A few years ago I had this wine for the first time and was shocked at its quality. I had never heard of Domaine de Roally but bought one bottle on the recommendation of a local wine shop. It cost $20 and tasted like it could cost twice that or more. Imagine my delight on finding a few more at another local shop on close out for $11. Why is wine like this ever on close out? God only knows.
A quick web search will show you that I was woefully behind the curve in not knowing about Roally. Happily I’ve changed that. The proprietor Henri Goyard is something of a legend and iconoclast. As with a few other avant gard French producers, Goyard has been denied certain AOC status at times for producing wines that don’t show the “typicité” of their appellation. In Goyard’s case, his late picked Chardonnay grapes occasionally tinged with botrytis produce uncommonly rich, even decadent white wines from a region more typcially known for lean, crisp green apple aromas and flavors. Sometimes Goyard’s wines are sweet, depending on whether the fermentation ended dry or with a little residual sugar. Usually, the wines are great. Read more about Roally at the importer's site.
So the other night I went to the cellar looking for something special, and found this. A quick pour showed a beautiful golden color. I swirled the wine and took a sniff – wow. Without any airing, the wine was already so complex. Ripe yellow fruit, minerals, cinnamon and other spice aromas without any new oak smells, and the unmistakeable honeyed scent of botrytis. In the mouth, the wine is still young but expansive with terrific flavors that echo the aroma. I noticed more sweetness than other bottles, really just a hint of residual sugar balanced nicely with fresh acidity that together draw out the finish. This wine offers stunning quality for what is entry level pricing from higher end appellations. This is Macon wine that tastes like top shelf white Burgundy from the Cote d’Or, and perhaps should be a model for what Oregonians could do with Chardonnay from less than exquisite terroir.
Sadly, this was my last bottle of what turned out to be Goyard’s final vintage before handing things off to the nephew of Macon legend Jean Thevenet. I have one bottle of the ’02 in the cellar, and it’s still available locally for $23. There has been no apparently drop off in quality, so look for Domaine de Roally. I only wish I had more from old man Goyard.
July 22, 2006
July 18, 2006
Reading about wine
Actually, reading about Oregon wine, mostly.
Have you seen the new Oregon Wine Press? This sleepy little monthly recently changed hands and the quality of writing and content is soaring. There’s even good copyediting now. Now the features are more interesting, the news is newsier, and I actually find myself interested in what the next issue will bring.
Then there’s Wine Press Northwest, which may just annoy me for its emphasis on Washington wines under the banner of the the broader northwest. It’s forgivable, the publication is based in Kennewick, WA. Hey, I’m in Oregon and equally biased toward our wines. But the WPN columnists for the most part leave me unsatisfied, and the wine reccomendations seem like wasted opportunities. Do we need write ups on wine from Domaine Ste. Michelle and Willamette Valley Vineyards? Is the readership that unadventurous? At least the latest issue bucks the trend with a pretty good cover story on new Oregon AVAs.
I liked a new publication, Imbibe. It’s from Portland but does a surprisingly good job at disguising that fact. Lots of ads from across the country with features that don’t focus on the local scene too much. This magazine is about all beverages, and the premiere issue does a good job with features on Mezcal, “third wave” coffee, and, unfortunately, a mixologist. What a terrible word, and no magazine can be perfect.
Wine-wise, there’s a terrific feature on organic grape growing featuring Brick House and Evesham Wood from the northern Willamette Valley. The wine recommendations even include a Savennieres from French biodynamic guru Nicholas Joly. Talk about challenging your readership. Good stuff here, fresh without being over the top “cool.” As in, not cool. Remember Wine X? Is that even still around?
Finally, a sad note to pass on. Wine industry publications like Wines and Vines still suck. Good lord. If a space alien got ahold of the July issue, it would think wine on earth was nothing more than a vehicle to flavor with oak chips, oak stave inserts for wine tanks, oak dust, oak essence, even some screw threaded oak plugs that offer maximum flavoring in a tidy, small package. Ok, the issue theme is Oak Alternatives, so at least they’re comprehensive. But how depressing.
And yet there’s a bright spot. On nearly the last page, there’s an opinion piece from...surprise, surprise...Alice Feiring. Talk about the last person I expected to see in this issue. Alice is a terrific wine writer who has one of the better blogs. If only I could steal the whole package – her design, her writing, even her curly red hair. And here she is writing about whether or not biodynamism is just a marketing ploy in America, a way for some capitalists to charge more money for no good reason. Like with the commercialization of “organic” labelled food. Nice piece, Alice. Refreshingly unflavored with oak.
Have you seen the new Oregon Wine Press? This sleepy little monthly recently changed hands and the quality of writing and content is soaring. There’s even good copyediting now. Now the features are more interesting, the news is newsier, and I actually find myself interested in what the next issue will bring.
Then there’s Wine Press Northwest, which may just annoy me for its emphasis on Washington wines under the banner of the the broader northwest. It’s forgivable, the publication is based in Kennewick, WA. Hey, I’m in Oregon and equally biased toward our wines. But the WPN columnists for the most part leave me unsatisfied, and the wine reccomendations seem like wasted opportunities. Do we need write ups on wine from Domaine Ste. Michelle and Willamette Valley Vineyards? Is the readership that unadventurous? At least the latest issue bucks the trend with a pretty good cover story on new Oregon AVAs.
I liked a new publication, Imbibe. It’s from Portland but does a surprisingly good job at disguising that fact. Lots of ads from across the country with features that don’t focus on the local scene too much. This magazine is about all beverages, and the premiere issue does a good job with features on Mezcal, “third wave” coffee, and, unfortunately, a mixologist. What a terrible word, and no magazine can be perfect.
Wine-wise, there’s a terrific feature on organic grape growing featuring Brick House and Evesham Wood from the northern Willamette Valley. The wine recommendations even include a Savennieres from French biodynamic guru Nicholas Joly. Talk about challenging your readership. Good stuff here, fresh without being over the top “cool.” As in, not cool. Remember Wine X? Is that even still around?
Finally, a sad note to pass on. Wine industry publications like Wines and Vines still suck. Good lord. If a space alien got ahold of the July issue, it would think wine on earth was nothing more than a vehicle to flavor with oak chips, oak stave inserts for wine tanks, oak dust, oak essence, even some screw threaded oak plugs that offer maximum flavoring in a tidy, small package. Ok, the issue theme is Oak Alternatives, so at least they’re comprehensive. But how depressing.
And yet there’s a bright spot. On nearly the last page, there’s an opinion piece from...surprise, surprise...Alice Feiring. Talk about the last person I expected to see in this issue. Alice is a terrific wine writer who has one of the better blogs. If only I could steal the whole package – her design, her writing, even her curly red hair. And here she is writing about whether or not biodynamism is just a marketing ploy in America, a way for some capitalists to charge more money for no good reason. Like with the commercialization of “organic” labelled food. Nice piece, Alice. Refreshingly unflavored with oak.
July 15, 2006
Homebrewing update, with DDO tasting notes
Summer’s here and things are happening again at homebrew central. Last year’s Pinot Noir from Courting Hill Vineyard is still resting fairly comfortably in my basement. Fairly comfortably because I don’t have an actively cooled cellar, meaning there’s no air conditioning. With local temperatures in the 80s most days, even above 100 for two days last month, my cellar is in the mid to upper 60s with little day/night variation. Far from ideal, but cool enough and the wine is holding up well. I'll rack it soon and bottle next month.
So how does it taste? Better than ever, with a nice if simple perfume and fresh, tart flavors without complexity but also without defects. It’s competent wine, which is really my goal to this point. Can I take decent grapes and not screw them up? So far so good.
Which brings us to the coming harvest and my goal of finding really good grapes to make my best homebrew ever. Here in the northern Willamette Valley, the growing season so far has been a bit warmer than usual, with unusual June heat but a cooler if not actually cool July. From what I hear, mildew hasn’t materialized significantly in the vineyards despite a relatively humid spring. Flowering happened in mid-June with good weather, and crop set sounds like it’s above the past couple years, but not too large to worry much about getting everything ripe. Assuming the weather stays on track. We still have a ways to go.
What’s significant about crop set? After a lightish 2005 and a small crop in 2004, a better yield means homebrewers like me have more hope of finding quality grapes. So the other day I gave a call to Betty Wahle, who farms the well regarded Wahle Vineyard in the newly designated (or soon to be, can’t recall which) Yamhill-Carlton AVA. I had a terrific conversation with Betty, and I’ll be getting a ½ ton of Pinot Noir and a tiny bit of Chardonnay from her 30+ year old vines. Old clone stuff that I want, not the earlier ripening Dijon clones that to my taste make overly alcoholic wine in our not necessarily as cool as you might imagine climate. I’m looking forward to walking the vineyard with Betty soon, so check back for more on that.
Grapes secured, I called Domaine Drouhin Oregon (DDO) to see if I could buy a used barrel or two. Many wineries get rid of old barrels this time of year, usually for a song. Bottling is happening and new barrels for the coming harvest are on the way or already delivered. Wineries need to free up space. Cellarmaster Aaron Bell said they had a bunch to unload, so I took two. One for winemaking, one for fun. The price was right.
DDO barrels are custom made by Francois Freres from wood bought by Drouhin at auction in France, aged at their estate in Burgundy for three years, then coopered by FF to specification. Most of the barrels are for Drouhin’s Burgundy production, with 120 or so sent to Oregon each year to cycle into production.
So yesterday I braved Friday afternoon traffic to drive out to Dundee on what was a Chamber-of-Commerce-approved, picture perfect day. Along the way, I saw some vineyards showing signs of recent hedging to reign in green growth and focus the vines on developing their tiny clusters of green fruit. On the back roads, I saw fields of fresh cut hay drying in sun and orchards of hazelnut trees. Then up Breyman Orchards Road to DDO high in the Dundee Hills.
Before heading down to the cellar, I had to taste quickly through the DDO line up. The ’04 Arthur Chardonnay was my favorite of the line up, not as minerally and tight as I recall some past vintages, but nicely fragrant and not overly toasty with hazelnut, green apple, and sweet cream flavors. Good balance and length, this is always a top Oregon Chardonnay. Maybe those Dijon clones aren’t so bad.
Then two reds, both quite aromatic but a bit boozy and thick to my taste. The 2003 Pinot Noir was really boozy, with a sulfury edge and an overly thick texture that shows the heat of ’03 was a challenge even for what are some of the higher elevation vineyards in this region. Not bad wine, but not what I’m looking for. Somewhat in contrast, the 2002 Pinot Noir Laurene showed more elegance and finesse, but again the texture was thick with alcohol though this wine didn’t show the same heat on the palate at the regular 2003. I would never pay what they ask for this wine; it is good but not so special.
Then down to the cellar to pick up the barrels. I get two 5-year-old beauties that smell fresh and clean and ready to give the nice, slow oxidation I want in barrel aging without imparting the oak flavors that new, expensive barrels give. We pop them into the back of my minivan and off I go, giddy with excitement for this fall.
But homebrewing always has its challenges. The lastest and yet unresolved? My new used barrels are too fat to get into my basement, so I now have my choice of projects: cut a new entrance to the basement? Ha, no. Convert the garage to a temperature-controlled barrel room? Perhaps. Or find another location to “home” brew? This might be the best solution of all if I can find somewhere close by that isn’t too costly.
At least I have a few more months to figure things out. By then I’ll probably be worried again about the weather. It’s always something.
So how does it taste? Better than ever, with a nice if simple perfume and fresh, tart flavors without complexity but also without defects. It’s competent wine, which is really my goal to this point. Can I take decent grapes and not screw them up? So far so good.
Which brings us to the coming harvest and my goal of finding really good grapes to make my best homebrew ever. Here in the northern Willamette Valley, the growing season so far has been a bit warmer than usual, with unusual June heat but a cooler if not actually cool July. From what I hear, mildew hasn’t materialized significantly in the vineyards despite a relatively humid spring. Flowering happened in mid-June with good weather, and crop set sounds like it’s above the past couple years, but not too large to worry much about getting everything ripe. Assuming the weather stays on track. We still have a ways to go.
