Back in 2000, when I was compiling a prolific portfolio of online wine reviews, I received an email from a fellow wine writer on the consumer-oriented web site: "With your permission, I'd like to send you a wine to review." It took me two full nanoseconds to respond: "Permission granted!" Knowing a bit about the ultra-refined tastes of this elegant man -- an attorney in Manila with seemingly no budget when it came to food, wine and cigars -- I sensed it would be one very special selection. However, there was no way on earth I was prepared for the 1978 Chateau Haut-Brion that flew in from New York a few weeks later.
In a pitiful effort to feel worthy of such a gift, and to silence that part of my mind that kept taunting me with a "pearls before swine, pearls before swine" chant, I set out to educate my little piggy self. My generous benefactor had penned his own review of the 1988 vintage so I started my education there: "Chateau Haut-Brion, a Graves, is the only 1855 classified first growth not from the Medoc district. The oldest great chateau of Bordeaux, it is the last family-owned domaine and traces its beginnings to the early 16th century. Known for its consistently fine structure, harmony and smoothness, it is surprisingly and, thankfully, reasonably priced (and I use that term loosely) compared to the other first growths."
The Wine Spectator chimed in: "The estate, the smallest of the first-growths, has about 106 acres of vines (45 percent cabernet sauvignon, 37 percent merlot and 18 percent cabernet franc) from which it produces an average of 12,000 cases of its red grand vin per year."
And then I decided that Rumi was the quintessential go-to guy on all things wine: "God has given us a dark wine that, drinking it, we leave the two worlds."
I probably don't have to tell you that this was the oldest wine that has ever passed my lips, and the most expensive. (I can't cite the exact amount paid, for a lady never discusses the price of a gift, but I'm gonna ballpark it at $200, give or take $50.) I treated the bottle with awe and reverence, and a little fear, saving it for just the right occasion. Months passed. Holidays and birthdays came and went. The wine waited down in the garage in poised and patient nobility. I researched it further. I solicited suggestions from dozens of people regarding what I should pair with this wine. I received dozens of differing opinions. No two wine collectors agreed on the perfect food worthy of this classic. One mandate resonated: "Drink it in the company of someone very special and let the food take care of itself."
As serendipity would have it, a beloved, longtime friend and spiritual teacher came to town for a visit. We'll call him "Dr. Joy." I intuitively knew that this was the moment I'd been waiting for. We dined out at the same small Pagosa restaurant both nights, and the 1978 Haut-Brion accompanied us on the second. We asked our delightful food server, Natalie, to come in early the next evening so she could taste the wine with us. The chef was uncharacteristically not on property that night, but "more for us" was my response to that.
I asked to open the wine myself, (yes, yes... control issues), so I could assess the cork's condition. I was quite surprised to find it very pliable and not brittle in the least with relatively no sediment of any kind appearing until the very last sip in the final glass.
Dr. Joy and I observed that the wine was dense yet not at all cloudy; a deeply-saturated purple with just a hint of brick red around the edges. The nose presented a wonderful melange of light blackberries, raspberries and cherries. The fruit smelled aged to me, but not stewed or overly-ripe; somehow well-preserved yet also retaining moderate freshness. The alcohol was almost imperceptible, and there were vegetative nuances I couldn't specify.
The thrill of tasting wine with a mystic is that they can read wine like they read people and events. Dr. Joy immediately described his first sip as "antique, old and fine." Soon he was invoking the name of "Memoria," the goddess of memory, as he was transported back into "other times and eras." The aged wood aromas seemed to open him up to a range of collective elemental and earthy forces. He decreed it an "ancient wisdom wine." I nodded an "uh huh" and scribed on.
I found the taste of the wine lacking the promise held in the nose. The fruit that remained was very light, and this led me to perceive the more earthy/soil/herbal elements as the dominant flavors. I picked up a lot of eucalyptus and cedar, Natalie noticed the herbal components the most, and the bartender summed up his taste experience with "tobacco." We all concurred that "it doesn't taste like it smells," and for me, that was a disappointment.
We were unanimous as well about the in-mouth experiences, finding the first sip the most lively followed by a subtle sweetness mid-palate. The wine had a soft but earthy, rather medium-bodied character and Natalie and I found the finish very short and drying. Dr. Joy was emphatic that it brought to his mind a lover who leaves suddenly -- in fact -- "abandons" was the precise word I was to use to summarize his perceived betrayal by the finish. The finish abandons! He found that suddenly his tongue was not just furry but numbing quickly. His desire to continue sipping was strong, however, so as to enjoy the delightful front-of-the-mouth fruits and acids. Ever the courageous warrior, he managed to press through the painful abandonment issues evoked by the short finish and mouth-numbing sensations. He so enjoyed the Haut-Brion that I gave him my glass and switched to the '99 Hannah Sauvignon Blanc from Napa.
"Any wine will get you high. Judge like a king and choose the purest, the ones unadulterated with fear, or some urgency about 'what's needed.' Drink the wine that moves you as a camel moves as it's been untied, and is just ambling about." - Rumi
This is where the evening started to get a bit hazy and all protocol and propriety were forsaken for spontaneity and laughter. I got down with my just-untied-bad-camel-self and ambled head-first into the very refreshing and palate-resuscitating sauvignon blanc. Dr. Joy tasted my young Napa white wine, pronounced it "mindless" in contrast to his "contemplative" antique French red, and again I thought: "Good. More for me."
As for food pairing issues, what we ordered had less to do with the wine than with not duplicating what we'd had the night before. I did notice that the Haut-Brion really perked up in the licorice/anise/spice department when I tried it with the calamari marinara appetizer. Dr. Joy enjoyed duck with his Haut-Brion, and I had a New York strip with my mindless sauvignon blanc. It was all good, but by then I was so overstimulated by the company, conversation, laughter, and just being out of the house for the second night in a row, the meal was an afterthought (thoroughly enjoyed at home a few hours later, like the prior evening's, alone in the quiet darkness, straight from the to-go container.)
I am not one to offer advice on the aging of first growth Bordeaux, but I will go out on a limb and suggest that if you are cellaring the 1978 Haut-Brion, now would be the time to drink up. For fruit freaks like me, it was waning back in 2000. For contemplative mystics, it might still invoke the ancient and ageless wisdoms.
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
America's first perfect - Groth '85 reserve cabernet
Hard to imagine, I know, but in the Fall of 1988 I left a hot and miserable existence in Fresno, CA, for a hot and idyllic existence in the Napa Valley. Heck - I had close family there. It's not like the area offered anything else of interest to me.
I landed a waitressing job at a French restaurant in Yountville (no, not the French Laundry, sadly) on my 31st birthday and thus began my accelerated introduction to the local wineries, winemakers, chefs, caterers, vineyard managers and other demi-gods of the valley. Soon I was waitressing at Auberge du Soleil, working for several of the Valley's busiest caterers, and eventually created my own little freelance food and wine service. I got paid a decent hourly wage for pouring wine and serving incredible food for a plethora of winery and private parties. Heaven, despite the brutal heat.
Fortune (and my manicurist) introduced me to Judy Groth, co-owner with husband Dennis of the Groth Vineyards and Winery in Oakville, CA. Mrs. Groth was a wonderful cook and frequently found herself entertaining all manner of industry folk in the opulent winery dining room serviced by her perfect, self-designed catering kitchen. I was the hired help, upon occasion.
The Groth's eldest daughter, Elizabeth, was the Director of Marketing, and we become fast friends. All of this access allowed me to purchase two bottles of the Groth 1985 Reserve Cabernet Sauvignon. The wine was released on February 1, 1989, and Robert Parker decreed it to be: "America's First Perfect", awarding it a perfect score of 100 points. I still have the winery's promotional t-shirt that says as much. Needless to say, for him to crown a California Cabernet with a perfect 100 was marketing magic. The Wine Spectator chimed in with a 97, and the Groths had a winemaking coup on their hands.
