s in my basement, which is cool and somewhat humid, but not a perfect cellar environment. We’ll just have to see how it goes.
So far, the wine tastes a bit harsh and astringent though it does have some pinot noir fragrance, so I do have some hope. I’ve seen wine change dramatically over time before bottling. But I don’t expect too much from this year’s wine. It’s a nice experiment, one I’ve executed pretty well to this point but too bad about the less than ideal ripeness and the small fermentation size. I’m not sure where I’ll get the money to make a full barrel next year or where I could do it. But I’m going for it and now I think I have every reason to expect I won’t f#*! things up.
November 06, 2005
1999 Clos Roche Blanche Cabernet Touraine
I once suggested that this wine is all cabernet franc, but was advised that who really knows whether or not there's cabernet sauvignon in there as well.
But I am certain this wine, labelled simply "Cabernet," is not nearly as tannic as I remember it from its younger days. It smells classic without much intensity, with musky herb and berry aromas and more than a hint of soil. Yet in the mouth it's a little flat and tired, even if the flavors aren't more than beginning to mature. It's not old, just dull but still a nice drink with dinner and worth the $10 it cost me a few years back.
But I am certain this wine, labelled simply "Cabernet," is not nearly as tannic as I remember it from its younger days. It smells classic without much intensity, with musky herb and berry aromas and more than a hint of soil. Yet in the mouth it's a little flat and tired, even if the flavors aren't more than beginning to mature. It's not old, just dull but still a nice drink with dinner and worth the $10 it cost me a few years back.
Working Harvest
So what do you do?
That’s the question I got this fall more than I expected when people found out I was working harvest part-time for a local winery.
The next question was invariably - do you really stomp the grapes with your feet?
Generally, no. The grapes are machine crushed and destemmed for the most part. It isn’t uncommon even these days for people to get into a vat of fermenting red wine to mix the solids and juice, and spread out any hot spots created by the fermentation. But that didn’t happen here.
What you do working harvest is work your tail off. Dump countless 35lbs. trays of grapes onto the sorting conveyor, if not pitchfork grapes that arrive in half ton or larger bins. Sort endlessly. Move the bins of crushed grapes into the winery to soak and then begin fermenting. Punch down fermenting red wine with a metal rod with a disk on its end, when the grape solids are pushed up by carbon dioxide from the fermenting juice forming a cap that can be one or more feet thick. Clean and rinse picking trays, bins, tanks, hoses, fittings, buckets, pumps, conveyor belts, barrels, things over and over again. Stir lees in the chardonnay barrels, clean the presses, sweep the floor, hose down the floor, punch down again. Crush more grapes and do it all over again.
That’s essentially it, broken up by times of waiting for grapes to arrive or for someone to get back from an errand to do something that requires a group.
Along the way I asked as many questions as I could manage. What’s "ripe?" How much sulfur dioxide to use at crushing? How long to cold soak the crushed grapes before fermenting? What analysis do you really need to do? How do you do it? What do you look for during fermentation? How often do you punch down? What odd smells during fermentation are normal and what are signs of more serious problems? How long do you wait until pressing? How clean do you really need to be? How often do you rack? When do you sulfur the wine again? How do you know when to bottle? All things I have some experience with (and even more opinions on), but how does a professional do things?
And I paid attention to how you might manage the whole thing. What is the typical sequence of events to do all the tasks of harvest? How do you work with the growers who seem to talk up the quality of their grapes and are often anxious to have you harvest as soon as possible, only not this week because we don’t have picking crew. How do you manage your space in the winery, and your available bins, tanks, and barrels that need to hold everything you bring in from the fields? Most of all, considering the Oregon climate, how do you make picking decisions, especially with constantly shifting weather forecasts and more folk wisdom than you can imagine from anyone in the industry.
What did I get out of the deal? Lots of exercise, lots of knowledge, and some fun with a very humble, extremely honorable boss who really knows what he’s doing (and often not going to do) in the wine cellar. Not to mention some cash in my pocket and some nice wine at a good price for my efforts.
All this from a phone call out of the blue that I made to the producer almost a year ago saying, essentially, I respect your wines very much and although you don’t know me I’d like to work with you to learn how to really make wine in Oregon. I didn’t exactly achieve that goa, yet. There are more harvests to come no matter where I work. But this was the start of something very interesting, and combined with my ongoing experiments with home winemaking, I’m excited.
That’s the question I got this fall more than I expected when people found out I was working harvest part-time for a local winery.
The next question was invariably - do you really stomp the grapes with your feet?
Generally, no. The grapes are machine crushed and destemmed for the most part. It isn’t uncommon even these days for people to get into a vat of fermenting red wine to mix the solids and juice, and spread out any hot spots created by the fermentation. But that didn’t happen here.
What you do working harvest is work your tail off. Dump countless 35lbs. trays of grapes onto the sorting conveyor, if not pitchfork grapes that arrive in half ton or larger bins. Sort endlessly. Move the bins of crushed grapes into the winery to soak and then begin fermenting. Punch down fermenting red wine with a metal rod with a disk on its end, when the grape solids are pushed up by carbon dioxide from the fermenting juice forming a cap that can be one or more feet thick. Clean and rinse picking trays, bins, tanks, hoses, fittings, buckets, pumps, conveyor belts, barrels, things over and over again. Stir lees in the chardonnay barrels, clean the presses, sweep the floor, hose down the floor, punch down again. Crush more grapes and do it all over again.
That’s essentially it, broken up by times of waiting for grapes to arrive or for someone to get back from an errand to do something that requires a group.