What’s significant about crop set? After a lightish 2005 and a small crop in 2004, a better yield means homebrewers like me have more hope of finding quality grapes. So the other day I gave a call to Betty Wahle, who farms the well regarded Wahle Vineyard in the newly designated (or soon to be, can’t recall which) Yamhill-Carlton AVA. I had a terrific conversation with Betty, and I’ll be getting a ½ ton of Pinot Noir and a tiny bit of Chardonnay from her 30+ year old vines. Old clone stuff that I want, not the earlier ripening Dijon clones that to my taste make overly alcoholic wine in our not necessarily as cool as you might imagine climate. I’m looking forward to walking the vineyard with Betty soon, so check back for more on that.
Grapes secured, I called Domaine Drouhin Oregon (DDO) to see if I could buy a used barrel or two. Many wineries get rid of old barrels this time of year, usually for a song. Bottling is happening and new barrels for the coming harvest are on the way or already delivered. Wineries need to free up space. Cellarmaster Aaron Bell said they had a bunch to unload, so I took two. One for winemaking, one for fun. The price was right.
DDO barrels are custom made by Francois Freres from wood bought by Drouhin at auction in France, aged at their estate in Burgundy for three years, then coopered by FF to specification. Most of the barrels are for Drouhin’s Burgundy production, with 120 or so sent to Oregon each year to cycle into production.
So yesterday I braved Friday afternoon traffic to drive out to Dundee on what was a Chamber-of-Commerce-approved, picture perfect day. Along the way, I saw some vineyards showing signs of recent hedging to reign in green growth and focus the vines on developing their tiny clusters of green fruit. On the back roads, I saw fields of fresh cut hay drying in sun and orchards of hazelnut trees. Then up Breyman Orchards Road to DDO high in the Dundee Hills.
Before heading down to the cellar, I had to taste quickly through the DDO line up. The ’04 Arthur Chardonnay was my favorite of the line up, not as minerally and tight as I recall some past vintages, but nicely fragrant and not overly toasty with hazelnut, green apple, and sweet cream flavors. Good balance and length, this is always a top Oregon Chardonnay. Maybe those Dijon clones aren’t so bad.
Then two reds, both quite aromatic but a bit boozy and thick to my taste. The 2003 Pinot Noir was really boozy, with a sulfury edge and an overly thick texture that shows the heat of ’03 was a challenge even for what are some of the higher elevation vineyards in this region. Not bad wine, but not what I’m looking for. Somewhat in contrast, the 2002 Pinot Noir Laurene showed more elegance and finesse, but again the texture was thick with alcohol though this wine didn’t show the same heat on the palate at the regular 2003. I would never pay what they ask for this wine; it is good but not so special.
Then down to the cellar to pick up the barrels. I get two 5-year-old beauties that smell fresh and clean and ready to give the nice, slow oxidation I want in barrel aging without imparting the oak flavors that new, expensive barrels give. We pop them into the back of my minivan and off I go, giddy with excitement for this fall.
But homebrewing always has its challenges. The lastest and yet unresolved? My new used barrels are too fat to get into my basement, so I now have my choice of projects: cut a new entrance to the basement? Ha, no. Convert the garage to a temperature-controlled barrel room? Perhaps. Or find another location to “home” brew? This might be the best solution of all if I can find somewhere close by that isn’t too costly.
At least I have a few more months to figure things out. By then I’ll probably be worried again about the weather. It’s always something.
July 08, 2006
1990 Burgundies and more
So, would you like to attend a private dinner and tasting of some top examples of 1990 red Burgundy? I know I would.
But when this email invitation came from Craig Camp, I wasn’t quite sure what to think. Maybe he had the wrong guy.
I’d never met Craig, though I was familiar with him as a well-known internet personality. [Insert Troy McClure voice here.] You might remember him from the influential Italian wine and food blog vinocibo, his internet home during his three years in Piedmont. Now he’s back in the U.S. as general manager at Anne Amie Vineyards outside of Carlton, OR, and host of winecamp.
Craig had contacted me a few months ago with kind words about this modest site and an invitation to visit Anne Amie that I had yet to follow up on.
I suppose once in a while indolence has its rewards.
Turns out Doug Salthouse of Smart Buy Wine & Spirits in New Jersey was coming to town for this year’s Oregon Pinot Camp. Craig knows Doug, who, being a longtime Burgundy collector, shipped a case of 1990 premier and grand cru wines from A-list Cote d’Or producers from his personal cellar to share with people who’d appreciate them. Craig and the gang at Anne Amie thought they’d bring in Bistro Maison from McMinnville to put together a dinner, invite some other OPC visitors and local wine trade friends, and have a little fun.
Happily, Craig was nice enough to invite me.
So here’s the lowdown on what happened. First, I was not a paying guest, and tasting high end wines in this setting presents a unique critical challenge. How can you not love everything in the face of such generousity and such rarefied producers in a top vintage? If you like them, is it only because you should?
We’ll have to leave that unresolved. These were damn fine wines, not absolutely mindblowing but compelling and delicious. And the food was pretty good, too. If I enjoyed myself only because I was supposed to, fine with me.
We began with an attractive Oregon sparkler, the 1999 Soter Brut Rosé Beacon Hill. Then we turned our attention to the line up – 1990s all:
Volnay, Clos de Chenes, Domaine Michel Lafarge
Volnay, Santenots, Domaine de la Comtes Lafon
Corton, Domaine Cornu
Mazis Chambertin, Domaine Maume
Chambertin, Domaine Rousseau
Chambolle Musigny, Amoureuses, Domaine Roumier
Clos de la Roche, Domaine Georges Lignier
Vosne Romanee, Les Genevres, Leroy
Romanee St Vivant, Domaine de la Romanee Conti
Richbourg, Domaine Anne and Francois Gros
Overall the best wines showed more similarities than differences, due no doubt to the ripeness of the vintage. Burgundy purists complain that 1990 reds are too ripe, that the warmth of the growing season obscured the terrior expression in the wines.
No matter how you feel about that, these wines generally showed terrific purity and Burgundian character and lots of youth and vigor. Colors were generally dark and more youthful than mature. I think these wines generally have at least another decade until reaching full maturity. Some I expect will last much longer still. Of course there are exceptions.
Aromatically, the wines were very complex, without obtrusive oakiness and with beautifully integrated spicy, sous bois (that woodsy note you find in Burgundy) fragrance. Any of these wines would be delicious with dinner. All of them together was a little overwhelming. But we struggle.
Of the two Volnay, the Lafarge was a bit volatile and perhaps showing some medicinal character of brett, but I loved its aromatic complexity. The Lafon was more restrained, with great purity and fragrance.
The next two wines showed the least to me. The Corton was nice, spicy pinot noir that wasn’t too far from Oregon in profile, but a bit lost in this line up. The Chambertin was pretty and delicate, surely not bad wine, but fading in color and very soft and fragile in the mouth. If this bottle is representative, drink up while it’s still hanging around.
Then a complete change, the Mazis Chambertin from Maume. This wine provoked the first oohs and aahs of the evening, showing the ripeness of the vintage and the structure and heft that Maume is known for. Dark color, strapping aroma with more overt oakiness than the others (not in a bad way), full and rich on the palate with fine tannin, this is still a baby but already tastes really good.
Every Les Amoureuses I’ve had has showed grand cru quality, and this Roumier was no different. Terrific aroma, great intensity, and yet so graceful and light on its feet. I wish I had a cellar full of wines from this vineyard.
I was taking my time tasting through the wines, and ended up rushing with the Clos de la Roche from Lignier. My notes were scant, but this wine again showed great youth, power, and elegance, though it too was a bit lost in the line up for me.
Perhaps that’s due to the remaining wines. The Vosne Romanee Les Genevres showed Leroy purity, lacking only the depth of a grand cru. Spicy, woodsy aroma without obvious oakiness, just delicious. Again, such elegance for such a ripe wine.
The Romanee St Vivant from Domaine de la Romanee Conti might have been a bit of a letdown, only because of the impossibly high reputation of the producer and the amazing showing of the following wine. Still, beautifully floral with great length, just terrific.
And finally the Richbourg from A. et F. Gros. Darker than the other wines and just tremendous, perhaps with some life changing properties. What can you say about this one? It was simply the most impressive wine of the night, and darn tasty.
But that wasn’t all. We also had the following two bottles to cap things off:
1964 Charmes Chambertin, Remoissenet
1959 Vosne Romanee, 1er Cru, Les Malconsorts, Girard Giroud
The Charmes showed a youthful color, for a 42 year old wine that is. Immediately fragrant and pretty in the mouth, it showed more tea character with airing. In contrast, the Malconsorts was shy aromatically at first, but opened wonderfully, showing more maturity than the Charmes but with airing more sweetness and fullness. Neither wine needs more cellaring, but both will hang around for a while in a cold cellar.
Needless to say, I don’t usually drink so well. So thanks to Craig Camp for the invitation, and especially thanks to Doug Salthouse for providing such rare, and well cared for, wines. What a treat.
But when this email invitation came from Craig Camp, I wasn’t quite sure what to think. Maybe he had the wrong guy.
I’d never met Craig, though I was familiar with him as a well-known internet personality. [Insert Troy McClure voice here.] You might remember him from the influential Italian wine and food blog vinocibo, his internet home during his three years in Piedmont. Now he’s back in the U.S. as general manager at Anne Amie Vineyards outside of Carlton, OR, and host of winecamp.
Craig had contacted me a few months ago with kind words about this modest site and an invitation to visit Anne Amie that I had yet to follow up on.
I suppose once in a while indolence has its rewards.
Turns out Doug Salthouse of Smart Buy Wine & Spirits in New Jersey was coming to town for this year’s Oregon Pinot Camp. Craig knows Doug, who, being a longtime Burgundy collector, shipped a case of 1990 premier and grand cru wines from A-list Cote d’Or producers from his personal cellar to share with people who’d appreciate them. Craig and the gang at Anne Amie thought they’d bring in Bistro Maison from McMinnville to put together a dinner, invite some other OPC visitors and local wine trade friends, and have a little fun.
Happily, Craig was nice enough to invite me.
So here’s the lowdown on what happened. First, I was not a paying guest, and tasting high end wines in this setting presents a unique critical challenge. How can you not love everything in the face of such generousity and such rarefied producers in a top vintage? If you like them, is it only because you should?
We’ll have to leave that unresolved. These were damn fine wines, not absolutely mindblowing but compelling and delicious. And the food was pretty good, too. If I enjoyed myself only because I was supposed to, fine with me.
We began with an attractive Oregon sparkler, the 1999 Soter Brut Rosé Beacon Hill. Then we turned our attention to the line up – 1990s all:
Volnay, Clos de Chenes, Domaine Michel Lafarge
Volnay, Santenots, Domaine de la Comtes Lafon
Corton, Domaine Cornu
Mazis Chambertin, Domaine Maume
Chambertin, Domaine Rousseau
Chambolle Musigny, Amoureuses, Domaine Roumier
Clos de la Roche, Domaine Georges Lignier
Vosne Romanee, Les Genevres, Leroy
Romanee St Vivant, Domaine de la Romanee Conti
Richbourg, Domaine Anne and Francois Gros
Overall the best wines showed more similarities than differences, due no doubt to the ripeness of the vintage. Burgundy purists complain that 1990 reds are too ripe, that the warmth of the growing season obscured the terrior expression in the wines.
No matter how you feel about that, these wines generally showed terrific purity and Burgundian character and lots of youth and vigor. Colors were generally dark and more youthful than mature. I think these wines generally have at least another decade until reaching full maturity. Some I expect will last much longer still. Of course there are exceptions.
Aromatically, the wines were very complex, without obtrusive oakiness and with beautifully integrated spicy, sous bois (that woodsy note you find in Burgundy) fragrance. Any of these wines would be delicious with dinner. All of them together was a little overwhelming. But we struggle.
Of the two Volnay, the Lafarge was a bit volatile and perhaps showing some medicinal character of brett, but I loved its aromatic complexity. The Lafon was more restrained, with great purity and fragrance.