Groth Vineyards & Winery was established in 1982. More than 100 tons of grapes from the family vineyards were crushed into the first vintage that year. Production increased quickly to 30,000 cases by 1984. In 1985 the winery needed full-time attention from Dennis and Judy and they moved their family to the Oakville property. The first phase of construction had been completed on the winery and by 1989 the winery was done. Over the next decade, Groth Vineyards & Winery firmly established its reputation as an outstanding producer of Napa Valley wines. Production increased to approximately 40,000 cases annually and Groth began to use all of the grapes from the estate vineyards.
Back in 1985, Nils Venge was the winemaker extraordinnaire in residence. He founded his own Oakville winery, Saddleback Cellars, in 1982 and parted ways with Groth in 1993 to bask in his own full-time glory at Saddleback. The 1985 growing season brought a warm spring and an earlier than normal bud break. The rest of the summer was long and cool. The fluctuating weather slowed down the usually hectic picking and crushing frenzy, allowing the winery to concentrate on each of the varietals a bit longer during the hand-harvest and crush process.
All of the grapes for the 1985 reserve came from one section of the Oakville vineyards that border the winery. The blend was 80% Cabernet Sauvignon and 20% Merlot. It spent 24 months aging in new French oak and another year aging in the bottle. The alcohol level was 13.4% upon release.
I paid $25 each for my two bottles. I don't recall when or where I drank the first bottle, but it could have been one night at Piatti's in Sonoma with Elizabeth Groth. I know we opened someone's 85 Reserve Cab over dinner; hers, mine, ours - who can recall so many years later?
I do recall the wine. It was by far one of the most rich and complex reds I had ever tasted. The fruit was lush and silky, brimming with deep cherry and berry flavors and nuances of coffee, chocolate, and plum. The Merlot grapes contributed the perfect portion of earth, pepper and tannins and the finish was smooth, long and lingering. The wine was all the rage and a prized possession to be treasured.
I remember my absolute commitment to not touching my second bottle for a long while, even when it was my last bottle of wine, and even when I was down to my last dollar. By then, folks were paying between $300 and $400 per bottle. Near riots ensued in the winery parking lot as wine geeks plotted their acquisition strategies. It was my first inside look at the lunacy often inspired by 750ml of fermented grape juice. A cult wine pioneer to be sure.
I saved my second bottle, schlepped it to Monterey with me in 1991, and somewhere around 1992 or 1993, I finally broke down. I hauled it out of the garage and opened it, all alone, in my funky Monterey Bay apartment. It was good, it was "auspicious", but it was a bottle of wine, for God's sake. I reflected upon just how much numinosity and sacredness I had projected upon this one bottle; so many memories and expectations spanning so much time. The experience again reminded me that perception and limited availability of anything is 95% of the magnetism.
I still think fondly about the wine and those years; the very inspiring and educational times with the Groth family at their beautiful winery and vineyards. They also produce great sauvignon blancs, in case you ever run across one, and continue to operate their winery as a closely-held family business. Daughter Elizabeth relocated to Atlanta in 1993 and appears to run a very successful wine and food retail operation, Embry Villiage Wine and Spirits.
Speaking of longstanding Napa Valley cabernet classics and Boss' Day last Monday, my boss lady presented me with a congratulatory bottle of Stags' Leap 2002 cabernet sauvignon not too long ago. Despite my attempts to cellar it until winter, there inevitably came that one night when it was the only bottle around and I was down to my last dollar, and well, you know the rest.
I was surprised by the wine's light structure but enjoyed the trip down Napa Cab Memory Lane. The soft red berries and cherries were nicely supported by a hint of spice, chocolate and dark coffee. 92% cabernet sauvignon, 6% cabernet franc, 2% merlot, and 14.1% alcohol. You gotta know that the $48 price tag makes it one of the most expensive wines I've enjoyed all year. And enjoy it I did!
I landed a waitressing job at a French restaurant in Yountville (no, not the French Laundry, sadly) on my 31st birthday and thus began my accelerated introduction to the local wineries, winemakers, chefs, caterers, vineyard managers and other demi-gods of the valley. Soon I was waitressing at Auberge du Soleil, working for several of the Valley's busiest caterers, and eventually created my own little freelance food and wine service. I got paid a decent hourly wage for pouring wine and serving incredible food for a plethora of winery and private parties. Heaven, despite the brutal heat.
Fortune (and my manicurist) introduced me to Judy Groth, co-owner with husband Dennis of the Groth Vineyards and Winery in Oakville, CA. Mrs. Groth was a wonderful cook and frequently found herself entertaining all manner of industry folk in the opulent winery dining room serviced by her perfect, self-designed catering kitchen. I was the hired help, upon occasion.
The Groth's eldest daughter, Elizabeth, was the Director of Marketing, and we become fast friends. All of this access allowed me to purchase two bottles of the Groth 1985 Reserve Cabernet Sauvignon. The wine was released on February 1, 1989, and Robert Parker decreed it to be: "America's First Perfect", awarding it a perfect score of 100 points. I still have the winery's promotional t-shirt that says as much. Needless to say, for him to crown a California Cabernet with a perfect 100 was marketing magic. The Wine Spectator chimed in with a 97, and the Groths had a winemaking coup on their hands.
Groth Vineyards & Winery was established in 1982. More than 100 tons of grapes from the family vineyards were crushed into the first vintage that year. Production increased quickly to 30,000 cases by 1984. In 1985 the winery needed full-time attention from Dennis and Judy and they moved their family to the Oakville property. The first phase of construction had been completed on the winery and by 1989 the winery was done. Over the next decade, Groth Vineyards & Winery firmly established its reputation as an outstanding producer of Napa Valley wines. Production increased to approximately 40,000 cases annually and Groth began to use all of the grapes from the estate vineyards.
Back in 1985, Nils Venge was the winemaker extraordinnaire in residence. He founded his own Oakville winery, Saddleback Cellars, in 1982 and parted ways with Groth in 1993 to bask in his own full-time glory at Saddleback. The 1985 growing season brought a warm spring and an earlier than normal bud break. The rest of the summer was long and cool. The fluctuating weather slowed down the usually hectic picking and crushing frenzy, allowing the winery to concentrate on each of the varietals a bit longer during the hand-harvest and crush process.
All of the grapes for the 1985 reserve came from one section of the Oakville vineyards that border the winery. The blend was 80% Cabernet Sauvignon and 20% Merlot. It spent 24 months aging in new French oak and another year aging in the bottle. The alcohol level was 13.4% upon release.
I paid $25 each for my two bottles. I don't recall when or where I drank the first bottle, but it could have been one night at Piatti's in Sonoma with Elizabeth Groth. I know we opened someone's 85 Reserve Cab over dinner; hers, mine, ours - who can recall so many years later?
I do recall the wine. It was by far one of the most rich and complex reds I had ever tasted. The fruit was lush and silky, brimming with deep cherry and berry flavors and nuances of coffee, chocolate, and plum. The Merlot grapes contributed the perfect portion of earth, pepper and tannins and the finish was smooth, long and lingering. The wine was all the rage and a prized possession to be treasured.
I remember my absolute commitment to not touching my second bottle for a long while, even when it was my last bottle of wine, and even when I was down to my last dollar. By then, folks were paying between $300 and $400 per bottle. Near riots ensued in the winery parking lot as wine geeks plotted their acquisition strategies. It was my first inside look at the lunacy often inspired by 750ml of fermented grape juice. A cult wine pioneer to be sure.
I saved my second bottle, schlepped it to Monterey with me in 1991, and somewhere around 1992 or 1993, I finally broke down. I hauled it out of the garage and opened it, all alone, in my funky Monterey Bay apartment. It was good, it was "auspicious", but it was a bottle of wine, for God's sake. I reflected upon just how much numinosity and sacredness I had projected upon this one bottle; so many memories and expectations spanning so much time. The experience again reminded me that perception and limited availability of anything is 95% of the magnetism.
I still think fondly about the wine and those years; the very inspiring and educational times with the Groth family at their beautiful winery and vineyards. They also produce great sauvignon blancs, in case you ever run across one, and continue to operate their winery as a closely-held family business. Daughter Elizabeth relocated to Atlanta in 1993 and appears to run a very successful wine and food retail operation, Embry Villiage Wine and Spirits.
