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.
June 15, 2008
June 14, 2008
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.
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.
June 10, 2008
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.
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.
June 08, 2008
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.
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.
June 07, 2008
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.
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.
May 31, 2008
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.
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 fromGreece
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.
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
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.
May 21, 2008
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.
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.
May 13, 2008
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.
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.
May 05, 2008
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.
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.
April 30, 2008
50% Off: These, Not Those
I had an unusual, though nice, experience in a wine shop recently. I was browsing in a shop that I don't normally visit. It's not in my immediate area and it's actually one of those half wine, half gifty thing shops. That's typically more than enough evidence that the shop isn't worth a geek's time, but rules have their exceptions and this is one.
Nevermind the shop's odd shelf arrangement, with wines placed on what is to me a vague "ligher to heavier" and "earthy to fruity" axis (what does that mean?). Once you get over that, you find a well thought out selection of wines from around the world. Not a geek fest, but much more serious than the modest locale otherwise commands.
What struck me was the final shelf, with a 50% off sign on the top. That's quite a discount, and you might think that means the wines probably stink. But in this part of the world, there are some amazing things to find in wine bargain bins.
Yet the 50% off shelf had some of the exact same wines as on the regular shelves. Not different vintages or vineyard. No, the exact same wines.
At first I thought there must be a mistake. But no. I asked the proprietor and he said he just didn't have enough room for all the bottles, so a few extras go to the bargain bin. Such as a brand new 2006 Cotes du Rhone that's $12 here, but hey, $6 there.
What caught my eye was the 2003 J.M. Raffault Chinon "Clos du Capucins," which an importer refers to as the producer's grand cru. The shelf price was $23.99. But here were two bottles at half off, and I grabbed them both. Nevermind the over the top 2003 vintage. I'm excited.
But one wine in the same shop at two different prices? I've never seen such a thing. Have you?
Meanwhile, a beer note. I've heard about the Duchesse de Bourgogne, a Flemish beer, but until now I've never tried one. Well isn't this interesting. The label says it's blend of oak-aged ales from 8 to 18 months old. It's indeed reddish brown in color with a complex malty aroma laced with sherry notes. In the mouth it's lightly sweet with a full malty flavor with dried plum and other fruit notes. There's clearly a dry sherry quality on the finish, but it nicely balances the sweet elements and draws out the finish. The oak notes are muted, or perhaps integrated rather than sticking out obviously. In sum, this is delicious old world ale that drinks more like wine than "beer." Find some and try it for yourself.
Nevermind the shop's odd shelf arrangement, with wines placed on what is to me a vague "ligher to heavier" and "earthy to fruity" axis (what does that mean?). Once you get over that, you find a well thought out selection of wines from around the world. Not a geek fest, but much more serious than the modest locale otherwise commands.
What struck me was the final shelf, with a 50% off sign on the top. That's quite a discount, and you might think that means the wines probably stink. But in this part of the world, there are some amazing things to find in wine bargain bins.
Yet the 50% off shelf had some of the exact same wines as on the regular shelves. Not different vintages or vineyard. No, the exact same wines.
At first I thought there must be a mistake. But no. I asked the proprietor and he said he just didn't have enough room for all the bottles, so a few extras go to the bargain bin. Such as a brand new 2006 Cotes du Rhone that's $12 here, but hey, $6 there.
What caught my eye was the 2003 J.M. Raffault Chinon "Clos du Capucins," which an importer refers to as the producer's grand cru. The shelf price was $23.99. But here were two bottles at half off, and I grabbed them both. Nevermind the over the top 2003 vintage. I'm excited.
But one wine in the same shop at two different prices? I've never seen such a thing. Have you?
Meanwhile, a beer note. I've heard about the Duchesse de Bourgogne, a Flemish beer, but until now I've never tried one. Well isn't this interesting. The label says it's blend of oak-aged ales from 8 to 18 months old. It's indeed reddish brown in color with a complex malty aroma laced with sherry notes. In the mouth it's lightly sweet with a full malty flavor with dried plum and other fruit notes. There's clearly a dry sherry quality on the finish, but it nicely balances the sweet elements and draws out the finish. The oak notes are muted, or perhaps integrated rather than sticking out obviously. In sum, this is delicious old world ale that drinks more like wine than "beer." Find some and try it for yourself.
April 22, 2008
2004 Nigl Gelber Muskateller Kremstal
At least a year ago, I bought one bottle of the 2004 Nigl Gelber Muskateller, a dry white wine from the muscat grapes made by one of Austria
The only problem is that I end up with too many one-off bottles. More than a few, like this one, are also weird enough to leave me wondering when to open them. Sure, this should be nice with spicy food, but I have a bunch of wines that fit that bill. So bottles occasionally sit longer in the cellar than I intend.
