Oltrepo Pavese

Just a quick Sunday night post to say how much enjoyed my first taste ever of Oltrepo Pavese. Specifically, the 2006 Bruno Verdi Sangua di Guida Paradiso. It's a lightly fizzy, deeply colored red wine with 7% alcohol and a flavor profile not unlike barbera. Dark berry fruit, bitter chocolate, and just a beautiful, savory flavor that balanced the light sweetness perfectly. I could drink a lot of this. Highly recommended.

Marchand-Grillot Morey St. Denis

As a wine loving parent, weekends are nice because you get a little extra time to enjoy and appreciate wine before, during, and maybe after a nice meal.

Tonight I broiled up a T-bone and opened a 2001 Domaine Marchand-Grillot Morey St. Denis, which I've had in the queue for more than a year. I'm on a Burgundy kick, and even though a nice steak usually requires some Bordeaux or domestic cabernet, I just couldn't help myself.

I'd never tasted anything from this producer, and opening a bottle of unknown wine is always a mystery. For some reason, I thought maybe this wine would stand up to a big cut of beef. It didn't, and as soon as I sniffed and tasted it I wondered what I had been thinking. Nevertheless, I'm home with my family, warm and healthy with a nice dinner in front of me. This was a great night.

Sometimes people refer to nebbiolo wines as the "Burgundy" of Italy's Piedmont regon. With that in mind, this wine provided the exact mirror of that experience. Fragrant, floral, even a little tarry on the aroma with a nice hint of maturity. Blind I might have guessed nebbiolo just from the delicate perfume.

In the mouth, more of the same. Bright, light red fruit flavors with juicy acidity and ripe but persistent tannin. The more I drank this wine, the more I imagined it as a nice Langhe nebbiolo, and the more I appreciated what it offered. Who says Burgundy can't be enjoyable with tannin.

Did this wine stand up to the steak? Ha. No. The wine seemed limp with my dinner, denatured by the raw flavors of beef, broccoli, and rice pilaf. The I honestly appreciated the wine more on its own, despite the tannic profile and light body that isn't the typical description of nice sipping wine.

This smelled like Burgundy, as nebbiolo sometimes smells like Burgundy. It drank a bit stern, but there's something to respect in its unflinching personality. I wouldn't necessarily seek this wine out again, yet I enjoyed what it offered. That, I suppose, is a pleasant mystery of wine.

Guigal on Graperadio and more

I've been meaning to post on this for months, perhaps even years.

Do you listen to GrapeRadio? Almost every time I listen to a show I think, I should tell the world about this excellent resource for wine geeks.

The latest show I've listened to, about Guigal from a seminar at last year's Hospice du Rhone led by Phillippe Guigal, is again terrific and well worth a listen. Guigal may be a larger company in the northern Rhone and, aside from the highest end, the wines may seem ubiquitous. But listening to John Alban in the introduction talk about what this session means to him, you can't help but get sucked in.

It doesn't hurt to hear about the Vignes de l'Hospice from St. Joseph that Guigal purchased a few years back from J.L. Grippat. I just picked up some older Grippat for cheap and am very excited to try the wine. I'll have to get a taste of Guigal's version to compare.

I love many things about GrapeRadio. First, even shows featuring producers I don't think I'll be interested in are interesting. Opus One anyone? Brian Clark aside (he's the weak link, sorry), this was fascinating. Paloma? Barbara was amazing to listen to. I don't buy much Champagne, but after listening to shows about various producers, I'm looking to change my ways.

Then there are episodes like this one with Guigal from some of the best wine conference events anywhere. From Hospice du Rhone and IPNC to Pinot Days to the World of Pinot Noir, it's wonderful to hear seminars almost as if you were at the event.

So...what are those especially great episodes that I've meant to write about? Here's a list with links:

Guigal - Phillippe gives great information about all the wines of this benchmark Rhone producer.

Vietti - Excellent interview with the super passionette Luca Currado

Thomas Jefferson and Wine - This history-focused episode is amazing if you're interested in wine trends from the 18th century

Jancis Robinson - Who doesn't love Jancis? Well, some people apparently, but they're idiots.

Masi - I learned about how Amarone is really made. I didn't realize how much I didn't know.

Scott Paul Wines - I knew about his LA rock radio alter ego Shadow Stevens, but here's the whole story.

Frederic Magnien - I'm Burgundy and Pinot biased, but so seems GrapeRadio. Fine with me.

Listen online, but I download shows to my MP3 player and listen in the car or when I walk. Nice work, GrapeRadio. Keep it up.

Chateauneuf du Pape dinner

Last Saturday I attended a Chateauneuf du Pape themed dinner. The wines were almost uniformly excellent, reaffirming my love for the grandfather of southern Rhone valley wines. While I'm more of a Cotes du Rhone level drinker, and I do love the various villages of the southern Rhone including Gigondas, Vacqueyras, and Lirac, there's no denying the supremacy of Chateauneuf. Being frugal, I sometimes forget this truth. Not after this night.

We started with a delicious 2006 Vieux Donjon Blanc, an equal blend of clairette, roussane, and grenache blanc. White Chateauneuf has the reputation in some quarters for being too rich and alcoholic, lacking nerve or grace. This lightly honied and floral wine shows the rousanne, but it's wonderfully fresh and lively in the mouth. Very nice wine.

Then on to several reds that showed the range of wine styles in this relatively large appellation. First, the 1993 Domaine de la Janasse regular bottling, from a lesser vintage that shouldn't be overlooked. This wine was Burgundian in profile, all perfume and seamless texture. Floral and bottle sweet aromas with pretty fruit, then a lovely medium bodied, peppery, resolved flavors that I simply loved. One person said it was his favorite of the night.