Speaking of longstanding Napa Valley cabernet classics and Boss' Day last Monday, my boss lady presented me with a congratulatory bottle of Stags' Leap 2002 cabernet sauvignon not too long ago. Despite my attempts to cellar it until winter, there inevitably came that one night when it was the only bottle around and I was down to my last dollar, and well, you know the rest.
I was surprised by the wine's light structure but enjoyed the trip down Napa Cab Memory Lane. The soft red berries and cherries were nicely supported by a hint of spice, chocolate and dark coffee. 92% cabernet sauvignon, 6% cabernet franc, 2% merlot, and 14.1% alcohol. You gotta know that the $48 price tag makes it one of the most expensive wines I've enjoyed all year. And enjoy it I did!
Friday, September 22, 2006
A semi-sweet farewell to summer
Have you caved in to your first fire of the season yet? I did -- a week ago Sunday. I woke to find freezing temperatures on the covered deck. I hopped onto weather.com to learn that Monday morning would bring 27 whopping degrees our way. With a garage full of chopped wood (my well-deserved and much-appreciated compensation for the ten-day critter sitting stint), I thought "whattheheck?" Of course, by 4:00pm I was opening windows and sliding glass doors, but that's par for my course. That cats are again snoozing on my legs and have stopped waking me at 5:00am, sleeping in till 6:30, God bless them all. Winter approaches. Ugh.
This is my eleventh winter here and it wasn't until the ninth, 2004, that my inner California girl had finally gotten her belly full of the angelic fluffy white stuff. That winter pushed me over the sanity ledge that I teeter upon so precariously. It was like living in freakin' Fresno, for all the gloom and unrelenting gray gunk of doom. We were "blessed" with the most snow since 1996, my first winter here. At least it felt that way. I vowed that I would not still be here last winter, yet here I sat. But it was mercifully dry and sunny, for the most part, and the shortest winter I can recall. And now the time of dread is upon me again, and here I still sit. I'm lazy and listless, fearful and anxious a lot lately; attributes which pair poorly with snow and ice. I tire of shoveling, I resent paying for plowing, and I tremble and shake when I have to drive. I don't ski. Or board. Or shoe.
The thing that will probably cheer and fortify me more than anything else this winter is having a semi-legitimate excuse to drink a lot of new red wines. I'm always making lemonade -- or grapeade. Like a prisoner requesting a last meal, I've been on a bit of a white wine binge recently. I know that I'll lose my taste for their refreshing ways -- their slightly sweet flavors and zippy acids -- once it gets cold and stays cold. Here are four very good choices that I've tried in recent weeks:
Kendall-Jackson Riesling 2005 ($11) The very quiet nose belies the super-tart apricot flavors that burst upon the palate. Lemon rind, orange peel and amazing acids keep the stone fruit sweetness from getting sickly. A bit steely/minerally on the aftertaste. The wine has a fantastic structure and by that I mean it stands up in the mouth. Some wines race through; some limp. The sensation is of the wine rushing up against the roof of the mouth and filling the whole cavity with its flavors. Buoyant and alive! With all that character and structure this would be a great food pairing wine and a perfect (warm autumn?) afternoon aperitif. Great value.
Fetzer Gewürztraminer 2005 ($10.50) You're always told to look for notes of honeysuckle, jasmine and rose petals in this grape, but I am not one to find flowers growing in my wine. However, "floral" was the first word that popped into my mind as I sniffed my glass and sipped. And then came honey. Honeysuckle! Very lightly spiced and not so sweet as to border on syrup. Beautifully balanced. On day two it was all white peach and fresh apricot with a tangerine kicker. Serve this one in a wineglass that lives in the freezer when empty. Like the K-J Riesling, this is a
no-brainer choice to keep in stock for all the winter holidays and festivities. Guzzle with turkey and ham.
Alpha Domus Unoaked Chardonnay 2005 ($12) Because I was on a New Zealand kick and felt as if I'd picked on chardonnay in print enough for one summer, I decided to take a chance on this unoaked offering from the Hawkes Bay region. I honestly couldn't remember the last chardonnay I'd tasted. A quietly intriguing, musty, dusty nose is there, yet it was oddly comforting. There was something ancestral and nostalgic about the aromas: the back of grandma's closet? The corner of grandpa's woodshed? The flavors were hard to tease out although I did say aloud upon the second sip: "mmmmmm -- that's lovely" so I obviously found something to like. The fruit flavors are soft tropicals, especially pineapple. There is a hint of light lemon with pleasing front-of-the mouth acid and a mineral aftertaste which comes across as salty. Don't overchill this one as you'll kill off the subtleties.
Spinyback Nelson Sauvignon Blanc 2005 ($10) This New Zealand offering was recommended by a store owner as a personal favorite. I always pay attention to recommendations from people who work in the industry but I did issue my paranoid disclaimer to him that I had to be careful about New Zealand sauvignon blancs because all that greenery in the glass disturbs me. As further inducement he mentioned that a tiny portion of my purchase would benefit the native lizard. I told him I suffered from lifelong reptile phobia and put the bottle with the off-putting iguana-like creature back on the rack. But the shelf talker promised me it would be balanced and not too grassy or slimey and I was suddenly feeling unbearably neurotic and rigid, so I bought it. And in the end I was glad.
This is a very interesting wine for under $10 and even though it's not a style that I normally prefer, I can certainly appreciate it for what it is. But you gotta know the nose terrified me: total jalapeno, green bell pepper and hay. Uh oh. The dominant flavors were all grassy and pink grapefruit with a vibrant lemon finish. Uh oh again. But wait -- the great body, lovely texture, and very firm acid backbone started to seduce me. The wine was getting under my scaly skin. It grew on me with each glass and was still very interesting the next day with the grapefruit flavors dominating. This is a beautiful wine and is highly recommended for people who look for the citrus, herb and vegetative components in a sauvignon blanc. I ended up enjoying it so much that I plan to grab a few more bottles in hopes that we have an extraordinarily dry and sunny winter ahead of us.
But as I finish this column today, the house is so cold and damp I am readying my second fire of the season. Blanco Basin residents woke to an inch of snow on the ground, and all the cats elected to stay in the house, under covers or quilts, when I left for work this morning. Winter has preceeded autumn this year. There's no denying it. I need to accept it. I also need to run out now and grab some mood elevating, body temperature raising, red wine.
This is my eleventh winter here and it wasn't until the ninth, 2004, that my inner California girl had finally gotten her belly full of the angelic fluffy white stuff. That winter pushed me over the sanity ledge that I teeter upon so precariously. It was like living in freakin' Fresno, for all the gloom and unrelenting gray gunk of doom. We were "blessed" with the most snow since 1996, my first winter here. At least it felt that way. I vowed that I would not still be here last winter, yet here I sat. But it was mercifully dry and sunny, for the most part, and the shortest winter I can recall. And now the time of dread is upon me again, and here I still sit. I'm lazy and listless, fearful and anxious a lot lately; attributes which pair poorly with snow and ice. I tire of shoveling, I resent paying for plowing, and I tremble and shake when I have to drive. I don't ski. Or board. Or shoe.
The thing that will probably cheer and fortify me more than anything else this winter is having a semi-legitimate excuse to drink a lot of new red wines. I'm always making lemonade -- or grapeade. Like a prisoner requesting a last meal, I've been on a bit of a white wine binge recently. I know that I'll lose my taste for their refreshing ways -- their slightly sweet flavors and zippy acids -- once it gets cold and stays cold. Here are four very good choices that I've tried in recent weeks:
Kendall-Jackson Riesling 2005 ($11) The very quiet nose belies the super-tart apricot flavors that burst upon the palate. Lemon rind, orange peel and amazing acids keep the stone fruit sweetness from getting sickly. A bit steely/minerally on the aftertaste. The wine has a fantastic structure and by that I mean it stands up in the mouth. Some wines race through; some limp. The sensation is of the wine rushing up against the roof of the mouth and filling the whole cavity with its flavors. Buoyant and alive! With all that character and structure this would be a great food pairing wine and a perfect (warm autumn?) afternoon aperitif. Great value.