Along the way I asked as many questions as I could manage. What’s "ripe?" How much sulfur dioxide to use at crushing? How long to cold soak the crushed grapes before fermenting? What analysis do you really need to do? How do you do it? What do you look for during fermentation? How often do you punch down? What odd smells during fermentation are normal and what are signs of more serious problems? How long do you wait until pressing? How clean do you really need to be? How often do you rack? When do you sulfur the wine again? How do you know when to bottle? All things I have some experience with (and even more opinions on), but how does a professional do things?
And I paid attention to how you might manage the whole thing. What is the typical sequence of events to do all the tasks of harvest? How do you work with the growers who seem to talk up the quality of their grapes and are often anxious to have you harvest as soon as possible, only not this week because we don’t have picking crew. How do you manage your space in the winery, and your available bins, tanks, and barrels that need to hold everything you bring in from the fields? Most of all, considering the Oregon climate, how do you make picking decisions, especially with constantly shifting weather forecasts and more folk wisdom than you can imagine from anyone in the industry.
What did I get out of the deal? Lots of exercise, lots of knowledge, and some fun with a very humble, extremely honorable boss who really knows what he’s doing (and often not going to do) in the wine cellar. Not to mention some cash in my pocket and some nice wine at a good price for my efforts.
All this from a phone call out of the blue that I made to the producer almost a year ago saying, essentially, I respect your wines very much and although you don’t know me I’d like to work with you to learn how to really make wine in Oregon. I didn’t exactly achieve that goa, yet. There are more harvests to come no matter where I work. But this was the start of something very interesting, and combined with my ongoing experiments with home winemaking, I’m excited.
November 03, 2005
Good article on the place I worked
The other day I heard about this article on avalonwine.com about the winery I worked at this fall. There's even a picture of me, looking typically lost and useless. I'm the guy in the blue sweatshirt about halfway down.
Avalon is based in Corvallis - it's actually a wine shop right in downtown, but more and more of its business is web driven. Their prices are on the high side, but they connect lots of people to Oregon wines and sometimes feature good content, like this article. It's not perfect but definitely rises above the norm in detail and wine geek interest. Check it out.
http://www.avalonwine.com/Evesham-Wood-Wines.php
Avalon is based in Corvallis - it's actually a wine shop right in downtown, but more and more of its business is web driven. Their prices are on the high side, but they connect lots of people to Oregon wines and sometimes feature good content, like this article. It's not perfect but definitely rises above the norm in detail and wine geek interest. Check it out.
http://www.avalonwine.com/Evesham-Wood-Wines.php
October 31, 2005
Harvest 2005 – Old School in the Northern Willamette Valley
Harvest this year was my favorite yet. That’s not hard to say, considering my one prior harvest – very part-time at that – at a California winery in 1999, along with ongoing experiments with small batches of homemade wine here in Oregon since 2001. But this year I made a break through and worked harvest many days for an artisanal wine producer of pinot noir and other varieties. And I’m homebrewing a small barrel of pinot noir that I’m excited about.
Unfortunately, the weather in the northern Willamette Valley didn’t exactly cooperate. It wasn’t a total washout, though I’m sure the press will pitch it that way. Still, a dry and moderately warm growing season ended promptly on September 30 when the clouds rolled in, around 2 inches of rain fell, and cool weather rolled in for good. In Portland, we barely hit 70F for the whole month of October and saw on and off rain, nothing as dramatic as September 30 but enough to keep winemakers on their toes. This was old school Oregon, like the harvests you hear about from before 1998, which began a recent string of pretty straightforward harvests.
The winery I worked at likes to pick earlier than later, striving for ripe but not overripe grapes that produce food-friendly wines without too much alcohol. Sure enough, pretty much everything that came in before the big rains on September 30 looked perfect. At this winery, that meant nearly half of the total harvest and all of the estate fruit. So things started very well.
Then the skies opened and harvest was on hold for a few days until we dried out a little bit. When picking resumed under generally clear but cool skies, the grapes still looked good but came in wet. Sugars in many lots after the rain were lower by 1 to 2 brix, or percent sugar, compared to lots picked before the rain. While flavors in the initial lots remained good, as harvest continued over two more weeks, lots from increasingly higher elevations seemed slightly less ripe, as if they had needed another week or two of better weather to reach full potential. Rot was only a minor issue issue, probably due to the cool weather and healthy condition of the grapes before the rain.
All in all, October was not ideal, but what are you going to do. 2005 will of course produce some nice wines, especially if your tastes run to more elegant, nuanced wine. After the recent warm years where burly, alcoholic wines have become the norm, I’m also curious to see what local producers – especially the newer ones – turn out of this old-school Oregon vintage.
More soon on my harvest experience, and my homebrewing.
Unfortunately, the weather in the northern Willamette Valley didn’t exactly cooperate. It wasn’t a total washout, though I’m sure the press will pitch it that way. Still, a dry and moderately warm growing season ended promptly on September 30 when the clouds rolled in, around 2 inches of rain fell, and cool weather rolled in for good. In Portland, we barely hit 70F for the whole month of October and saw on and off rain, nothing as dramatic as September 30 but enough to keep winemakers on their toes. This was old school Oregon, like the harvests you hear about from before 1998, which began a recent string of pretty straightforward harvests.
The winery I worked at likes to pick earlier than later, striving for ripe but not overripe grapes that produce food-friendly wines without too much alcohol. Sure enough, pretty much everything that came in before the big rains on September 30 looked perfect. At this winery, that meant nearly half of the total harvest and all of the estate fruit. So things started very well.
Then the skies opened and harvest was on hold for a few days until we dried out a little bit. When picking resumed under generally clear but cool skies, the grapes still looked good but came in wet. Sugars in many lots after the rain were lower by 1 to 2 brix, or percent sugar, compared to lots picked before the rain. While flavors in the initial lots remained good, as harvest continued over two more weeks, lots from increasingly higher elevations seemed slightly less ripe, as if they had needed another week or two of better weather to reach full potential. Rot was only a minor issue issue, probably due to the cool weather and healthy condition of the grapes before the rain.