Next came the 1989 Guigal, which I'd had before in its youth. Never a great wine, this was surprisingly alive though fully mature. Bricking in color, with a meaty, ash and warm stone aroma, then a broad, bottle sweet, cherry, and old wood flavor, some iodine too. I preferred this with food, but it's ok on it's own. Some tasters really didn't like this one, but perhaps they wanted something fresher and more fruity.

The goal for this dinner was Chateauneuf from the '80s and '90s, but from here we had only wines from '98 or younger. Next came the 1999 Banneret, a producer I'd never heard of previously. Strong, monolithic new oak aromas here, with a rich, peppery, black cherry flavor. Finely tannic and nicer tasting than it smelled. Seemed better with some time, then turned oaky and rough again. This was one of my least favorites, though some people loved this wine. It's simply a matter of taste.

Then the 1998 Clos du Mont Olivet that was corked. My notes suggest this has been a problem with this bottling, though the good bottles have been quite nice. I brought this and wished I had a back up.

The 1998 Jaboulet Les Cedres was a pleasant, medium bodied wine, pretty but nondescript. This one set up the more rich and complex wines to follow.

I really liked the 1999 Domaine de la Cote de l'Ange Vieilles Vignes, a producer I'm not sure others at the table knew much of. This wine is still quite young, with a strong stony, peppery, and red stone fruit aromas, with some leather and also a little EA (nail polish) at first. In the mouth it was firm and yong, with cherry flavors, leather, fine tannin, and nice integration. Needs time though. I was surprised when others thought this was more ready to go. I have more of this, but wish I had lots more.

Then my favorite wine of the night, the 1999 Bois de Boursan Cuvee Felix. This was dark fruited and ashy, with complex earthy and floral notes, and a little new oak that distracted. Still, this is very nice wine. Tannic and young in the mouth, with dark fruit and some oak but great length and the structure to age nicely for years. Very tasty wine.

Then came the 1999 Chateau Beaucastel, showing its mouvedre component to me in a primary, hard raspberry aroma and flavor that seemed a little like young Bandol. Something notable here -- no horsey, farmy brett character. This was clean, but sealed tight. It needs lots of time, but it tasted good with rabbit ragu parpardelle and later the duck confit.

Next came the 2000 Pegau Cuvee Reserve, which smelled surprisingly open and mature, with a broad aroma of berries, earth, and spice. Full bodied in the mouth, the flavors were broad as well with floral notes and lively fruit. This seems more ready to go than, by comparison, the l'Ange, but others tonight saw more potential in this wine.

One diner brought a half bottle of a controversial wine for everyone to sample, the 2003 Clos du Papes. From the freakishly hot 2003 vintage, this wine has provoked strong reaction among critics professional and amateur. Some call it nearly perfect, others perfectly awful. Tonight the consensus was...it's pretty good stuff, not oh my god great, but hardly the stewed, overripe mess some people report. First, it was bright ruby colored. Certainly it's not over extracted. Then there's the strong, pure aroma that's appropriately mineral and red fruited, but also pretty alcoholic. In the mouth, it's tannic and hugely flavorful, with cherry, stone, and spice notes that are delicious and impressive. But, yes, it's hot. There's no shortage of alcohol here. Still, great Chateauneuf isn't light wine, and while the components here are a bit extreme, this still tastes like Chateauneuf. Others might disagree, but I'll be pouring more while they complain.

Finally the 2006 Clos du Caillou Les Quartz, a super-premium-luxury-etc. bottling that's interesting to taste, but definitely not something I'm looking for in Chateauneuf. Fresh and sweetly fruited, with intense but monolithic aromas. Perhaps it needs time, but this reminds me a lot of the recent Les Quartz Cotes du Rhone bottling for significantly less money. In the mouth it's all powdered sugar and jelly doughnut filling, with alcohol and otherwise a monolithic but over the top personality. What to make of such a wine?

For dessert, one diner suggested some Sherry. So we ordered the 1979 Albala Don PX Gran Reserva. It's the color of old motor oil, thick and opaque, with a lovely sweet floral aroma that reminds me of some old Rutherglen muscat from Australia. Treacle flavors, intense and reduced with a bright floral streak. I really liked this, but you don't need too much.

With that, the meal was done. Yes, we did take a cab home. That's a lot of Chateauneuf.

Delicious pinot gris

Here in Oregon, pinot gris has a terrible reputation. Yes, many producers make it. And yes, it's our top selling white wine.

But almost no one I know in the business likes it. There's a general disdain for pinot gris. It's bland. It's alcoholic. It's a pain to deal with at harvest time, like any white wine since the grapes are pressed before fermentation meaning they're sweet, tough to get juice out of, and they attract lots of bees.

Really, it's the wine that draws such exasperation. There's good reason, too. So often, local pinot gris IS bland, alcoholic, and otherwise completely forgettable.

Then there's Alsatian pinot gris, or Tokay Pinot Gris as some labels still read. (There's no connection to the wonderful Tokay wines of Hungary, and I thought there were new rules meant to get rid of this old labeling practice.)

Case in point, the 2004 Meyer-Fonne Tokay Pinot Gris Reserve Particuliere. Moderate yellow in color, it's immediately different from the usually watery pale pinot gris you typically find in Oregon.

One sniff and the difference magnifies. There's honey, minerals, yellow fruit, floral notes, and a distinct lack of alcoholic harshness, rather a spiciness that reminds me of being a kid and my grandma's candy jar that always had these delicious looking jelly candies that weren't nearly as sweet or tasty as I hoped.