Fetzer Gewürztraminer 2005 ($10.50) You're always told to look for notes of honeysuckle, jasmine and rose petals in this grape, but I am not one to find flowers growing in my wine. However, "floral" was the first word that popped into my mind as I sniffed my glass and sipped. And then came honey. Honeysuckle! Very lightly spiced and not so sweet as to border on syrup. Beautifully balanced. On day two it was all white peach and fresh apricot with a tangerine kicker. Serve this one in a wineglass that lives in the freezer when empty. Like the K-J Riesling, this is a
no-brainer choice to keep in stock for all the winter holidays and festivities. Guzzle with turkey and ham.
Alpha Domus Unoaked Chardonnay 2005 ($12) Because I was on a New Zealand kick and felt as if I'd picked on chardonnay in print enough for one summer, I decided to take a chance on this unoaked offering from the Hawkes Bay region. I honestly couldn't remember the last chardonnay I'd tasted. A quietly intriguing, musty, dusty nose is there, yet it was oddly comforting. There was something ancestral and nostalgic about the aromas: the back of grandma's closet? The corner of grandpa's woodshed? The flavors were hard to tease out although I did say aloud upon the second sip: "mmmmmm -- that's lovely" so I obviously found something to like. The fruit flavors are soft tropicals, especially pineapple. There is a hint of light lemon with pleasing front-of-the mouth acid and a mineral aftertaste which comes across as salty. Don't overchill this one as you'll kill off the subtleties.
Spinyback Nelson Sauvignon Blanc 2005 ($10) This New Zealand offering was recommended by a store owner as a personal favorite. I always pay attention to recommendations from people who work in the industry but I did issue my paranoid disclaimer to him that I had to be careful about New Zealand sauvignon blancs because all that greenery in the glass disturbs me. As further inducement he mentioned that a tiny portion of my purchase would benefit the native lizard. I told him I suffered from lifelong reptile phobia and put the bottle with the off-putting iguana-like creature back on the rack. But the shelf talker promised me it would be balanced and not too grassy or slimey and I was suddenly feeling unbearably neurotic and rigid, so I bought it. And in the end I was glad.
This is a very interesting wine for under $10 and even though it's not a style that I normally prefer, I can certainly appreciate it for what it is. But you gotta know the nose terrified me: total jalapeno, green bell pepper and hay. Uh oh. The dominant flavors were all grassy and pink grapefruit with a vibrant lemon finish. Uh oh again. But wait -- the great body, lovely texture, and very firm acid backbone started to seduce me. The wine was getting under my scaly skin. It grew on me with each glass and was still very interesting the next day with the grapefruit flavors dominating. This is a beautiful wine and is highly recommended for people who look for the citrus, herb and vegetative components in a sauvignon blanc. I ended up enjoying it so much that I plan to grab a few more bottles in hopes that we have an extraordinarily dry and sunny winter ahead of us.
But as I finish this column today, the house is so cold and damp I am readying my second fire of the season. Blanco Basin residents woke to an inch of snow on the ground, and all the cats elected to stay in the house, under covers or quilts, when I left for work this morning. Winter has preceeded autumn this year. There's no denying it. I need to accept it. I also need to run out now and grab some mood elevating, body temperature raising, red wine.
Thursday, September 14, 2006
You say fumé, I say sauvignon
Sauvignon blanc enjoys wide appeal and wide distribution for good reason. It is one of, if not the most, affordable and food-friendly white wine grapes around today. When referring to fumé or sauvignon blanc, the grapes are one and the same. We have that visionary California winemaking icon, Robert Mondavi, to thank for the liberal usage of the term fumé blanc in the United States as a synonym for sauvignon blanc. In France, historic home to this aromatic and versatile white grape, the Loire Valley produces the varietal in the appellation of Pouilly, the best called Pouilly-Fumé. The wine is also called blanc fumé -- fumé as in smoky -- a flinty, mineral characteristic often found in the wines of the region. Some say the fumé refers to the toasted oak flavors from the barrel aging process, and still others claim the fumé is the fog from a river below the Loire. No matter. In 1968, Mondavi, always the clever marketer, renamed his oak-aged, dry sauvignon blanc "fumé blanc", confusing the whole crowd, and many wineries have followed suit in the succeeding years.
Though the grapes are identical it is worth knowing that the wine itself may not be. While a fumé blanc (and Pouilly-Fumé) will always be made from 100% sauvignon blanc grapes, labels bearing the name of sauvignon blanc are allowed to blend in up to 25% of another grape, usually semillon, and still call themselves a sauvignon blanc.
While it can be found in northeast Italy, Chile, Australia, New Zealand and numerous other regions and states in America, California vintners have made great strides with this grape over recent years. While part of the viticultural landscape since the 1800s, it was only as recently as the 1970s that California winemakers began to focus on making a better bottle of sauvignon blanc. Tragically, they lost their minds for a while and started to treat the grape as if it were chardonnay, trying to tame it, subjecting it to all manner of humiliating and softening malolactic fermentation processes, punishing it by making it sit in dark oak barrels all alone to think about what it had done, being so sassy, brash and petulant. The bracing acids and irresistible vibrancy of this irrepressible grape were muted for a time but those dark days are (for the most part) over. More California producers now see the 100% stainless steel light, praise Bacchus. In previous columns I have promised that you can look for reliable and consistent values from California producers Sterling, Kenwood and Chateau St. Jean, buying with confidence. All turn out the lightly floral, fruit-driven, heavy acid zap SBs that I enjoy the most.
New Zealand has become all the rage in recent years showering the world with super-crisp, tart, high acid sauvignon blancs with a very distinctive style and flavor. In my mouth they are usually very grassy, herbaceous and green citrus fruit-laden. Those in the know find them full of gooseberries, or even "cat's pee on a gooseberry bush." Never having tasted a gooseberry in my life, but having extensive experience with cat pee, I get the idea. The 2004 Fauna Sauvignon Blanc from the Marlborough region in New Zealand ($13) is a perfect representative of this style: thick grass on the nose but a lemon bomb in the mouth. Yellow grapefruit and lime dominate the finish. I found that a very long chilling session in the freezer worked well to counteract the hot perception I get from so much herb, hay and the acidic bite of bitter citrus fruits like grapefruit. The moderate alcohol level of 12.5% is not to blame for the heat in this case; the flavor profile gives the sensation. Even though the 2005 is in release, the 2004 is still supported by a firm acid backbone. Racy and refreshing with far more intricacy than I expected, especially as it opens up in the glass.
Some of us believe that this grape turns out the most food friendly white wine in the universe. (Others of us say riesling. I say bah!) Because it is a dry white wine with very little residual sugar, sauvignon blanc is a highly versatile food wine. It can be enjoyed with a vast range of cuisine and is one of the very best aperitif wines around. While I am all about drinking the wine you love with the food you want to eat, even if that means sauvignon blanc with your pot roast or syrah with your eggs, there is much to praise in the food flexibility of a sauvignon blanc that is left alone in the winemaking process, allowing the bright fruit acids to shine.
Because acidity in both wine and food tend to neutralize each other, a fresh, light-to-medium-bodied sauvignon blanc will taste better and less acidic when paired with highly acid foods like tomatoes, citrus, green vegetables and a vinaigrette-dressed salad. This makes it a great all around choice for many vegetarian dishes, including quiche and risotto. It is one of the few wines that has the character to take on artichokes and asparagus, notoriously hard to match. The grape is perceived as a bit sweeter when in the company of these challengers.
Just as a slice of lemon gives your fish dish the zip it needs, sauvignon blanc is the perfect partner to many seafood dishes. I love a slightly herbaceous SB with pesto pasta dishes and salads, but don't be afraid to try it with heavy cream and cheese sauce recipes like the Alfredos and Carbonaras. The biting acid structure slices right through the heaviness. Ditto with Mexican food. It's a match made in heaven for Thai and Chinese dishes that emphasize fish, pork, poultry and vegetables in curries, coconut milk sauces, garlic, ginger, soy, peanut and lemon-grass.