Then tonight, we’re having Thai take-out from a great little place in the neighborhood – Chaba Thai for you locals. And our neighbors are coming over. They’re game for unusual wines, so out comes the Gelber Muskateller.
First, a quick thought about screw caps. This has one, and I’ve read reports of people suggesting that screw caps can be tough to open sometimes, especially if you have arthritis. I don’t, but sometimes screw caps are a bit of a struggle. The good advice I got is that you should hold the lower part of the screw cap capsule with one hand and the bottle in the other hand. Twist the bottle and the screw cap will crack open without much effort at all.
Once opened, this wine is crystal clear and pale with a fresh, faintly muscat aroma. Instead of heavily floral aromas, this wine shows more grapefruit and mineral notes. In the mouth, it’s dry with some fat fruit and then piercing acidity and a long, mouthwatering finish.
This wine isn’t terribly complex, but it’s really delicious and much more pleasingly subtle than other dry muscats I’ve had. Not many it’s true, but that’s because they tend to taste more like dessert wines than table wines. Maybe I ought to try more, if this one’s any indicator. But then again, when will I get around to drinking them? The wine queue is only getting longer.
April 20, 2008
Auction Wines
No, not high-end rieslings from the famous German wine auctions. You go do that. I’m simply talking about buying wines from online auctioneers like Winebid.com. I got into it a number of years ago when Winebid was new and I didn’t have a mortgage or kids. Being me, I never spent much money. But I was amazed then at what I could buy for relative peanuts. For $20 or less back then, I got things like:
1978 Stag’s
1990 DeLoach
And lots more…wines you couldn’t find on store shelves, wines that weren’t necessarily great, but wines that were very interesting if not outright delicious. Certainly more fun for this wine geek than the swath of mostly new release stuff I usually have access to on local shelves.
Then came kids and the house, and my Winebid days ended. That is until a few months ago, when the happy mix of Christmas money and free time led me back to the fold. I even remembered my old password, so in I logged and off I went.
Auctions used to be something like 10 days long, maybe starting on a Thursday and then ending the week from Sunday, with a few off days before the next auction opened. Now auctions start and end each Sunday, with just 15 minutes for things to reset before the next week’s auction begins. I like this new schedule.
It used to be that you could buy dribs and drabs of bottles over a number of auctions, then consolidate everything into one shipment to make sure shipping charges didn’t negate the good deals. Perhaps my Winebid days ended way back when after the policy apparently changed where they’d charge you for storing wines not shipped immediately. That was probably reasonable for them, but this customer didn’t like the change on bit. Especially since the change seemed a bit pourous. The policy wasn’t entirely clear, and the whole confusion just turned me off.
Now, with the weekly auctions, Winebid has a clear policy and shipping schedule such that you can amass wines from two consecutive auctions without storage charges. My goal – to fill out a case over two auctions, so that with ground shipping from California to Oregon I’m paying only about $2 a bottle for packaging and transit.
So far, it’s working too well. My wife isn’t reading this, right? Seriously, I’ve managed to get some fascinating things without spending too much money. My goal for the wine cellar is to find some newer relase, high quality things at discount prices and fill in older vintages that my cellar largely lacks. Thus far, I’ve managed some interesting things within my old budget, like:
1981
2004 Selbach Oster Rielsing Auslese* Zeltinger Schlossberg
1997
And others…including the following two wines that I’ve tried so far.
First, the 2000 Bouchard Pommard Signature, a translucent red
Then, the 1991
I’ve looked at other wine auction sites, but none seem to have the small, well priced lots I favor like Winebid. Anyone know of other sites that do?
April 19, 2008
Vins Sans Soufre
Maybe it's me, but it seems like there are more and more red wines out there with no sulfur added. Sure, the number of "sans soufre" bottlings out there is still minimal. Yet I see them on the store shelves, and not always clearly labeled as such.
For example, Marcel Lapierre's delicious Morgon is typcially sans soufre. Unfortunately, the importer's label or the government "health" warning label usually covers up the small back label that tells you in French that the wine has no sulfur added and needs to be keep in cool conditions to be in optimum condition.
Happily, our picture shows that Pierre and Catherine Breton's 2000 Bourgeuil "Nuits d'ivresse" is clearly labeled. Provided you read French, of course. For the monoglots, the label says that the wine was not sulfured or filtered, that the grapes used were certified organic by Ecocert, and that the wine should be kept below 14C, or around 56F.
Of course, I found this bottle and a few of its siblings recently while browsing a local Fred Meyer that's never very warm inside but certainly no less than 68F at any given time. The 2000 vintage was released four or five years ago, and these bottles were simply on the regular shelves, slightly dust covered and suggesting they'd been waiting for a suitor for quite a while.