All in all, October was not ideal, but what are you going to do. 2005 will of course produce some nice wines, especially if your tastes run to more elegant, nuanced wine. After the recent warm years where burly, alcoholic wines have become the norm, I’m also curious to see what local producers – especially the newer ones – turn out of this old-school Oregon vintage.
More soon on my harvest experience, and my homebrewing.
September 28, 2005
Harvest is Here
After a dry and moderate summer, the grape harvest in the Willamette Valley is in full swing. I'm working at a local winery as many days as I can fit in without getting fired from my "real" job. So I'm more than a little busy. For once I have a good excuse for not updating my blog much, but stay tuned. I'll try to give updates on how things go, including...my own continuing experiments in homebrewed wine.
September 23, 2005
Giantdynamics
Since I began making wine in 2001, it turns out that I’ve harvested my grapes on the exact day my beloved San Francisco Giants play their last game of baseball for the year.
In 2001, it was a limp last day of the regular season in early October, the Giants wrapping up a marginal season with a meaningless game. In 2002, it was the heartbreaking but inevitable last game of the World Series in late October, the night after the then Anaheim Angels staged a stunning comeback that made Game 7 a fait accompli. Only the beauty of a golden harvest kept my spirits up that day.
And on it goes. I call my philosophy of when to harvest grapes Giantdynamics, which has to be less controversial than the current debate raging over biodynamic agriculture and grape growing.
Biodynamics is based on the teachings of Austrian philosopher Rudolf Steiner in the early 20th century. It is a hard concept to sum up, but essentially it is farming organically with a spiritual component of sometimes bizarre rituals and time-tested pagan farming practices including planting and harvesting by the phases of the moon.
Of course, modern science vs. traditional “organic” farming approaches already provides plenty of fodder for ideological debates. Should we use all kinds of synthetic fungicides and pesticides in the fields, or should we farm more naturally to create and sustain a beneficial ecosystem that might reduce or eliminate the need for synthetic products? Doesn’t sound like much when you sum it up, but the daggers fly whenever this topic comes up.
Add in a nice dose of Steiner’s anthroposophy to the mix and you’ve got intellectual meltdown on all sides. Witness the biodynamics thread current raging over on eRobertParker.com discussion forum.
Personally, I’m interested in biodynamics more for the results and what techniques might truly have a positive effect on grape quality. But I won’t rule out the more mystical elements of biodynamics, no matter how crazy they sometimes appear. One thing’s for sure – we never know as much about the world as we think we know. Stranger things in our world have turned out to be true than whether or not burying a cow’s horn full of manure under the proper phase of the moon will yield a healthy crop. Who would have thought the world could be round without everyone on the lower half falling off?
So I’m curious to see if someday we can know more about what parts of biodynamics really work, if not all of them, and why. While I may not immediately run out and practice biodynamics in absolute, more power to those that do, including some of the leading wine producers in the world.
Heck, I’m too busy practicing Giantdynamics, which suggests that harvest should take place a week from Sunday when the Giants likely wrap up another disappointing season with…hopefully a win.
In 2001, it was a limp last day of the regular season in early October, the Giants wrapping up a marginal season with a meaningless game. In 2002, it was the heartbreaking but inevitable last game of the World Series in late October, the night after the then Anaheim Angels staged a stunning comeback that made Game 7 a fait accompli. Only the beauty of a golden harvest kept my spirits up that day.
And on it goes. I call my philosophy of when to harvest grapes Giantdynamics, which has to be less controversial than the current debate raging over biodynamic agriculture and grape growing.
Biodynamics is based on the teachings of Austrian philosopher Rudolf Steiner in the early 20th century. It is a hard concept to sum up, but essentially it is farming organically with a spiritual component of sometimes bizarre rituals and time-tested pagan farming practices including planting and harvesting by the phases of the moon.
Of course, modern science vs. traditional “organic” farming approaches already provides plenty of fodder for ideological debates. Should we use all kinds of synthetic fungicides and pesticides in the fields, or should we farm more naturally to create and sustain a beneficial ecosystem that might reduce or eliminate the need for synthetic products? Doesn’t sound like much when you sum it up, but the daggers fly whenever this topic comes up.
Add in a nice dose of Steiner’s anthroposophy to the mix and you’ve got intellectual meltdown on all sides. Witness the biodynamics thread current raging over on eRobertParker.com discussion forum.
Personally, I’m interested in biodynamics more for the results and what techniques might truly have a positive effect on grape quality. But I won’t rule out the more mystical elements of biodynamics, no matter how crazy they sometimes appear. One thing’s for sure – we never know as much about the world as we think we know. Stranger things in our world have turned out to be true than whether or not burying a cow’s horn full of manure under the proper phase of the moon will yield a healthy crop. Who would have thought the world could be round without everyone on the lower half falling off?
So I’m curious to see if someday we can know more about what parts of biodynamics really work, if not all of them, and why. While I may not immediately run out and practice biodynamics in absolute, more power to those that do, including some of the leading wine producers in the world.
Heck, I’m too busy practicing Giantdynamics, which suggests that harvest should take place a week from Sunday when the Giants likely wrap up another disappointing season with…hopefully a win.
August 18, 2005
One More Ride on Thunder Mountain
I guess it figures that I had to go to southern California – in fact, Orange County, as in the OC or behind the Orange curtain – to find the potential deal of the year.
No, I didn’t get a free ride on Big Thunder Mountain Railroad at the Magic Kingdom. Rather, red wine from Thunder Mountain winery out of San Jose that I found on serious discount at Trader Joe’s in Costa Mesa last weekend on a short family trip.