The next two wines showed the least to me. The Corton was nice, spicy pinot noir that wasn’t too far from Oregon in profile, but a bit lost in this line up. The Chambertin was pretty and delicate, surely not bad wine, but fading in color and very soft and fragile in the mouth. If this bottle is representative, drink up while it’s still hanging around.
Then a complete change, the Mazis Chambertin from Maume. This wine provoked the first oohs and aahs of the evening, showing the ripeness of the vintage and the structure and heft that Maume is known for. Dark color, strapping aroma with more overt oakiness than the others (not in a bad way), full and rich on the palate with fine tannin, this is still a baby but already tastes really good.
Every Les Amoureuses I’ve had has showed grand cru quality, and this Roumier was no different. Terrific aroma, great intensity, and yet so graceful and light on its feet. I wish I had a cellar full of wines from this vineyard.
I was taking my time tasting through the wines, and ended up rushing with the Clos de la Roche from Lignier. My notes were scant, but this wine again showed great youth, power, and elegance, though it too was a bit lost in the line up for me.
Perhaps that’s due to the remaining wines. The Vosne Romanee Les Genevres showed Leroy purity, lacking only the depth of a grand cru. Spicy, woodsy aroma without obvious oakiness, just delicious. Again, such elegance for such a ripe wine.
The Romanee St Vivant from Domaine de la Romanee Conti might have been a bit of a letdown, only because of the impossibly high reputation of the producer and the amazing showing of the following wine. Still, beautifully floral with great length, just terrific.
And finally the Richbourg from A. et F. Gros. Darker than the other wines and just tremendous, perhaps with some life changing properties. What can you say about this one? It was simply the most impressive wine of the night, and darn tasty.
But that wasn’t all. We also had the following two bottles to cap things off:
1964 Charmes Chambertin, Remoissenet
1959 Vosne Romanee, 1er Cru, Les Malconsorts, Girard Giroud
The Charmes showed a youthful color, for a 42 year old wine that is. Immediately fragrant and pretty in the mouth, it showed more tea character with airing. In contrast, the Malconsorts was shy aromatically at first, but opened wonderfully, showing more maturity than the Charmes but with airing more sweetness and fullness. Neither wine needs more cellaring, but both will hang around for a while in a cold cellar.
Needless to say, I don’t usually drink so well. So thanks to Craig Camp for the invitation, and especially thanks to Doug Salthouse for providing such rare, and well cared for, wines. What a treat.
June 28, 2006
My First Crush: Misadventures in Wine Country
I just finished reading My First Crush by Linda Kaplan, who until last year was the co-owner of Panther Creek winery here in Oregon. It’s a fun read, not the best wine book ever but perfectly worth your time. Especially if you’re looking to learn a bit about what really goes on in an Oregon winery.
Kaplan’s book details the tumultuous first year of operating a winery after her husband Ron somewhat suddenly took his wine passion to another level by purchasing the McMinnville business. That the Kaplans lived in Des Moines, IA, only complicated what would be a tough transition for almost anyone.
So Kaplan has plenty of stories to tell. The purchase, leaving Iowa and old friends, the journey west, arrival in Oregon, finding a place to live, the first harvest, wine tastings, wine dinners, making new friends and meeting old ones again.
Kaplan is an experienced writer, and she handles the book professionally. It’s not flashy, which is a plus. But it isn’t as poignant as I think she intended it to be. Still, she conveys the sensitivity of her transition to Oregon life well.
The book begins with a recipe for Pinot Noir. The story is that Kaplan, previously a white zinfandel drinker, couldn’t imagine the winery didn’t come with a recipe for making the wine. After all, good mid-western woman know that recipes are essential to success in food or beverage preparation.
The recipe symbolizes her initial naiveté about wine, which she overcomes with determination seemingly fueled by the angst felt by any50-something woman, a recent empty nester in an unfamiliar part of the country and business. The angst propels her to succeed in gaining wine knowledge and hosting savvy, the bread and butter of boutique winery owners.
Such that, in the end…well, why don’t you read it for yourself. Suffice it to say, I don’t share her appreciation for Panther Creek wines. But that’s beside the point. You can drink any Oregon wine with this book and have some fun.
You might even get the urge to sort grapes or, gasp, become a certified fork lift operator.
Kaplan’s book details the tumultuous first year of operating a winery after her husband Ron somewhat suddenly took his wine passion to another level by purchasing the McMinnville business. That the Kaplans lived in Des Moines, IA, only complicated what would be a tough transition for almost anyone.
So Kaplan has plenty of stories to tell. The purchase, leaving Iowa and old friends, the journey west, arrival in Oregon, finding a place to live, the first harvest, wine tastings, wine dinners, making new friends and meeting old ones again.
Kaplan is an experienced writer, and she handles the book professionally. It’s not flashy, which is a plus. But it isn’t as poignant as I think she intended it to be. Still, she conveys the sensitivity of her transition to Oregon life well.
The book begins with a recipe for Pinot Noir. The story is that Kaplan, previously a white zinfandel drinker, couldn’t imagine the winery didn’t come with a recipe for making the wine. After all, good mid-western woman know that recipes are essential to success in food or beverage preparation.
The recipe symbolizes her initial naiveté about wine, which she overcomes with determination seemingly fueled by the angst felt by any50-something woman, a recent empty nester in an unfamiliar part of the country and business. The angst propels her to succeed in gaining wine knowledge and hosting savvy, the bread and butter of boutique winery owners.
Such that, in the end…well, why don’t you read it for yourself. Suffice it to say, I don’t share her appreciation for Panther Creek wines. But that’s beside the point. You can drink any Oregon wine with this book and have some fun.
You might even get the urge to sort grapes or, gasp, become a certified fork lift operator.
June 26, 2006
Summer is Port time
Ah, summertime. It’s 100F out but I’m here in the cool basement thinking about Port. Typically thought of only in the cold winter months, Port is good any time of year.
Especially when a certain someone recently gifts you special Port glasses like mine did me. My new glasses are like tiny champagne flutes, only a bit wider in relation. They present wine in a pleasing way, though pretty much any glass will do.
Two wines I’ve enjoyed lately are predictably cheap, or should I say inexpensive. One more so than the other, though naturally it ain’t as good. And mind you, I’m writing about real Port, not the fake stuff from around the world labelled as such. Much of that can be quite good, but it’s not real Port even if they use the traditional grapes of Touriga Nacional and its Tinta friends.
First is the NV Broadbent Auction Reserve Lot 1, a blend of wines 4 to 7 years old that sells for $10 per 375ml. This is essentially ruby Port, a lighter, early drinking style of vintage Port without much of its grip or intensity.
The wine smells a bit alcoholic, but even the Broadbent Selectionsliterature admits so. And it seems to fit the rustic, traditional profile of the wine. Just serve it cool and you’ll be set. It has an otherwise pleasing aroma of preserved plums and spice, with simple but mouthfilling flavors, a bit sweet but balanced with light tannin and acidity. This is not refined port but it satisfies. It’s terrific patio or camping wine for drinking now.
Broadbent Selections labels the Auction Reserve from the well-regarded producer Niepoort, which makes my other recent favorite.
The 1998 Niepoort Late Bottled Vintage is "traditionally" bottled LBV but made in a more modern style than the Auction Reserve. Traditionally, LBVs are bottled 4 years after harvest where Vintage Port is bottled at 2 years. Both are intended to age in bottle, LBVs maturing sooner for their extended cask time and their realtively lighter intensity.
The ’98 Niepoort LBV has a dark purplish red color with a fresh fruit aroma, much like a modern Portugese table wine, mixed with nice pepper, spirit, and otherwise classic “Port” aromas. In the mouth, the wine is moderately sweet with grape, plum, light pepper and leather flavors, mild tannins and good length. If you don’t mind the more modern, grapey style, this wine is impressive. It’s a little over $20 for a 750ml bottle, and you might find a different vintage, but trust the producer. This is something you can cellar for a few years, or bring to a dinner party.
Even if it's 100 degrees. Who doesn't love someone who shows up with good Port?
Especially when a certain someone recently gifts you special Port glasses like mine did me. My new glasses are like tiny champagne flutes, only a bit wider in relation. They present wine in a pleasing way, though pretty much any glass will do.
Two wines I’ve enjoyed lately are predictably cheap, or should I say inexpensive. One more so than the other, though naturally it ain’t as good. And mind you, I’m writing about real Port, not the fake stuff from around the world labelled as such. Much of that can be quite good, but it’s not real Port even if they use the traditional grapes of Touriga Nacional and its Tinta friends.
First is the NV Broadbent Auction Reserve Lot 1, a blend of wines 4 to 7 years old that sells for $10 per 375ml. This is essentially ruby Port, a lighter, early drinking style of vintage Port without much of its grip or intensity.
The wine smells a bit alcoholic, but even the Broadbent Selectionsliterature admits so. And it seems to fit the rustic, traditional profile of the wine. Just serve it cool and you’ll be set. It has an otherwise pleasing aroma of preserved plums and spice, with simple but mouthfilling flavors, a bit sweet but balanced with light tannin and acidity. This is not refined port but it satisfies. It’s terrific patio or camping wine for drinking now.
Broadbent Selections labels the Auction Reserve from the well-regarded producer Niepoort, which makes my other recent favorite.
The 1998 Niepoort Late Bottled Vintage is "traditionally" bottled LBV but made in a more modern style than the Auction Reserve. Traditionally, LBVs are bottled 4 years after harvest where Vintage Port is bottled at 2 years. Both are intended to age in bottle, LBVs maturing sooner for their extended cask time and their realtively lighter intensity.
The ’98 Niepoort LBV has a dark purplish red color with a fresh fruit aroma, much like a modern Portugese table wine, mixed with nice pepper, spirit, and otherwise classic “Port” aromas. In the mouth, the wine is moderately sweet with grape, plum, light pepper and leather flavors, mild tannins and good length. If you don’t mind the more modern, grapey style, this wine is impressive. It’s a little over $20 for a 750ml bottle, and you might find a different vintage, but trust the producer. This is something you can cellar for a few years, or bring to a dinner party.
Even if it's 100 degrees. Who doesn't love someone who shows up with good Port?
June 17, 2006
Wherein bad wine is apparently good
Sometimes wine just makes me scratch me head. Despite the subjectivity of taste, I still think I know good wine from bad. But then I go and try something popular with the critics and subsequently the masses, and I feel completely lost and disconnected from my fellow humans.
Case in point - the 2004 Las Rocas de San Alejandro Garnacha. This is Spanish red wine made from the grenache grape, the king of the southern Rhone Valley in France and hardly anywhere else.
Along comes Spain, with seemingly endless tracts of old and young wine grenache that is allegedly - if you believe what you read - taking over the wine world with some of the best quality wine for the money anywhere.
Las Rocas, a co-op wine from the Calatayud region, has a few vintages of glowing reviews from the tastemaker himself, Robert Parker. Do a quick Google search and you'll find bloggers drooling over this stuff. So I see a bottle of the latest release for $10, which isn't as cheap as you can find this...wine elsewhere, and listen carefully the wine clerk's assurance, "I think you'll really like this wine," and toss a bottle in the grocery cart. Never mind that the clerk doesn't know anything about me or my taste in wine. Who needs to know any of that? This is good wine, everybody knows it, so naturally I'll enjoy it.
I get home and open the wine, pour a glass and notice a seemingly unnatural purple color. This is grenache, which even with the best producers tends to give a cherry red wine (if not something much lighter). But this wine looks more like motor oil, with an oily sheen and a violet tinge to the black/red color.
I smell the wine. Burnt rubber tires, stewed cherries and plums, pepper (this is grenache after all), and strange vegetal fruit syrup aromas. This is a winner - weirdest wine of the year, to date. What is this? Who did what to common grapes to end up with this? Can a wine smell harsh? This one does.
Reluctantly, I taste the wine. It's predictably sweet and fleshy, with warm alcohol and possibly a touch of residual sugar, cola flavors with berries, that vegetal syrup thing, more burnt rubber tires, low acid until a strange, false sense of acidity pokes holes in the revolting flavor, gracelessly but happily ending the experience.