Sure enough, in the mouth this is a lightly sweet wine but with nice acid cut that balances the residual sugar. Clean and lightly honeyed on the finish, even a little smokey, this wine is delicious and everything I wish local pinot gris could be. Not sweet for the sake of roundness and lower alcohol, but sweet and tangy with great complexity and interest that isn't cloying, tiring to drink, or problematic at the dinner table.

My only complaint -- you don't really know what you're getting with this wine if you only go by the label. It's not clear about sweetness level, or anything really. It's a "particular reserve" wine that suggests it should be good. But what does that mean? Nothing to me anyway, and I'm not up on Alsatian wines enough to know if it's a regulated designation. Maybe consult Thor Iverson for more on such things. Meanwhile, here's pinot gris that you should buy and enjoy.

Gratuitous tasting

Last weekend I went by a local wine shop for what was billed as a typical free tasting of a few white wines. Nothing fancy, nothing to write home about, but fine. Then things got a little out of control, in a good way.

How about the 2005 Schloss Gobelsburg Gruner Veltliner Kammerner Lamm? Rich and nervy at once, lovely green pea and white pepper flavor with terrific length. This is seriously good gruner. Then 2005 Domaine de la Grange des Pere Blanc, from importer Kermit Lynch. This is mostly roussane from the Languedoc region of France, with some marsanne and a bit of chardonnay. This is holy cow good. Duvel ale yellow color, with a deep aroma of honey, wax, flowers, lemons, marmalade, yet totally dry and fresh in the mouth, terribly long and delicious. Ridiculously good wine.

Then to the 2006 Domaine Tempier Bandol La Tourtine. Tempier has changed since the arrival of winemaker Daniel Ravier earlier this decade. The wines are darker in color, noticeably more rich, even showing their alcohol a bit. I still love them, but they're not what they were. This bottle reminds me of the '06 Cabassou, taut and mineral despite its ripeness, with lots of cellar potential. It's mourvedre from Bandol, after all. Few wines are as durable. No matter the changes here in the cellar, I'm betting this wine and its siblings reveal more with time.

We also tried the 2006 Gama Sutra from Olivier Lemasson in the Loire valley, all old vine gamay. Perhaps it was the company, but I didn't love this. Try something like this with lots of food. Definintely not a tasting wine.

So we tried the 2006 Crowley Pinot Noir Entre Nous, from the former Cameron assistant Tyson Crowley. Tyson's barrel aging his wines for a year and a half, bucking the local trend to bottle one vintage just prior to the next. The goal isn't oaky flavors, but more earth and secondary notes in the wine instead of just all fresh fruit. The result here is nice, with the ripeness of the vintage in check, the flavors meaty and earthy but not unclean in any way. I bought two.

But we were not done. The coup de gras was a 2000 Tokaji 6 Puttonyos, of course I forget the producer [edit - it was 2000 Grof Degenfeld Tokaji Aszu 6 Puttonyos], that was tremendous. Honey colored, figgy with botrytis and subtle petrol notes, so fresh and interesting, like a blend of Sauternes and German riesling. In the mouth it was so rich and yet precise, with a flavor that just went on and on. One of the top dessert wines I've ever tried, capping one of the most interesting wine tastings I can remember. Wow.

Nice Rhone QPR

I have a coworker who occasionally asks me for cheap, good wine recommendations. The Les Heritiques wine has been a hit, and I've recommended other things. But something I'll have to mention is the 2007 Chaussynette Vin de Table Francais, from Chateauneuf du Pape producer Mas de Boislauzon. It's essentially like a good modern styled Cotes du Rhone, a syrah/grenache blend that might have other things in there, but I can't really tell.

I found this wine for $5 on closeout at a local favorite market. Usually its $8 to $10, still a bargain for the quality. This isn't fine wine, but it stikes me as something you'd easily pay double for if it were from the U.S. It's dark colored, ripe smelling with a little stinkiness that decanting took care of. It's not complex but ripe and savory at once, with a full flavor, juicy acidity, and ripe tannin. A more old school southern Rhone wine would be more cherry flavored and less sweetly fruited, but this is still delicious, darker fruit flavored and less refreshing than other wines, but still perfectly nice and good value. Check it out.

More three dot wine...

Lots going on my wine life these days, not the least of which are my evolving plans to make some commercial wine starting this fall. Anybody got a bunch of cash to help me fund that project?... Meanwhile I enjoyed a really nice meal the other night at Carafe in Portland with an old friend. We talked a lot about growing grapes and making wine, and with an excellent and well priced 3-course meal we drank the 2005 Camus-Bruchon Savigny Les Beaune Grand Liards Vieilles Vignes, a village red burgundy that was incredibly good. Smelled like 2005, very ripe but still focused. Then in the mouth it was so balanced. Rich yet mineral and taut. At first the wine seemed good, then it just kept getting better. Wow, highly recommended. Are all Camus-Bruchon wines this good?...

In the "I'm not supposed to like it, but I do" camp, see the 1999 Aldo Conterno Quartetto Langhe. That's a barrique-aged of, I believe, equal parts nebbiolo, barbera, cabernet sauvignon, and merlot (!). Sounds about as traditional as a Marshall amp stack at the symphony... But it works, at least for me. What an interesting wine, with obvious oak aromas but plenty of truffle, cherry, cassis, and spice integrated so nicely... In the mouth it's soft textured but plenty acidic and fresh at the same time, with fine tannin and that worsted texture that you can't fake in a wine. Traditionalists would hate it, but I'm fairly traditional in my wine tastes. This is good...