The story is that Thunder Mountain founder and winemaker Milan Maximovich passed away two years ago. Wine internet junkies would know him as Milan in Santa Cruz, one of the first people I “met” in the wacky world of internet wine discussion.
Milan knew fine wine and loved the stuff, and it turns out he knew how to make fine wine too. I remember first trying his wines in the late 1990s, among them a ’95 Bates Ranch Cabernet from the venerable Santa Cruz mountains vineyard. When tasted next to Ahlgren’s 1976 model from the same source, both wines were terrific, bookends of a sort portending a nice future for Thunder Mountain.
Then there was Milan’s cult dessert wine, made from Santa Rosa plums and the finest non-grape wine I can recall tasting at a couple gatherings over the years. This I believe never made it to market, though not for lack of quality.
After Milan’s death, his family tried to carry on with the winery for a while before liquidating the inventory. Trader Joe’s bought big and passed along a bittersweet deal – they’re offering 2000 Thunder Mountain Star Ruby and Doc’s Vineyard wines for $7.99 a piece. These were originally $40-$50 wines and, while I’m not spending that kind of scratch for wine, certainly to my taste would be better deals than a lot of domestic stuff out there in the same range.
These Thunder Mountain wines come from the Cienega Valley, an obscure California area east of Salinas over the Chalone and Gavilan Mountains, south of Hollister (I know, where’s that?). I recall driving through there a few years back on my way to the Pinnacles National Monument and thinking it looked in places like a drier, much less crowded Stag’s Leap District from the Napa Valley. This is old California, off the beaten track and a place I recall Milan speaking of fondly.
The 2000 Thunder Mountain Star Ruby is an equal blend of Merlot and Cabernet Franc, though I don’t have exact information on the vineyard source. Prior Star Rubys came from the Bates Ranch, but this is all Cienega Valley. It’s a deep crimson with strong oak, olive, and mineral aromas hiding the fruit. In the mouth it’s tight like you’d expect from Bordeaux of the same age, all promise. A steak dinner overcomes the wine’s tannin, making a tasty match. Still this is nice wine that simply needs time to blossom. Cellar easily for ten years and then some.
The 2000 Thunder Mountain Doc’s Vineyard Cabernet Sauvignon comes from own-rooted vines planted in the 1940s. These are some of the oldest, if not the oldest, Cabernet vines in California, ungrafted and old school in every way. The Doc’s has a similar dark color with strong cassis aromas and low oak notes with some black olive that many of Milan’s reds seemed to show. In the mouth it’s full and rich but elegant with nice structure yet still some baby fat., with the depth that I think only old vines can give. This wine is much more approachable than the tannic Star Ruby, but its balance and crisp acid structure suggests to me equal aging potential in good cellar conditions. It’s delicious now too.
Apparently Trader Joe’s has had these wines for a few months, so availability may not be so great.. And while the style isn’t for everyone – god help the ghastly labels – if you’re in California check out your local branch. For this money, you’d be crazy not to at least give these a try. As for the god of thunder on the labels, I have only one word – decant.
Farewell Milan, thanks for the memories.
No, I didn’t get a free ride on Big Thunder Mountain Railroad at the Magic Kingdom. Rather, red wine from Thunder Mountain winery out of San Jose that I found on serious discount at Trader Joe’s in Costa Mesa last weekend on a short family trip.
The story is that Thunder Mountain founder and winemaker Milan Maximovich passed away two years ago. Wine internet junkies would know him as Milan in Santa Cruz, one of the first people I “met” in the wacky world of internet wine discussion.
Milan knew fine wine and loved the stuff, and it turns out he knew how to make fine wine too. I remember first trying his wines in the late 1990s, among them a ’95 Bates Ranch Cabernet from the venerable Santa Cruz mountains vineyard. When tasted next to Ahlgren’s 1976 model from the same source, both wines were terrific, bookends of a sort portending a nice future for Thunder Mountain.
Then there was Milan’s cult dessert wine, made from Santa Rosa plums and the finest non-grape wine I can recall tasting at a couple gatherings over the years. This I believe never made it to market, though not for lack of quality.
After Milan’s death, his family tried to carry on with the winery for a while before liquidating the inventory. Trader Joe’s bought big and passed along a bittersweet deal – they’re offering 2000 Thunder Mountain Star Ruby and Doc’s Vineyard wines for $7.99 a piece. These were originally $40-$50 wines and, while I’m not spending that kind of scratch for wine, certainly to my taste would be better deals than a lot of domestic stuff out there in the same range.
These Thunder Mountain wines come from the Cienega Valley, an obscure California area east of Salinas over the Chalone and Gavilan Mountains, south of Hollister (I know, where’s that?). I recall driving through there a few years back on my way to the Pinnacles National Monument and thinking it looked in places like a drier, much less crowded Stag’s Leap District from the Napa Valley. This is old California, off the beaten track and a place I recall Milan speaking of fondly.
The 2000 Thunder Mountain Star Ruby is an equal blend of Merlot and Cabernet Franc, though I don’t have exact information on the vineyard source. Prior Star Rubys came from the Bates Ranch, but this is all Cienega Valley. It’s a deep crimson with strong oak, olive, and mineral aromas hiding the fruit. In the mouth it’s tight like you’d expect from Bordeaux of the same age, all promise. A steak dinner overcomes the wine’s tannin, making a tasty match. Still this is nice wine that simply needs time to blossom. Cellar easily for ten years and then some.
The 2000 Thunder Mountain Doc’s Vineyard Cabernet Sauvignon comes from own-rooted vines planted in the 1940s. These are some of the oldest, if not the oldest, Cabernet vines in California, ungrafted and old school in every way. The Doc’s has a similar dark color with strong cassis aromas and low oak notes with some black olive that many of Milan’s reds seemed to show. In the mouth it’s full and rich but elegant with nice structure yet still some baby fat., with the depth that I think only old vines can give. This wine is much more approachable than the tannic Star Ruby, but its balance and crisp acid structure suggests to me equal aging potential in good cellar conditions. It’s delicious now too.
