Old school Rioja

I came across a well-priced bottle of 1996 Campillo Rioja Reserva, and it restored my faith and interest in traditionally styled Spanish red wine.

For the past few years, I’ve heard lots about how Spain is doing great things with red wine. People love all the inexpensive stuff from Yecla and Toro, not to mention the pricey stuff from Priorato and elsewhere. Me? I’m just not that excited.

Then something like this Campillo wine happens into my glass and I’m renewed in my passion for what made Spain great.

Apparently Campillo isn’t an old producer, like my Rioja favorites including Lopez y Heredia and CUNE. It just tastes old, in a good way. This wine is a perfect example. It’s not purple hued and smelling of new French oak. Instead it’s ruby red, youthful for 12 years old but showing a little rust.

Then the aroma. Sweet dried cherries with pepper and earth notes. The integrated wood spice is turning into a fresh dried tobacco aroma that’s classic Rioja. With air there’s great intensity and depth to the perfume. I could smell this wine all day.

In the mouth the acid is fresh and brisk, the red fruit and clean earth flavors long and taut. This is medium bodied and lacking only the palate intensity of a gran reserva. Everything else is there, and while notes I’ve seen about this wine suggest drinking it sooner than later, I think this wine will age effortlessly for another decade and probably longer. These old school wines seem to get just the right amount of oxidation young to preserve them longer than you ever think possible, all the while remaining fresh and lively.

I’m going back for more of this one. If you’re local and interested in where to find it, let me know.

Oregon harvest update

I've been thinking since last spring that this might be another 1999 vintage for the northern Willamette Valley. That was the year of the "bummer summer" where steady warmth never really set in, until September and October, where consistently warm and sunny days lifted winemakers' hearts and broke a few records.

Well 2008 isn't exactly 1999. Summer wasn't that bad. Yet we find the grapes maybe two weeks behind schedule after a cold spring, a late bloom and crop set, and an only occasionally warm summer. Portland hit 100 three times this year, which is a lot for us. We just probably had more than our usual number of days below 80.

Sure enough, September has brought warm and sunny late summer weather that's about as perfect for human beings as it is for grapes. Cool but still pleasant nights. Warm sunshine all day long. Here at home, we're even back to eating outside. The tomatoes are finally ripening. If only the kids were back in school and things would be perfect.

Wait, they are.

Looking at the seven-day forecast from Portland's more reliable tv forecaster Mark Nelsen (he's actually really good, and not just for tv), the sunshine is here for another week, perhaps longer. This coming Sunday and Monday might get back into the low 90s, which is nice this time of year because the heat only lasts for a few hours. The intense summer heat is gone. The nights cool off. You can sleep.

The old winemakers always say that September makes the vintage. This year's shaping up beautifully, though that late start to the growing season means we need good weather into October. With that, and the apparently only average sized crop out there that allows the vines to focus energy on what fruit it has, quality could be tremendous.

If you want to see how it plays out, pay attention to the weather. Rain isn't a killer, unless it's endless. For September, we'll pretty much take whatever heat we can get. Once October comes, I've learned you really just need 70 or better to finish off ripening well. Those days can be rare, though in 1999 they came regularly. We needed them in '99, and we'll probably need them this year too. I'll be watching. How about you?

1999 Shubert Syrah New Zealand

Tonight, with homemade pizza, I opened a bottle of 1999 Shubert Syrah from New Zealand. I'd seen this bottle languishing on a local store's shelf for a while. Then it hit the bargain bin and I grabbed one.

Reading through the Auswine forum, which is a great resource for all things down under, I learned that this producer is well regarded for pinot noir as well as syrah. Tasting this wine, it feels like a pinot producer's syrah. All fragrance and texture, without the meat or structure you might expect from the northern Rhone's signature grape.

This Shubert wine is sourced from three different regions, Gimblett Road, Hawkes Bay and Martinborough. It's dark crimson in color with a hint of maturity. The aroma reminds me of filling a new French oak barrel with wine, which isn't a subtle fragrance but can be extremely pleasing.

Time has allowed the barrel aromas to meld with pie cherry fruit and toasty, earthy notes. From the smell, I might expect this to be extremely wooden and tannic in the mouth. Instead, this has pinot's silky texture with fine but unobstrusive tannin.

Cornas this isn't. But fragrant, silky new world syrah this is, accented but not overwhelmed by its barrel ageing. There's no need to hold this wine furthe. But at nearly ten years old it's delicious and a testament to what New Zealand can produce, beyond the usual sauvignon blanc, Bordeaux blend reds and pinot noir.

Wine labels and wine

I feel so excited as I near the end of the label design process for my homemade wine. I wish I could share an image of where we've gotten to so far, but I'm going to wait until it's just right.

Doing a label is a tedious process for me. Honestly, I hate most wine labels. OK, I'll be reasonable. I dislike most of them. To the point where I don't even notice them really.

The few I do find interesting are usually the most old school of things, totally not commercially acceptable I'm sure. Marc Olliver's red wine from the Loire Valley, for example. Of course, I can't find an image online anywhere and I'm too lazy to take a picture of it. Nevermind. I heard he's changed the label. It probably didn't help sales.

Really, I want something old school France, but without all the text the French require for AOC and other purposes. So I'm going with something very simple, classic but still unique. I'm hopeful for that, anyway. Stay tuned.

For inspiration, I opened a bottle of 2002 Vincent (love that name) Prunier Auxey-Duresses, from a less exalted town on the Beaune side of the Burgundy's Cote d'Or.

First, I like the simplicity of the label and the classic script font. Hint, hint.

Second, this was really nice, little wine. It had a beautiful cherry and mushroom aroma, showing some maturity. The flavor was brightly acidic with clean cherry fruit and earth notes and great subtlety.

What pretty wine, not a powerhouse or blockbuster, rather fragrant and silky and not unlike some more Burgundian wines from here in Oregon. The main difference was the acidic spine that we rarely get, naturally anyway. The acid probably scares people away, but I like it.

My 2006 pinot noir doesn't taste anything like this. Not that it should. I'm making Oregon wine.

But my 2007 is much more bright and, yes, acidic. I'm a little scared of it myself, but a good friend in the wine business tried it and was very reassuring. He likes what I'll call the nerve in this wine.

That 2007 is still in barrel, hopefully adding some flesh to its prominent bones. We'll see where it ends up. I do know this. It's going to have a label with similar nerve.

Wine Therapy: End of an era

Internet wine discussion lost a favorite site this week with the demise of Wine Therapy.

With its founder Robert Callahan unable to maintain the site after struggling with illness for a number of years, the decision came down early this week to shut the site down.

Callahan is infamous in some internet wine circles for his feud with the well known critic Robert Parker. Without recounting old flame wars from the 1990s, the story apparently goes that Parker responded to Callahan's contentious internet persona by challenging him to a blind wine tasting. The goal was to see if Callahan would identify wines he championed as superior to other wines he criticized mercilessly. The night apparently didn't go in Callahan's favor.

I wasn't around the wine internet then. I knew Callahan as a champion of natural, artisan wines from less commercialized regions. I may not have always liked his biting sarcasm (maybe I was jealous), but his passion for wines I've come to love was truly an inspiration for me in my wine education. It was Callahan who turned me on to wines like Baudry's Chinon and Texier's Rhones.

Let's not forget that Robert was the object of anticipation in Chris Coad's legendary "Waiting for Callahan" post.

The end of Wine Therapy was not swift. Albanian spammers wiped out the database months ago, so much good wine information lost because of poor security and an outmoded bulletin board platform. Lately there were as many posts about erectile enhancement products as wine. [editorial note: my apologies to the Albanian community and all Albanian sympathizers, among which I include myself, for suggesting that actual Albanians were the source of Wine Therapy spam issues. I'm tempted to put "Albanian" in "quotes" to signify the wrong that was done to them by spammers posing as Albanians. Who would do such a thing? However, it's been clarified in the comments below that precisely "little of the spam had anything to do with Albania." Of course, that means Albanians apparently were involved in some way. So the post remains unedited.]

Now Callahan's Wine Therapy, the nurturing service of the oft misunderstood enemyvessel.com, is gone. Another site has emerged as a haven for many patients of Wine Therapy, but it seems things have changed. The mold is broken. There's no chance to replicate the old site, if that were even desirable.

I'm partly wistful at the loss, but partly glad for the nudge to move on. I tried a few times to register for the new site, but either there are technical issues or this isn't a club that will have me as a member. It's just as well. I keep telling myself I should focus more on this site and less on wine discussion groups. Thanks for everything Callahan.

Oregon Vineyard Maps: Eola-Amity Hills AVA

The Eola-Amity Hills AVA map shows an area due south of the Dundee Hills stretching all the way to Oregon's capital city, Salem. The AVA is really two distinct areas, the Eola Hills in the central and south, and the Amity Hills in the north. The dominant soil type here is volcanic, specifically the Nekia, which is similar to the red Jory soils of the Dundee Hills. The distinction is that, where Jory soils are up to twenty feet of red clay eroded from the basalt bedrock, Nekia soils feature but a few feet of soil before you hit bedrock.