Everything about the bottles looked fine. Fill levels were perfect. Labels were clean, capsules and corks apparently pristine. What I might expect from fragile wine stored in imperfect conditions would be corks bulging out of the bottle tops, pulling at the capsules, perhaps with dried drips of wine down the sides of the bottles. Any poorly stored wine might look that way, as heat causes wine to expand and push out the cork, allowing spoilage and leaving evidence of the disaster within. But no-sulfur-added wines would seem to be even more likely to show damage, because sulfur is used to inactivate yeast and otherwise harmless bacteria in the wine. No sulfur means there's nothing from keeping chemical reactions from occuring, producing CO2 gas that pushes out the cork a bit an allows the wine to spoil. Cold temperatures slow down or essentially negate the risk, hence the warning to keep non-sulfured wine cold. But no sulfur and room temperature conditions for even just days or weeks is surely doom for wine.
At least, that's the conventional wisdom. Yet here are these bottles that appear in perfect condition depsite obviously imperfect storage. So I buy a bottle and try it out. And wouldn't you know, it's pretty delicious stuff. I don't have a "perfectly" stored bottle to compare it to, so who's to say that one wouldn't show aromas and flavors much more young and primary than our poorly treated bottle. The color was a bit mature, lacking the vibrancy that Loire cabernet franc shows in its youth, but the wine is almost eight years old. The aroma was clean and still pretty fresh, with a nice mix of gravelly cassis and herb aromas and flavors, and a softening tannic structure. There isn't great intensity here, and this bottling (the "drunken nights") doesn't seem to be intended for long aging. But this is still perfectly good wine and either an epiphany for the resiliance of no-sulfur wine or at least evidence that no sulfur, no filtering, and no real concern for storage conditions isn't certain doom for otherwise fragile wine.
I'm left wondering what producers are thinking in bottling wines for export without sulfur. Do they think the wines are less fragile than we typically assume? Are they aware that even the best wine shops might not heed with label warnings? Because it's not just the supermarkets that pay no attention to the warnings on storage conditions. I saw the 2004 version of this same wine on the room temperature shelves of one of the top wine shops in Portland. If any place would pay attention to such details, this shop is the one. Yet, again, no bulging corks, no drip stains on the labels, no evidence that anything's wrong with the wine. Judging by this 2000, I'd bet the 2004 is fine. And considering I'm preparing to sulfur my 2007 wines, maybe I don't need to hit them as hard as I think. Sulfur is a magical thing for winemakers, but perhaps the risks to our wines aren't quite as great as we think.
April 06, 2008
Homebrew, and a Belgian
This past vintage was a tough one for this homebrewer, though things may be turning out better than I feared.
Last October was pretty rainy here in the northern Willamette Valley. I picked chardonnay in the middle of the month that was nicely ripe and pretty clean despite the conditions, and I was hopeful I'd make my best white wine yet. The next day I got pinot noir from another vineyard that simply wasn't that ripe. Things didn't look good for my 2007 red wine.
My goal for the chardonnay was simple - make a clean, early drinking white wine aged in glass that would be ready for the coming summer. I picked the most industrial of industrial yeasts, EC-1118, for its reliability with little impact on the final wine. Of course, things don't always turn out so well, and months after harvest I had a couple carboys of juice that wouldn't finish fermenting. What happened? Who knows, but I brought the carboys into my kitchen to try to encourage the yeast to finish off the remaining sugar.
One month later, nothing. Two months later, nothing, except my growing fear that the sugar fermenation wouldn't ever finish, the malolactic fermentation would begin and then end ruinously as the lactic bacteria eat the remaining sugar instead of malic acidity, producing nasty volatile acidity.
Then three months later, today, I find the carboys are finally dry and actually taste pretty fresh, one moreso than the other but that's ok. This is an experiment, and I'll end up bottling them separately to see how they do. I have another small amount of chardonnay that finished fermentation in the fall and has been happily resting all winter. All together, they should provide some interesting lessons before the coming harvest. Considering that I expected this chardonnay to be total failure, I'm now very hopeful for something at least decent.
With the red grapes, I knew I'd have trouble with dilute, unripe flavors due to the rain, so I took off a few gallons of juice after one night of soaking on the skins to make rose. That also allowed the remaining juice to gain a bit more density as the color and flavor from the skins still had largely not been extracted. And I had nicely pink juice to make rose, something I messed up a little the year before by leaving my rose on the skins too long and ending up with a color closer to light red than the pale salmon I really like in most rose.
The rose juice fermented quickly, also with EC-1118, and has been resting all winter like the small amount of chardonnay. Today I tasted it for the first time in months and it's really nice, crisp if not a bit tart with nice purity though simple flavors. I'm interested to see if this doesn't end up being more nervy than most local rose, more like European versions that emphasize minerality and austerity rather than sweet, gummy fruit. We'll see, but I'm excited.