I smell the wine again. It's still the same. I taste it again. No change.
Honestly, if I made this wine - and make no mistake, this wine is true creation - I would think it should be sold off in bulk. In winespeak, it's clearly reductive, which can go away with exposure to air. But it also seems to show mercapten, which isn't so easily reversible. Mercapten is the nasty stuff they put into odorless natural gas so you'll smell as gas leak. So that the smell is nasty enough that you'll do something about it. Quickly.
No, this is critically acclaimed wine recommended by wine retailers, resold by wine bloggers, and apparently loved by the masses. Great value, terrific QPR, back up the truck, buy it by the case.
But I'm left thirsty and in a foul mood for having wasted time and money on this wine. Not to mention the fracture in my soul for knowing such wines exist and that I clearly can't tell you what will appeal to the average person. So note that and read further entries in this journal accordingly. You've been warned.
Case in point - the 2004 Las Rocas de San Alejandro Garnacha. This is Spanish red wine made from the grenache grape, the king of the southern Rhone Valley in France and hardly anywhere else.
Along comes Spain, with seemingly endless tracts of old and young wine grenache that is allegedly - if you believe what you read - taking over the wine world with some of the best quality wine for the money anywhere.
Las Rocas, a co-op wine from the Calatayud region, has a few vintages of glowing reviews from the tastemaker himself, Robert Parker. Do a quick Google search and you'll find bloggers drooling over this stuff. So I see a bottle of the latest release for $10, which isn't as cheap as you can find this...wine elsewhere, and listen carefully the wine clerk's assurance, "I think you'll really like this wine," and toss a bottle in the grocery cart. Never mind that the clerk doesn't know anything about me or my taste in wine. Who needs to know any of that? This is good wine, everybody knows it, so naturally I'll enjoy it.
I get home and open the wine, pour a glass and notice a seemingly unnatural purple color. This is grenache, which even with the best producers tends to give a cherry red wine (if not something much lighter). But this wine looks more like motor oil, with an oily sheen and a violet tinge to the black/red color.
I smell the wine. Burnt rubber tires, stewed cherries and plums, pepper (this is grenache after all), and strange vegetal fruit syrup aromas. This is a winner - weirdest wine of the year, to date. What is this? Who did what to common grapes to end up with this? Can a wine smell harsh? This one does.
Reluctantly, I taste the wine. It's predictably sweet and fleshy, with warm alcohol and possibly a touch of residual sugar, cola flavors with berries, that vegetal syrup thing, more burnt rubber tires, low acid until a strange, false sense of acidity pokes holes in the revolting flavor, gracelessly but happily ending the experience.
I smell the wine again. It's still the same. I taste it again. No change.
Honestly, if I made this wine - and make no mistake, this wine is true creation - I would think it should be sold off in bulk. In winespeak, it's clearly reductive, which can go away with exposure to air. But it also seems to show mercapten, which isn't so easily reversible. Mercapten is the nasty stuff they put into odorless natural gas so you'll smell as gas leak. So that the smell is nasty enough that you'll do something about it. Quickly.
No, this is critically acclaimed wine recommended by wine retailers, resold by wine bloggers, and apparently loved by the masses. Great value, terrific QPR, back up the truck, buy it by the case.
But I'm left thirsty and in a foul mood for having wasted time and money on this wine. Not to mention the fracture in my soul for knowing such wines exist and that I clearly can't tell you what will appeal to the average person. So note that and read further entries in this journal accordingly. You've been warned.
June 16, 2006
Good, cheap nebbiolo
Lately I’ve been on a nebbiolo kick, and knowing my budget, it better be good and cheap. Which is a tall order for nebbiolo. Like pinot noir, nebbiolo is a tempermental grape that in the lesser spots and with lax farming tends to produce a lightly flavored, tart wine. Not awful wine, but not always very good, even with dinner.
But there are some little gems out there, some commonly available, others – like most good values – quite limited.
I’ve mentioned the Langhe Nebbiolo from Produttori du Barbaresco, which everybody mentions. It’s good, traditional nebbiolo with pretty fragrance though often lacking intensity if not tannin. This is wine for food and, even then, this isn’t easy, cozy wine. At $14 locally it’s a bargain in real Piemontese wine, if that’s your thing.
Then there’s the off vintage closeout, a whole ‘nother kettle of bargain. (I should write something about the major categories of wine values and which are the best...but that’s another day.)
I subscribe to the theory that good producers make good wine in most years. There are exceptions to every rule, and 2002 in Piemonte was apparently the most challenging harvest in a generation. Still, I’ve tried a few wines from the vintage and been impressed at what’s available at the low end.
Case in point – the 2002 Ugo Equio Langhe Nebbiolo. For $12 with discount, this wine is terrific. Apparently it’s declassified Barbaresco, probably blended with what lower end wine they could salvage from the rainy harvest. And it’s really quite good for the money.
It has a rich red color with a slightly orange rim, which is typcial for nebbiolo. It’s fragrant with classic nebiolo aromas of tar and flowers, and some balsamic notes. More rich than the Produttori ever is, but not modern and generic smelling. Then comes the tannin.
The flavors are ripe and interesting, but the tannin is strong in this wine. Clearly this is something to drink with a meal, or even cellar a couple years – not longer, even the best “bad year” wines tend to mature early.
This wine is lower in acidity, which purists won’t like. And it’s not Barbaresco because it’s coarse, lacking the refinement and texture of great Barbaresco but not necessarily lacking the flavor.
And for $12 and change, it’s a steal.
But there are some little gems out there, some commonly available, others – like most good values – quite limited.
I’ve mentioned the Langhe Nebbiolo from Produttori du Barbaresco, which everybody mentions. It’s good, traditional nebbiolo with pretty fragrance though often lacking intensity if not tannin. This is wine for food and, even then, this isn’t easy, cozy wine. At $14 locally it’s a bargain in real Piemontese wine, if that’s your thing.
Then there’s the off vintage closeout, a whole ‘nother kettle of bargain. (I should write something about the major categories of wine values and which are the best...but that’s another day.)
I subscribe to the theory that good producers make good wine in most years. There are exceptions to every rule, and 2002 in Piemonte was apparently the most challenging harvest in a generation. Still, I’ve tried a few wines from the vintage and been impressed at what’s available at the low end.
Case in point – the 2002 Ugo Equio Langhe Nebbiolo. For $12 with discount, this wine is terrific. Apparently it’s declassified Barbaresco, probably blended with what lower end wine they could salvage from the rainy harvest. And it’s really quite good for the money.
It has a rich red color with a slightly orange rim, which is typcial for nebbiolo. It’s fragrant with classic nebiolo aromas of tar and flowers, and some balsamic notes. More rich than the Produttori ever is, but not modern and generic smelling. Then comes the tannin.
The flavors are ripe and interesting, but the tannin is strong in this wine. Clearly this is something to drink with a meal, or even cellar a couple years – not longer, even the best “bad year” wines tend to mature early.
This wine is lower in acidity, which purists won’t like. And it’s not Barbaresco because it’s coarse, lacking the refinement and texture of great Barbaresco but not necessarily lacking the flavor.
And for $12 and change, it’s a steal.
June 01, 2006
Le Cadeau Vineyard, part two
After touring Le Cadeau Vineyard, Tom Moritmer and I went inside the small house he and Deb have built where we sampled some wine. As Tom opened and poured the 2002 Pinot Noir, he told me about the winemakers at Le Cadeau.
The first two vintages, 2002 and 2003, were made by Isabelle Dutartre, a French friend of Veronique Drouhin at Domain Drouhin Oregon. Isabelle previously worked for Drouhin here and in France, and is now winemaker for Deponte, a producer just below Domaine Drouhin in the southwestern end of the Dundee Hills. At Le Cadeau, she blended the entire vineyard in the Drouhin style, making a restrained and powerfully mineral wine.
The 2002 Le Cadeau Pinot Noir is a fragrant wine, with strong rocky aromas along with layers of ripe cherries, clove, and cinnamon. It smells distinctly Oregon with its ashy, earthy notes, but it’s uncommonly mineral and attractive for that. In the mouth it’s firm and young with good acidity, not yet revealing its richness. Some alcohol peeks through after a while, but it’s not bothersome. Along with the 2004 Grochau Cellar Pinot Noir, this is the most exciting Oregon wine I’ve had in some time. Just give it a few years.
To contrast, Tom poured the 2003 Le Cadeau Pinot Noir. This smells like boysenberries at first before relaxing to a lightly roasted, red raspberry aroma. There’s alcohol showing here but I’m more sensitive to that in Oregon wines than most drinkers it seems. In the mouth, it begins with good intensity amid the ripe fruit flavors, definitely some mineral tones in there, but over time the alcohol seems to overwhelm. If you don’t always serve red wine cool, do it with this one. It’s still more French in style than you tend to find in Oregon, with a restraint despite its size. But it simply has that roasted fruit of 2003. Still, it’s lush and I bet it’s an easier sell than the more stern 2002.
With 2004, everything in the cellar changes. Isabelle is out because she’s too busy with Deponte and others. And who comes in? Would you believe Harry Peterson-Nedry of Chehalem, Sam Francis and Cheryl Tannahill of Francis/Tannahill, and Josh Bergstrom of Bergstrom? Sort of a local dream team of winemakers, though stylistically different from each other and certainly different from Isabelle. The trio each makes their own bottling. And the vineyard goes to each winemaker in pieces, so no longer is Le Cadeau wine a blend of the property. Harry has the rockiest southwestern part, Sam and Cheryl have a few scattered blocks, including Deb’s block, and Josh has the eastern slope that gets lots of afternoon sunlight.
So Tom pulls out two of the three bottlings that will be released later this year. First is the 2004 Le Cadeau “Rocheaux” made by Harry. It’s young as you might expect, having been in bottle just a few weeks. Minerally, lightly peppery cherry aromas with firm acids reminding me of the 2002 without that wine’s earthiness. This is pretty wine, but it needs time to be more enjoyable. Should be good.
Then Tom opens the 2004 Le Cadeau “Cote Est” made by Josh. (By the way, the Francis/Tannahill bottling will be called “Diversité”.) This shows some sulfur dioxide at first, then a bacony, smokey oak aroma with ripe raspberries and some earthy, organic smells. It’s chewy on the palate from fine grape skin tannins, structured as Bergstrom-made wines tend to be but not outright oaky, almost Chateauneuf du Pape like with a roasted quality, pleasingly so as wine goes though not necessarily a compliment for Pinot Noir. Again, I think this will be very appealing wine, but it’s a little heavy handed for my tastes.
After tasting these wines, I’m struck by their minerality and certainly the overall quality of the vineyard and cellar work. This is a serious producer with some of the promising wines that I think will make a mark here in Oregon. My only concern is slight, and probably not shared by Tom and Deb. What to do with all the winemakers? In 2005, the trio from ’04 are back with Le Cadeau, and in ’06 Isabelle will return to make a fourth bottling. I asked Tom if he instructs them to make wine in a way for Le Cadeau, but he lets them do their thing. It shows in the wines, and while it’s admirable and probably what I’d do in his situation, maybe the hands of the different winemakers obscure the nuance of the vineyard. The dream team is fun and unique, and quality isn’t an issue here. But I wonder how the audience for Le Cadeau will respond to the different winemaker styles. And I wonder how sustainable the arrangement is. It wouldn’t be surprised to see one winemaker after a few more years, unless these talented and high profile winemakers continue to make time for what must be a labor of love for each.
In all, I had a terrific visit with Tom and greatly appreciated his time and information. I asked about the future, and Tom suggested there might be another label of non-estate wine. And with the potential for more plantings on the property, there might be some white wine might be in the mix someday. Whatever happens, keep your eye on Le Cadeau.
The first two vintages, 2002 and 2003, were made by Isabelle Dutartre, a French friend of Veronique Drouhin at Domain Drouhin Oregon. Isabelle previously worked for Drouhin here and in France, and is now winemaker for Deponte, a producer just below Domaine Drouhin in the southwestern end of the Dundee Hills. At Le Cadeau, she blended the entire vineyard in the Drouhin style, making a restrained and powerfully mineral wine.