The two areas were combined when the Eola Hills winery apparently objected to an AVA with their exact name, which would have forced them to use grapes only from the AVA for anything they bottled under the Eola Hills name. Seems reasonable, mostly. An AVA doesn't mean much if there's a winery that uses the exact name but gets grapes from elsewhere. Nevermind that Eola Hills winery isn't actually in the Eola Hills, rather down in Rickreall to the southwest on OR Highway 99W.

So we have the Eola-Amity Hills conjoined AVA. The Amity Hills to the north are a distinct east-west range with some nice, rocky south facing exposures. Myron Redford's Amity Vineyard is perhaps the most historic in the area. Antica Terra is a nice, again rocky site. To the east is the large Willakia planting from Premier Pacific, another investment of the California State workers' pension. To the east, there are a number of other independent vineyards, among them the Jesse James Vineyard that's now a single vineyard bottling from Bethel Heights.

Below Amity Road, the Eola Hills begin. The range is largely north-south, with lots of eastern and southern exposures. South facing sites are obviously attractive for catching maximum sunlight. Eastern exposures are attractive for getting morning light that wakes up the vines early but avoids some of the most intense rays of mid- to late afternoon. Western exposures are notable in the Eola-Amity Hills for their direct exposure to the winds coming through the Van Duzer Corridor to the west. That gap in the Coast Range to the west brings in cool air from the Pacific Ocean that complicates ripening. Aside from west-facing sites that have some wind protection, you tend to see mostly southern and eastern facing vineyards in this AVA.

From the north, we see the aptly named Eola Hills vineyard. Also, there's Elton, known best for its bottling from Ken Wright Cellars. Moving to the south, we find the Jerusalem Hill vineyard bottled by Cristom. Then Seven Springs, perhaps my favorite in the state, once bottled by a number of great producers, now a monopole of sorts of a high dollar California concern.

Moving further south, we come to the heart of the Eola Hills, a broad opening to the south that's the most densely planted area in the AVA. There's Witness Tree and Cristom to the east, Temperance Hills high up to the west, Bethel Heights below it along with their Justice Vineyard, and the old O'Connor Vineyard that's been renamed Zenith by its latest owner Tim Ramey. More on that site, where I visited recently, in an upcoming post.

To the southwest, we find a variety of sites including Cherry Hill, Holloran's La Chenaie, the large Eola Springs Vineyard, and other notable sites such as Carter Vineyard, Canary Hill, and Cubanisimo. I'm sure there are sites not included on this map -- I'm not familiar with every one by any means. However, one notable omission is the Chemeketa Eola Viticultural Center's test vineyard at the very south of the AVA, off Doaks Ferry Road. This site is home vineyard of Chemeketa Community College's viticulture and winemaking program, run by Oregon wine veterans of Barney Watson and Al MacDonald.

Finally, to the southeast, we come to the outskirts of the city of Salem. There's Redhawk vineyard, a fine site, but really the jewel here is Evesham Wood's Le Puits Sec vineyard. This small east-facing site is the estate vineyard of inarguably my favorite Pinot Noir producer in Oregon. Proprietors Russ and Mary Raney are absolutely delightful people making elegant wine that are all about finesse. The vineyard itself, however lovely, doesn't quite suggest the beauty of the wines it gives. Check these out if you can find them.

Oregon Vineyard Maps: Yamhill-Carlton District

Looking at the Yamhill-Carlton District AVA map, you see it's a horseshoe shape with western, northern, and eastern flanks. Most if not all of this AVA shows the typical rounded hills of sedimentary soils, unlike the steeper volcanic slopes of places like the Dundee Hills, much of the Chehalem Mountains, and Eola-Amity Hills.

The soils are important at least because of what they lend to their wines. I find that the sedimentary soils give a darker fruit character to the Pinot Noir, as opposed to the red fruit that seems to predominate in the wines from volcanic soils. That's conventional wisdom to some, but heresy to others, including many experienced winemakers, who suggest that red and black fruit flavors reflect degrees of ripeness in wine grapes. Less ripe tending to the red, more ripe to the black. The issues isn't settled, that's for sure.

The Yamhill-Carlton District is elevation-based, so that the AVA begins at the 200 foot elevation rising to 1000 feet. The rationale is that the particular soil types in the AVA are distinguished from the fertile valley bottom soils that are not ideal for growing high quality vinifera grapes. Learn more about the AVA here.

From the western flank, which is just north of the McMinnville AVA, we first find a scattering of coast range vineyards. Are these actually volcanic soils? I'll have to find out. Moving north, we find the large Gran Moraine vineyard of Premier Pacific Vineyards, famous (or infamous) for being an investment of pension money from state workers in California. This is an interesting site, due west of the town of Carlton and immediately next to the well regarded Resonance Vineyard.

To the north, we find another wide scattering of planted sites, some with familiar names, others obscure. Lazy River makes its wine (and I believe is a partner in) the Carlton Winemakers Studio. Elk Cove's Mount Richmond Vineyard has long produced a single vineyard bottling. The Estate Vineyard of Elk Cove is further north, along with the long planted but not always highest quality Kramer Vineyard. To the northeast, notice ADEA, with a small vineyard at low elevation right off Route 47. Also, Elvenglade, perhaps one of the more interesting sites for Pinot Gris. Outside the AVA to the north are the well regarded Patton Valley Vineyards and the isolated but beautiful Cancilla Vineyards of Ken Cancilla, an old acquaintance who's making good wine.

Then to the eastern flank of the Yamhill-Carlton AVA. From north to south, the first cluster of sites contains the Beacon Hill Vineyard, a longtime but now former source for Soter, then the patchwork of parcels of Willakenzie Estate, whose name comes from the soil series of ocean sediments this region is known for.

Moving south, there's the Deux Vert Vineyard, notable for some unusual grapes for this area, including syrah. I'm guessing this is a warm microclimate. Then the large Yamhela Vineyard, and to the southeast the very well known Shea Vineyard. You can see that Shea is actually two distinct parcels, which are further broken into numbered blocks that go to specific producers. In Burgundy, Shea might be an entire appellation. Here, it's all one site. But there are some big differences in the blocks. Check out more detail here.

Moving back to the southwest toward the town of Carlton, we find a northwest to southeast ridge with some of the most attractive sites in the whole AVA. Near the town of Yamhill, there's the Blackburn Road corridor, with the long planted Wahle Vineyard, where I got grapes for my homemade wine in 2006. Also, Stag Hollow and at the east end of the road, Ken Wright's estate Savoya Vineyard. This is a nice neighborhood for Yamhill-Carlton Pinot Noir. To the south, there's the beautiful slope of Belle Pente and a few sites of Lemelson, anchored by the Stermer Vineyard.

Finally, due west of the Dundee Hills AVA, there are sites like Mineral Springs -- Soter's new estate vineyard -- Abbott's Claim, Bayliss, Monks Gate, all the way down to the Anne Amie Estate Vineyard almost on the border of the town of Lafayette.

Next, the Eola-Amity Hills.

Oregon vineyard maps, part 3.2: Ribbon Ridge

Last time, I detailed a bit about the large Chehalem Mountains AVA. I also wrote about how the small Ribbon Ridge AVA is included on the Chehalem Mountains map. So let's look at Ribbon Ridge more closely.

Looking at the Chehalem Mountains AVA map, you might wonder why Ribbon Ridge is a separate AVA. The federal ruling that established Ribbon Ridge as its own AVA can tell you more about that than I can. In short, its sedimentary soils are geologically different from the more volcanic Chehalem Mountains. Also, dramatic topography separates Ribbon Ridge from the Yamhill-Carlton district to the west, though the soils are more similar between those two AVAs.

Ribbon Ridge is described as an "island" on the AVA ruling document, and looking closely on this map you can see that. From Ayers Creek to the north and Dopp Creek to the east, then down to the Chehalem Creek to the west and south, Ribbon Ridge really does stand out. The effect is to create a bit of a rain and wind shadow (if that's a term) that allows the region to be a bit warmer, drier and less foggy than some surrounding areas.

The paved entrance to the AVA from the south is Lewis Rogers Lane, not marked on the map but running north from North Valley Road between Dopp Road to the east and the gravel and dirt Ribbon Ridge Road to the west. The map shows Armstrong Vineyard on the right but doesn't show the newly planted Ackerman Vineyard just to the north.

Further up, the road bends left at Ayers Vineyard, then right at Brick House, one of the most recognized names in this area. Also in this area is the Ribbon Ridge Estate vineyard of Aramenta Cellars and their Looney Vineyard, leased to Archery Summit in the Dundee Hills.