Then the other day I had the opportunity to barrel taste some 2008 pinot noir at a well known local winery, an experience that reawakened my thoughts about the harvest that just passed... This winery isn't usually a favorite of mine, but that's beside the point. Instead, I was struck by how different the wines showed, when the producer is usually at the head of the list of places where "everything tastes the same"... I've already heard suggestions that, "just wait, they'll all end up the same." I'm not so sure this year... Despite their distinctiveness, the wines all showed so much of the 2008 vintage character as I'm coming to know it. The Oregon red wines in 2008 should be really exciting, if they can shed their monolithic character. I suspect those who can barrel age their wines longer will see more evolution from the primary, simple fruit. I think that's always true with many of the best wines, but this year has an unusual mixture of color, ripeness, and structure. It might really take extra time to see what gives... Stay tuned...

Finally, I met Maggie Harrison in passing the other day. She's the brains of the Lillian and Antica Terra wineries, and her wines are in high demand, even if James Suckling of Wine Spectator recently broke from the pack and wrote a negative review of a syrah she produced... You can't win them all, and Maggie said as much... But I was completely struck by the encounter. This kind of stuff is thrown around far too much, but I mean it. Have I ever met such a disarmingly charming person?... I still don't know what to make of it, but what an interesting individual. I'm intrigued to try more of her wines when I get the chance...

Aged Beaujolais

It's been a few years since I opened my last bottle of 2002 Domaine Diochon Moulin a Vent, from the most ageworthy cru Beaujolais locale.

In the past this wine has been tasty, but hard if not a bit stern, as I find is typical of this producer. So often the Diochon wines seem to need a few more years than I end up giving them. I thought I experiement and leave my only remaining bottle until now, even if the conventional wisdom is that you don't age Beaujolais.

I'm guessing most readers of this obscure blog probably already know it's true, but you can definitely age Beaujolais. Don't believe anyone who says otherwise. Sure, age is relative. At six plus years old, I call this aged wine. For most red Bordeaux, that wouldn't be much time. But this wine is beautifully mature, just what you want from a cellared wine with its delicious mix of freshness and age.

The color is all ruby, but definitely lacking the brightness of youth. The aroma is simply gorgeous, all nuance. Cherry pits and raspberry hints, with stones and clean earthy notes, then musky floral notes, all fresh and clean but nicely integrated in a way that only time in the cellar brings.

The flavors are bright and fresh, and mature all at once with fine tannin that just begs for a meal. All together, I can only think of one word -- toothsome. What does that really mean, anyway? The dictionary says "of palatable flavor and pleasing texture." Exactly. I'll add that the acidity is fresh, bright, and juicy, cleansing the palate and begging you to pour another glass. The wine literally makes you lick your teeth and inhale.

Try it. And don't be afraid to leave your Beaujolais a few years. For example, those 2005s are babies, perhaps the most ageworthy reds from Beaujolais that I recall tasting young. I've had wines that should last 10 years or more, improving, getting smoother and more nuanced along the way. And if you find any well stored 2002s from producers like Diochon, give them a try.

Bouchard Aine

I wrote last year of my classic mistaking one Bouchard producer in Burgundy for another. The real problem was that the wine wasn't very good.

Here in the US, there two Mondavis, a couple Stag's Leaps (yes, one is Stags' Leap, note the apostrophe). Try to sort of the various "Ridge" producers like Ridge, Greenwood Ridge, the erstwhile Napa Ridge, and so many others. I suppose it's easier if English is your native tongue.

I blame the French. How am I supposed to keep Bouchard Per et Fils and Bouchard Aine separated in my mind? Before the linear thinkers send me scathing "take responsibility for your actions, you freeloading social misfit," yes, tongue is in cheek.

So here's my last bottle of 2001 Bouchard AINE Nuits St. Georges 1er Cru Les Chabeoufs, from a not so priveledged vineyard amid high dollar vineyard real estate. Wouldn't you know it? It's the best of the lot, by far.

Dark translucent ruby robe (ok, I love the French). Then a gently oaky aroma with a complex mix of raspberries, spice, and earthy notes that quietly but firmly say pinot noir and Burgundy. This is a nice blend of new world freshness and old world (clean) earth. There's even a little bottle sweetness from age, that brown sugar note that aged wine picks up over time. It's best when the wine still has good freshness, and this has it all.

Sure, the palate is not overly generous. There's very bright acidity and some rough tannin that make this food wine, not for sipping unless you like structure. But it has a lovely earthy, red fruit flavor with nicely knit oak tones that a meal helps balance for maximum enjoyment. There's truth in the experience that wine improves with food.

This is Nuit St. Georges wine. Not the best, but true to what I know of this masculine, slightly sauvage terroir. I only wish the other bottles I had were this interesting. Live and learn. I made a mistake, paid for it. This I suppose was the payoff.

1997 McKinlay Pinot Noir Special Selection

I finally got around to opening a bottle of 1997 McKinlay Pinot Noir Special Selection after having it for several months. Sometimes it's harder then you might think to sample a particular wine. It just sits there, almost looking at you, and you wonder if it's going to be any good.

1997 was the last truly difficult vintage here in the Willamette Valley of Oregon, until 2007. Both years saw significant rain during harvest, and in the case of 1997, the wines were simply tannic and tough.

I never tried any of the McKinlay bottlings from 1997 in their youth, but I'd heard they were some of the more successful wines of the vintage. My wife and I were married in 1997, so I like to find different things from that year to try. When I saw some of this, from a vineyard on Parrett Mountain near Newberg, I went for it.