Apparently Trader Joe’s has had these wines for a few months, so availability may not be so great.. And while the style isn’t for everyone – god help the ghastly labels – if you’re in California check out your local branch. For this money, you’d be crazy not to at least give these a try. As for the god of thunder on the labels, I have only one word – decant.
Farewell Milan, thanks for the memories.
August 02, 2005
For the Love of Port
If you haven’t already heard about the newest site for Port and Madeira geeks, check out Roy Hersh’s For the Love of Port. The name is cute, but the site is very serious about the fortifieds of Portugal and Madeira.
I first heard about Roy several years ago when he showed up as the Portolover on Robin Garr’s Wine Lovers’ Discussion Group. I’ve always liked Port and, being a value-conscious guy, always liked how cheap it is relative to other great, ageworthy wines. I could tell immediately that Roy’s knowledge would be a good thing for me. I loved reading his notes of legendary Ports, but I got more buying advice from his acumen for finding great Port deals. Madeira too, which I’ve only come to try and begin to appreciate based largely on Roy’s enthusiasm.
As he lives in Washington, I’ve had a few opportunities to meet and taste with Roy here in the Portland area. The first meeting alone blew my mind. It was at Magnum Madness a three years ago where he brought a 1935 Sandeman Vintage Port. What a generous gift and delicious wine, light ruby colored, fragrant and deep aromatically and elegant, with a silky texture and a lovely fruit and nut flavor, tobacco…that’s enough. This was a hallmark wine for me, and yet it wasn’t a truly blockbuster Port. So what, such is the greatness of wine and the kindness of strangers.
Roy is now hosting trips to Portugal – the next in late October – with Mario Ferreria, who has an extensive background in Port. The weeklong jaunts aren’t cheap, but then again I don’t doubt that it will be the Port week of your life. Actually, the itinerary alone could make your liver hurt. But if you’re a Portolover, or think now’s the time to become one, go for it.
I first heard about Roy several years ago when he showed up as the Portolover on Robin Garr’s Wine Lovers’ Discussion Group. I’ve always liked Port and, being a value-conscious guy, always liked how cheap it is relative to other great, ageworthy wines. I could tell immediately that Roy’s knowledge would be a good thing for me. I loved reading his notes of legendary Ports, but I got more buying advice from his acumen for finding great Port deals. Madeira too, which I’ve only come to try and begin to appreciate based largely on Roy’s enthusiasm.
As he lives in Washington, I’ve had a few opportunities to meet and taste with Roy here in the Portland area. The first meeting alone blew my mind. It was at Magnum Madness a three years ago where he brought a 1935 Sandeman Vintage Port. What a generous gift and delicious wine, light ruby colored, fragrant and deep aromatically and elegant, with a silky texture and a lovely fruit and nut flavor, tobacco…that’s enough. This was a hallmark wine for me, and yet it wasn’t a truly blockbuster Port. So what, such is the greatness of wine and the kindness of strangers.
Roy is now hosting trips to Portugal – the next in late October – with Mario Ferreria, who has an extensive background in Port. The weeklong jaunts aren’t cheap, but then again I don’t doubt that it will be the Port week of your life. Actually, the itinerary alone could make your liver hurt. But if you’re a Portolover, or think now’s the time to become one, go for it.
August 01, 2005
More from the Manning's
Another gathering the other night at the home of Marshall and Carolyn Manning, this time to celebrate their 10th wedding anniversary. As Marshall put it, think of Magnum Madness but only smaller. So I whipped up a trip to the New Seasons market deli for green pea and Gorgonzola salad in honor of Marsh, who avoids most (all?) vegetables. And taking orders well, I contributed one in a slew of wines from 1995 to honor the host couple, a Charles Joguet Chinon Clos la Dioterie Vieilles Vignes.
This crowd likes its white wines, especially on a warm evening like this. So a cooler in the backyard was the place to start. Moving quickly to try things before they were drained, I poured the 1995 Pinson Chablis Mont de Milieu from magnum. On first sniff, I thought I smelled apple Jolly Rancher™ candies, but that passed quickly to reveal nice maturing but still fresh minerally, waxy Chablis, plain and simple. Tangy and fairly long on the palate, nice wine with time to age yet.
Then the 1995 Pierre Luneau Le "L" de Pierre Luneau Muscadet, which smelled young and clean with clear Muscadet flavors. I was more taken by the 1995 Château de l'Aiguillette Muscadet VV, a recent release locally that smelled like a nice chenin blanc but tasted rainwatery and minerally, delicious and a steal at $12.50. Casa Bruno is the local importer. A NV Gruet Brut was its typically nice self, fresh and clean bubbles with a soft but dry flavor.
Not taking notes at the time, I know I am forgetting a few others, so on to the 2004 Domain Sorin Cotes du Provence Rosé, a classic southern French rosé with minerally strawberry flavors and a nice perfume.
And onto the reds, again there were more than I tried much less recall. But the highlights included the 1995 Joguet Chinon Dioterie that I brought, a fragrant earthy rocky cabernet franc with great balance and length, delicious with grilled lamb even if later wines were more classic matches. Such as the 1995 Domaine Tempier Bandol La Tourtine, which I actually tried earlier before the vultures ate the decanter it came in. Young, tight Bandol with lots of funk – good funk mind you – but great promise. What did it taste like? Bandol, which is harder still than most wines to describe in simple words. Try again in 8 or 10 years with that grilled lamb.