A bit further on, Lewis Rogers Lane intersects with Ribbon Ridge Road, which climbs higher into the AVA. There's the new Trisaetum Vineyard on the left, then Redman and Styring before you reach Chehalem winery's well known Ridgecrest Vineyard.

The far west end of Ribbon Ridge isn't accessible up this way, but has some highly regarded sites. From North Valley Road, there's Patty Green's Estate vineyard, the old Autumn Wind property. Also you find The Beaux Freres Vineyard, Whistling Ridge Vineyard, The Upper Terrace of Beaux Freres, and something I didn't know about until seeing this map -- Bryce Vineyard, no doubt from the late, great Bryce Bagnall who's eponymous label carries on without him.

Next time, the Yamhill-Carlton district.

Oregon vineyard maps, part 3: Chehalem Mountains

After the Dundee Hills and McMinnville AVAs, let’s turn our attentions to Chehalem Mountains. Find a copy of the Chehalem Mountains AVA map from the Oregon Wine Board and The Map Store here.

When you look over this large area, a few things become clear. First, there are two American Viticultural Areas detailed here, Chehalem Mountains and Ribbon Ridge. Second, Chehalem Mountains is a sprawling AVA with three or four subregions and varying soil types of volcanic and sedimentary orgin. Third, Ribbon Ridge is the distinct north/south flank tucked into the western edge of the Chehalem Mountains.

The Chehalem Mountains AVA begins in the south with Parrett Mountain, an old basalt pile with some of the rockiest vineyards in all of the northern Willamette Valley. Previously I wrote about the diversity of the Le Cadeau Vineyard. I’m also a fan of McKinlay wine, so check out the two pieces of McKinlay vineyard as well as the Ladd Hill Vineyard also bottled by that producer.

Other vineyards that catch my eye are J.K. Carriere, the very high quality label produced by Jim Prosser, and Carabella vineyard, a label I’ve never tried but one I notice more and more I notice in others’ bottlings, such as Dedaleus. Before seeing this map, I didn’t know that Lemelson, over in the Yamhill-Carlton district, has the Chestnut Hill Vineyard here.

Moving north, the next subregion is, for lack of a better term, the Oregon Highway 99W corridor. In here I’ll place Chehalem winery’s Corral Creek vineyard, Rex Hill, the newer Nicholas vineyard, and the vastly increased plantings of the Pamplin Family / Anne Amie on Bell Road that aren’t exactly shown completely on this map. From the Pamplin Family Winery and the more established Marylin Vineyard, newer plantings that seem to be labeled as Justin Grant and Louise (not to be confused with Cristom’s Louise vineyard) actually wrap all around from Marylin.

If you take the Bell Road short cut from 99W over to North Valley Road, in this area you’ll see my favorite unplanted site. It’s the top of the hill above Bell Road where the road wraps around, directly above where August Cellars Vyd is printed on the map. (You have to love those topo lines on these maps.) Currently it all looks like hay, but someday perhaps it will be vines. What an exposure.

Now to the west, along North Valley Road to the next subregion, the southern flank of the Chehalem Mountains proper. First, at Springbrook Road there’s a vineyard I’ve long observed without knowing whose it was. Until now. It’s the Ellis Vineyard of Adelsheim, I think half pinot noir and half I’m guessing chardonnay. Then the tiny Le Privé vineyard and the notably steep Medici vineyard. You can see it from Newberg; it runs high up a direct south slope. Beautiful, but probably tough farming.

Then along North Valley Road (watch your speed, even if it’s straight). There’s a bench at the base of the steeper mountain slope with well known sites such as Rex Hill’s Jacob-Hart, various Adelsheim sites, Vidon, and further along, Adelsheim’s home vineyard, Bergstrom’s de Lancellotti, and, naturally, the respected Chehalem Mountain Vineyard.

The rest of Chehalem Mountains is the more remote northern area, truly the most sprawling. From the east, there are sites made notable by Siduri wines in Santa Rosa, CA. Siduri’s made Oregon wine down south for more than a decade, these days mostly from Aubre Vert (misnamed “Arbre Vert” here), Hawks View, Shaw Mountain (not shown, but also off Edy Road), and more recently Beran Vineyard to the northwest.

The rest of that northern area of the AVA is sporadically planted, with some small Ponzi vineyards, Gypsy Dancer from the former owners of Archery Summit in the Dundee Hills, and a few others I honestly have never heard of. Beyond the AVA boundaries to the northeast, you’ll also notice a few sites from Cooper Mountain Vineyards, and the original Ponzi Estate Vineyard, just outside of Beaverton.

Next time, a closer look at Ribbon Ridge.

Oregon vineyard maps, part two: McMinnville

A number of readers contacted me after my last post about the Dundee Hills vineyard map. Looks like I'm not the only map geek out there, which is good.

Hannelore Buckenmeyer of the Oregon Wine Board saw the post and filled me in on some details about the map project. Buckenmeyer wrote to tell me that the OWB "partnered with The Map Store to produce these AVA maps."

Buckenmeyer responded to the fact that some vineyards, including older, prominent plantings, are missing from the maps. She wrote, "The OWB conducted meetings and workshops, sent out email and direct mail, and worked with regional winery organizations to encourage participation. However, as you noted, some people either didn't hear about the project or decided not to participate."

Interesting. I'm inclined to contact at least a few of these vineyards and get them on board. Is there a cost to participate? Are there other concerns that kept a few owners from participating? Perhaps, but I can't help thinking that so many vineyards participated that those few who didn't are really the ones missing out.

Jordan Thomas, who wrote to say that she worked on the production of these maps, echoed something I heard from Buckenmeyer. Thomas wrote that these maps are "a work in progress," and that they'll be updated on an annual basis.

Perhaps best of all, Thomas provided a link to a Google Earth-based application where you can see The Map Store's "entire database of vineyard and winery information in 3D." Check it out here.

Special thanks to Buckenmeyer and the OWB for providing me some samples of the maps. They are gorgeous, very informative, and worth framing. I have no financial interest here, but if you like Oregon wine and like maps, buy these maps.

With that in mind, a few words about the McMinnville AVA map. This emerging district has fewer sites planted than any other local AVA, all to the southwest of the town that gives the district its name.

Vineyards in this district are exclusively on the largely volcanic soils of the foothills of the coast range. The hills run southwest to northeast, with lots of south, west and east exposures. The key issue here for viticulture are the winds from the Van Duzer corridor to the west, a low gap through the coast range that allows cool winds to blow. That and some moderate to high elevation make for a cool growing climate, more beneficial in warmer years. With their usually high acids, wines from this district never lack color. The pinot noir wines here often have beautiful aromas if not always the fleshiest of textures, which is ideal for those who like a bit more structure in their wines.

Despite its relatively small size, there are a few exceptional vineyards in the McMinnville district. Meredith Mitchell was planted in 1988 on own-rooted Pommard clone and is bottled by a number of high quality producers. Momtazi is a large (and growing) planting of the Maysara winery and is bottled by many other producers. Hyland vineyard, one of the oldest plantings in Oregon, was recently sold to the Northwest Wine Co. led by Laurent Montalieu. I'm not sure if these grapes will continue to go to old clients, but I hope so. Hyland particularly has some prized old riesling vines.

If you're want this and other maps, here's the link to Sonoma-based The Map Store's Oregon AVA Maps page. I'll write more about the other AVAs in the coming days.

Oregon vineyard maps, part one: Dundee Hills

I'm crazy for maps. I get it from my dad, who showed me at an early age how to read road maps on family car trips.

My passion (perhaps fetish) comes in handy with my interest in wine. Many wine lovers enjoy looking at maps of their favorite regions. The bible of this pursuit has long been Johnson's - and now Robinson's - World Atlas of Wine. If you like wine and maps and you don't have this book, get it.

However, as great as that book is, beyond Burgundy and a few other selected areas, you simply don't get much in the way of vineyard definition in the maps. Rather, you get regional distinction of where one general town or even sub-region of an appellation lies in relation to another. Chianti Ruffina is here, Chianti Colli-Sensi is there, and hey, I can see some specific and usually accurate locations of some of my favorite producers. That's cool, but not enough.

Things are particularly difficult when you try to see maps of the AVAs and individual vineyards of, say, Oregon, up close and personal as it were.

Well those days are over. After much searching, I've found online maps of Oregon vineyards by AVA that are among the best I've ever seen.

Fans of Oregon wine have long known about the vineyard map of Yamhill County, which is pretty cool if out of date. Same too with the old Eola Hills map I've linked to on this site for a while. There's a new one that's better, but still limited.

Then there are the maps at The Map Store. I haven't even searched through the whole site. I imagine there are terrific things from other locales. I'm simply too focused on Oregon, so far.

Case in point, the Dundee Hills. The AVA, or appellation, where it all started for Oregon pinot noir. Check out the free Dundee Hills map (you'll need adobe acrobat to view it). It's not a big map, but you can zoom in for terrific detail.