The 2002 Le Cadeau Pinot Noir is a fragrant wine, with strong rocky aromas along with layers of ripe cherries, clove, and cinnamon. It smells distinctly Oregon with its ashy, earthy notes, but it’s uncommonly mineral and attractive for that. In the mouth it’s firm and young with good acidity, not yet revealing its richness. Some alcohol peeks through after a while, but it’s not bothersome. Along with the 2004 Grochau Cellar Pinot Noir, this is the most exciting Oregon wine I’ve had in some time. Just give it a few years.
To contrast, Tom poured the 2003 Le Cadeau Pinot Noir. This smells like boysenberries at first before relaxing to a lightly roasted, red raspberry aroma. There’s alcohol showing here but I’m more sensitive to that in Oregon wines than most drinkers it seems. In the mouth, it begins with good intensity amid the ripe fruit flavors, definitely some mineral tones in there, but over time the alcohol seems to overwhelm. If you don’t always serve red wine cool, do it with this one. It’s still more French in style than you tend to find in Oregon, with a restraint despite its size. But it simply has that roasted fruit of 2003. Still, it’s lush and I bet it’s an easier sell than the more stern 2002.
With 2004, everything in the cellar changes. Isabelle is out because she’s too busy with Deponte and others. And who comes in? Would you believe Harry Peterson-Nedry of Chehalem, Sam Francis and Cheryl Tannahill of Francis/Tannahill, and Josh Bergstrom of Bergstrom? Sort of a local dream team of winemakers, though stylistically different from each other and certainly different from Isabelle. The trio each makes their own bottling. And the vineyard goes to each winemaker in pieces, so no longer is Le Cadeau wine a blend of the property. Harry has the rockiest southwestern part, Sam and Cheryl have a few scattered blocks, including Deb’s block, and Josh has the eastern slope that gets lots of afternoon sunlight.
So Tom pulls out two of the three bottlings that will be released later this year. First is the 2004 Le Cadeau “Rocheaux” made by Harry. It’s young as you might expect, having been in bottle just a few weeks. Minerally, lightly peppery cherry aromas with firm acids reminding me of the 2002 without that wine’s earthiness. This is pretty wine, but it needs time to be more enjoyable. Should be good.
Then Tom opens the 2004 Le Cadeau “Cote Est” made by Josh. (By the way, the Francis/Tannahill bottling will be called “Diversité”.) This shows some sulfur dioxide at first, then a bacony, smokey oak aroma with ripe raspberries and some earthy, organic smells. It’s chewy on the palate from fine grape skin tannins, structured as Bergstrom-made wines tend to be but not outright oaky, almost Chateauneuf du Pape like with a roasted quality, pleasingly so as wine goes though not necessarily a compliment for Pinot Noir. Again, I think this will be very appealing wine, but it’s a little heavy handed for my tastes.
After tasting these wines, I’m struck by their minerality and certainly the overall quality of the vineyard and cellar work. This is a serious producer with some of the promising wines that I think will make a mark here in Oregon. My only concern is slight, and probably not shared by Tom and Deb. What to do with all the winemakers? In 2005, the trio from ’04 are back with Le Cadeau, and in ’06 Isabelle will return to make a fourth bottling. I asked Tom if he instructs them to make wine in a way for Le Cadeau, but he lets them do their thing. It shows in the wines, and while it’s admirable and probably what I’d do in his situation, maybe the hands of the different winemakers obscure the nuance of the vineyard. The dream team is fun and unique, and quality isn’t an issue here. But I wonder how the audience for Le Cadeau will respond to the different winemaker styles. And I wonder how sustainable the arrangement is. It wouldn’t be surprised to see one winemaker after a few more years, unless these talented and high profile winemakers continue to make time for what must be a labor of love for each.
In all, I had a terrific visit with Tom and greatly appreciated his time and information. I asked about the future, and Tom suggested there might be another label of non-estate wine. And with the potential for more plantings on the property, there might be some white wine might be in the mix someday. Whatever happens, keep your eye on Le Cadeau.
May 30, 2006
Le Cadeau Vineyard, part 1
I was fortunate enough to visit the other day with Tom Mortimer of Le Cadeau Vineyard on Parrett Mountain.
Tom and his wife Deb are unusual in Oregon wine because they live most of the year in Minneapolis, MN. Some years back Tom bought a company based in Dundee and fell in love with Oregon. With a serious wine hobby, it seemed logical to find land and plant a vineyard.
A long search ended at a very rocky southern exposure on Parrett Mountain, south of Newberg proper and just north of the Willamette River, which flows west to east here a short way before turning north again.
The land was a mess. The fir trees had largely been logged, with some notable exceptions. Maples, scotch broom, brambles and poison oak flourished. There wasn’t a view, much less anywhere to plant. But the Mortimers cleared the land, revealing a gorgeous view and seriously rocky soil on which to “create the environment” they wanted.
Much of the northern Willamette Valley vineyards are planted in deep but infertile soils where the roots may never reach the bedrock. There are some areas with shallower soils, but I haven’t seen anything like the bare rock in the vineyards of Parrett Mountain. Chunks of fractured basalt at the surface, with a foot or two of soil in places north and east, but essentially bare rock to the west and south. It’s not the white and grey limestone of Burgundy, it’s rusty red Oregon basalt and it’s beautiful.
Planting was more than challenging in the unforgiving ground. As you go west, you notice the senic wooden trellis posts giving way to metal bars that are the only things able to penetrate the rock. The result is a slow growing vineyard, with smaller vines that produce grapes that seem to show the mineral flavor of the site.
The vineyard itself is a mix of rootstocks and clones, all the Dijon regulars and Pommard, along with the little known Mariafeld clone from Switzerland that produces a large, blackfruited wine. The elevation ranges from 610 to 725 feet, on the higher side for Oregon but still well within the norm.
Plantings were in 1999 and 2002, with additional plans for the uncleared ravine to the southwest. It’s a steep, rocky site that could be terrific if not expensive. But the entire project has been expensive, which led to the name “Black Hole Vineyard” that you don't see on the wine bottles.
How's the wine, you ask? Next time.
Tom and his wife Deb are unusual in Oregon wine because they live most of the year in Minneapolis, MN. Some years back Tom bought a company based in Dundee and fell in love with Oregon. With a serious wine hobby, it seemed logical to find land and plant a vineyard.
A long search ended at a very rocky southern exposure on Parrett Mountain, south of Newberg proper and just north of the Willamette River, which flows west to east here a short way before turning north again.
The land was a mess. The fir trees had largely been logged, with some notable exceptions. Maples, scotch broom, brambles and poison oak flourished. There wasn’t a view, much less anywhere to plant. But the Mortimers cleared the land, revealing a gorgeous view and seriously rocky soil on which to “create the environment” they wanted.
Much of the northern Willamette Valley vineyards are planted in deep but infertile soils where the roots may never reach the bedrock. There are some areas with shallower soils, but I haven’t seen anything like the bare rock in the vineyards of Parrett Mountain. Chunks of fractured basalt at the surface, with a foot or two of soil in places north and east, but essentially bare rock to the west and south. It’s not the white and grey limestone of Burgundy, it’s rusty red Oregon basalt and it’s beautiful.
Planting was more than challenging in the unforgiving ground. As you go west, you notice the senic wooden trellis posts giving way to metal bars that are the only things able to penetrate the rock. The result is a slow growing vineyard, with smaller vines that produce grapes that seem to show the mineral flavor of the site.
The vineyard itself is a mix of rootstocks and clones, all the Dijon regulars and Pommard, along with the little known Mariafeld clone from Switzerland that produces a large, blackfruited wine. The elevation ranges from 610 to 725 feet, on the higher side for Oregon but still well within the norm.
Plantings were in 1999 and 2002, with additional plans for the uncleared ravine to the southwest. It’s a steep, rocky site that could be terrific if not expensive. But the entire project has been expensive, which led to the name “Black Hole Vineyard” that you don't see on the wine bottles.
How's the wine, you ask? Next time.
May 28, 2006
Oregon Winery Visits
Memorial Day weekend is traditionally the time, along with Thanksgiving, that Willamette Valley wineries open to the public. But I’m sick this weekend and I don’t really like the crowds and traffic anyway, so here’s a recap of some winery visits earlier this month when crowds were low and the roads clear.
We started at Chehalem, which was holding their annual Pinot Noir “best barrel” event. They selected, naturally, what they think is the “best” barrel in the cellar of each of their three vineyards from 2005 for tasting and purchase. The barrels will be bottled separately. The idea is you’ll get the wine exactly from the barrels you tried.
In theory, it’s interesting. But barrel samples are hard to gague, and the whole notion of a “best barrel” seems hokey. Sure, winemakers always have their “best barrels” but selling that to the public seems to me to undermine the whole “wine as a common beverage” thing.
Still, it was a nice chance to taste 2005 Pinot Noir. The Corral Creek was the only heavily oaked wine, with spicy caramel and red fruits. Hopefully they’ll rack this wine into neutral oak until bottling to keep the oak level in check. The Ridgecrest was nicely peppery with signature black fruit and spice. But this wine still has to finish malolactic fermentation, so it will change considerably before bottling. The Stoller was brighter than usual, showing perhaps the cool harvest. Very nice overall, love the balance and loamy, cherry fruit.
From bottle, we also taste the 2004 Cerise, a mostly Gamay and Pinot Noir blend. Delicious, peppery with cool red fruit, very easy to drink. The 2004 3 Vineyard Pinot Noir was a bit wan, just soft and dull today. And the 2004 Corral Creek Pinot Noir lacked the verve of the Cerise and the 2005s.
Chehalem isn’t open to the public regularly, so this was a nice chance to visit the property. But it seems like more and more producers are opening up to the public, and some are building some pretty significant tasting rooms. So we thought we’d check out Penner-Ash’s new place, a big winery on a previously uncharted hill (wine-wise) surrounded by a new estate vineyard.
The wines are equally large-scaled as the facility. Oddly enough, the 2005 Roseo was my favorite wine. Dry, crisp rose with perfume and nerve, surprisingly good. The 2004 Pinot Noir Willamette Valley fits the house style. Big and rich flavors with a polished texture and just the proper amount of spicy oak for an entry level wine at $40. The 2003 Syrah was not so oaky but not terribly varietal. And the 2004 Rubeo, a blend of more Pinot Noir and less Syrah was more Pinot Noir like, oaky with typcial polish. These are impressive wines, so that our guests loved them. But I find them too flawless, glossy rather than toned and too oak influenced. And the prices don't help, at least for this shopper.
Then on to Bergstrom, another new tasting room that is less grand than Penner-Ash but not less pricey. The 2004 Pinot Noir Willamette Valley was good with spicy red fruit. The 2004 Cumberland Reserve was tannic and chewy, more to the house style here. Even more backward was the 2004 Broadley Vineyard, from Monroe in the southern Willamette Valley. Very dark, monolithic with that’s all structure now. Hard to say where a wine like this will end up, but I wouldn’t count on resolution. The 2004 de Lancelotti, the “estate” vineyard around the modest winery on sedimentary soils, had the most unique aroma, with anise and grass, very interesting but tight on the palate, another wine that needs time to show what it has. Finally, the 2004 Bergstrom Vineyard from the Red Hills, just above the Le Pavillon vineyard on the top of a knoll above Worden Hill Road. The was softer and more fragrant, as you would expect the Red Hills to be, cherries, oak spice, less tannic than the others and tasty. But worth $70? Not to me, but the small crowd seemed sold. I can’t argue with that.
So that was the day. Stay tuned for part two of my recent adventures, a visit to Le Cadeau Vineyard on Parrett Mountain.
We started at Chehalem, which was holding their annual Pinot Noir “best barrel” event. They selected, naturally, what they think is the “best” barrel in the cellar of each of their three vineyards from 2005 for tasting and purchase. The barrels will be bottled separately. The idea is you’ll get the wine exactly from the barrels you tried.