Some claim that the best cheese to pair with a good sauvignon blanc is goat's milk, but I love it with smoked cheese and gorgonzola. There is not much that a vibrant and tingling sauvignon blanc will not enhance, but as in all of life, perception is everything, and only yours counts.
Though the grapes are identical it is worth knowing that the wine itself may not be. While a fumé blanc (and Pouilly-Fumé) will always be made from 100% sauvignon blanc grapes, labels bearing the name of sauvignon blanc are allowed to blend in up to 25% of another grape, usually semillon, and still call themselves a sauvignon blanc.
While it can be found in northeast Italy, Chile, Australia, New Zealand and numerous other regions and states in America, California vintners have made great strides with this grape over recent years. While part of the viticultural landscape since the 1800s, it was only as recently as the 1970s that California winemakers began to focus on making a better bottle of sauvignon blanc. Tragically, they lost their minds for a while and started to treat the grape as if it were chardonnay, trying to tame it, subjecting it to all manner of humiliating and softening malolactic fermentation processes, punishing it by making it sit in dark oak barrels all alone to think about what it had done, being so sassy, brash and petulant. The bracing acids and irresistible vibrancy of this irrepressible grape were muted for a time but those dark days are (for the most part) over. More California producers now see the 100% stainless steel light, praise Bacchus. In previous columns I have promised that you can look for reliable and consistent values from California producers Sterling, Kenwood and Chateau St. Jean, buying with confidence. All turn out the lightly floral, fruit-driven, heavy acid zap SBs that I enjoy the most.
New Zealand has become all the rage in recent years showering the world with super-crisp, tart, high acid sauvignon blancs with a very distinctive style and flavor. In my mouth they are usually very grassy, herbaceous and green citrus fruit-laden. Those in the know find them full of gooseberries, or even "cat's pee on a gooseberry bush." Never having tasted a gooseberry in my life, but having extensive experience with cat pee, I get the idea. The 2004 Fauna Sauvignon Blanc from the Marlborough region in New Zealand ($13) is a perfect representative of this style: thick grass on the nose but a lemon bomb in the mouth. Yellow grapefruit and lime dominate the finish. I found that a very long chilling session in the freezer worked well to counteract the hot perception I get from so much herb, hay and the acidic bite of bitter citrus fruits like grapefruit. The moderate alcohol level of 12.5% is not to blame for the heat in this case; the flavor profile gives the sensation. Even though the 2005 is in release, the 2004 is still supported by a firm acid backbone. Racy and refreshing with far more intricacy than I expected, especially as it opens up in the glass.
Some of us believe that this grape turns out the most food friendly white wine in the universe. (Others of us say riesling. I say bah!) Because it is a dry white wine with very little residual sugar, sauvignon blanc is a highly versatile food wine. It can be enjoyed with a vast range of cuisine and is one of the very best aperitif wines around. While I am all about drinking the wine you love with the food you want to eat, even if that means sauvignon blanc with your pot roast or syrah with your eggs, there is much to praise in the food flexibility of a sauvignon blanc that is left alone in the winemaking process, allowing the bright fruit acids to shine.
Because acidity in both wine and food tend to neutralize each other, a fresh, light-to-medium-bodied sauvignon blanc will taste better and less acidic when paired with highly acid foods like tomatoes, citrus, green vegetables and a vinaigrette-dressed salad. This makes it a great all around choice for many vegetarian dishes, including quiche and risotto. It is one of the few wines that has the character to take on artichokes and asparagus, notoriously hard to match. The grape is perceived as a bit sweeter when in the company of these challengers.
Just as a slice of lemon gives your fish dish the zip it needs, sauvignon blanc is the perfect partner to many seafood dishes. I love a slightly herbaceous SB with pesto pasta dishes and salads, but don't be afraid to try it with heavy cream and cheese sauce recipes like the Alfredos and Carbonaras. The biting acid structure slices right through the heaviness. Ditto with Mexican food. It's a match made in heaven for Thai and Chinese dishes that emphasize fish, pork, poultry and vegetables in curries, coconut milk sauces, garlic, ginger, soy, peanut and lemon-grass.
Some claim that the best cheese to pair with a good sauvignon blanc is goat's milk, but I love it with smoked cheese and gorgonzola. There is not much that a vibrant and tingling sauvignon blanc will not enhance, but as in all of life, perception is everything, and only yours counts.
Friday, September 08, 2006
Pennies for My Palate (Wine Spectator 5/15/01)
I'm not a wine expert -- I just play one on a pay-per-click, start-up Web site.
A little knowledge is not only dangerous -- it's intoxicating. In wine evaluating, as in life, perception is queen. I repeat over and over in my reviews that my findings are all my own. I am beyond candid about my personal antipathy for overoaked and malolactically fermented California white wines, and I admit with a modicum of shame that I know next to nothing about wines from countries other than the United States. I taste most wines alone (in terms of both company and food) and when I do reach for evaluation sustenance, it's most often of the rice cake and string cheese variety.
Even though I explain that my online handle, a four-letter woman's name, actually belongs to my hyperkinetic puppy, and that her palate is useless to me for wine evaluating purposes due to her proclivity for cat scat, people are inclined to give me far too much power and praise.
Being on the front lines with a visible e-mail address is the quintessential double-edged blade on a waiter's corkscrew. A sampling of the pleas for help I have received in the penning and posting of some 150-plus wine reviews goes something like this:
"I'm about to review a Concord wine from Pennsylvania. What components should I be looking for?"
"My husband swears that the Louis Jadot Beaujolais-Villages, any vintage, is the best wine on earth. Will you review it for him?"
"I opened a Chardonnay to sauté my chicken breasts in and threw away the cork. What can I use instead? How long will it keep? PS. My wife likes that Arbor Mist wine. Can you recommend a Chardonnay she might enjoy?"
"I am about to post a review with four hors d'oeuvres recipes. What wines would you pair them with?"
"I have a bottle of 1984 California Chardonnay in the garage. Is it ready?"
"I'm dining out next month in San Francisco. Here's the link to the wine list. What should my wife and I drink with our seafood?"
"I don't drink wine. I drink Dr. Pepper. I need a fabulous wine with which to woo a fabulous woman. You know her taste in wine. What shall I show up on her doorstep with?"
"When you say a Sauvignon Blanc tastes and smells like grass, do you mean marijuana grass or cow grass? I've never eaten grass. What does this mean?"
And then there is the occasional ruffled-feather e-mail, usually from an overly protective wine rep: "Since you seem to like so few of the Pinot Noirs you review, I suggest that you find a new varietal to drink or start spending more on your bottles."
But just as frequently come notes from people who have actually heeded my advice and lived to share the outcome.
I love to hear that I helped to make a special dinner a bit more memorable -- that a few wines I recommended were served at a tasting or enjoyed at a dinner party. I enjoy reading that when the wine list fell into the lap of an unsuspecting woman attending a business luncheon, she recognized a selection that I had reviewed favorably and wowed her companions with her good taste.
The way I rationalize it, if in the personal pursuit of my own wining and writing passions I can help to demystify wine and take the intimidation factor down just one tiny notch, my efforts are validated and my conspicuous consumption redeemed. Above all, if I had to reduce my most profound, sage advice on wine drinking to one sentence, it would be: "Your palate is never wrong."
I often wonder if the glut of consumer Web sites filled with reviews and articles written by "lay folk" will put more wine on American tables. I think it will. Obtaining wine education and buying advice (and the equally important, not-buying advice) from a peer-group-populated cyber-community can bolster the retail buying -- and restaurant ordering -- courage of the wine-curious collective. It will encourage the many people lurking in the self-conscious shadows to walk with us in confidence and strength toward the glowing and welcoming wine-loving light. I'm glad to be of service.
The Zen of dental mindfulness
Drinking wine is bad for my teeth. Well, maybe not my real teeth, but certainly for my ultra-pricey porcealin veneers. Despite an encouraging study that led researchers to conclude that components found in red wine can help in the prevention and treatment of gum disease, my mouth has funky wine karma.