Back to Beaujolais, this the 2001 Chignard Fleurie from magnum. Nice cherry, leaf, and earth flavors but overwhelmed by the company even if I couldn’t help another quick taste at the end of the night. It’s a fresh, delicious wine from importer Kermit Lynch, and someone at this gathering made the good point to not overlook Lynch’s Beaujolais producers beyond the "Gang of Four" of Breton, Folliard, Thevenet, and Lapierre. Look for Chignard, Chanrion, and Diochon, among others.
Then a flurry of bigger reds that ultimately blew my taste buds away. The 1995 Bosquet des Papes Chateauneuf du Pape was my favorite wine of the night, essence of grenache-dominated southern Rhone wine, still young but so fragrant and full of sweet cherry, stone, and assorted meat flavors. Yum. A pair of 1995 Brunello, first a funky if not a little corked La Fortuna Riserva. Then a stunning and young Librisi Brunello that opened all night long. Tobacco, cherries, soil, old wood, just lots of interesting things going on. A poster child for why old school Brunello is still king, or should be. Then to the right bank of Bordeaux, first the 1995 L’Arrosee St. Emilion that was tasting a bit tight and hard, especially after such rich, expressive wines. Likewise the 1995 Grand Mayne St. Emilion which wasn’t corked despite what critic Robert Parker says about this producer in the mid-90s, but was stern and unfriendly to this taster. Back to the cellar for you.
There was more, a nice 1995 Recioto di Valpolicella (producer??) that smelled like there might be some rimage Banyuls mixed in (for the dark chocolate notes). And a 1995 J.J. Prum Spatlese – was it Whelener Sonnenuhr? – that was lightly sweet and pure after some initial sulfur. And a 1995 Gevrey Chambertin (again, producer??) that smelled nice but tasted tight, and some other random things.
But I was done. So down again to the bus for an adventurous ride home through the Portland night to live again for another gathering. Thanks Mannings, well done as usual.
This crowd likes its white wines, especially on a warm evening like this. So a cooler in the backyard was the place to start. Moving quickly to try things before they were drained, I poured the 1995 Pinson Chablis Mont de Milieu from magnum. On first sniff, I thought I smelled apple Jolly Rancher™ candies, but that passed quickly to reveal nice maturing but still fresh minerally, waxy Chablis, plain and simple. Tangy and fairly long on the palate, nice wine with time to age yet.
Then the 1995 Pierre Luneau Le "L" de Pierre Luneau Muscadet, which smelled young and clean with clear Muscadet flavors. I was more taken by the 1995 Château de l'Aiguillette Muscadet VV, a recent release locally that smelled like a nice chenin blanc but tasted rainwatery and minerally, delicious and a steal at $12.50. Casa Bruno is the local importer. A NV Gruet Brut was its typically nice self, fresh and clean bubbles with a soft but dry flavor.
Not taking notes at the time, I know I am forgetting a few others, so on to the 2004 Domain Sorin Cotes du Provence Rosé, a classic southern French rosé with minerally strawberry flavors and a nice perfume.
And onto the reds, again there were more than I tried much less recall. But the highlights included the 1995 Joguet Chinon Dioterie that I brought, a fragrant earthy rocky cabernet franc with great balance and length, delicious with grilled lamb even if later wines were more classic matches. Such as the 1995 Domaine Tempier Bandol La Tourtine, which I actually tried earlier before the vultures ate the decanter it came in. Young, tight Bandol with lots of funk – good funk mind you – but great promise. What did it taste like? Bandol, which is harder still than most wines to describe in simple words. Try again in 8 or 10 years with that grilled lamb.
Back to Beaujolais, this the 2001 Chignard Fleurie from magnum. Nice cherry, leaf, and earth flavors but overwhelmed by the company even if I couldn’t help another quick taste at the end of the night. It’s a fresh, delicious wine from importer Kermit Lynch, and someone at this gathering made the good point to not overlook Lynch’s Beaujolais producers beyond the "Gang of Four" of Breton, Folliard, Thevenet, and Lapierre. Look for Chignard, Chanrion, and Diochon, among others.
Then a flurry of bigger reds that ultimately blew my taste buds away. The 1995 Bosquet des Papes Chateauneuf du Pape was my favorite wine of the night, essence of grenache-dominated southern Rhone wine, still young but so fragrant and full of sweet cherry, stone, and assorted meat flavors. Yum. A pair of 1995 Brunello, first a funky if not a little corked La Fortuna Riserva. Then a stunning and young Librisi Brunello that opened all night long. Tobacco, cherries, soil, old wood, just lots of interesting things going on. A poster child for why old school Brunello is still king, or should be. Then to the right bank of Bordeaux, first the 1995 L’Arrosee St. Emilion that was tasting a bit tight and hard, especially after such rich, expressive wines. Likewise the 1995 Grand Mayne St. Emilion which wasn’t corked despite what critic Robert Parker says about this producer in the mid-90s, but was stern and unfriendly to this taster. Back to the cellar for you.
There was more, a nice 1995 Recioto di Valpolicella (producer??) that smelled like there might be some rimage Banyuls mixed in (for the dark chocolate notes). And a 1995 J.J. Prum Spatlese – was it Whelener Sonnenuhr? – that was lightly sweet and pure after some initial sulfur. And a 1995 Gevrey Chambertin (again, producer??) that smelled nice but tasted tight, and some other random things.
But I was done. So down again to the bus for an adventurous ride home through the Portland night to live again for another gathering. Thanks Mannings, well done as usual.
July 12, 2005
Tasting More New Releases from Oregon
Another tasting at Liner and Elsen, the best wine shop in Portland hands down. Four local producers with the winemakers pouring the wines, no charge. Oregon still has something other wine areas don’t, intimacy. The wines today were mixed, only one really nice white but some delicious, if flashy, pinot noir. But talking with the winemakers, one thing is clear – these wines are made with heart and passion.