And the red, now in barrel for nearly six months, is smelling better than ever. I've been fighting H2S as the wine goes through its malolactic fermentation, so I've gently stirred the barrel with a copper tube periodically to encourage the stinky smells to bind with the copper and stop smelling. It's working I think, as the wine shows more generous fruit and spice on the aroma than I've ever noticed. Rich, plush wine this isn't. But gone (mostly) is the aroma of farts and other stinky things. In the mouth, this wine still lacks fruit though I'm hoping things continue to change as the malolactic fermentation concludes. It may never appeal too much, but if the flavors come around like the aroma, I'll be very pleased. At this point, I have much more hope than I did a few months ago.
The lesson with all these wines? Patience truly is a virtue. The old sayings tell us that the farmer must not miss anything in the vineyard, lest the grapes suffer from rot or mildew. Yet the winemaker must be willing to neglect wines in the cellar, that is to resist the temptation to muck with the wines before they've had a chance to do their thing, for lack of a better phrase. I'm learning that. Often, the best thing to do in the cellar is wait. Though that's sure easier when you have many barrels of a wine and you can afford a few clunkers. The homebrewer has just one, and it's tough to sit there and wait for things to get better on their own.
My reward? A cool bottle of Duvel Golden Ale from Belgium. Poured into a wine glass to allow the aroma to develop, it's urine yellow in color with a frothy, white head and a malty, yeasty aroma that simply captivates. In the mouth, there's a pleasant tang from the yeast and a long, lightly sweet flavor that's, rightly, golden. I could drink a lot of this, except it's 8.5% alcohol. So one is plenty. And plenty good.
Last October was pretty rainy here in the northern Willamette Valley. I picked chardonnay in the middle of the month that was nicely ripe and pretty clean despite the conditions, and I was hopeful I'd make my best white wine yet. The next day I got pinot noir from another vineyard that simply wasn't that ripe. Things didn't look good for my 2007 red wine.
My goal for the chardonnay was simple - make a clean, early drinking white wine aged in glass that would be ready for the coming summer. I picked the most industrial of industrial yeasts, EC-1118, for its reliability with little impact on the final wine. Of course, things don't always turn out so well, and months after harvest I had a couple carboys of juice that wouldn't finish fermenting. What happened? Who knows, but I brought the carboys into my kitchen to try to encourage the yeast to finish off the remaining sugar.
One month later, nothing. Two months later, nothing, except my growing fear that the sugar fermenation wouldn't ever finish, the malolactic fermentation would begin and then end ruinously as the lactic bacteria eat the remaining sugar instead of malic acidity, producing nasty volatile acidity.
Then three months later, today, I find the carboys are finally dry and actually taste pretty fresh, one moreso than the other but that's ok. This is an experiment, and I'll end up bottling them separately to see how they do. I have another small amount of chardonnay that finished fermentation in the fall and has been happily resting all winter. All together, they should provide some interesting lessons before the coming harvest. Considering that I expected this chardonnay to be total failure, I'm now very hopeful for something at least decent.
With the red grapes, I knew I'd have trouble with dilute, unripe flavors due to the rain, so I took off a few gallons of juice after one night of soaking on the skins to make rose. That also allowed the remaining juice to gain a bit more density as the color and flavor from the skins still had largely not been extracted. And I had nicely pink juice to make rose, something I messed up a little the year before by leaving my rose on the skins too long and ending up with a color closer to light red than the pale salmon I really like in most rose.
The rose juice fermented quickly, also with EC-1118, and has been resting all winter like the small amount of chardonnay. Today I tasted it for the first time in months and it's really nice, crisp if not a bit tart with nice purity though simple flavors. I'm interested to see if this doesn't end up being more nervy than most local rose, more like European versions that emphasize minerality and austerity rather than sweet, gummy fruit. We'll see, but I'm excited.
And the red, now in barrel for nearly six months, is smelling better than ever. I've been fighting H2S as the wine goes through its malolactic fermentation, so I've gently stirred the barrel with a copper tube periodically to encourage the stinky smells to bind with the copper and stop smelling. It's working I think, as the wine shows more generous fruit and spice on the aroma than I've ever noticed. Rich, plush wine this isn't. But gone (mostly) is the aroma of farts and other stinky things. In the mouth, this wine still lacks fruit though I'm hoping things continue to change as the malolactic fermentation concludes. It may never appeal too much, but if the flavors come around like the aroma, I'll be very pleased. At this point, I have much more hope than I did a few months ago.
The lesson with all these wines? Patience truly is a virtue. The old sayings tell us that the farmer must not miss anything in the vineyard, lest the grapes suffer from rot or mildew. Yet the winemaker must be willing to neglect wines in the cellar, that is to resist the temptation to muck with the wines before they've had a chance to do their thing, for lack of a better phrase. I'm learning that. Often, the best thing to do in the cellar is wait. Though that's sure easier when you have many barrels of a wine and you can afford a few clunkers. The homebrewer has just one, and it's tough to sit there and wait for things to get better on their own.