In theory, it’s interesting. But barrel samples are hard to gague, and the whole notion of a “best barrel” seems hokey. Sure, winemakers always have their “best barrels” but selling that to the public seems to me to undermine the whole “wine as a common beverage” thing.
Still, it was a nice chance to taste 2005 Pinot Noir. The Corral Creek was the only heavily oaked wine, with spicy caramel and red fruits. Hopefully they’ll rack this wine into neutral oak until bottling to keep the oak level in check. The Ridgecrest was nicely peppery with signature black fruit and spice. But this wine still has to finish malolactic fermentation, so it will change considerably before bottling. The Stoller was brighter than usual, showing perhaps the cool harvest. Very nice overall, love the balance and loamy, cherry fruit.
From bottle, we also taste the 2004 Cerise, a mostly Gamay and Pinot Noir blend. Delicious, peppery with cool red fruit, very easy to drink. The 2004 3 Vineyard Pinot Noir was a bit wan, just soft and dull today. And the 2004 Corral Creek Pinot Noir lacked the verve of the Cerise and the 2005s.
Chehalem isn’t open to the public regularly, so this was a nice chance to visit the property. But it seems like more and more producers are opening up to the public, and some are building some pretty significant tasting rooms. So we thought we’d check out Penner-Ash’s new place, a big winery on a previously uncharted hill (wine-wise) surrounded by a new estate vineyard.
The wines are equally large-scaled as the facility. Oddly enough, the 2005 Roseo was my favorite wine. Dry, crisp rose with perfume and nerve, surprisingly good. The 2004 Pinot Noir Willamette Valley fits the house style. Big and rich flavors with a polished texture and just the proper amount of spicy oak for an entry level wine at $40. The 2003 Syrah was not so oaky but not terribly varietal. And the 2004 Rubeo, a blend of more Pinot Noir and less Syrah was more Pinot Noir like, oaky with typcial polish. These are impressive wines, so that our guests loved them. But I find them too flawless, glossy rather than toned and too oak influenced. And the prices don't help, at least for this shopper.
Then on to Bergstrom, another new tasting room that is less grand than Penner-Ash but not less pricey. The 2004 Pinot Noir Willamette Valley was good with spicy red fruit. The 2004 Cumberland Reserve was tannic and chewy, more to the house style here. Even more backward was the 2004 Broadley Vineyard, from Monroe in the southern Willamette Valley. Very dark, monolithic with that’s all structure now. Hard to say where a wine like this will end up, but I wouldn’t count on resolution. The 2004 de Lancelotti, the “estate” vineyard around the modest winery on sedimentary soils, had the most unique aroma, with anise and grass, very interesting but tight on the palate, another wine that needs time to show what it has. Finally, the 2004 Bergstrom Vineyard from the Red Hills, just above the Le Pavillon vineyard on the top of a knoll above Worden Hill Road. The was softer and more fragrant, as you would expect the Red Hills to be, cherries, oak spice, less tannic than the others and tasty. But worth $70? Not to me, but the small crowd seemed sold. I can’t argue with that.
So that was the day. Stay tuned for part two of my recent adventures, a visit to Le Cadeau Vineyard on Parrett Mountain.
May 26, 2006
Zinfandel tasting
My tasting group met again recently to taste Zinfandel, so hot in the 1990s but taking more of a back seat in wine circles these days in favor of Syrah.
I love good Zinfandel, a grape that gives about as widely varying wines as you’ll find. And I’m not immediately put off by high alcohol Zinfandel as I am, for example, with Pinot Noir. Like with southern Rhone reds, sometimes a little warmth can add to the exuberance of Zinfandel, which really shouldn’t ever be shy. With a bucket of ribs, nothing beats a big Zin.
With that in mind, I completely enjoyed this tasting even when the wines weren’t exactly elegant or graceful.
We tasted five wines blind, the first being the 2003 Carol Shelton “Wild Thing” from the Cox Vineyard in Mendocino County. Dark ruby violet in color, it showed a fumey, coconutty, waxy red berry aroma, the most obviously oaked wine in the bunch. In the mouth, full bodied with wood tannin and charred berry fruit, maybe a hint of residual sugar. Graceful? No. Elegant? No. Something I’d buy and cellar? No. But with that bucket of ribs, yes. My least favorite here and still worthwhile. Note that the “wild” part is natural yeast fermentation, which didn’t give out until the wine reached more than 15% alcohol.
Next came an older dark ruby wine, with minty brambly zinberry aromas, the mint giving a high-toned component to the perfume. Silky in the mouth, round and mature, not terribly deep but elegant with bright acids and delicious. This was the 1996 Ridge Geyserville, an old vine blend of around 75% Zinfandel and the rest Petite Sirah, Carignane, and Mataro (Mourvedre). Interesting thing about this wine, on release it was quite oaky and not “classic” Ridge. But a few years have yielded a wonderfully integrated old vine wine, classically California.
The third wine was more mature but not old looking, with a muted aroma at first. Then fresher fruit, some volatility but nice complexity, I rated this first on the aroma alone. In the mouth, it’s finely tannic with bright red berry flavors, winey with good length and an integrated feel. This was the 1996 Ravenswood Monte Rosso Vineyard from Louis Martini’s old Sonoma Valley property.
The next wine was the darkest, with a youthful dark red violet color and a sweet, pie filling aroma. Buttery oak, waxy smelling with some pleasant youthful herbaceousness amid the superripe quailities. Big, ripe and round in the mouth, with grape tannin and some obvious alcohol, chewy and tannic but nicely done if a touch overoaked. This was the 2003 Dashe Dry Creek Valley, made by Mike Dashe, formerly of Ridge, who’s made some Zinfandel I’ve perferred more than this one.
Last was a ringer of sorts, the younger vine 2003 Maryhill Zinfandel from the Columbia Valley in Washington state. The cheapest of the lot, but not at all out of class here. Dark ruby with a positiviely huge black pepper aroma, with sweet pie filling and dry herb aroma, all very interesting. Jammy, even a bit goopy but with good tannic structure and even some grapefruity acid that might be added (or not) but seemed well integrated either way. Not bad at all, another good one for a bucket of ribs.
To cap the evening, we tried a half bottle blind. Turbid with sediment with some maturity and a fragrant, ripe but restrained slightly raisiny, spicy aroma. Mildly sweet on the palate with nice balance and concentration, overall a terrific late harvest zinfandel without any volatility. It turns out to be the 1993 Ridge Essence, from the Dusi Ranch in Paso Robles if memory serves.
In sum, a terrific evening of fun, loud wines that’s rekindled my love for Zinfandel. You should try some too.
I love good Zinfandel, a grape that gives about as widely varying wines as you’ll find. And I’m not immediately put off by high alcohol Zinfandel as I am, for example, with Pinot Noir. Like with southern Rhone reds, sometimes a little warmth can add to the exuberance of Zinfandel, which really shouldn’t ever be shy. With a bucket of ribs, nothing beats a big Zin.
With that in mind, I completely enjoyed this tasting even when the wines weren’t exactly elegant or graceful.
We tasted five wines blind, the first being the 2003 Carol Shelton “Wild Thing” from the Cox Vineyard in Mendocino County. Dark ruby violet in color, it showed a fumey, coconutty, waxy red berry aroma, the most obviously oaked wine in the bunch. In the mouth, full bodied with wood tannin and charred berry fruit, maybe a hint of residual sugar. Graceful? No. Elegant? No. Something I’d buy and cellar? No. But with that bucket of ribs, yes. My least favorite here and still worthwhile. Note that the “wild” part is natural yeast fermentation, which didn’t give out until the wine reached more than 15% alcohol.
Next came an older dark ruby wine, with minty brambly zinberry aromas, the mint giving a high-toned component to the perfume. Silky in the mouth, round and mature, not terribly deep but elegant with bright acids and delicious. This was the 1996 Ridge Geyserville, an old vine blend of around 75% Zinfandel and the rest Petite Sirah, Carignane, and Mataro (Mourvedre). Interesting thing about this wine, on release it was quite oaky and not “classic” Ridge. But a few years have yielded a wonderfully integrated old vine wine, classically California.
The third wine was more mature but not old looking, with a muted aroma at first. Then fresher fruit, some volatility but nice complexity, I rated this first on the aroma alone. In the mouth, it’s finely tannic with bright red berry flavors, winey with good length and an integrated feel. This was the 1996 Ravenswood Monte Rosso Vineyard from Louis Martini’s old Sonoma Valley property.
The next wine was the darkest, with a youthful dark red violet color and a sweet, pie filling aroma. Buttery oak, waxy smelling with some pleasant youthful herbaceousness amid the superripe quailities. Big, ripe and round in the mouth, with grape tannin and some obvious alcohol, chewy and tannic but nicely done if a touch overoaked. This was the 2003 Dashe Dry Creek Valley, made by Mike Dashe, formerly of Ridge, who’s made some Zinfandel I’ve perferred more than this one.
Last was a ringer of sorts, the younger vine 2003 Maryhill Zinfandel from the Columbia Valley in Washington state. The cheapest of the lot, but not at all out of class here. Dark ruby with a positiviely huge black pepper aroma, with sweet pie filling and dry herb aroma, all very interesting. Jammy, even a bit goopy but with good tannic structure and even some grapefruity acid that might be added (or not) but seemed well integrated either way. Not bad at all, another good one for a bucket of ribs.
To cap the evening, we tried a half bottle blind. Turbid with sediment with some maturity and a fragrant, ripe but restrained slightly raisiny, spicy aroma. Mildly sweet on the palate with nice balance and concentration, overall a terrific late harvest zinfandel without any volatility. It turns out to be the 1993 Ridge Essence, from the Dusi Ranch in Paso Robles if memory serves.
In sum, a terrific evening of fun, loud wines that’s rekindled my love for Zinfandel. You should try some too.
May 19, 2006
Reading about Oregon wine
Did you notice the big feature on Oregon wine yesterday in the weekly Wine section of the San Francisco Chronicle? It’s worth a read.
Smart of the Chron to get local guy Cole Danehauer to write the piece. Cole writes for the online Oregon Wine Report. He does a good job here conveying the latest happenings in the Willamette Valley to an audience outside Oregon.
Also, today I noticed the latest issue of the Oregon Wine Press magazine, newly redesigned (sort of) after being acquired by News-Register Publishing in McMinnville, down in Yamhill County.
Turns out OWP’s founding operators had to suddenly back away from the business early this year, but the new owner is keeping the publication open with Hilary Berg as managing editor.
The first issue, May 2006, is mostly listings for the upcoming Memorial Day weekend winery fest. But even the scant few articles put together apparently in very short time suggest a brighter future for this fun but probably too folksy publication.
Out with the bizarre if occasionally brilliant interviews and periodic rants about Oregon wine marketing. In perhaps with more consistent coverage of what’s really going on in Oregon wine production, though hopefully without any wine country lifestyle drivel.
And not Oregon related, but I get the Wine Spectator and can you believe that there’s a letter in the latest issue (June 15, 2006) from Kermit Lynch congratulating the publication on its 30th anniversary. He even writes something like “I can’t imagine the wine world without Wine Spectator.”
I don’t know what to make of it, but I couldn’t miss mentioning it. Is he joking?
Smart of the Chron to get local guy Cole Danehauer to write the piece. Cole writes for the online Oregon Wine Report. He does a good job here conveying the latest happenings in the Willamette Valley to an audience outside Oregon.
Also, today I noticed the latest issue of the Oregon Wine Press magazine, newly redesigned (sort of) after being acquired by News-Register Publishing in McMinnville, down in Yamhill County.
Turns out OWP’s founding operators had to suddenly back away from the business early this year, but the new owner is keeping the publication open with Hilary Berg as managing editor.
The first issue, May 2006, is mostly listings for the upcoming Memorial Day weekend winery fest. But even the scant few articles put together apparently in very short time suggest a brighter future for this fun but probably too folksy publication.
Out with the bizarre if occasionally brilliant interviews and periodic rants about Oregon wine marketing. In perhaps with more consistent coverage of what’s really going on in Oregon wine production, though hopefully without any wine country lifestyle drivel.