There's the elusive Thomas vineyard in the northwest corner of the boundary. And the Anderson Family vineyard in the northeast. Or the Oracle vineyard that I believe is fully owned by Westry.

No map is perfect, and there are glaring errors or omissions that do make purchasing larger copies of these maps a bit questionable. Where's Abbey Ridge? It should be just south of Oracle. Not there. Where's Maresh? Between Knudsen and Arcus. But again, not on this map.

It's strange, I admit. These maps are so good, yet have a few glaring, GLARING, errors. Nevertheless, with the topo lines and the otherwise fantastic detail, these maps are terrific resources for Oregon wine geeks.

In the near future, I'll post on the other AVAs covered by the Map Store. Even with the flaws, the maps are worthwhile. Let me know if you find any issues that I haven't seen or mentioned here.

Terrific Spanish Bubbly

Just a quick note to say that the NV Segura Viudas Brut Reserva Heredad is indeed terrific Cava, or Spanish sparkling wine.

You may recognize the name Segura Viudas from their ubiquitous budget brut that I wrote about a few months ago. At least I think I wrote about it. Where's that post? Anyway, that wine is usually $8 or less and is a nice buy in cheap bubbly. It's a definite step up to its parent company's Frexinet bottlings.

The Brut Reserva Heredad is the fanciest bottling, and it comes in a peculiar bottle.


Yes, that's pewter around the bottom and stuck on the middle. Not exactly eco-friendly disposable packaging. How am I supposed to recycle this?

According to marketing literature I see online, the pewter keeps the wine chilled. I don't think so, and judging by the "hand blown" bottle claim (then why's there a seam in the glass?), I wouldn't exactly trust what I read from the producer.

But it's in the glass that counts, right? And this wine delivers. It has a pale greenish gold color, with a fragrant aroma of green apples, biscuits and mushrooms. The flavors are at once rich and lean, with nice length and lots of detail amid the somewhat loud flavor profile. Can I wine be obvious and subtle at once?

The grapes here are macabeo and parellada, which normally give a very fruit-driven wine. Here, better source material and perhaps some bottle age really do lend a more Champagne-like sense to the wine. Very nice stuff, and a good value around $20 if you can get around the pewter.

1999 Balgera Valtellina Superior Sassella

I wrote recently about my trip to the iconoclastic wine shop in Santa Monica, CA, called Wine Expo. The shop specializes in unusual (at least in the U.S.) wines from around the world, with a specialization in all things Italian.

Looking for Otrepo Pavese? This is your shop. So, too, with Valtellina and its red wines from nebbiolo from a remote area in Lombardy.

Valtellina has its fans, and I've had some interesting examples from Conti Sertoli Selis, a producer I recognized at Wine Expo that I see a lot here in Portland. But I must admit that I've never had anything from this region that really excited me.

So it was with unusual interest that I observed one of the many dust ups over at the discussion group at erobertparker.com, this one featuring Valtellina.

Wine Expo's main guy, Roberto Giovanni Rogness, champions the wines of Valtellina on the board, to the chagrin of some who think he's a shill. Well one day, if it wasn't old Robert Parker himself who threw down the gauntlet to Roberto. Send some wines and I'll taste through them, he said, and see what I think.

Roberto selected some things and promptly sent them off. Needless to say, Parker wasn't impressed. You can read his amusing notes and the ensuing discussion here.

Of course, we know that no one is going to like all wines. Clearly Valtellina isn't to everyone's taste, yet the region has long had a reputation for good wine. However, Parker's raison d'etre has long been to call such reputations to the carpet, that wines live on reputations rather than intrinsic quality, and that he can taste the difference and let the world know what's what.

I'm conflicted by this. In the wine world, it seems you either agree with Parker and all that matters is in the glass. Or you disagree and believe he fails to see the beauty in wines that aren't bursting with gobs of fresh fruit and oak flavors, that other flavors may be difficult on their own yet shine in wine's true calling, as a companion to dinner.

Me, I see it a little bit both ways, and rather than explain all that, I thought I'd try one of the producers Roberto sent Parker (admittedly a cheaper, simpler bottling more fitting my pocketbook) to see how things go.

So I brought the 1999 Balgera Valtellina Superiore Sassera to meat night with some friends last night, finishing up the rest at home tonight. Balgera is reputedly a classic, old school Valtellina producer. Wine Expo has lots of Balgera bottlings to choose from if you're interested.

This wine, from the vineyards of Sassera, showed a translucent but rich ruby color that suggests some longer aging in larger wood vats. The aroma was reticent, with an oxidized notes that with time showed more dried flowers, dried cherries, nuts and old wood spice. At times it seemed tired, then at other times bursting with a complex, gorgeously integrated perfume that defies description. Then a bit flat and oxidized again.

In the mouth, the wine was more consistent lean with a slight sour character that required food to resolve. The texture though was pretty, with soft, light tannin and good length, with that high thread count feeling that instantly tells me there's something special in here.

This wasn't heat damaged wine, despite how it sounds. Rather, long aged and perhaps too long. In winemaker speak, you'd call this aldehydic or sherried in a pleasing but undeniable way. It may be the new world guy in me, or the puppet strings of Robert Parker, but I can't help wondering what this wine tasted like after a year or two in cask, and whether a bit less time wouldn't have helped find a more pleasing balance of elements.

Overall, I enjoyed this wine, but honestly I wouldn't seek it out again. Though I might look for other Balgera wines. I'm intrigued, and I know as with some of the best music, it might take time to let this wine sink in. Parker would likely call that an apology for bad wine. I think it's something more, even if I know I'd have to be pretty careful about whom I open something like this for. This kind of wine demands close attention, and even then it might not deliver.

Looking for Willamette Valley Pinot Noir

I suppose I need to use the force for good.

Who out there knows where I can get my hands on a half ton of top quality Willamette Valley Pinot Noir for my home winemaking?

Two things are essential:

1. I'm looking for a grapes from a vineyard that's mostly if not all in commercial production.
2. I need a grower who will "deal" with a home winemaker, for now.

If I have the choice, I'm looking for older vines and all Pommard or a majority of Pommard clone. But I'll entertain anything serious. No u-pick or homebrew-only vineyards, please. I need a grower who crops low and understands that I'm serious. I'm not rich or crazy, but I'm willing to pay for quality. I know there's no other way.

Do I sound crazy? Well in 2006 I got fruit from the Wahle vineyard, mostly 30 year old Pommard. I got shut out in 2007 and am on the "list" for grapes there this year. I just can't wait around to get shut out again, much as I'd love to be a buyer here. This grower sells commercially but doesn't mind (sometimes) working with home winemakers like me.

In 2007 I lucked into some 20 year old Pommard from a prized vineyard that I can't name. Unfortunately, that source isn't available to me this year, but that's life. I'll take what I can get.

I'm looking to make Pinot Noir at home for one more year (2008), then jump into limited commercial production in 2009. I'm not looking to mess around, so I want to make wine from top quality grapes. Ideally I'll make a connection that leads to more quantity next year and beyond. I have samples of wine I've made, if someone wants to make sure I know what I'm doing.

I didn't envision using this blog to fish for grapes. But it's almost August and, hell, the internet's a powerful thing. If anybody out there has grapes, or a connection or idea of who I might talk to, let me know here or at vincentfritzsche(at)yahoo(dot)com. I'd really appreciate it.

Now back to your regular consumption.

2002 Vincent Girardin Rully 1er Les Cloux

I've been enjoying some better wines recently. Meaning wines that are worth writing about. Not because of price or pedigree. They just strike me as worth time and words.

So it is with the 2002 Vincent Girardin Rully 1er Cru Les Cloux, from the Côte Chalonnaise. Yes, that same tidy locale as last week's 2004 A. et P. de Villaine Bouzeron Aligote.

Rully is known for white wine from the chardonnay, and a fair amount of red from the pinot noir. This of course is the white, and what a nice, mature bottle of little white Burgundy it is.

Pale gold in color, the wine at first seemed a little tired. With air and especially with dinner centered around a delicious fresh corn soup, nice scents of red apples and sweet cream butter emerged. This wine is certainly maturing, but it's in a nice place if you have any.

The wine is brightly acidic in the mouth, with lemon, red apple and soft oak tones. Initially it seemed a bit sour, but again air and food revealed something more youthful and long flavored.

I'd heard Girardin had sworn off red wines to focus on whites alone. Turns out that's not true, but I must say I've always preferred the whites I've tried to the reds.

I'll never forget the '99 Girardin Santenay Les Gravieres I tried blind and thought was an herbal Napa cabernet. Pleasant red wine, but not red Burgundy. And before you jump all over me, yes, that isn't exactly top shelf stuff. But it makes the point, when compared to this equally humble white Burgundy, maybe the whites are where it's at with this producer. Just saying.