My reward? A cool bottle of Duvel Golden Ale from Belgium. Poured into a wine glass to allow the aroma to develop, it's urine yellow in color with a frothy, white head and a malty, yeasty aroma that simply captivates. In the mouth, there's a pleasant tang from the yeast and a long, lightly sweet flavor that's, rightly, golden. I could drink a lot of this, except it's 8.5% alcohol. So one is plenty. And plenty good.
April 05, 2008
Recommending Jacob's Creek
I didn't really foresee the day I'd recommend not one, but two Jacob's Creek wines. Yet here we are.
I don't mean to seem snobbish. It's just that there's plenty written about mass market wine brands. And, usually, I find you can get better wines for less that $10 from smaller producers than the giants. Think of it this way. With $5 for lunch, would you choose McDonald's or one of a selection of lunch carts? I go with the best lunch cart I can find. You can simply do better with individuals making their own food, perhaps with some love and attention, versus the consistent mediocrity of the industrial giant.
With that in mind, we consider Jacob's Creek, a brand from the Australian wine giant Orlando. First, if you need a good, cheap sparking wine that mimics something in the neighborhood of Champagne, the current crop of NV Jacob's Creek Brut Chardonnay/Pinot Noir is pretty swell. I heard about it from Matt Kramer in the Oregonian newspaper, and he's correct that it's more than decent stuff. Two caveats: batches change without notice, and freshness in a wine like this counts. Don't buy dusty old bottles of most sparkling wine.
But the real interest here is the 2002 Jacob's Creek Riesling Steingarten Barossa Valley. I came upon it the other day in the Hollywood Fred Meyer store here in Portland for just $6.99. The display suggested it was a huge markdown, and despite the Jacob's Creek name I grabbed one. Then I looked it up on the internet, as I like to do with wines that I find.
The first thing I found was that this is a limited release wine usually marketed under the Orlando name for $20 or more. It's been around for decades and it seems to be a highly regarded bottling in its home country. The 2002 vintage is apparently infamous for being the year Orlando thought they'd change things up and brand it with the Jacob's Creek name, much to the chagrin of longtime fans who thought it cheapened the wine. Perhaps that led to the local close out.
The most useful notes I found on the wine are at the Auswine forum, which I've read for years without participating much (not at all in the past five or so years). Read here, here, here, here, here, here, and here for more, including some very positive comments and even some evidence of clamor for the wine before release, at a notably higher price. It's always interesting how something so hot in one country or city can languish on the shelves in another. Another proof that prices does not equate to quality.
So how is it? Terrific, actually. This is really one of the most interesting non-European rieslings I've ever tried, no matter the price. For $7, it's a ridiculous bargain. It's indeed lightly honeyed smelling as others have reported, with light petrol aromas and grapefruit, sometimes mint and other interesting things that come and go with time in the glass. In the mouth, the wine is auslese rich with bright acidity but little if any residual sugar, meaning that it's rich and full tasting but also dry and lively with a long finish. The flavors are fruity, mineral, and earthy, really integrated and complex tasting with great intensity and terrific balance. I know, vague winespeak, but this wine is really good and simply the kind of wine you try and immediately know it's serious stuff that will last and probably only get better. As Robert Parker might say, run, don't walk.
I don't mean to seem snobbish. It's just that there's plenty written about mass market wine brands. And, usually, I find you can get better wines for less that $10 from smaller producers than the giants. Think of it this way. With $5 for lunch, would you choose McDonald's or one of a selection of lunch carts? I go with the best lunch cart I can find. You can simply do better with individuals making their own food, perhaps with some love and attention, versus the consistent mediocrity of the industrial giant.
With that in mind, we consider Jacob's Creek, a brand from the Australian wine giant Orlando. First, if you need a good, cheap sparking wine that mimics something in the neighborhood of Champagne, the current crop of NV Jacob's Creek Brut Chardonnay/Pinot Noir is pretty swell. I heard about it from Matt Kramer in the Oregonian newspaper, and he's correct that it's more than decent stuff. Two caveats: batches change without notice, and freshness in a wine like this counts. Don't buy dusty old bottles of most sparkling wine.
But the real interest here is the 2002 Jacob's Creek Riesling Steingarten Barossa Valley. I came upon it the other day in the Hollywood Fred Meyer store here in Portland for just $6.99. The display suggested it was a huge markdown, and despite the Jacob's Creek name I grabbed one. Then I looked it up on the internet, as I like to do with wines that I find.
The first thing I found was that this is a limited release wine usually marketed under the Orlando name for $20 or more. It's been around for decades and it seems to be a highly regarded bottling in its home country. The 2002 vintage is apparently infamous for being the year Orlando thought they'd change things up and brand it with the Jacob's Creek name, much to the chagrin of longtime fans who thought it cheapened the wine. Perhaps that led to the local close out.