And not Oregon related, but I get the Wine Spectator and can you believe that there’s a letter in the latest issue (June 15, 2006) from Kermit Lynch congratulating the publication on its 30th anniversary. He even writes something like “I can’t imagine the wine world without Wine Spectator.”
I don’t know what to make of it, but I couldn’t miss mentioning it. Is he joking?
May 15, 2006
The best $6 red there is
Although I'm hardly the first to say it, the Italian wine producer Masciarelli makes what might be the best $6 (or so) red wine there is.
The latest vintage of their estate bottled Montepulciano d'Abruzzo is the 2002, a rainy harvest in much of Italy that might lead one to believe this wine isn't worth your time if not the few dollars it costs.
But don't be fooled. This might be the best of many years of Masciarelli Montepulciano that I've tried. Consistently rich and fragrant, with a depth that wine two or three times the price hopes for.
Typically this wine is "food" wine, meaning it's not a little bit crisp and tannic. Yet this year's model, while rustic as usual, has an elegance that makes it good with or without dinner.
Most people will call this wine "pizza" wine, suitable only for simple fare. But pop this in a decanter and tell me if it doesn't smell something like a higher grade Tuscan red, and a good one too. I'd serve this with any sort of roasted meat or musroom ragu. Or pizza if you must.
The latest vintage of their estate bottled Montepulciano d'Abruzzo is the 2002, a rainy harvest in much of Italy that might lead one to believe this wine isn't worth your time if not the few dollars it costs.
But don't be fooled. This might be the best of many years of Masciarelli Montepulciano that I've tried. Consistently rich and fragrant, with a depth that wine two or three times the price hopes for.
Typically this wine is "food" wine, meaning it's not a little bit crisp and tannic. Yet this year's model, while rustic as usual, has an elegance that makes it good with or without dinner.
Most people will call this wine "pizza" wine, suitable only for simple fare. But pop this in a decanter and tell me if it doesn't smell something like a higher grade Tuscan red, and a good one too. I'd serve this with any sort of roasted meat or musroom ragu. Or pizza if you must.
May 07, 2006
Oregon whites
For all the attention paid to Pinot Noir, the northern Willamette Valley produces some terrific white wines. Not all of them Chardonnay, by the way. I tried a few recently that are worth mentioning.
The first was the 2003 Brooks Amycas, a kitchen sink blend that turned out very well. And it’s still going strong. Mostly Pinot Gris and Riesling with some Gewurztraminer, it’s very Gewurz-like with a floral, spicy muscatty aroma and a lightly alcoholic, sweet lychee flavor. This I believe was from the late Jimi Brooks’ last harvest, a nice if simple tribute to him.
Next came the 2004 J. Christopher Sauvignon Blanc Croft Vineyard. Sauvignon Blanc isn’t that common in the Willamette Valley, but with the warmer years recently it seems like a nice prospect for the future. The wine didn’t show nearly as well as some months back, when it was bright and grassy and simply delicious. This night it seemed muted but still tasty. I imagine the 2005 will out soon, I’d look for that one.
Finally the 2004 Francis Tannahill Gewurztraminer Dragonfly, from the Dragonfly vineyard in the Columbia River Gorge east of Portland. This was alcoholic at first and a bit stinky, though fresh and oily rich on the palate. But night two the wine really shined. It smelled sweet like a light dessert wine and tasted viscous and rich, lacking only acidity as the grape does notoriously. This isn’t my first choice for the dinner table, but it’s interesting wine and worth trying if you looking for something off the beaten path.
The first was the 2003 Brooks Amycas, a kitchen sink blend that turned out very well. And it’s still going strong. Mostly Pinot Gris and Riesling with some Gewurztraminer, it’s very Gewurz-like with a floral, spicy muscatty aroma and a lightly alcoholic, sweet lychee flavor. This I believe was from the late Jimi Brooks’ last harvest, a nice if simple tribute to him.
Next came the 2004 J. Christopher Sauvignon Blanc Croft Vineyard. Sauvignon Blanc isn’t that common in the Willamette Valley, but with the warmer years recently it seems like a nice prospect for the future. The wine didn’t show nearly as well as some months back, when it was bright and grassy and simply delicious. This night it seemed muted but still tasty. I imagine the 2005 will out soon, I’d look for that one.
Finally the 2004 Francis Tannahill Gewurztraminer Dragonfly, from the Dragonfly vineyard in the Columbia River Gorge east of Portland. This was alcoholic at first and a bit stinky, though fresh and oily rich on the palate. But night two the wine really shined. It smelled sweet like a light dessert wine and tasted viscous and rich, lacking only acidity as the grape does notoriously. This isn’t my first choice for the dinner table, but it’s interesting wine and worth trying if you looking for something off the beaten path.
Grochau Cellars Pinot Noir
Surfing the web the other day, I came across this piece on Grochau Cellars from last year on NPR’s business program Marketplace.
Grochau Cellars is one of many upstart wineries in the northern Willamette Valley. John Grochau is the man behind the curtain here, a former assistant at Brick House as well as sommelier at the terrific Portland restaurant Higgins. The winery isn’t paying the bills for John, yet. You can still find him working a few nights a week at the restaurant.
But it seems like only a matter of time before that goes away, based on what I’ve tried.
I first heard about John from my neighbors who’ve known him for years, back when they were bike mechanics well versed in tune ups and safety breaks.
The first Grochau wine I tried was a very small production “negociant” wine John bought in bulk and blended for a friend’s wedding. Some went to the wedding, some went to local stores simply labelled as “Red” for about $10. This Bordeaux-blend from eastern Washington wasn’t distinguished, but was pretty nice drinking for the price. Apparently John’s coming out with a larger production follow up soon.
But the main wine for Grochau Cellars so far is the Pinot Noir. At Higgins recently we ordered a bottle of the ’04 Willamette Valley Pinot Noir, and I have to say this is the most exciting Oregon Pinot Noir I’ve tried in a while. Deep but translucent in color, this has terrific fragrace – perfumed red and black cherries with subtle oak spice and a distinctive mineral note, very well integrated and pretty but wound so that time should only reveal more nuance.
In the mouth this wine is elegant but rich, flavory without heaviness, just the quality I look for in red wine. It’s not so complex as it is pretty, with light tannin and fresh acidity that should hold the wine together for years. The first bottle was emptied quickly, and a second ordered without hesitation. Had I been served this blind, I might have guessed this was from Evesham Wood, perhaps my favorite Oregon producer.
The best part? I think this retails for $24 or so, and it can be found for less. It’s $35 on the Higgins list, which is still quite a deal in top flight Oregon Pinot Noir. 2004 was a small harvest, and Grochau Cellars doesn’t make much wine. But I’ve seen past vintages at major retailers outside Oregon, so it is out there if you do some digging.
More soon after I set up a visit with this exciting new discovery.
Grochau Cellars is one of many upstart wineries in the northern Willamette Valley. John Grochau is the man behind the curtain here, a former assistant at Brick House as well as sommelier at the terrific Portland restaurant Higgins. The winery isn’t paying the bills for John, yet. You can still find him working a few nights a week at the restaurant.
But it seems like only a matter of time before that goes away, based on what I’ve tried.
I first heard about John from my neighbors who’ve known him for years, back when they were bike mechanics well versed in tune ups and safety breaks.
The first Grochau wine I tried was a very small production “negociant” wine John bought in bulk and blended for a friend’s wedding. Some went to the wedding, some went to local stores simply labelled as “Red” for about $10. This Bordeaux-blend from eastern Washington wasn’t distinguished, but was pretty nice drinking for the price. Apparently John’s coming out with a larger production follow up soon.
But the main wine for Grochau Cellars so far is the Pinot Noir. At Higgins recently we ordered a bottle of the ’04 Willamette Valley Pinot Noir, and I have to say this is the most exciting Oregon Pinot Noir I’ve tried in a while. Deep but translucent in color, this has terrific fragrace – perfumed red and black cherries with subtle oak spice and a distinctive mineral note, very well integrated and pretty but wound so that time should only reveal more nuance.
In the mouth this wine is elegant but rich, flavory without heaviness, just the quality I look for in red wine. It’s not so complex as it is pretty, with light tannin and fresh acidity that should hold the wine together for years. The first bottle was emptied quickly, and a second ordered without hesitation. Had I been served this blind, I might have guessed this was from Evesham Wood, perhaps my favorite Oregon producer.
The best part? I think this retails for $24 or so, and it can be found for less. It’s $35 on the Higgins list, which is still quite a deal in top flight Oregon Pinot Noir. 2004 was a small harvest, and Grochau Cellars doesn’t make much wine. But I’ve seen past vintages at major retailers outside Oregon, so it is out there if you do some digging.
More soon after I set up a visit with this exciting new discovery.
Stoller’s new LEED-certified winery
The scene – a gorgeous Oregon spring day, and I found myself touring the newly opened winery at Stoller Vineyards. The facility is solar powered with features and workspace that are embarassingly attractive.
Stoller is located on the southwestern most flank of the Dundee Hills. It’s a former turkey ranch with premium southern exposure, and a steeper upper slope than I previously realized. Along with the deep but low fertility Jory soils and volcanic basalt geology, this is certainly one of the most ideal sites in the northern Willamette Valley.
The Stollers are partners in Chelalem winery in Newberg, long the source of the most visible Stoller vineyard Pinot Noir in the market. But over the past few years, the Stollers have produced their own label, initially at Chelalem but now in this sparkling new facility just below the vineyard.
The crushpad and fermentation room are the ground and top floor of the foursquare facility. (If there’s any criticism to make, it would be about the fairly bland outward appearance. But that’s picking nits.) Inside there’s a line of stainless steel fermentors, 3- and 5-ton varieties, elevated between tracks that can hold equipment for crushing straight into the vats or doing mechanical punchdowns. Very nice on the shoulders and back.
There’s a middle level below the fermentation room where pressed wine can settle before moving to barrels below, and space for case wine storage. To bottom level is the cave, with multiple barrel storage rooms carved between the load bearing walls. That allows the red wine barrels to be kept cool while other space is warmed when necessary for white wine barrel fermentation. There’s no having to do it all in one open space like you find in many other facilities.
After the barrel rooms came the solar power set up. Apparently the facility captures enough sun-energy to power 40% of the winery at maximum usage. Most of the time they feed power back to the grid, so the facility uses substantially less commercial energy than it ordinarily would.
The office and lab space was impressive, as was the stylish – perhaps too much so – tasting room. In short, the facility looks like terrific place to produce wine. And winemaker Melissa Burr, formerly of Cooper Mountain, seems like the whole package.
How are the wines? Commercially very good. Not terribly distinctive, and not my favorite wines, but well make, fairly priced, and most certainly good drinking.
The ’04 Chardonnay is plump and toasty but not overdone and retaining some fresh acidity. The ’04 “JV” Pinot Noir is designed to drink young. It’s bright and fruity, almost candied, but pleasantly earthy with a touch of sulfur that should go away.
The main wine is the ’03 Pinot Noir, which is ripe but not as ripe as I would have guessed from such a warm vintage. Stoller vineyard is a warm site with a low elevation in the lowest blocks. But this ’03 was pretty attractive, with some alcohol and generic toastiness along with distinctive turned earth aromas mixing with the signature macerated cherries. Very attractive wine that won’t be hard to sell, despite the uninspiring label design.
All in all, the site is top notch, the facility is top notch, and the wines are safe but good in their way. What if this producer really broke out and produced something of more intensity without quite the heft? Is that possible in this warm-site vineyard? Time will tell as the producer grows into its new facility. But so far, so good.
Stoller is located on the southwestern most flank of the Dundee Hills. It’s a former turkey ranch with premium southern exposure, and a steeper upper slope than I previously realized. Along with the deep but low fertility Jory soils and volcanic basalt geology, this is certainly one of the most ideal sites in the northern Willamette Valley.
The Stollers are partners in Chelalem winery in Newberg, long the source of the most visible Stoller vineyard Pinot Noir in the market. But over the past few years, the Stollers have produced their own label, initially at Chelalem but now in this sparkling new facility just below the vineyard.