Shortly after moving here in 1996 when I labored under the delusion that I had money to burn, I decided that my horribly embarrassing, noticeably eroding teeth enamel was no longer acceptable. I put my money where my mouth was and invested in ten upper porcelain veneers. I drove to Santa Fe for all the work and had I one inkling of the number of hours I'd log in the dental chair and the sheer stress of the stress of it all, not to mention the pain, more stress, and the remainder of the pain, I never would've done it. But I done it. And while my smile does rock, I have itsy bitsy veneer flipping issues when I drink wine and try to eat low carb. (Again with the low carb food issues.) The wine makes me more reckless, I suppose, weakening the hyper-vigilant mindfulness that I bring to my bite when sober. I don't operate my car while drinking; I should probably stop operating my mouth.
Back in 2000 I lost a side veneer to -- I kid you not -- a very stale Y2K stockpile granola bar (the second one I seemed compelled to enjoy that evening.) Two years ago I flipped off a front tooth veneer while biting into an overcooked Atkins frozen low carb pizza (again with the Atkins anger issues). Last week the enemy was a rice cake smothered with chunky peanut butter. The very same upper front veneer bolted from my mouth and stood proudly, a little white soldier, upright, at attention, in the rice cake. I came to as I was about to throw the half-eaten offender in the trash, extracted the veneer, mercifully still intact, washed it, and wrapped it up for safe keeping until I could get to the dentist for the reattachment. Talk about your buzz kills. Surely God's clever way of telling me to lay off low carb foods, right?
Speaking of buzz kills, I know I'm always harping on the importance of vintage and year-to-year variations in some of my beloved wines but there is good reason for this. It matters! Wines that I adore one year can taste so different in the next that they are hardly recognizable. It's crucial when you read wine reviews that sound appealing that you seek out the precise vintage the reviewer has critiqued. More often than not the shelf talkers in liquor stores boasting the rave recommendations of notables like The Wine Advocate or the Wine Spectator pertain to a vintage no longer in the rack. A few months back I found the newly-released, handy purse-size (1.5 liter) 2005 Beringer White Merlot in a store and quite liked it. I ran into another store and noting the bottle in the front of the cooler was a 2004, I asked the store's employee: "If you had the 2005 in stock, where would it be?" Her response was neither educated nor caring and implied that the new release was not yet in the store. I walked over to the floor display rack and found the 2005. Only my dentist and I get paid to care about what I put in my mouth.
After James Robinson bemoaned his inability to find the Laurel Glen Reds in a recent column, I went right out and found it for him. I was all set to walk into the Sun and leave it for him with a pithy little note attached: "Drinking new world wines and thinking are not mutually exclusive" until I realized the bottle I found for him was the 2004. My positive rantings about this wine in a previous column involved the 2003. While I was tempted to bet my life on the 2004 as I've never met a Laurel Glen Reds that I didn't love, it was simply incumbent upon me to taste it. To risk my already shaky, non-thinking, new world wine drinking reputation required that I be confident I could stand by my wine. And man was I glad I sampled it first. I finally met a Reds I did not love. It was bitter. Just bitter. In service to James, I will try it again once the autumn leaves turn just to be sure that I did not get a bad bottle but there is no reason to seek it out now, in my opinion.
Two other recent disappointments include the Kenwood 2005 Sauvignon Blanc and the Montevina 2005 Pinot Grigio. Here again, I can't recall a Kenwood SB I've not enjoyed until two weeks ago when I tried the 2005 ($12). A very grassy and herbaceous nose paved the way for a tart green apple rush with bracing front-of-the-mouth acid. Refreshing lime peel and lemon rind flavors combined with a tropical fruit aftertaste and intense minerality. It was a very complex and mutli-layered bottling with a lot going on, exploding upon the palate with every sip. There was a distinctive tobacco finish that became undesireable after the second glass, almost too powerful for some reason. I concluded my tasting notes with: "Consult winemaking notes. Did it touch wood?" Sho' 'nuff. I consulted Kenwood's web site: "The lots were fermented at cool temperatures in stainless steel to retain the natural fruity flavors of the Sauvignon Blanc grape. A small portion was aged in 2000 Gallon French oak tanks to mellow the wine without adding oak character." I beg to differ.
The 2004 Montevina Pinot Grigio rocked my world a few months back. Eager to see what delights the 2005 held, I found very promising lime and tropical sweet fruits on the nose with pronounced layering of citrus fruit flavors. Candied lime and a full array of exotic fruits like lychee and kiwi were there along with a strong vegetative aftertaste. This wine is very intense and focused. The 2004 is still around and I'd be inclined to snap that one up as it was a far more enjoyable bottle, but for $11 the 2005 will not disappoint.
When money is a consideration (days ending in "y") and I want maximum grape pluck for my wimpy wine buck, I grab my Beringer White Merlot 1.5. But this gets old toward the end of summer and the benevolent gods of cheap wine smiled down on me last week when a liquor store employee pointed me toward the 2005 Citra, saying his wife loved it. I love it! For $9.99 you get a 1.5 liter bottle of Italian Trebbiano juice, the second-most planted grape in the world. The wine is very light in color and style with soft, refreshing acidity and pleasing citrus flavors. No French oak, no vanilla chips, no acid reflux. Just a very quaffable, value-driven white wine. Citra: my new best old world wine friend.
Shortly after moving here in 1996 when I labored under the delusion that I had money to burn, I decided that my horribly embarrassing, noticeably eroding teeth enamel was no longer acceptable. I put my money where my mouth was and invested in ten upper porcelain veneers. I drove to Santa Fe for all the work and had I one inkling of the number of hours I'd log in the dental chair and the sheer stress of the stress of it all, not to mention the pain, more stress, and the remainder of the pain, I never would've done it. But I done it. And while my smile does rock, I have itsy bitsy veneer flipping issues when I drink wine and try to eat low carb. (Again with the low carb food issues.) The wine makes me more reckless, I suppose, weakening the hyper-vigilant mindfulness that I bring to my bite when sober. I don't operate my car while drinking; I should probably stop operating my mouth.
Back in 2000 I lost a side veneer to -- I kid you not -- a very stale Y2K stockpile granola bar (the second one I seemed compelled to enjoy that evening.) Two years ago I flipped off a front tooth veneer while biting into an overcooked Atkins frozen low carb pizza (again with the Atkins anger issues). Last week the enemy was a rice cake smothered with chunky peanut butter. The very same upper front veneer bolted from my mouth and stood proudly, a little white soldier, upright, at attention, in the rice cake. I came to as I was about to throw the half-eaten offender in the trash, extracted the veneer, mercifully still intact, washed it, and wrapped it up for safe keeping until I could get to the dentist for the reattachment. Talk about your buzz kills. Surely God's clever way of telling me to lay off low carb foods, right?
Speaking of buzz kills, I know I'm always harping on the importance of vintage and year-to-year variations in some of my beloved wines but there is good reason for this. It matters! Wines that I adore one year can taste so different in the next that they are hardly recognizable. It's crucial when you read wine reviews that sound appealing that you seek out the precise vintage the reviewer has critiqued. More often than not the shelf talkers in liquor stores boasting the rave recommendations of notables like The Wine Advocate or the Wine Spectator pertain to a vintage no longer in the rack. A few months back I found the newly-released, handy purse-size (1.5 liter) 2005 Beringer White Merlot in a store and quite liked it. I ran into another store and noting the bottle in the front of the cooler was a 2004, I asked the store's employee: "If you had the 2005 in stock, where would it be?" Her response was neither educated nor caring and implied that the new release was not yet in the store. I walked over to the floor display rack and found the 2005. Only my dentist and I get paid to care about what I put in my mouth.