The most useful notes I found on the wine are at the Auswine forum, which I've read for years without participating much (not at all in the past five or so years). Read here, here, here, here, here, here, and here for more, including some very positive comments and even some evidence of clamor for the wine before release, at a notably higher price. It's always interesting how something so hot in one country or city can languish on the shelves in another. Another proof that prices does not equate to quality.
So how is it? Terrific, actually. This is really one of the most interesting non-European rieslings I've ever tried, no matter the price. For $7, it's a ridiculous bargain. It's indeed lightly honeyed smelling as others have reported, with light petrol aromas and grapefruit, sometimes mint and other interesting things that come and go with time in the glass. In the mouth, the wine is auslese rich with bright acidity but little if any residual sugar, meaning that it's rich and full tasting but also dry and lively with a long finish. The flavors are fruity, mineral, and earthy, really integrated and complex tasting with great intensity and terrific balance. I know, vague winespeak, but this wine is really good and simply the kind of wine you try and immediately know it's serious stuff that will last and probably only get better. As Robert Parker might say, run, don't walk.
April 03, 2008
Closeout Wine Product
Ah, spring is here and it's time to drink some Beaujolais Nouveau.
What's that you say? Nouveau is too old in spring? It's just for Thanksgiving, if ever? Bollocks. Not when there's "Close-Out [sic] Wine Product" in our midst.
Yes, the finest vieilles vignes Beaujolais Noveau is on clearance in at least a few stores in this town. Me being a cheapskate, I buy when prices are low.
And what do you know? This 2007 J. P. Brun Terres Dores Beaujolais Noveau Vieilles Vignes is as good as I'd heard. I suppose you could fault it for being atypcial, enough so that one wonders if it might ever be refused its appellation for being, well, too good. The French do this on occasion, and it might be warranted here. Most nouveau tastes like bubble gum. This wine most certainly does not.
I'm not sure I've ever seen a Beaujolais Nouveau made from "old vines" like this Brun example. And the usual $18 regular price is certainly the most expensive Nouveau I've seen.
If you can believe it, this wine is worth that price and might even be worth cellaring for a little while. It has a lovely perfume and shows all the bright raspberry fruit, rocky earth and pleasant leafy qualities of the regular Brun Beaujolais I've loved for years, with just the slightest grapey edge that suggests Nouveau (made and bottled within weeks of harvest and usually meant to be drunk very young).
In fact, I wonder how Brun does it. The wine tastes like regular Beaujolais, good regular Beaujolais that is another example of wine that allegedly doesn't last in the cellar but in fact can.
I suppose there's no reason to cellar such a wine. Its charm will inevitably fade with time, and there's always a new vintage around the corner. But how can you resist? It's delicious, it's substantial, and it's sad when the bottle's empty.
So go and seek out some closeout wine product. You may be surprised. Nouveau may not be fashionable anymore, but it can be darn good wine.
March 30, 2008
Ah, Bordeaux
Thank you faithful reader for your encouragement that I update my blog. So…
Back in my
One is simply that I don’t drink nearly as much cabernet- or merlot-based wine than I used to. If I do, it’s likely to be Loire cabernet franc, which I find to be the
Second, the
Third, with the 1995 vintage,
Finally, though I’m loathe to bring it up, there’s clearly been the dramatic change in grape growing and winemaking in Bordeaux wines in the past decade or two. Suffice it to say that, indeed, more wines from
At least, until I try something like the
Back in the late 1990s, after prices started to rise, good but not great vintages like 1994 fell out of favor. So there were some terrific deals to be had. It didn’t hurt that I met my wife in that year, and spent a good part of that summer in
More than a decade later, the ‘94s I’ve tried are still a bit tough. The ’94 Leoville Barton was still too firm for my taste at Christmas more than a year ago. But it’s early yet. Good
The 1994 Grand Mayne has its own controversy. Robert Parker liked this producer in the late ‘80s but felt that the ’93 and ’94 were possibly flawed in the cellar, with repeated samples showing elements of “cork” taint that can come from bad barrels or even a mold-infected cellar. I tasted this wine young and found it promising, so I bought a few cheap on close-out after Parker readers must have passed it over. Back on Thanksgiving 2000, it tasted tight and hard, not bad, certainly not corked, just lackluster and in need of time. I didn’t open another until last week and, wow, what a difference.
Let’s be clear. This isn’t first growth quality. But after nearly 14 years, this wine shows a nicely maturing ruby color and that vague sweetness of bottle age in its perfume, like the way onions caramelize and sweeten with cooking. There are also nice red fruits in the aroma and herbs from the merlot, and that clean, rocky earthiness I love in
The lesson here? Don’t always believe what you read, this blog included. You may hate 1994
March 07, 2008
Bubbly de Savoie
To celebrate the fact that my 2006 red wine is nearing the bottle, I popped a bottle of NV Domaine Labbe Brut Vin de Savoie Methode Traditionnelle. That's French for delicious sparkling wine from the Savoie.