The crushpad and fermentation room are the ground and top floor of the foursquare facility. (If there’s any criticism to make, it would be about the fairly bland outward appearance. But that’s picking nits.) Inside there’s a line of stainless steel fermentors, 3- and 5-ton varieties, elevated between tracks that can hold equipment for crushing straight into the vats or doing mechanical punchdowns. Very nice on the shoulders and back.
There’s a middle level below the fermentation room where pressed wine can settle before moving to barrels below, and space for case wine storage. To bottom level is the cave, with multiple barrel storage rooms carved between the load bearing walls. That allows the red wine barrels to be kept cool while other space is warmed when necessary for white wine barrel fermentation. There’s no having to do it all in one open space like you find in many other facilities.
After the barrel rooms came the solar power set up. Apparently the facility captures enough sun-energy to power 40% of the winery at maximum usage. Most of the time they feed power back to the grid, so the facility uses substantially less commercial energy than it ordinarily would.
The office and lab space was impressive, as was the stylish – perhaps too much so – tasting room. In short, the facility looks like terrific place to produce wine. And winemaker Melissa Burr, formerly of Cooper Mountain, seems like the whole package.
How are the wines? Commercially very good. Not terribly distinctive, and not my favorite wines, but well make, fairly priced, and most certainly good drinking.
The ’04 Chardonnay is plump and toasty but not overdone and retaining some fresh acidity. The ’04 “JV” Pinot Noir is designed to drink young. It’s bright and fruity, almost candied, but pleasantly earthy with a touch of sulfur that should go away.
The main wine is the ’03 Pinot Noir, which is ripe but not as ripe as I would have guessed from such a warm vintage. Stoller vineyard is a warm site with a low elevation in the lowest blocks. But this ’03 was pretty attractive, with some alcohol and generic toastiness along with distinctive turned earth aromas mixing with the signature macerated cherries. Very attractive wine that won’t be hard to sell, despite the uninspiring label design.
All in all, the site is top notch, the facility is top notch, and the wines are safe but good in their way. What if this producer really broke out and produced something of more intensity without quite the heft? Is that possible in this warm-site vineyard? Time will tell as the producer grows into its new facility. But so far, so good.
April 30, 2006
Quick tasting at Bethel Heights
My parents are in town for the weekend, so we drove down the valley yesterday to check out the sites.
Leaving the freeway at Woodburn, we passed fields of hops, berries, and seed grasses on our way to the Wheatland Ferry. Crossing the Willamette River on a car ferry is like going back in time a little bit, giving you a few minutes to enjoy floating over the water.
Going west, the ferry leaves you right at the base of the Eola Hills. So we drove up Zena Road to Bethel Heights for a quick tasting before looping around the Red Hills on our way back to Portland.
What a line up at Bethel Heights. They were pouring just about everything they produce without any charge. Being the driver, I sampled just a few including a 2004 stainless steel fermented and aged Chardonnay that was varietal and fairly crisp with a pleasant flavor.
But what really impressed me was the 2001 Bethel Heights Freedom Hill Pinot Noir. Showing a bit of age in the color, this smelled earthy and meaty without uncleanliness and tasting elegant and long, with more intensity and interest than any of the 2001s I tried in a recent tasting. Not tannic and hard like the Freedom Hill reputation, this is drinking beautifully and seems like it will last for a while.
For $30 this isn't cheap, but if you like savory Pinot Noir instead of the jammy, fruit packed versions, definitely seek this out. You might even find it for less, as wineries retailers are still occasionally moving 2001s at close out prices.
Leaving the freeway at Woodburn, we passed fields of hops, berries, and seed grasses on our way to the Wheatland Ferry. Crossing the Willamette River on a car ferry is like going back in time a little bit, giving you a few minutes to enjoy floating over the water.
Going west, the ferry leaves you right at the base of the Eola Hills. So we drove up Zena Road to Bethel Heights for a quick tasting before looping around the Red Hills on our way back to Portland.
What a line up at Bethel Heights. They were pouring just about everything they produce without any charge. Being the driver, I sampled just a few including a 2004 stainless steel fermented and aged Chardonnay that was varietal and fairly crisp with a pleasant flavor.
But what really impressed me was the 2001 Bethel Heights Freedom Hill Pinot Noir. Showing a bit of age in the color, this smelled earthy and meaty without uncleanliness and tasting elegant and long, with more intensity and interest than any of the 2001s I tried in a recent tasting. Not tannic and hard like the Freedom Hill reputation, this is drinking beautifully and seems like it will last for a while.
For $30 this isn't cheap, but if you like savory Pinot Noir instead of the jammy, fruit packed versions, definitely seek this out. You might even find it for less, as wineries retailers are still occasionally moving 2001s at close out prices.
Reading Peynaud
I just finished reading Emile Peynaud’s classic book, Knowing and Making Wine. If you’re seriously interested in making wine, it’s simply a must read.
This book was written more than 20 years ago, so naturally some of the information is dated. But much is still current and, knowing the influence this book has had on winemakers all over the world, it’s not surprising how common many of Peynaud’s techniques are in modern cellars.
Before reading this book, I had the idea that Peynaud was a modernist in terms of wine philosophy. You know, better wine through science. And that’s true, the book goes into great detail about scientific advances in all aspects of wine production. Peynaud clearly believed in the ability of science to assist quality wine production. He refers to it as “knowing” the wine more fully.
But what strikes me most about the book is Peynaud’s philosophy of discretion throughout the process of quality wine production. He conveys the notion that you should do no more than is absolutely necessary to produce the highest quality wine possible. That’s hard to argue with.
One example – “The Age-Old Practice of Using a Starter Culture” section on page 104. Here Peynaud talks about beginning the harvest by starting a small fermentation “with or without yeasts added” and using that to innoculate the others as grapes are harvested and processed on the crush pad.
Of course, on the following page he describes “Modern Innocuation Techniques.” But it’s up to you to decide what to do. Peynaud simply gives you the information to make your decision. He’s the messenger of science-based wine making techniques, not necessarily advocating for their use in making laboratory “Frankenwine.”
The other most fascinating thing in this book is Peynaud’s practical, even obsessive, tips about cellar organization and efficiency. He writes about what shape of fermentation tank is best, which to avoid, how to arrange your cellar, how to process the grapes…essentially everything you need to know to make high quality wine on a small scale, or industrial quality wine on a massive scale.
It’s a tremendously helpful read for any winemaker, professional or amateur. And it’s surprisingly readable despite the sometimes stiff translation from the French. Even serious winelovers would do well to give this a go, if they desire a comprehensive yet concise view of how wine is produced.
This book was written more than 20 years ago, so naturally some of the information is dated. But much is still current and, knowing the influence this book has had on winemakers all over the world, it’s not surprising how common many of Peynaud’s techniques are in modern cellars.
Before reading this book, I had the idea that Peynaud was a modernist in terms of wine philosophy. You know, better wine through science. And that’s true, the book goes into great detail about scientific advances in all aspects of wine production. Peynaud clearly believed in the ability of science to assist quality wine production. He refers to it as “knowing” the wine more fully.
But what strikes me most about the book is Peynaud’s philosophy of discretion throughout the process of quality wine production. He conveys the notion that you should do no more than is absolutely necessary to produce the highest quality wine possible. That’s hard to argue with.
One example – “The Age-Old Practice of Using a Starter Culture” section on page 104. Here Peynaud talks about beginning the harvest by starting a small fermentation “with or without yeasts added” and using that to innoculate the others as grapes are harvested and processed on the crush pad.
Of course, on the following page he describes “Modern Innocuation Techniques.” But it’s up to you to decide what to do. Peynaud simply gives you the information to make your decision. He’s the messenger of science-based wine making techniques, not necessarily advocating for their use in making laboratory “Frankenwine.”
The other most fascinating thing in this book is Peynaud’s practical, even obsessive, tips about cellar organization and efficiency. He writes about what shape of fermentation tank is best, which to avoid, how to arrange your cellar, how to process the grapes…essentially everything you need to know to make high quality wine on a small scale, or industrial quality wine on a massive scale.
It’s a tremendously helpful read for any winemaker, professional or amateur. And it’s surprisingly readable despite the sometimes stiff translation from the French. Even serious winelovers would do well to give this a go, if they desire a comprehensive yet concise view of how wine is produced.
April 20, 2006
Tasting 2001 Oregon Pinot Noir
My tasting group met recently to go through a number of 2001 Oregon Pinot Noir. It was a bittersweet affair, with our instigator Chris leaving to be a vigneron in his native Missouri.
The wines were interesting if not thrilling, as is the case with too much Oregon wine. But it’s always a good time with this group and tonight was no exception.
As usual, the wines were tasted blind, which I find a curious practice but on these occasions worthwhile.
We began with the 2001 Privé Le Nord, showing an evolved color with unpleasantly buttery caramel and toast aromas. Silky and round on the palate but it seems to be coming apart at the seams a bit. I heard this won big praise on release but it’s not pretty now. Drink up.
Next was the 2001 Witness Tree Vintage Select, with a fresher cherry floral aroma and a silky round, even mineral flavor amid some candied fruit. Good but would have been terrific without the confectionary notes.
Then the 2001 Maysara Estate Cuvee, from own-rooted Pommard vines. Fresher still, with cherry and smoked sausage aromas and some volatility. In the mouth, fine grape tannin and ripe cola and cherry flavors, not bad.
A surprise was the 2001 Bergstrom Willamette Valley, the basic bottling that has never shown to me like some of the heavier examples from this producer. Instead, this was vinuous with meaty floral notes and purple aromas, probably some brett too. Tangy cherry flavors, monotone but balanced and nice, maybe even worth holding.
I somehow figured out this was 2001 Holloran Le Pavillon, as it showed what this vineyard seems to show to me. That’s classic loamy Red Hills cherry fruit aromas with some dust, darker this time but somehow typical of its site. Silky but chunky on the palate with some alcohol sticking out, not so long and lacking complexity. Good enough really, but not special.
Finally the 2001 Patrice Rion Savigny Les Beaune thrown in for fun. Obviously French, but tart and lacking depth or complexity, even a little sour. Just not what I go for in any wine, but sadly too common in Burgundy. It seems all wine regions have their work cut out for them.
The wines were interesting if not thrilling, as is the case with too much Oregon wine. But it’s always a good time with this group and tonight was no exception.
As usual, the wines were tasted blind, which I find a curious practice but on these occasions worthwhile.
We began with the 2001 Privé Le Nord, showing an evolved color with unpleasantly buttery caramel and toast aromas. Silky and round on the palate but it seems to be coming apart at the seams a bit. I heard this won big praise on release but it’s not pretty now. Drink up.
Next was the 2001 Witness Tree Vintage Select, with a fresher cherry floral aroma and a silky round, even mineral flavor amid some candied fruit. Good but would have been terrific without the confectionary notes.
Then the 2001 Maysara Estate Cuvee, from own-rooted Pommard vines. Fresher still, with cherry and smoked sausage aromas and some volatility. In the mouth, fine grape tannin and ripe cola and cherry flavors, not bad.
A surprise was the 2001 Bergstrom Willamette Valley, the basic bottling that has never shown to me like some of the heavier examples from this producer. Instead, this was vinuous with meaty floral notes and purple aromas, probably some brett too. Tangy cherry flavors, monotone but balanced and nice, maybe even worth holding.
I somehow figured out this was 2001 Holloran Le Pavillon, as it showed what this vineyard seems to show to me. That’s classic loamy Red Hills cherry fruit aromas with some dust, darker this time but somehow typical of its site. Silky but chunky on the palate with some alcohol sticking out, not so long and lacking complexity. Good enough really, but not special.
Finally the 2001 Patrice Rion Savigny Les Beaune thrown in for fun. Obviously French, but tart and lacking depth or complexity, even a little sour. Just not what I go for in any wine, but sadly too common in Burgundy. It seems all wine regions have their work cut out for them.
April 17, 2006
Real Wine by Patrick Mathews
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.
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 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.
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