After James Robinson bemoaned his inability to find the Laurel Glen Reds in a recent column, I went right out and found it for him. I was all set to walk into the Sun and leave it for him with a pithy little note attached: "Drinking new world wines and thinking are not mutually exclusive" until I realized the bottle I found for him was the 2004. My positive rantings about this wine in a previous column involved the 2003. While I was tempted to bet my life on the 2004 as I've never met a Laurel Glen Reds that I didn't love, it was simply incumbent upon me to taste it. To risk my already shaky, non-thinking, new world wine drinking reputation required that I be confident I could stand by my wine. And man was I glad I sampled it first. I finally met a Reds I did not love. It was bitter. Just bitter. In service to James, I will try it again once the autumn leaves turn just to be sure that I did not get a bad bottle but there is no reason to seek it out now, in my opinion.
Two other recent disappointments include the Kenwood 2005 Sauvignon Blanc and the Montevina 2005 Pinot Grigio. Here again, I can't recall a Kenwood SB I've not enjoyed until two weeks ago when I tried the 2005 ($12). A very grassy and herbaceous nose paved the way for a tart green apple rush with bracing front-of-the-mouth acid. Refreshing lime peel and lemon rind flavors combined with a tropical fruit aftertaste and intense minerality. It was a very complex and mutli-layered bottling with a lot going on, exploding upon the palate with every sip. There was a distinctive tobacco finish that became undesireable after the second glass, almost too powerful for some reason. I concluded my tasting notes with: "Consult winemaking notes. Did it touch wood?" Sho' 'nuff. I consulted Kenwood's web site: "The lots were fermented at cool temperatures in stainless steel to retain the natural fruity flavors of the Sauvignon Blanc grape. A small portion was aged in 2000 Gallon French oak tanks to mellow the wine without adding oak character." I beg to differ.
The 2004 Montevina Pinot Grigio rocked my world a few months back. Eager to see what delights the 2005 held, I found very promising lime and tropical sweet fruits on the nose with pronounced layering of citrus fruit flavors. Candied lime and a full array of exotic fruits like lychee and kiwi were there along with a strong vegetative aftertaste. This wine is very intense and focused. The 2004 is still around and I'd be inclined to snap that one up as it was a far more enjoyable bottle, but for $11 the 2005 will not disappoint.
When money is a consideration (days ending in "y") and I want maximum grape pluck for my wimpy wine buck, I grab my Beringer White Merlot 1.5. But this gets old toward the end of summer and the benevolent gods of cheap wine smiled down on me last week when a liquor store employee pointed me toward the 2005 Citra, saying his wife loved it. I love it! For $9.99 you get a 1.5 liter bottle of Italian Trebbiano juice, the second-most planted grape in the world. The wine is very light in color and style with soft, refreshing acidity and pleasing citrus flavors. No French oak, no vanilla chips, no acid reflux. Just a very quaffable, value-driven white wine. Citra: my new best old world wine friend.
R.I.P. Dr. Atkins -- let's have a glass of wine
(Also titled: Lamentations of a low carb lush)
Am I the only person in Pagosa who can't drink wine and lose weight? My last sip of wine was prior to Memorial Day, if you can believe that, and I don't feel as if I've lost more than five pounds. I tossed the ancient scale in the trash last month when it said as much. (No, I've not lied to you. I made sure that I drank a whole lot of wine and took a whole lot of tasting notes before jumping on that wagon.) Enough! How's a girl supposed to write a wine column if she's not drinking wine? It was a foolish idea all along. I blame Dr. Atkins, rest his soul. The "induction" phase on his low carb diet forbids wine. But induction is only supposed to last two weeks, really. (If one only has a tiny bit of weight to lose, it's meant to last two weeks. If one wants to lose a lot of weight, induction is forever.) Ugh. Eleven weeks has felt like forever on some days, trust me.
I overheard a snippet on the news one night that drove me straight to Google. MSN's Health and Fitness online offered an exciting article: "Weight Watchers Want Wine." Researchers at Colorado State University conducted a 12-week study and concluded that calories from red wine do not contribute to weight gain!
"Over the study period, 14 healthy males drank two glasses of red wine with dinner daily for six weeks and abstained from drinking alcohol for six weeks, or vice versa." Halfway through the study a variety of measurements were taken: "No changes were found in any of the participants whether they drank red wine or abstained." These findings were consistent with those of many other similar studies and the CSU scientists proclaimed: "Based on our study and other studies, it seems no support can be given to recommending that alcohol consumption be reduced in order to maintain or reduce body weight." Take that, Dr. Atkins, may you slumber in eternally slender peace.
And then I came to and remembered that I am not a man and I am not drinking reds. But summer's almost gone, for heaven's sake, and I'm not ready to drink reds again already, even if it were the secret to my slimness. Time to play catch up on my favorite warm weather whites.
Last Friday I was ready to fling myself head first off the low carb purist wagon. It'd been an exhausting week for many reasons, none of which would garner me much sympathy. Friday afternoon I grabbed one bottle on the way home. And then, not even 48 hours into my ten-day-long stint as critter sitter for my neighbors' six animals, I came home to find the two dogs had busted out of their fenced yard and were surely cavorting in the canyon. "If this screws up my buzz tonight I'm gonna be so pissed" was my first thought. I'm selfish that way. But the dogs came back and the fence was being patched so I tried not to dwell on potential future escapes and how horribly inconvenient that could get if it interfered with my column research.
With a favorite guilty TV pleasure from Wednesday night on tape, I settled in with my own five animals, eager to savor the artistic eccentricities and petty squabbling on "Project Runway". It'd been a few years since I'd sampled the Veramonte Sauvignon Blanc from Chile so this was my refreshing choice for the evening. The 2005 opens with a dominant overlay of fresh grass and grapefruit aromas. Vigorous sniffing and swirling coaxes the sweeter fruit notes to reveal themselves. I perceived the first sip as a bit hot and was not surprised to find a 13.5% alcohol level dominating the fruit flavors. Drats! Then I was faced with that perplexing quandry: Do I press on, in the hope that maybe with a bit more chilling and a bit more opening it will improve? Do I stop right now and save myself the calories, the carbs, and the certain headache? Do I accept it for what it is and let my lofty expectations go because I was so looking forward to this and it's the only bottle in the house? Do I screw the top back on and pop open the 2002 Stag's Leap Cabernet I received as a gift that is lounging down in the garage till autumn? Admonishing myself that even though it was only 70 on the deck I must not waste such a special red on warm weather conditions, I committed to the Veramonte.
And I committed to the self-torture: "Maybe it's a food wine? Why don't I have any good food in the house?" "Because your definition of good wine pairing food is high fat, high sugar and high carb. You know you are not to be trusted, that's why. You remember the deal: you are only allowed to drink wine if you eat low carb. Remember? We've been over this before. For years. REMEMBER?" "I can't believe I spent money on a wine I don't love." "You spent $8.59 on it, Laura. Heed the Wine Avenger's advice: 'Shut up and put it in the glass!' "
The wine has a very firm mineral backbone and a bitter citrus kick, neither of which I favor in this varietal. The wine's label promises flavors of fresh peaches but they'd left the building by the time this bottle reached my house. I reviewed my notes on the 2002 which proved my memory correct: "A grassy and herbaceous nose followed up by green apples and soft, lush tropical fruit flavors -- mango, banana and pineapple. Fruit salad in a bottle!" Previous vintages have been far more exotic and mutli-layered than the 2005 and packed with the juicy flavors I prefer. Not sure why, but that's the roll of the dice we accept when dealing with such sensitive and volatile influences like weather patterns and growing seasons. Sauvignon blanc is a cool weather grape and the flavors and aromas you find in the glass have everything to do with where it is grown. (For the sake of this column I will assume that the wine has not been fermented or aged in oak, as that ruins -- I mean, changes -- everything.) More on that in a future column.
I paired the 2005 Veramonte sauvignon blanc with boneless, skinless, Red Bird chicken breasts sauteed in olive oil along with organic baby carrots, shredded cabbage and yellow squash from the wayward, non-repentant dogs' garden. And then I paired it with the inevitable morning after headache. It's hard out here for a low carb lush.