So tonight it's open and, while it's far from great wine, I'm really enjoying it. The color is a bit ruddy ruby, showing some age without any orange or overt browning. The aroma is the highlight, really nice with lots of aged character, bottle sweet notes of strawberry, woodsy forest floor, black tea, nuts and spice. I could smell a wine like this all night.

Then the flavors and texture betray the vintage. There's a little dilution and a bit of rough tannin, mostly resolved but showing in this otherwise delicate wine. There isn't great length and the acid is a bit sharp. The wine is near the end of its life.

Yet it's so pure, clean but earthy without any make up. No barrel char. No overextraction. No pillowy or overly polished texture. Just lovely, honest, authentic Oregon red wine that does show more than a little resemblance in body and structure to decent, but also authentic, Burgundy. Very nice showing.

Los Angeles

I've been visiting Los Angeles for the holidays there's been more wine-related goings on than usual. Most of it surrounds the release of my own wine, noncommercially of course. But lots of people want to try it, so it seems we're opening a bottle of it each day.

On our first night here, my parents opened a bottle of my 2006 Pinot Noir and it tasted pretty good, if a little oaky. The other day, my dad and I had lunch with an acquaintance of his who's in the wine business. Then, the wine seemed very fruity -- cherries -- but a little simple and tart in the mouth. Then more bottles for Christmas Eve at my sister's in-laws, then Christmas dinner here at Fritzsche central. Everyone seems to like the wine, some more vocally than others. It's always an adventure in nerves opening a bottle and I suppose that won't ever end.

Meanwhile, I've had the chance a bunch of other wines. A few nights ago, my brother brought the 2007 Seghesio Zinfandel Dry Creek Valley, with the blue capsule. He was excited that it got a 93 point rating from Wine Spectator magazine and was number 10 on its recent 100 most exciting wines of the year list. Of course, this 2007 didn't taste as good to me as prior bottlings, the bright fruit and spice replaced by darker, sweeter, and noticeably oaky aromas and flavors. Where's the zip and zing?

Then a family friend brought over a bottle of the 2001 Rosenthal Cabernet Sauvignon, grown in nearby Malibu Canyon. I've tried a few of these wines from the early '90s back when they were released, and I simply wasn't impressed. This 2001 isn't great wine, but it's certainly interesting and I found it pretty tasty. The wine is older looking than its years as I recalled the earlier examples. It smelled a bit like merlot-dominated Bordeaux, with smokey oak integrated nicely with berries and roasted red peppers, sweet and pleasantly herbal and savory at the same time. Clearly this is from grapes grown in, if not a warm climate, a place where night time temperatures don't get very low. The structure is very soft, and I wouldn't think of holding this wine too long. Still, it's an interesting drink.

We had the 2006 l'Hiver Syrah from Copain here in California. Alice Feiring mentioned Copain as a California producer of her sense of natural wine, meaning no yeasts, no ML bacteria, not much if any new oak, etc. This bargain bottling was terrific, indeed northern Rhone like as I've since read and void of any oak flavors. There is a smokey element that may be soil or some volatility in the wine. But it was honest, flavory, and juicy syrah for a few bucks less than a twenty. That's a pretty good deal in good California wine.

With Christmas dinner we tried a few other things, including a soft but pure 2005 Nigl Gruner Veltliner Freiheit. Very gruner, with citrus and green pea notes, even a little white pepper if you smell enough. There's also NV Korbel Brut, which again isn't bad at all. Yeasty, citrus, otherwise neutral tasting but not bad at all. Then a 2006 Torbreck Woodcutter's Shiraz, which seemed a little bretty but otherwise fine in a warm climate, not wooded syrah kind of way. May a little rubbery, but maybe we can blame the screw cap for that reduction. Everyone else is.

Tonight, we'll open another of my bottles, with maybe another Oregon Pinot and perhaps an oddball I picked up at Wine Expo in Santa Monica, the 1998 Balgera Valtellina Grumello, a nebbiolo from Lombardy in Italy that is surely dry, tannic, and requiring better glasses than we have to capture the aroma. I just can't resist these kinds of wines, even if I'm sure no one else will like it. We'll see.

2003 Produttori di Barbaresco Normale on a cold winter night

It's around 17F outside in Portland, with strong winds, several inches of snow on the ground and drifts well up to my knee. After sledding down the neighbor's driveway with the kids, it's time for a fire, some lasagne, and my first bottle of the 2003 Produttori di Barbaresco.

It's fitting on such a cold night to uncork a dose of bottled sunshine. 2003 of course was the record hot year in Europe, and here in Oregon too as it happens. The wines in so many areas are freaks, in some cases very, very good, by in many cases just too darn roasted, alcoholic, or otherwise distorted from what makes any particular appellation special.

For my tastes, the most successful 2003s are in regions that may not always see the ripest fruit, or grow grapes that tolerate excessive heat a bit better than others. For example, I love Loire cabernet franc in most vintages for their perfume and delicacy. But I find myself loving some wines from the hottest years, such as Joguet's Chinon from 2003, despite their unusal profiles. Same with some northern Rhone whites from '03, like Jaboulet's Crozes Hermitage Mule Blanche white wine that's rich and oily like a dry dessert wine. Maybe they're not typcial, but I've enjoyed them immensely. Am I a hedonist?

So it was in Piedmont in NW Italy. For the reknown co-op Produttori di Barbaresco, which usually produces a "normale" tan label Barbaresco and then several while label single vineyard bottlings from grapes grown by its several members, 2003 was a year where no single vineyard "riservas" were produced. The normale is the one Barbaresco bottling for the year, and it's dandy, as I'd heard from several sources. It's still available locally, and I imagine elsewhere too. I suggest you try it if the following sounds good to you.