1999 E. Vallania Vignetto della Terre Rosse Petroso

Never mind the movie Sideways. I'm simply not much of a merlot drinker simply because most merlot is lousy. Whether it's herbal or overoaked or simply boring, merlot seems to be among the most abused grape varieties out there. Yes, great wines from Pomerol and St. Emilion on the right bank of Bordeaux mostly come from merlot. Even there you'll find plenty of bad merlot.

So imagine my surprise last year when I tasted 1999 E. Vallania Vignetto della Terre Rosse Petroso at Liner & Elsen in Portland. The referred to it in their May 2007 newsletter as a Pomerol-like blend of 87% merlot and 13% cabernet sauvignon, and it's true. Perhaps the only complaint with this wine is that it didn't exactly taste "Italian," though it comes from the Emilia-Romagna region.

L&E's description of the Petroso is right on. Lots of plums, bitter chocolate and graphite, with terrific richness, resolving tannin and still bright acidity that carries the rich flavors. So much ripe new world merlot fails the taste test because of acidity. The flavors might be there, if they are buried in new oak. It's just that you need a glass of water to rinse your mouth after each sip because there's nothing in the wine to refresh the palate. The Petroso is alive with acidity, but so dark and rich with a youthful black ruby color even at nine years old.

We paired this wine with homemade pizza with porcini mushroom, sweet Walla Walla onions, minced garlic, and finished with chopped parsley. What a delicious pairing on a summer evening in the backyard. Read more about this wine and producer if you like. This wine isn't available locally anymore I don't believe, but other bottlings and other vintages surely are. Check them out.

de Villaine Aligoté

Wine geeks already know, but I can't help repeating how good A. et P. de Villaine's Aligoté is. This white wine, from the town of Bouzeron in the Côte Chalonnaise just south of the Côte d'Or.

The common story is that aligoté is the underappreciated grape of Burgundy, acidic and neutral tasting, most commonly mixed with cassis to make kir. You either know all that or you can probably read more elsewhere.

The point is...this is simply delicious, inexpensive white Burgundy from a producer that even I underestimate. It's a cliché but it's true. Every time I have a wine from this de Villaine, I wonder why I don't drink more. (The truth is that I prize variety, but that's beside the point.)

After a couple years of bottle age, this wine is lightly golden in color with a waxy lemon and honey aroma, all surrounded by a difficult to describe mineral and floral quality that's simply entrancing. Star fruit? Star anise? Who knows, this is amazing. Actually, the more I think of it, the more it resembles a fine and mature Savennieres.

In the mouth, it's deliciously acidic with sweet lemon, mineral and round waxy flavors and a tangy, savory finish. How do they do this with the lowly aligoté? I imagine the producer is just that good, and that the grape isn't all that bad, provided you treat it with respect.

Precisely the point I wanted to make recently in this discussion about rosé. Perhaps the reason most rosé, or aligoté, isn't so inspiring is that producers have low expectations, when the reality is that, if we choose to get the best out of something, we truly can. This aligoté again denies the critics of this grape. Thanks for de Villaine for taking this stuff a bit seriously.

Txak Full of Minerals

A while back, the ever bashful "slightly buzzed floozy" (her words, not mine) Melissa M. posted a request in a well know wine forum for driving directions here in Stumptown. The winner would get a free bottle of her favorite summer wine. Turned out to be my lucky day, because she wanted to get from essentially where I work to the rough location of my favorite local bakery St. Honore. How easy is that? I posted my directions and, viola, I'm a winner.

I wish life were always so simple.

The prize was a bottle of 2007 Ameztoi Getariako Txakolina Rubentis, perhaps the most pink rose I've ever seen. The color was a shade lighter than watermelon candy (think Jolly Ranchers), with no shades of red, orange or salmon. Just bright, brilliant pink unlike any rose I've seen before.

The aroma showed salted watermelon with floral notes and a bracing citrus quality. In the mouth, it had strong mineral and citrus flavors, then light cherry candy notes and a surprisingly (relatively) soft texture for such an austere, even nervous wine. I could gulp this down all by myself, and at only 11% alcohol I might have done just that had my neighbor not shared it with me.

The only possible issue with this delicious, unique rose is that it's not necessarily a crowd pleaser, unless you're hosting a gaggle of wine geeks. This is more akin to vinho verde than more common French rose. I think its severity might turn off the less choosy wine drinker.

According to Julian Jeff's old Faber book "The Wines of Spain," this producer is a family run bodega in the Basque area of Spain, on the northern Atlantic coast. The importer, Demaison Selections, suggests it's a blend of hondarribi beltza and hondarribi zuri, grapes I've never heard of much less tried. If you're adventurous and can manage to track of this down, definitely go for it. Thanks Melissa. I owe you. Maybe a croissant at St. Honore?

Wine Expo and Torre di Ciardo

I recently spent some time down in California, my home state, on a family trip. Mostly I spent time seeing friends and family, and old places I lived before moving north to Oregon some years ago. However, I couldn't help but visit some of the great wine shops of California in the spare moments I had to sate my wine obsession.

One such shop is Wine Expo in Santa Monica, close to where I grew up. Wine Expo is the roost of Roberto Giovanni Rogness, infamous contributor to online wine sites such as erobertparker.com. Roberto, or Robert as his co-worker (employee?) calls him, is legendary or notorious (depending on your opinion of him) for championing Italian wines.

Occasionally Roberto has been known to brush up against certain internet taboo, such as promoting wines he sells in his store, which has won him some reputation for being a bit of a shill. I can't fault him too much though. Anybody who repeatedly gets Mark Squires' goat is ok with me.

More commonly, Roberto's sheer exuberance for off the beaten path wines tells the real story. The guy loves Italian wine, and wine from all over for that matter, but generally off the beaten track stuff that the mainstream wine industry overlooks. He's knowledgeable and passionate, and is a champion for wines you simply haven't generally heard of. At Wine Expo, even a geek like me sees a majority of wines he's never heard of. What I do know suggests to me that Roberto and his associates generally bring in quality stuff. And his newsletter is worth reading, with musical references and the occasional bust on so-called "deals" at unique grocers like "Pirate Bob's." Pirate of course might be another name f0r Trader, Bob perhaps referring to a common man's name like, maybe, Joe. You think?

The only real issue I have with Wine Expo is equal parts pricing and promotion. Pricing is a tricky thing, because each market has its own benchmarks. Things that are cheap in one town might be generally more expensive in another town. So it's tricky to compare pricing sometimes city to city, or state to state. Wine Expo deals largely with wines other stores don't have. You can't really compare pricing directly if no one else carries the wines. But a few that I'm familiar with from overhead high Oregon are noticeably higher priced at Wine Expo than I find locally. I'd expect the opposite, because Oregon isn't exactly low-priced wine central. Cases in point. Pierre Peters NV Champagne is mid-$40s here. It's $60+ at Wine Expo. Provenza Negresco is nearly $30 at Wine Expo. I find it locally for less than $20.

I wouldn't think too much of that. This is west LA and everything's more expensive I suppose. But then I see the 2001 Marchesi Torrigiani Torre di Ciardo promoted as a $21 or $22 wine on major discount for just $10.99. I'm intrigued and buy a bottle. Turns out a simple web search shows that this wine is quoted in the Wine Spectator as $15 full retail and is available a few other places for the same $11 or slightly more. The wine itself is a nice drink, favorably and accurately reviewed here. But it's not $20+ anywhere that I can find, and that kind of promotion (essentially "we have a MAJOR deal here...") is misleading and, really, unnecessary. This wine is a good buy and you should pick some up if you like somewhat modern Tuscan red wine that still shows its Italian roots and pairs well with a simple dinner. Just don't think you're getting some GREAT bargain. It's just a good buy. Isn't that good enough?

I'm left feeling mixed about what I hear and read at this shop. Bypass that and focus on the wines and you'll do fine. Pierre Peters Champagne and every other I recognized at Wine Expo is very good stuff. You may not pay a rock bottom price all the time, even if you think you are. But you'll get quality.

I'd give a web link to Wine Expo, but they don't have a site. Find them on Santa Monica Blvd. I'll report later on a Valtellina I also picked up. There's a good story involving erobertparker.com regarding the wines of this region. I'm interested to see what I find.

White and red

The other night I opened a bottle of 2001 J.L. Wolf Riesling Wachenheimer, a dry German wine from this Loosen-owned property in the Pfalz region. You should be happy I'm not like some Boston-based wine writers who can't resist puns. Don't blame me for his affliction. It's not my Pfalz!

Sigh.

The back label of this wine suggests it's actually Wachenheimer Goldbachel Rielsing Spatlese (AP 16 02 for the truly geeky). I'm not sure why it's marketed simply as Wachenheimer.

When first poured, my wife suggested dryly that it does still have some life to it. Indeed it seemed a bit old at first, not sour but lacking interest. Good enough to drink I suppose but nothing more.