Thibaud Mandet from Willakenzie first poured the 2004 Pinot Blanc, a lean, lemony smelling wine but a weird possibly lactic flavor. The 2004 Pinot Gris was better, but still showed little dimension amid the typical alcoholic heat of the grape. The 2002 Pinot Noir Pierre Léon smelled like French oak barrels and tasted a little too much like them too. The 2002 Pinot Noir Aliette was less smoky with black cherry flavors and caramelly oak sweetness. The 2002 Pinot Noir Emery is the biggest aromatically, with a silky texture and a long toasty finish that pleases. Mandet described the vineyard differences for each wine, with the Emery being a blend of barrels. I like these wines despite their style, they don’t necessarily suggest aging well but who knows?
Mark Vlossak was pouring from St. Innocent, talking passionately about the nuance in his wines. The 2003 Pinot Gris Shea Vineyard showed some barrel notes with a yeasty almost beery flavor, very strange to this taster. The 2003 Chardonnay Anden Vineyard showed too much French oak on the nose, though Vlossak suggested a connection to Chassagne Montrachet. There was some mint on the nose, I thought. Overall it seemed a bit raw, but perhaps worthy of aging. The 2003 Pinot Noir Temperance Hill smelled pretty with black cherry flavors and wood spice mixed in, simple but tasty. Vlossak suggested barbecue, which sounded very good to me. And the 2003 Pinot Noir Shea Vineyard, this was damn good Shea, which usually gives overly soft, flaccid wines. This smelled broadly but with nice floral elements, and tasted similar with a firm but gentle texture and good length. This is nice Oregon Pinot Noir.
Jay Somers from J. Christopher poured the 2004 Chardonnay "Cuvée Lunatique" that is labeled "no oak/no malo." It was a pretty, clean wine with fat, clean apple chardonnay flavors, perfectly fine but just that. The 2004 Sauvignon Blanc Croft Vineyard was another story, captivating with a lively grassy melony sauvignon aroma and a clean, crisp flavor and lime finish. Terrifically tangy wine. The 2003 Pinot Noir Charlie’s Vineyard smells simple with black cherry notes but tastes nice with big but winey flavors and a nicely chalky texture of young wine. The 2003 Rosso Applegate Valley is a mutt and tastes sweetly fruity in a happy way, but is ultimately tiring to drink.
Finally, the winemaker at Brooks, whose name I forget and who has taken over for the late Jimi Brooks. The 2004 Riesling was nondescript, somewhat neutral wine with little riesling character. The 2003 Pinot Noir Janus was translucent in color but showed lots of barrel in the aroma and flavor, lots of caramelly notes. The 2003 Pinot Noir Rastaban is a hyper barrel selection, afreak show sort of wine, but it’s really interesting for the style. Big wild berry aroma, impressive stuff with large scaled flavors, chalky and gentle tannins but some alcohol on the palate. Not an elegant wine for sure, but delicious. Of course I missed the final wine, the NV Riesling Late Harvest Tethys, but I heard it was sweet and petroly, which sounded nice.
Thibaud Mandet from Willakenzie first poured the 2004 Pinot Blanc, a lean, lemony smelling wine but a weird possibly lactic flavor. The 2004 Pinot Gris was better, but still showed little dimension amid the typical alcoholic heat of the grape. The 2002 Pinot Noir Pierre Léon smelled like French oak barrels and tasted a little too much like them too. The 2002 Pinot Noir Aliette was less smoky with black cherry flavors and caramelly oak sweetness. The 2002 Pinot Noir Emery is the biggest aromatically, with a silky texture and a long toasty finish that pleases. Mandet described the vineyard differences for each wine, with the Emery being a blend of barrels. I like these wines despite their style, they don’t necessarily suggest aging well but who knows?
Mark Vlossak was pouring from St. Innocent, talking passionately about the nuance in his wines. The 2003 Pinot Gris Shea Vineyard showed some barrel notes with a yeasty almost beery flavor, very strange to this taster. The 2003 Chardonnay Anden Vineyard showed too much French oak on the nose, though Vlossak suggested a connection to Chassagne Montrachet. There was some mint on the nose, I thought. Overall it seemed a bit raw, but perhaps worthy of aging. The 2003 Pinot Noir Temperance Hill smelled pretty with black cherry flavors and wood spice mixed in, simple but tasty. Vlossak suggested barbecue, which sounded very good to me. And the 2003 Pinot Noir Shea Vineyard, this was damn good Shea, which usually gives overly soft, flaccid wines. This smelled broadly but with nice floral elements, and tasted similar with a firm but gentle texture and good length. This is nice Oregon Pinot Noir.
Jay Somers from J. Christopher poured the 2004 Chardonnay "Cuvée Lunatique" that is labeled "no oak/no malo." It was a pretty, clean wine with fat, clean apple chardonnay flavors, perfectly fine but just that. The 2004 Sauvignon Blanc Croft Vineyard was another story, captivating with a lively grassy melony sauvignon aroma and a clean, crisp flavor and lime finish. Terrifically tangy wine. The 2003 Pinot Noir Charlie’s Vineyard smells simple with black cherry notes but tastes nice with big but winey flavors and a nicely chalky texture of young wine. The 2003 Rosso Applegate Valley is a mutt and tastes sweetly fruity in a happy way, but is ultimately tiring to drink.
Finally, the winemaker at Brooks, whose name I forget and who has taken over for the late Jimi Brooks. The 2004 Riesling was nondescript, somewhat neutral wine with little riesling character. The 2003 Pinot Noir Janus was translucent in color but showed lots of barrel in the aroma and flavor, lots of caramelly notes. The 2003 Pinot Noir Rastaban is a hyper barrel selection, afreak show sort of wine, but it’s really interesting for the style. Big wild berry aroma, impressive stuff with large scaled flavors, chalky and gentle tannins but some alcohol on the palate. Not an elegant wine for sure, but delicious. Of course I missed the final wine, the NV Riesling Late Harvest Tethys, but I heard it was sweet and petroly, which sounded nice.