The wine is medium ruby colored, with a classic perfume of the nebbiolo grape. Dried roses, tar, red fruits, leather, and the tell-tale sign of the year's heat -- a bit of raisin. To me, it's a very pleasant nuance of the wine. Tasting this blind, I might guess it's a really nice Valtellina from further north in the Piedmont that tastes like a really good Barbaresco. Valtellina is known for producing wines of nebbiolo in the style of Amarone, where the grapes are dried after harvest and only then made into a table wine that's exceedingly rich and powerful.

The flavors follow the aroma, with lots of ripe tannin that nebbiolo's known for along with ripe cherries, leather, tar, and slightly withered fruit. That's saying it's a little raisiny without, hopefully, the negative connotation of overripe fruit. Instead, it has the extra richness and depth that a more fancy wine might provide, without the price certainly or perhaps the typicity that makes the best single-vineyard bottlings so special. I can see why the co-op made only the normale in this year, but it's a decision that wine buyers and drinkers should take advantage of.

Don't be fooled - this is nebbiolo from the Piedmont. Perhaps it's not the most nervy or elegant of Barbaresco, but this has plenty of elegance and nerve. I think only the geekiest of us would find something wrong with this wine. For most of us, this is terrific Piedmontese red wine that's available for just over $20 if you buy right locally (think six-pack or case discount). Note that there's no new oak marring this wine, or any of the Produttori wines in my experience. What you taste is pure Piedmont.

The aromatic and flavor depth, plus the tannin and acid structure, tell me this wine should last 15 to 20 years. But it's delicious now too. How can you go wrong? I'm looking for a few more, once the roads clear at least.

Estezargues wine co-op

Have you heard of the Estezargues wine co-op outside of Villeneuve-Les-Avignon in the southern Rhone valley of France?

I had, but never really paid attention to it. But I was familiar with various Cotes du Rhone bottlings from the co-op that we see here in America, such as Domaine La Montagnette and Domaine d'Andezon.

The latter has been well known for years for its nicely priced red wines, including the somewhat legendary 1995 d'Andezon Cotes du Rhone. I'd heard this was really good, and some years back I tried it blind at a friend's house. Everyone was certain it was a nice Cornas, but no. Just a "lowly" co-op Cotes du Rhone. That wine is probably still drinking nice.

Turns out this co-op is more acclaimed than I ever imagined, and for good reasons. They're making relatively small lot stuff with natural wine principles. Alice Feiring wrote about it in her book The Search for Wine and Love that I reviewed recently. Here's a nice write up from Bertrand at Wine Terroirs, with typically lovely pictures.

The other day I was perusing the wine selection at a local discounter and saw a number of labels from importer Dan Kravitz's Hand Picked Selections out of Virginia. Tough times in the wine business, I guess.

Dan's done a nice job importing from France and Spain for years. Some things I'm not so fond of, but maybe that's my weird taste speaking. Most times you will do really well picking a bottle with Dan's import label on the back.

Back at the discounter, one label in particular caught my eye, the 2005 Terre de Mistral Cotes du Rhone for $7. Sure enough, the fine print shows it's a Kravitz import. And it's from Les Vignerons d'Estezargues. Any time you see "Les Vignerons d'..." you'll dealing with co-op wine. Most times that means it's mass produced stuff, often lackluster, more notable for the marketing effort behind the wine than what's in the bottle.

This bottle admittedly looks a bit similar to that kind of thing, with a colorful, contemporary label. But I grabbed one and it's pretty nice, authentic southern Rhone wine for a great price. This was released more than two years ago, but it tastes fresh as if it has a few more years in a cool cellar.

There's no shortage of alcohol in this wine, but in a basic Cotes du Rhone, especially on a cold night with hearty food, that's not a bad thing. What I love about this wine? The scent and flavor of nicoise olives, those tiny, smoky, briny, meaty little things that are a must on any Provencal table.

The likely mix of grenache and syrah here also shows bright red raspberry and garrigue mixed in too. (Garrigue is that earthy, herbal perfume of the region.) And there's acidity and tannin, not too much of course but let's be clear. Where most budget wine in the world today tastes like jelly and oak chips, this wine tastes like wine, from a place, that fits on the dinner table, and is nice for twice the money.

Of course, this wine may not be something you come across. But look for the Estezargues name, usually in small print, but worth the search.

Wine is maddening

Yes, wine is maddening. Tonight we were having a simple pasta and salad dinner, and we wanted a little red wine to match. Nothing fancy, so I thought...why not give the 2007 M. Lapierre Vin de Pays des Gaules a go? This is the country wine of reknown cru Beaujolais producer Marcel Lapierre, apparently a mix of younger vine gamay and other "experimental" things. Surely it's gulpable with simple noodles, right?

No. Actually my wife called it. This wine tastes like rose. Which isn't a bad thing, expect I was NOT looking to drink rose tonight, even light ruby colored, otherwise red wine that happens to smell and taste like rose. How maddening.

Sure, I could chill it a bit and change my attitude. It would probably be great, as the cherry aromas and flavors were attractive. But it's 22F outside. I need RED wine. So down to the cellar for a half bottle of 2004 Felsina Chianti Classico, purchased a while back when the distributor closed out what is a great vintage of this little wine.

But at first this was a little weird too. Moderately dark in color, instead of the regal Brunello-like perfume I remember, this one showed slightly raisined, volatile aromas that made me make a little face. Maddening!