Then two nights later it's blossomed. Fresh yellow in color with flecks of mint, apples, stones and diesel, wrapped with the roundness of middle age. In the mouth it's indeed dry, with diesel and lemon flavors, some apple freshness and a soft, lingering finish with a bit of mushroom. Nothing earthshattering, but delicious, authentic German wine without any sweetness to get in the way. Sometimes I find lower level German wines blurred by sugar. That and they just don't seem as refreshing as cheap white wine really ought to be. Drink this wine sooner than later though. It's not meant to age and it's really about as good as you could hope for at this point.

Then last night we opened the 2000 Argiolas Korem Isola dei Nuraghi, a fancy bottling from a well known and well regard co-op on the island of Sardinia. Sadly, my other bottle of this was completely maderized, or cooked, with a brownish color and sour, cooked fruit aromas and, yes, flavors. I did taste it, then spit out the taste and poured out the bottle. It literally pains me to do that, and I can't do it without at least trying the wine to see just how bad it is. This wine was BAD.

So, with some pause, I opened this bottle of Korem. It too showed some likely heat damage, but was more than drinkable on its own and even delicious with a dinner based around roasted eggplant. The color was slightly rusting dark ruby, with a baked fruit aroma. My wife bluntly said it smelled like prune juice, but with time and food it seemed more fresh.

In the mouth it was rich and full bodied, with fine tannin and an earthy, cherry and brown spice flavor. I actually prefer the less intense and cheaper red bottlings from this producer, again for their refreshing quality. Perhaps that's just due to the warm summer weather we've been having and my desire for, well, refreshment. But even in colder months, with more pristine bottles, the Korem seems impressive but just not light enough on its feet to entrance me. Again though, with the roasted eggplant dish, this was delicious and we had no problem finishing the bottle.

Great tasting at Storyteller

Just back from a nice long vacation, on which I promised myself I’d take some time to catch up on blogging. Of course I didn’t. But I’m back, so some belated notes from a delightful tasting at Storyteller Wine Company here in Portland a few weeks back to celebrate the visit of noted wine blogger Nilay Ghandi and fiancé from Chicago. Definitely check out Nilay at 750mL.

First, another sample of the 2007 Tempier Bandol Rosé. Just as a month earlier, this is terrific rosé and worthy of Tempier’s reputation as a standard bearer of the genre. Fresh, bright, great balance, just delicious.

Then the 1999 Radikon Riserva Bianco Oslavje Riserva Collio, with its turbid orange color and initially slight ethyl acetate aroma. With air, this became wonderfully complex aromatically with great texture and length, hard to pin down with flavor descriptors beyond aged apples, but simply excellent if hardly typical white wine. A revelation.

The riches continued with the 2005 Faury Condrieu, so precise and pure a wine from viognier that puts any domestic version of this grape to shame. Rethink viognier if you’ve never tried Condrieu, the real thing.

We tried a local cider from I believe the former winemaker or assistant or something from a McMinnville winery. There were suggestions that this was made from grapes, but cider apparently is always from apples or pears. Sure enough, this had clear apple and pear flavors and was refreshing. The maker remains a mystery.

Returning to wine, we tried a rare bottle of the 1998 Yamhill Valley Vineyards Pinot Noir “Tall Poppy.” This special bottling in the ripe 1998 vintage seemed long in the tooth, with some volatility and zinfandel character, good enough wine but not so good pinot noir. This bottle at least. I’ve heard much better things about this one.

Then something completely new to me. The 2005 Holdredge Schiopettio from the MacBryde Vineyard in Sonoma County. This Italian grape variety is extremely rare in the US, probably also in Italy, I imagine. The wine was dark purple with an herbal, boysenberry aroma that evoked merlot, zinfandel, petite sirah, and the Rhone valley. In the mouth it was peppery with gravelly sweet boysenberry fruit balanced by pleasantly bitter grapefruit pith flavors. Very bright with fine tannin and a lingering, attractive bitterness, I really enjoyed this wine and think it would be most interesting on the dinner table. Good on winemaker John Holdredge for stumping the chumps with this one. Have you tried Schiopettio?

Then a California change of pace, the 2004 Lillian Syrah from the White Hawk vineyard in Santa Barbara county. Winemaker Maggie Harrison worked for many years with the Krankls at Sine Qua Non. Now has her own label Lillian, and recently acquired the Oregon winery Antica Terra with a few partners. The label reports 15.4% alcohol and the wine is intense, with strong raspberry and slight dill aromas. In the mouth it’s thick and rich with sweet pie fruit flavors, fine tannin and a bit hard textured but so gushing with fruit that you might not notice. The alcohol burns a bit, but this is obviously attractive wine for fans of big, intense red wine.

Finally, the 2001 Muga Rioja “Aro,” a luxury label from this old bodega. From a decanter, I guessed this was mid-‘90s Chateauneuf, maybe Pegau. Instead, it’s much younger but perhaps a bit too evolved already for its age. Finely tannic with dried cherries and raspberries, tight and more tannins on the finish. Perhaps this was difficult coming after the Lillian, perhaps this is simply nice but not outstanding Rioja, or perhaps this bottle wasn’t up to snuff. No one seemed concerned about it though. The price is very high here, and notes I’ve since read suggest there’s lots of new oak. I didn’t notice much, so who knows. But thanks Michael for this tasting, each and every bottle. What a treat.

Father's day wines

I'm doing the typical dad thing this Father's day - watching lots of US Open golf on the television while largely sitting on my duff. Or maybe that's sitting on my large duff.

Nevertheless, in the spirit of my own golf "game," I'm going for it by opening a few older, likely questionable wines. And like my normal experience on the golf course, I'm having fun even if most of the shots aren't going to go as planned.

First, a half bottle of 1998 Thevenet "Domaine de la Bongran" Macon-Clesse Tradition. In other words, culty white Burgundy from the Maconnais. It's questionable because I found it cheap at a local shop that's known for the occasional good deal amid some seriously suspect older wines. The trick is to get things that haven't lingered there long, and since this wine is available at other more reputable shops (for lots more money), I thought it was worth a punt. Nope, it's shot. Golden colored and maderized.

Back to the fridge, this time for a full bottle of 2001 Adea Chardonnay Willamette Valley, which I picked up for just $5 on close out. Adea is serious about chardonnay, but this is old for Oregon chard. I've heard it's "nutty," which could be good or really bad depending on who's saying it. After taking off the capsule, I find a yellow plastic "cork" and wonder if it's not going to be the really bad kind. But no. This wine is near the end of its life, but definitely still living and certainly worth drinking. It has a light to medium gold color with a slight green cast. Indeed there's a roasted nut aroma, with hints of baked apple and mint. In the mouth it's vibrant and still knit together despite its age. The texture is incredibly smooth, even a bit oily as the wine fills the mouth and persists, with a browned butted flavor. It's not watery, acidic, stale and sour as truly dead and oxidized wines tend to taste, as if the elements have come apart and individually gone bad (see above). The finish is long and cleanly nutty, not so fruity and fresh as most people would want, but complex and downright impressive. I might not want to drink the whole bottle, but this is nice. And it's getting better, fresher as it warms up from fridge temperature. Good show.

Later on, I opened another recent purchase from Winebid, a simple claret from the Haut Medoc, the 1988 Chateau Beaumont. This is exactly the kind of wine Robert Parker would hate. That is, it's "lost its fruit," meaning it showed only tertiary aromas and flavors of gravel, leather, and old wood spice. To me, there was an echo of the youthful cassis flavors, as if they'd been absorbed by the other earthy elements. Clean smelling, medium bodied with a fine tannic texture, this isn't easy sipping wine at a cocktail party. But with what was, I must admit, a fine homemade dinner of grilled flat iron steak with truffle salt and pepper, garlic roasted potatoes, a tapenade of fresh pesto, and garden greens with local blue cheese and roasted hazelnuts with a light olive oil dressing and sea salt. Oh my god. Sure, another more fancy, richly fruited wine might have been better to most people, perhaps my wife among them. But this old, quiet claret was just right for dinner in the backyard with the family. That is, tonight was dad's choice and this is what I chose.

Paper chromatogaphy

With most people, when they find out I like to make wine, they usually say something like, "you must really have to be a scientist." That's telling. Mention you're a chef and people seem to launch into what you cook and what they like to cook. Mention you make wine and people distance themselves and assume it's all science.

It's not true. Just as chefs don't need to be ranchers raising their own cattle, and for that matter wineries don't NEED to own and farm their own vineyards, winemakers don't need to be scientists. In fact, if I had a nickel for every time I've heard of a highly technical winemaker who's found they need to loosen up to make really great wine, well, I'd have some money.

The truth, though, is that you do need to know some wine science if you want to make good wine, just as you need to know some food science if you want to bake good bread. It's not just art. And sometimes the science can help make things cheaper and more personal. Take paper chromatography.

As I've written about my 2006 Pinot Noir, I struggled through the important malolactic fermentation, paying twice for a fairly expensive test for residual malic acid. If there's still malic in the wine, ML's not done. If ML's not done and you bottle the wine, besides the slightly sharp acid taste it might give, ML may continue in the bottle with bad results.