July 08, 2005
Review: A Very Good Year by Mike Weiss
I just finished reading the recently released book A Very Good Year by Mike Weiss, the story of one vintage of Ferrari-Carano Fumé Blanc from its origins in the vineyard through the winery and into the marketplace. Fume Blanc of course being a marketing term typically used in California for oak-aged Sauvignon Blanc.
Weiss is a fine writer who, despite being an admitted wine neophyte, captures pretty accurately the trials and tribulations of modern wine production in California. Yet the book is puzzling more for its inspiration than its delivery. The story of Ferrari-Carano is hardly inspiring. Rather, it’s essentially the story of a con, where the producer goes to great lengths to create the illusion of hand crafted, limited production wine produced in an setting of old world grace when the truth is anything but.
Wealthy from the “gaming” industry, Don and Rhonda Carano brought their vision of El Dorado from Reno, NV, to Sonoma County, CA, in the 1980s. The quickly established a reputation for noteworthy white wines, particularly Fumé Blanc that has since become ubiquitous in fancy restaurants the world over. Years have passed and now there’s a Villa designed by Rhonda for quasi-high class hospitality. But there’s conflict underneath the easy appearance of wine country living.
Weiss admirably tells this story through the people of Ferrari-Carano. We meet the vineyard manager and his crew of Mexican laborers who travel north each year from their homes in Mexico. We meet the winery staff, led by an exacting if slightly paranoid head winemaker. And we meet some of the operations staff, and of course the owners, Don and Rhonda. But even with some unexpected drama during the year, not much really happens and this reader at least is left wondering – why a book about Ferrari-Carano at all?
Maybe if the Caranos truly focused on quality instead of telling a fake “story” that leaves out the mechanical harvesters, manipulative winemaking practices, and year over year mediocrity, or should I say consistency, they’d have more to be proud of and less seemingly to hide. I’d start by cropping less than 7 to 8 tons of grapes per vineyard acre. It’s no wonder they fret endlessly about quality and end up canceling their plans for a “Reserve” Fumé Blanc when most of their production is, in one former winemaking assistant’s word, crap.
I commend Weiss for writing neither a puff piece for the wine industry or some two-bit hachet job. He clearly wants to expose the reality underneath the romantic façade of wine production, and he succeeds. But why not tell the story of a bottle of handcrafted wine through a more honest vehicle? Or tell the story of the wine business through a more compelling example? Ferrari-Carano is neither, instead it’s just another wine you can find more and more at discounters that the industry uses to make average wine go away.
I won’t spoil the story (too much) except to ask, where did the title come from? It wasn’t a very good year at all, and despite being a perfectly decent summer read for the average bear, this isn’t a very good book. But strangely enough, if you want to read it for free and don’t have a blog to which publishers now apparently send review copies, check out http://www.sfgate.com/columns/grape/archive/ for the original San Francisco Chronicle 39-part series titled “Grape: The Making of California’s Wine” that was repackaged into this handsome Gotham Books edition.
Weiss is a fine writer who, despite being an admitted wine neophyte, captures pretty accurately the trials and tribulations of modern wine production in California. Yet the book is puzzling more for its inspiration than its delivery. The story of Ferrari-Carano is hardly inspiring. Rather, it’s essentially the story of a con, where the producer goes to great lengths to create the illusion of hand crafted, limited production wine produced in an setting of old world grace when the truth is anything but.
Wealthy from the “gaming” industry, Don and Rhonda Carano brought their vision of El Dorado from Reno, NV, to Sonoma County, CA, in the 1980s. The quickly established a reputation for noteworthy white wines, particularly Fumé Blanc that has since become ubiquitous in fancy restaurants the world over. Years have passed and now there’s a Villa designed by Rhonda for quasi-high class hospitality. But there’s conflict underneath the easy appearance of wine country living.
Weiss admirably tells this story through the people of Ferrari-Carano. We meet the vineyard manager and his crew of Mexican laborers who travel north each year from their homes in Mexico. We meet the winery staff, led by an exacting if slightly paranoid head winemaker. And we meet some of the operations staff, and of course the owners, Don and Rhonda. But even with some unexpected drama during the year, not much really happens and this reader at least is left wondering – why a book about Ferrari-Carano at all?
Maybe if the Caranos truly focused on quality instead of telling a fake “story” that leaves out the mechanical harvesters, manipulative winemaking practices, and year over year mediocrity, or should I say consistency, they’d have more to be proud of and less seemingly to hide. I’d start by cropping less than 7 to 8 tons of grapes per vineyard acre. It’s no wonder they fret endlessly about quality and end up canceling their plans for a “Reserve” Fumé Blanc when most of their production is, in one former winemaking assistant’s word, crap.
I commend Weiss for writing neither a puff piece for the wine industry or some two-bit hachet job. He clearly wants to expose the reality underneath the romantic façade of wine production, and he succeeds. But why not tell the story of a bottle of handcrafted wine through a more honest vehicle? Or tell the story of the wine business through a more compelling example? Ferrari-Carano is neither, instead it’s just another wine you can find more and more at discounters that the industry uses to make average wine go away.
I won’t spoil the story (too much) except to ask, where did the title come from? It wasn’t a very good year at all, and despite being a perfectly decent summer read for the average bear, this isn’t a very good book. But strangely enough, if you want to read it for free and don’t have a blog to which publishers now apparently send review copies, check out http://www.sfgate.com/columns/grape/archive/ for the original San Francisco Chronicle 39-part series titled “Grape: The Making of California’s Wine” that was repackaged into this handsome Gotham Books edition.
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