Ah, with time this wine unwound and was its normal, delicious self. Dark cherry and berry aromas, with classic almond, balsamic, and earth aromas. Then full flavored, lightly tannic and brightly acidic with dark, brooding flavors for a basic Chianti. This one needs more time to relax, but it's really good for its level. In the end, just perfect with the pasta, it just took a while.

And yes, I should have just started there. That's maddening too.

My first Dard et Ribo

Last night, I had the chance to taste my first wine from Dard et Ribo, the pair of au naturel winemakers in the northern Rhone that wine geeks froth over. Little or no sulfur dioxide is used in the cellar. The idea, as I understand things, it to maintain wine purity without manipulation.

I wasn't so impressed.

The wine, the 2006 Dard et Ribo Crozes Hermitage rouge, smelled great. Lots of violets, gravel, and blackberry aromas. And the flavors were nice too, with fresh acidity and sweet fruit balanced by a pleasantly floral bitter character.

Then came the finish. Gone were the the wine flavors, replaced by a building medical bitterness that left the most awful aftertaste in my mouth. I first thought there was a bacterial issue in the wine. But then someone tried it and said, "brett."

Don't get me wrong. I'm not into squeaky clean, antiseptic wines that have no character or personality, not to say I'm into dirty wines. Let's just say I don't look at bleu cheese and shudder -- the mold, it takes away from the purity of the cow!

I just don't enjoy an otherwise delicious wine that leaves me with an awful, bitter taste in my mouth. To be sure, plenty of other people seemed to love the wine. And with food (I was tasting this in a wine shop), that aftertaste would likely be mitigated by other aromas and flavors. I just can't say this was really good stuff. I will say... a little SO2 (or a little more) would have helped, in my humble opinion.

We opened another bottle to see about variation. Low or no sulfur wines can vary from bottle to bottle, as you might imagine. Sure enough, the freshly opened bottle was much more pleasant compared to the first one that was decanted for an hour or more. The bitter finish was replaced by a reductive, stinky note in the aroma that blew off quickly. I'm left wondering though if this that second bottle wouldn't bloom like the first one after being open for a while.

I'd like to try some more from this producer. I've enjoyed the low or no sulfur wines from Marcel Lapierre for years. Same with Catherine and Pierre Breton's Nuits d'Ivresse. I'll have to see if other Dard et Ribo live up to the praise I've heard and read.

Damnit!

So I was all set to write more about this fabulous Champagne I tried and purchased tonight. But when I just went to Alice Feiring's blog to look for more information about it, I found this post.

Damnit!

Over on Wine Disorder there's more. I guess I don't check in often enough. "Captain Tumor Man" even has his own blog. As Alice writes, it's definitely for the irony dependent.

I won't offer the platitudes Joe wisely eschews. But someone very close to me is dealing with something similar, just a little lower down the body. And it makes me sick thinking about it, mostly because until recently I've lived in a big bubble about such things. The banality of cancer is hardest to fathom, not suffering from it myself.

Over time, I've sincerely taken some comfort looking at a grape vine with leaf roll or some other disease, or late season corn stalks that become spotted. Perhaps the commonplace nature of disease makes it easier to take, on reflection at least. Wonder how I'll feel when it's my turn.

Anyhow, more on that great Champagne later. Now it's time for the harder stuff.

Three dot wine...

I drove over to Michael Alberty's Storyteller Wine Company early this afternoon and heard a great story about David Lett's memorial this past Sunday at the McMinnville Community Center. You can read more at the Storyteller web site, when Michael has a moment to post the latest email newsletter in the archive... What is he, busy selling wine and packing UPS shipments?...

For now, this. Event attendees included just about anyone who's anyone in Oregon wine. As it should be. Lett started it all. Michael quipped that if a bomb had gone off, that'd be the end of the Oregon wine industry as we know it... Happily things went off without a hitch, though there was a Neil Goldschmidt sighting...

So everyone filed into the auditorium and got a pour of 2005 Eyrie Vineyard Pinot Gris Reserve, a special bottling from vines in the original Eyrie vineyard planting. David's son Jason's request? That everyone yell "cheers" as loud as possible so his dad would hear them, in whatever vineyard he's tending these days... Apparently the rafters shook and I'm guessing the message got through...

But the best part it seems to me is that everyone in attendance got a cutting of a pinot noir vine from the original Eyrie south block. With instructions on how to plant it... Talk about a living tribute to a legend...

The Storyteller email with full details on the event went out today. I suggest you get on the list, even if you're on wine probation and can only read... Though it won't take too long before you break down and buy something. Perhaps the 2006 Eyrie Vineyard Pinot Meunier, which is the current offer and something I tried last Friday at the shop. Damn nice wine... A 2006 Oregon red with good natural acidity. That alone should make you buy... but it's really gorgeous stuff...

Meanwhile, I've been pleasantly surprised at the reception for my 2006 Vincent Pinot Noir from the Wahle Vineyard. We had the garage tasting last month, where I opened my home winemaking space for all to see, and offered free tastes of my 2006 wine from bottle and 2007 wine from barrel. Things went remarkably well...

Now the wine is getting out to friends and family, and beyond thanks to some kind souls who are connecting me to interested parties down south and even up in Alaska. One SoCal taster served the wine at Thanksgiving among some other stars of local wine and, in comments that were relayed to me, my wine was a favorite... Can't complain with that, though maybe they'd been drinking...