With my 2007, I'm doing what I see other winemakers doing, good old fashioned paper chromatography. That means getting some chromatography paper, a tall jar and a small amount of solvent similar to what you might use to develop photos. Nasty stuff to be sure, but that's part of the deal.

You can learn more about the process here, but paper chromatography basically goes like this: make spots near the bottom of the paper with your wine samples, let it dry, roll the paper in a circle and place in the tall jar. Let the paper soak up solution overnight, take out the paper and hang it up to dry. Once dry, there will be colorful spots on the paper above each wine sample, each spot suggesting the presence of a particular acid, with the intensity of acid concentration suggested by the brightness of the color.

It isn't foolproof, and it may seem a bit complicated. The solvent smell isn't great either. But for not so much money, you can do many sheets of chromatography with many wine samples per sheet. That means one set up like I've described (jar, solvent, and a 10-pack of special paper) can take care of dozens of samples, allowing you to save money and have what ends up being an easy process to stay in touch with ML progress.

Yes, there is a "simple and cheap" Accuvin test kit, but I don't find it so cheap. Maybe I'm an idiot, but other Accuvin tests, such as for SO2, just don't seem to work. And, frankly, I'm looking to learn what professional winemakers do. I know some who send everything out for ML testing, some who do that only after monitoring with chromatography, but it seems the Accuvin users are homebrewers. Could be wrong, but that's my experience. I don't mean to disparage my homebrewing brothers and sisters, but I want a different experience.

So, my barrel of 2007 Pinot Noir appears done with ML. However, my carboys of press wine are not, which means I'll stir them and bring them in the house to a warmer place than the garage to promote ML activity.

Happily, my 2007 Chardonnay and Pinot Noir Rose both show LOTS of malic acid, which I want. These aren't wine I like to go through ML, so that they're fresh and crisp like a Pippen apple, not butter and creamy and anything but refreshing. Now I'll hit them again with SO2 to further deter ML activity, fine the wines with bentonite, maybe filter if I can get equipment. Or not, since these are small lots of homebrew and don't need to be completely free from bottle sediment. Then it's bottling time for the white and pink stuff. Summer's finally here.

Bottling

I'm going to take some advice from a friend. Despite the serious increase in email I get from readers any time I "go negative" with a wine review, I think I'm better off focusing on more positive things. Like me. This is a blog after all. It's all about vanity, right?

So a few weeks back I recruited another friend to help me bottle my lone barrel of 2006 Pinot Noir from the Wahle vineyard in the northern Willamette Valley's Yamhill-Carlton AVA. In case you're not up on me and my every move, I got a 1/2 ton of mostly 30 year old Pommard and Coury clone Pinot Noir, with some 777 grafted some years ago onto 30 year old chardonnay roots from this historic local vineyard that's otherwise mostly in commercial production. These were excellent grapes for a homebrewer like me to be working with, and if I'm lucky or really nice or something, I hope to work with them again in the future.

Despite some challenges, the wine has turned out pretty nice. The short story is that my wild yeast fermentation turned stinky after several days, but I added some yeast hulls to feed the yeast and vigorous stirred the fermenting wine to aerate things. Happily, the stink went away. Then it came back in early 2007, so I intervened again to rack the wine off its smelly gross lees to again give the wine some air that helps the bad odor to go away. Again, the wine regained its freshness. However, I made a mistake by continuing to rely on naturally present lactic acid bacteria to complete the important malolactic fermentation that following spring. Turns out once I racked the wine, I probably should have innoculated with a cultured bacteria strain to help ML happen and finish. Instead, I waited all spring and summer for ML to finish, only to test in September to see if malic was done after lots of prickling noises in the barrel but no dramatic change. Nope, not even close. At that point, I innoculated and ML perked up and then finished fairly quickly. The concern -- I hadn't sulfured the wine in more than a year since harvest, which can lead to oxidation (stale aromas and flavors) and/or volatile acidity (vinegar or nail polish notes). Also, I didn't keep the barrel too cold in order to help ML progress. Happily, neither issue really presented itself despite lots of worry and hand wringing. A professional chemistry panel of the wine shows a slightly elevated VA level, but nothing to worry about. Certainly nothing anywhere close to legal limits, were this commercial wine. The lesson is that either I should have let my wine ride in the first place rather than intervene when the early 2007 smell showed itself, or I should have innoculated after racking. Racking and not innoculating was dumb. If you email me that (thanks to those who already have), I simply can't thank you enough for the help.

For the record, this year my barrel of 2007 Pinot Noir started smelling. Instead of racking, I stirred the barrel periodically with a copper pipe to help bind the stinky compounds as my professional winemaker friends suggested I do. Well, well, well, that worked and a recent chomatography test shows that ML is done in that wine. Time to rack, sulfur and put that one to bed until bottling sometime this fall and winter. I'm learning.

Back to 2006 wine. After finally sulfuring in late 2007 - a good dose mind you to bind what oxidation was present and otherwise protect the wine until now -- I patiently let the wine rest until early May, 19 months after harvest when it was finally time to bottle. So a friend who's a beer homebrewer and general good guy pitched in (yes, a yeast pun) to help bottle the wine with a makeshift and downright weird ass, haphazard method.

Because I have no pumps nor any vat of significant size to bottle from, and because I wanted to touch up the wine with a final, minor hit of SO2 but failed to do so before bottling day because of general life complications, I had what may or may not be a genius idea. Why not carefully rack the wine from barrel into a series of 5 gallon carboys, adding a precise and tiny amount of liquid SO2 solution to each carboy as it began filling, and then bottle immediately from each carboy using gravity? I can only hope the SO2 mixed well during the racking, and I have no reason to think it didn't. I was careful not to suck up what fine lees remained in the barrel, and even left a few gallons at the bottom before filling a small carboy with it to use as topping wine to fill out my slightly lean 2007, if I need it. Maybe I'll just bottle it later instead. We'll see. The 2007 is showing better than I expected at this point, and I'll try to maintain its vintage integrity unless it simply needs help with leftover 2006. More on that later.

After many carboys and lots of bottles filled one by one, then corked by hand with a new, cheap, but very functional floor corker that doesn't tear up the corks like my old super cheap piece-of-crap corker, I ended up with 22 cases of 750ml bottles, 4 magnums, and several half bottles that I'll use mostly for checking up on things over time. While I'll keep a few cases for myself, my goal for this wine is largely to spread it around a friends and family network. Most people hear that I make wine and think, or even say out loud, that I must be nuts. So I want to show people that it's actually possible to make good wine, and perhaps when I take this project commercial, they might be inclined to support me with some of their hard earned cash. Or trust fund money. Whatever. I'm not picky.

All in all, I can't believe I actually did this. I've made wine before of course, but never more than a few gallons of this or that. For more than a year I've been really excited about what I'm doing, but there's always been the caveat -- let's see if I can get this in the bottle. That's done, and while this isn't wine to rival La Tache or even much of what good local producers have for sale, it's ok stuff. It's ripe, rich like 2006 Oregon Pinot Noir tends to be, and clearly Oregon wine in its flavor and soil profile. I'd probably hate it for being too big and burly if anyone else made it. Really. But it's mine and I'll take it. And let's face it, people dig big, rich wine like this. It may not be a realization of my winemaking goals, but it's reasonably good wine that so far has some fans. I'll take no small amount of pride hearing from one winemaking friend who I think was honest when he said that I've made something that's definitely better than a number of people out there are selling for decent money. Hmm, is that faint praise? Hell no. Pardon the country club suggestion here, but I'm like an amateur golfer who's qualified for a real tournament. I'm not competing, but just being here feels good and I'm not going to hide it. Maybe I'm like Tanner from The Bad News Bears, kicking the dirt and saying "wait 'til next year." Or better yet, coach Buttermaker sitting in the dugout cracking a cold one for no damn good reason except that it feels right. I always liked Walter Matthau. And I liked making this wine. Let me know if you want to try some.

Wine as film

I usually try to resist grandiose metaphors or comparisons. Yet after trying a bottle of 2006 Evesham Wood Pinot Noir La Grieve Bleue, I can't help but think of winemaker Russ Raney as Oregon's Akira Kurosawa.

I'm no film geek, but I remember seeing Kurosawa's epic Ran when I was a teenager in the 1980s. I was mesmerized, though I really didn't know what was going on at the time. The movie was just so epic, with space between the dialogue and striking colors, costumes, and framing. Only later did I study Shakespeare and figure out this movie is an adaptation (perhaps) of the classic drama King Lear, but in historical Japan.

Happily I've never heard anyone criticize Kurosawa for essentially covering Shakespeare. In some ways, why would we. Adaptation in music, literature, and film is so common. Ran is so true to its director, its culture, and its own story. Is there any question of its authenticity?