It has a fine frothy mousse with crisp, fresh aromas of yellow fruits and stones. The flavors are similar with a lemony tang, so lively and pure with tantalizing minerality. Yes, that word's thrown around way too much. But this wine shows that unmistakeable stony flavor that you simply don't find in many (any?) local wines. Dry but not austere, my less educated palate regarding vins des Savoie might guess this was good Loire sparkling wine. For something like $14, this is stealing.
It has a fine frothy mousse with crisp, fresh aromas of yellow fruits and stones. The flavors are similar with a lemony tang, so lively and pure with tantalizing minerality. Yes, that word's thrown around way too much. But this wine shows that unmistakeable stony flavor that you simply don't find in many (any?) local wines. Dry but not austere, my less educated palate regarding vins des Savoie might guess this was good Loire sparkling wine. For something like $14, this is stealing.
2006 Pinot Noir Update
Just got back the ETS report on my single barrel of 2006 Pinot Noir and I'm very surprised and glad to see the chemistry. Here are the numbers:
Free sulfur dioxide -- 23 mg/L
Total sulfur dioxide -- 75 ml/L
Volatile acidity (acetic) -- 0.056 g/100mL
Titratable acidity -- 0.54 g/100mL
pH -- 3.54
Molecular SO2 -- 0.42 mg/L
I'm not a technical guy, but seeing these numbers really helps give perspective to what I've been experiencing, and thinking I've been experiencing, with this wine over the past year and a half. I wish I'd done a "juice panel" before fermentation to know the initial pH and TA. I'm not sure the measurements we did on this at the time were very accurate.
I thought the free SO2 might be really low. Instead, it's pretty close to where I want it for bottling in the next month. Total SO2 is a bit of a puzzle. I recently added 60ppm after the long malolactic fermentation finally concluded. I'm confident in my calculation, and the only other SO2 added to this wine was (I think) 40ppm at the crusher. Certainly no less, perhaps a bit more. So how do I only have 75 total SO2? Shouldn't total SO2 be the sum of all adds? I'll have to read up on that.
VA is both higher than I'd like, but lower than I feared. Actually, I have no idea about how much VA I should tolerate. I've just read Peynaud and he suggests keeping it below 55-60ppm. My wine shows some lifted notes that suggest a little VA. I want more purity in the wine. Maybe it's not VA. Maybe it's just the ripeness of the vintage. Seeing the VA at 56 ppm makes me think it could have been lower with a better ML. Yet, I'm relieved that it isn't higher. At this level, is it generally noticeable?
TA is about what I would expect, but given where I thought I started with pH and how the wine tastes, I would have thought my pH now was 3.7. The lower number simply helps me keep bugs out of the wine with less SO2. Meaning, molecular SO2 is very good, I think. I need to read up on this some more. Molecular SO2 represents the anti-bacterial properties of sulfur (anti-oxidation is the other main property). One table I found so far suggests I'm in great shape, but I'll read further before drawing conclusions.
Anybody have thoughts? Am I a slave to science? Or is this like putting a instant read thermometer in the bird you're roasting in the oven?
I'm hardly a technical guy
Free sulfur dioxide -- 23 mg/L
Total sulfur dioxide -- 75 ml/L
Volatile acidity (acetic) -- 0.056 g/100mL
Titratable acidity -- 0.54 g/100mL
pH -- 3.54
Molecular SO2 -- 0.42 mg/L
I'm not a technical guy, but seeing these numbers really helps give perspective to what I've been experiencing, and thinking I've been experiencing, with this wine over the past year and a half. I wish I'd done a "juice panel" before fermentation to know the initial pH and TA. I'm not sure the measurements we did on this at the time were very accurate.
I thought the free SO2 might be really low. Instead, it's pretty close to where I want it for bottling in the next month. Total SO2 is a bit of a puzzle. I recently added 60ppm after the long malolactic fermentation finally concluded. I'm confident in my calculation, and the only other SO2 added to this wine was (I think) 40ppm at the crusher. Certainly no less, perhaps a bit more. So how do I only have 75 total SO2? Shouldn't total SO2 be the sum of all adds? I'll have to read up on that.
VA is both higher than I'd like, but lower than I feared. Actually, I have no idea about how much VA I should tolerate. I've just read Peynaud and he suggests keeping it below 55-60ppm. My wine shows some lifted notes that suggest a little VA. I want more purity in the wine. Maybe it's not VA. Maybe it's just the ripeness of the vintage. Seeing the VA at 56 ppm makes me think it could have been lower with a better ML. Yet, I'm relieved that it isn't higher. At this level, is it generally noticeable?