On the home front, I've been dutifully tasting wines. A stray bottle of 2005 Domaine de la Terre Rouge Tete a Tete, a Rhone blend from the Sierra Foothills of California, was a let down. Yes, this is inexpensive wine. But something's happened here... Years ago, this wine was translucent in color, fresh and peppery. Now it's dark, confected smelling and harshly extracted on the palate... I know better than to judge a producer on its cheapest label. Then again, this is produced in the cellar, not purchased wine. You might think it should show the positive attributes of the producer, even in a scaled-down way. This wine doesn't...

Better in that mold is the NV Broadbent Reserve Porto "Auction Reserve, Lot 1." The clumsy name aside, this is terrific basic Port, in the category that used to be called "vintage character" but is now "reserve"... That's geek code for wine bottled young like a vintage port, but intended for drinking young while its fresh and purple. As I think is true of all Broadbent Ports, this is produced by the respected house Niepoort, but it shows all the attributes of authentic vintage-style Porto at a low price. Berries, lightly sweetened chocolate, tobacco and spice, with moderate sweetness and good length... This is "cheap" wine from a good producer that's true to its roots...

Drinking California Chardonnay

Tonight, I finally got around to drinking a bottle of 2005 HdV "de la Guerra" Chardonnay I purchased at the beginning of the year. This is the second label of Hyde de Villaine, the project of Hyde vineyard in the Carneros appellation of California and Aubert de Villaine in Burgundy. It usually goes for $30-35 but I found it on close out at a local Grocery Outlet for $13. Not a bad buy.

I would have tried it sooner but, as good as it looked on the shelf, I found myself a little scared to drink California chardonnay once it was in my cellar. Will it be an oaky mess, with no acidity and a flat flavor that tires the palate? Tonight, with baby lentils, roasted red pepper, and feta as a main dish, I thought it might be a nice match and went for it.

At first, it smelled like...well, California chardonnay. It seemed ripe and toasty and a little generic. But with time and the scents of cooking food in the kitchen, and later on the dinner table, the wine really came alive. There was Lovely pear fruit and toast on the aroma, then a round texture and pear, toast and saline flavors with nice length. There's acidity but not exactly what you might find in a French example. Still, it matched the lentils very nicely.

I'd recommend this highly if it was still available locally, and the price was still so low. Of course, that deal is long gone. But the next time someone -- possibly me -- tells you California chard is awful stuff, tell him or her to try this. I'm impressed.

Reading Feiring

I'm never too up on things here. Nevertheless, I just got through reading Alice Feiring's sort of recently published book, The Battle for Wine and Love. It's a damn good book, well worth reading even if you hear strong opinions to the contrary elsewhere. I took it on my recent Thanksgiving trip and it did what great wine writing does -- it made me thirsty. I also envied her writing ability. All the more reason for a drink.

People seem to have lots of opinions about Feiring. So much fuss for so petite a person. Her pen is razor sharp though, and that's part of the fun. Yet some people don't get the passion behind her writing. And some people can't help but take her words too personally. Easy for me to say, I'm obviously not mentioned. Maybe next time Alice? Actually, never mind. I'm good.

The book's subtitle is OR How I Saved the World from Parkerization, and it's essentially about Feiring's struggle to find the authentic wines she adores in a world she sees ruined by Parkerization. If you don't understand that, read the book to learn more. Suffice it to say that Parker's not a fan, and not only is she banned from participating on his onling wine discussion group, her last name will not even appear on the site. Write the words "Alice Feiring" in a post on the board and all you get is Alice.

Which is a fine name, nothing to be "saddled with" in my opinion, to use the author's phrase from the book. Would she prefer Tiffany or Jasmine?

But how weird is that? Her name is essentially against the law there. What would Woody Guthrie say about that?

Where this book really succeeds for me is the writing and the narrative. Feiring's writing is like the red wine she loves. Authentic to the source, translucent, fragrant, pure, acid at times but balanced and long, not in pages but thoughts and ideas. This book made me question assumptions I have about wine and winemaking, and even though I'm not in agreement with Feiring all the time, that's not the point. She writes it herself. She's looking for wines that have something to say. This book has that. You don't have to agree to get that.

The narrative is another high point. Again, like her favorite wines, it's all about texture, what I might compare to high thread count bed sheets. You can just feel the fabric, and you want to climb in and bury yourself. The story arcs and characters are wound and unwound brilliantly. The voice so clear. There's terrific irony and self-deprecation throughout the book, which some readers and reviewers seem to have missed. The book is tremendously funny. I actually laughed out loud repeatedly, no kidding.

To me though, if the book has a flaw, it's that all this wonderful writing leads us to a phone call with Parker. It's just not so interesting to me, maybe because I know the story well. And I wonder how interested non-wine geeks are by this point in the book. Of course, I read books about all sorts of things I couldn't really care less about (the race to the spice islands in Nathanial's Nutmeg, anyone?), but really good writing carries us far beyond our lack of past or future interest in the specifics. The Nutmeg was a delight.

Maybe I just don't have the gripe Feiring does with Parker, the weird name deletion thing aside. Even she shows mixed emotions about who he is as a person, referring to him as "a warm, personable man" on their first meeting. She later compares his to Moses (!), "wiser than other men." Her essential hope is that he be held to "a higher standard," to "embrace his power and use it for the good of the wine world." This is great stuff, true and funny and honest at once. Parker's not so bad. It's his influence. He might do something about it, but obviously he sees things differently.

Yes, the wine world has changed in the past twenty years. Yes, it's wise to, as Feiring suggests, "look to the grandfathers" if you want a taste of something authentic. Then again, thanks to people like "Big Joe" from the book, I have access to wines I never had even ten years ago. Things are complex. The world is closing and opening at once. You'll find yourself doing the same with this book.