Yet, in wine, something that retells or adapts from another place is so often criticized as being untrue to its own orgins. There is the common notion that we can't and shouldn't make Burgundy in the U.S. And of course we can't, literally. But as with Shakespeare, himself a considerable adapter of others' stories, can we not rightly and truly adapt wine from another place and reflect or retell its elements authentically in our own place, in our own way?

It seems to be no secret that Evesham Wood wines take their inspiration from Burgundy. Yet they are consistently some of the most compelling and authentic Oregon red wines out there. This 2006 Evesham Wood Pinot Noir La Grieve Bleue is a terrific example. The only real surprise might be that it's this producer's lower tier estate wine. If this wine is this good, I can only imagine how the top end bottlings to be released later this year will be.

The color is bright ruby, dark but translucent. The aroma is what I'll call "above the glass." Meaning, you don't even need to stick your schnoz in the glass to smell it. The fragrance is perfumed, sweetly ripe and spicy without oakiness but just so perfumed and inviting. How did Raney do this in such a year where it was so easy to pick late and end up with hyper-rich but not especially elegant wine?

In the mouth, this wine is unusually bright and fresh for this vintage, with cherry and cranberry flavors that over time fill out with richer but not heavy fruit and spice flavors. There's no alcohol apparent, but no sign of underripeness or overripeness, just amazingly ripe but still so quiet. Like Ran, full of color and vision but with lots of space between the sounds, patient and perhaps slow moving for some tasters but simply exceptional for this one.

In sum, here's a wine that reaffirms the notion that one can be to one's source yet at the same time reflect the inspiration of another place. This isn't copying or simply covering, and not even reinterpreting. It's adaptation, with the result setting the bar higher for what is real, true, and good about, in this case, Oregon wine. What an effort.

Tough night

Some nights wine is simply frustrating.

Tonight started off well. I stopped by a great local wine shop to pick up a gift bottle of rosé that a kind local person had purchased for me after I provided simple directions across town. Oh, the kindness of acquaintances. Thanks Melissa, that was really cool.

I also got the chance to try some wines, a white, a different rosé, and a red. Things started well. The first two wines were delicious. Both 2007s, both from Spain, both labeled Protocolo, but I can't be bothered to look up the real name of the producer if that's not just a brand. The white was fresh and sauvignon like, but not sauvignon. I haven't looked up the variety or varieties used here, but this is terrific cheap white wine for casual sipping or the dinner table. Same with the rosé, also fresh and clean though perhaps a bit fat. I loved the finish though, with a clean soil note that really added intrigue to what is otherwise a pleasant wine. For $8 or less, these are steals.

Then I look a gift horse in the mouth. (Pardon the Belmont Stakes pun.) These were free pours but the red was perplexing to say the least. It was a 2005 "reserve" type wine of Oregon Pinot Noir from a producer I know well and usually enjoy. If you've followed this blog, I've found I simply can't be honestly critical about local stuff and not hear waaaayyyyy too much griping from the producers. So I've given up. I can't name names here, but email me if you must have the tawdry details. Suffice it to say, this wine is crap. Herbal, barnyardy, and overly oaky from barrel aging on the nose, with a soft, diffuse palate that finished with sour, almost bitter oak notes amid perfectly fine acid and tannin structure. Perhaps this bottle is off, and savvy readers of course are thinking the bottle was off, or opened too long. I don't think so. I might expect a 2005 to be tight and needing aeration. This wine is a mess, and the likely brett issues here are what's really troubling. That finish, now with a metallic edge, really suggests a problem. I'm saddened actually and I really do hope this example is somehow not representative. Otherwise, hmm, how do you bottle and sell this? I'm glad to try it and I'll seek out another chance to see if this was an abberation, but given the issues I doubt it was a bottle thing. There was no oxidation, not corkiness, and the diffuse nature of things suggested nothing to the hope that time would turn things around. Strange, very strange.

So at home I go to the cellar and select a wine for dinner. My choice, the humble 2004 Perrin Cotes du Rhone Nature is usually lovely, peppery southern Rhone red wine. Tonight, it's corked. So I find my wife and ask if she really wants some wine with dinner, or perhaps I should just give up. No, no, no, she would love something decent. Nothing special though. So I pick the NV Plan de Pegau Vin de Table L.04, meaning it's nonvintage wine by the letter of the law, but generally if not totally from 2004. Vin de Table in France can't have a vintage, and is usually a blend of things not allowed by any specific appellation. Perhaps even a blend of years, and who knows if there's little of this and that in what is otherwise apparently 2004 wine. Does all this matter? No, it's musty but maybe not corked. My wife finds band aid flavors, especially on the finish. That's brett, the spoilage yeast that can be fine in some amounts. Here, it's just bitter and ugly. So it's another wine down the drain.

That's it, I'm done with wine tonight. I open my last bottle of 2007 (not labeled as such) Laurelwood Vinter Varmer ale from a brewpub down the road. Well finally, this isn't compromised. Lots of malt and hop notes, it almost smells like my kitchen did when I brewed beer. A bit coarse and vulgar, otherwise tasty, clean, and full flavored. This does the trick.

But damn, what a crap night for wine. Sometimes...sometimes...it's just not your night.

Dinner at Alba Osteria

Elevage readers will likely know the names Carolyn and Marshall Manning. They host the annual Manning's March Magnum Madness soiree, and otherwise regularly open their home and their cellar to friends and strangers alike who enjoy good wine.

For Carolyn's recent....significant birthday, they topped themselves by hosting a dinner at one of their favorite restaurants here in Portland, Alba Osteria. They only asked that guests bring a special bottle of wine, or as Marshall clarifed for me, something you wonder "when am I going to open that?"

The evening was perfect. There are many accurate reports out there about how good and authentic Alba's cooking is, but this night seemed even better than ever. Add in a nice mix of people and a highly unusual Portland lightning storm, and of course some excellent wines, and it was truly a night to remember. Thanks to the hosts for their example of generosity, yet again.

For starters, we enjoyed the 1998 J. Lasalle Champagne Special Club, with its biscuity aroma and focused, long flavors. Then the 2005 Francois Cotat Sancerre Les Monts Damnes, fresh and piercing sauvignon that was predictably nice with oyster fritters.

The 2007 Tempier Bandol Rosé was very pale, with a simply beautiful rosé aroma with strong mineral flavors and wonderful length. Too bad that the bottle price has soared to the mid-$40s, though if any rosé is worth it, this really might be. It's fine wine, plain and simple.

The first red was the 1995 Bartolo Mascarello Barolo, youthful but not young, finely tannic but open and long. I was surprised how well this showed for being just a ’95, which is early yet for a wine that should last for decades.

A decanter came around with the 1988 Tempier Bandol Tourtine, a bit farmy and tight, not my favorite Tempier and actually, the more I think about it, the more I find that many Tempiers red are like this for me. Hardly bad, but just very good, if that’s damning. Is it just too young yet?

Then we tried the lone Burgundy, the 1998 Rousseau Clos de la Roche. And wow, this definitely showed itself as Grand Cru. Medium translucent ruby color, sweet fruit and lovely floral and old wood aromas, silky and long in the mouth with some tannin on the finish, but nothing obtrusive. If you want someone to know what Grand Cru is all about, just give them a glass of this.

I didn't pay too much attention to the 1995 Pegau Chateauneuf du Pape Cuvee Reserve, but it was really nice grenachey Chateauneuf, with a worsted texture with fine tannin that still needs time to resolve. It was tasty but will hold a while yet.

I also only had a quick taste of the 1990 Rocche dei Manzoni Barolo Riserva, which is still fairly tannic but nice if not a stand out tonight. Instead, I paid more attention to the 1958 Borgono Barolo Riserva, a relic in my wife’s words, but in a good way. Pale almost pink color, old yet fresh aroma and a light bodied but silky and flavory in the mouth. My wife later commented that it was like an old guy who’s well dressed and well kept, but still elderly. A treat. Thanks Mark.

Then a trio of dessert wines. First the 1988 Sudiraut Sauternes, which was nicer than I remember this one, more golden than ever with good sweetness and not the bitterness I remember from its youth. Then the 1995 Champalou Vouvray Tris des Vendanges, which was very sweet and fat, simply delicious but not so light on its feet.

But the true surprise amid this excess was the 1983 Argyros Vin Santo, what is apparently a legendary wine from Greece. Thick and rich, it was very full bodied with maple notes and all kinds of complexity, really tasty and a revelation about what might be out there from Greece that I’ve never even tried or thought existed.

The meal itself was long and delicious at every turn. I'll spare those details, but if you find yourself at Alba, simply order Tajarin and let the rest fill itself in. Alba makes and serves perhaps the best pasta in Portland, enough said.

Bouchard is not Bouchard

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

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

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

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

Wish I could say that isn't true today.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mother's Day Wines

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

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

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

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

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

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

Two Whites From Edmunds St. John

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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