TA is about what I would expect, but given where I thought I started with pH and how the wine tastes, I would have thought my pH now was 3.7. The lower number simply helps me keep bugs out of the wine with less SO2. Meaning, molecular SO2 is very good, I think. I need to read up on this some more. Molecular SO2 represents the anti-bacterial properties of sulfur (anti-oxidation is the other main property). One table I found so far suggests I'm in great shape, but I'll read further before drawing conclusions.
Anybody have thoughts? Am I a slave to science? Or is this like putting a instant read thermometer in the bird you're roasting in the oven?
I'm hardly a technical guy
March 03, 2008
Wine That Tastes Better Than Its Price
I'm always looking for good, inexpensive wine that is really worth drinking. Sometimes unknown labels deliver pleasant surprises. But the easier bet for finding worthwhile bargains in my experience is in the cheaper labels of the better producers. It's not always true (ahem...Mouton Cadet), but the exceptions prove the rule.
But let's get one thing straight. I'm not advocating for those who hype those "just outside the AOC" wines. You know the ones you read about in wine shop newsletters. "This would be Chateauneuf but the owner didn't bother with the forms, so it's Cotes du Rhone in name only." These stories are sometimes true. But more often they seem as ridiculous as the idea that some generic Bourgogne is distinguished because it's "just a nine iron from [such and such] Grand Cru." A nine iron? Isn't the basement just an elevator ride away from the penthouse? That's a short ride but a big difference.
N0, I'm thinking of the bargain bottlings from producers that don't typcially mess around with bad wine. Evesham Wood in Oregon is a great example with its red wines. The basic Pinot Noir is always nice. Even the "Bruno" label they do for their local distributor for even less money is worthwhile. A. et P. de Villaine in Burgundy is similar. Their wines always seem interesting, no matter the price. They even make reference standard Aligote, and if anything is going to get its corners cut, it's Aligote.
With that in mind, I don't have much experience with Guy Bocard wines from Meursault. But I've heard they're good and figured they probably make good cheap wine. So I bought a bottle of Bocard's 2002 Bourgogne Blanc, and sure enough this was delicious and, while certainly not Meursault, really showed Cote d'Or character for very little money. This isn't a current release, so I had the added chance to see how good cheap wine might keep for a few years.
The wine started a bit stale, not oxidized as many people are finding their aged white Burgs. Rather, something less severe that just suggests the wine is getting a bit too old. Happily this element receeded with air time in favor of really nice baked apple and seashell aromas. In the mouth the wine was bright but flavory, with nice length and a mineral note that mixed well with the ripe yellow fruit flavors. I wouldn't keep this too much longer, but at 5 1/2 years this is terrific, distinct and inexpensive white Burgundy.
Who says you have to pay a lot for interesting wine? And no 9-irons required. Just don't refer to it as "baby Meursault."
But let's get one thing straight. I'm not advocating for those who hype those "just outside the AOC" wines. You know the ones you read about in wine shop newsletters. "This would be Chateauneuf but the owner didn't bother with the forms, so it's Cotes du Rhone in name only." These stories are sometimes true. But more often they seem as ridiculous as the idea that some generic Bourgogne is distinguished because it's "just a nine iron from [such and such] Grand Cru." A nine iron? Isn't the basement just an elevator ride away from the penthouse? That's a short ride but a big difference.
N0, I'm thinking of the bargain bottlings from producers that don't typcially mess around with bad wine. Evesham Wood in Oregon is a great example with its red wines. The basic Pinot Noir is always nice. Even the "Bruno" label they do for their local distributor for even less money is worthwhile. A. et P. de Villaine in Burgundy is similar. Their wines always seem interesting, no matter the price. They even make reference standard Aligote, and if anything is going to get its corners cut, it's Aligote.
With that in mind, I don't have much experience with Guy Bocard wines from Meursault. But I've heard they're good and figured they probably make good cheap wine. So I bought a bottle of Bocard's 2002 Bourgogne Blanc, and sure enough this was delicious and, while certainly not Meursault, really showed Cote d'Or character for very little money. This isn't a current release, so I had the added chance to see how good cheap wine might keep for a few years.
The wine started a bit stale, not oxidized as many people are finding their aged white Burgs. Rather, something less severe that just suggests the wine is getting a bit too old. Happily this element receeded with air time in favor of really nice baked apple and seashell aromas. In the mouth the wine was bright but flavory, with nice length and a mineral note that mixed well with the ripe yellow fruit flavors. I wouldn't keep this too much longer, but at 5 1/2 years this is terrific, distinct and inexpensive white Burgundy.
Who says you have to pay a lot for interesting wine? And no 9-irons required. Just don't refer to it as "baby Meursault."
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