Am I the only person in Pagosa who can't drink wine and lose weight? My last sip of wine was prior to Memorial Day, if you can believe that, and I don't feel as if I've lost more than five pounds. I tossed the ancient scale in the trash last month when it said as much. (No, I've not lied to you. I made sure that I drank a whole lot of wine and took a whole lot of tasting notes before jumping on that wagon.) Enough! How's a girl supposed to write a wine column if she's not drinking wine? It was a foolish idea all along. I blame Dr. Atkins, rest his soul. The "induction" phase on his low carb diet forbids wine. But induction is only supposed to last two weeks, really. (If one only has a tiny bit of weight to lose, it's meant to last two weeks. If one wants to lose a lot of weight, induction is forever.) Ugh. Eleven weeks has felt like forever on some days, trust me.
I overheard a snippet on the news one night that drove me straight to Google. MSN's Health and Fitness online offered an exciting article: "Weight Watchers Want Wine." Researchers at Colorado State University conducted a 12-week study and concluded that calories from red wine do not contribute to weight gain!
"Over the study period, 14 healthy males drank two glasses of red wine with dinner daily for six weeks and abstained from drinking alcohol for six weeks, or vice versa." Halfway through the study a variety of measurements were taken: "No changes were found in any of the participants whether they drank red wine or abstained." These findings were consistent with those of many other similar studies and the CSU scientists proclaimed: "Based on our study and other studies, it seems no support can be given to recommending that alcohol consumption be reduced in order to maintain or reduce body weight." Take that, Dr. Atkins, may you slumber in eternally slender peace.
And then I came to and remembered that I am not a man and I am not drinking reds. But summer's almost gone, for heaven's sake, and I'm not ready to drink reds again already, even if it were the secret to my slimness. Time to play catch up on my favorite warm weather whites.
Last Friday I was ready to fling myself head first off the low carb purist wagon. It'd been an exhausting week for many reasons, none of which would garner me much sympathy. Friday afternoon I grabbed one bottle on the way home. And then, not even 48 hours into my ten-day-long stint as critter sitter for my neighbors' six animals, I came home to find the two dogs had busted out of their fenced yard and were surely cavorting in the canyon. "If this screws up my buzz tonight I'm gonna be so pissed" was my first thought. I'm selfish that way. But the dogs came back and the fence was being patched so I tried not to dwell on potential future escapes and how horribly inconvenient that could get if it interfered with my column research.
With a favorite guilty TV pleasure from Wednesday night on tape, I settled in with my own five animals, eager to savor the artistic eccentricities and petty squabbling on "Project Runway". It'd been a few years since I'd sampled the Veramonte Sauvignon Blanc from Chile so this was my refreshing choice for the evening. The 2005 opens with a dominant overlay of fresh grass and grapefruit aromas. Vigorous sniffing and swirling coaxes the sweeter fruit notes to reveal themselves. I perceived the first sip as a bit hot and was not surprised to find a 13.5% alcohol level dominating the fruit flavors. Drats! Then I was faced with that perplexing quandry: Do I press on, in the hope that maybe with a bit more chilling and a bit more opening it will improve? Do I stop right now and save myself the calories, the carbs, and the certain headache? Do I accept it for what it is and let my lofty expectations go because I was so looking forward to this and it's the only bottle in the house? Do I screw the top back on and pop open the 2002 Stag's Leap Cabernet I received as a gift that is lounging down in the garage till autumn? Admonishing myself that even though it was only 70 on the deck I must not waste such a special red on warm weather conditions, I committed to the Veramonte.
And I committed to the self-torture: "Maybe it's a food wine? Why don't I have any good food in the house?" "Because your definition of good wine pairing food is high fat, high sugar and high carb. You know you are not to be trusted, that's why. You remember the deal: you are only allowed to drink wine if you eat low carb. Remember? We've been over this before. For years. REMEMBER?" "I can't believe I spent money on a wine I don't love." "You spent $8.59 on it, Laura. Heed the Wine Avenger's advice: 'Shut up and put it in the glass!' "
The wine has a very firm mineral backbone and a bitter citrus kick, neither of which I favor in this varietal. The wine's label promises flavors of fresh peaches but they'd left the building by the time this bottle reached my house. I reviewed my notes on the 2002 which proved my memory correct: "A grassy and herbaceous nose followed up by green apples and soft, lush tropical fruit flavors -- mango, banana and pineapple. Fruit salad in a bottle!" Previous vintages have been far more exotic and mutli-layered than the 2005 and packed with the juicy flavors I prefer. Not sure why, but that's the roll of the dice we accept when dealing with such sensitive and volatile influences like weather patterns and growing seasons. Sauvignon blanc is a cool weather grape and the flavors and aromas you find in the glass have everything to do with where it is grown. (For the sake of this column I will assume that the wine has not been fermented or aged in oak, as that ruins -- I mean, changes -- everything.) More on that in a future column.
I paired the 2005 Veramonte sauvignon blanc with boneless, skinless, Red Bird chicken breasts sauteed in olive oil along with organic baby carrots, shredded cabbage and yellow squash from the wayward, non-repentant dogs' garden. And then I paired it with the inevitable morning after headache. It's hard out here for a low carb lush.
The Wine Avenger: A Super Hero for our times
Have you ever read something that the writer has poured so much of their essential self into that you fall in love with them on the spot? A visceral recognition of a kindred soul, surely narcissistic at heart, but still an exhilarating identification. Such was my experience upon discovering Willie Gluckstern's "The Wine Avenger", an utterly witty, wacky, wonderfully well-written wine resource published in 1998. Noting Gluckstern's bold chapter: "Oak: The MSG of Wine", I knew I'd found a soulmate.
Gluckstern has managed to "distill" all the essential elements that you need to understand and appreciate the often intimidating world of wine into a dynamic and beyond-understandable little paperback (5" x 7", 192 pages). The reading experience is more akin to a spin on Mr. Toad's Wild Ride than an education.
Willie Gluckstern is not only incredibly knowledgeable in all things wine, he is very freakin' funny. He fancies himself a super hero for the vulnerable and unsuspecting wine guzzling masses, pledged to defend them from gouging wine shops, pretentious wine lists and disingenuous wine writers. He conducts wine appreciation seminars for consumers, develops wine lists for restaurants, and has recently put his money where his palate is, importing his own line of food-friendly, value wines. The man married his wife (a German wine rep, natch') in a New York cheese shop. Top that!
I felt so alone in the late 90s when I was an online wine reviewer. I bemoaned the "morning dew on my redwood deck-like" over-oaked white wines I suffered through, often rendered even more unpalatable by that malicious malolactic magic. "Long live assertive acids!" had been my tired old refrain, and many a fellow reviewer on the site found great sport in chiding me for my "too sensitive to wood" palate. I'm sorry. I am repulsed by a wine that storms into the room and whacks me over the tongue with a 2x4. I am offended by wines so flabby and flat they slither into my mouth on slimy bellies, only to lie down and roll over. Imagine my joy when I turned to page 22 and found Gluckstern discussing acidity in white wine: "A first-class white wine is not a 'mellow' wine. It should be a wake-up call anytime of the day." He even called new oak the Antichrist! Wooooooo Hooooooo -- are you my Daddy?
Regarding the type of oak and continent from which it hails used in barrel fermentation and aging he cautions: "If you are actually capable of identifying a specific sub-species of tree in your wine glass, you really need to get out more often." Interspersed between his pithy quips in the first 45 pages Gluckstern offers clear and just-detailed-enough information on grape growing, winemaking, and sensory evaluation. He moves so adroitly, so fresh and funny, you hardly know you are learning something useful. From anyone else, this same data presented in such a rapid and condensed manner could intimidate novices and experts alike for the sheer complexity and terroir covered. Gluckstern makes it approachable and flat out fun -- his ultimate goal as teacher, wine lover and importer.
Gluckstern on Grapes: "Sauvignon blanc from Australia is for mutants." The Avenger makes no secret of his general distaste for chardonnay ("the world's most overrated grape") and merlot ("So what the hell happened to make this innocuous, also-ran variety the rampaging wildebeest of the wine world?"). His favorite white varietals include riesling ("nothing marries better with more foods than riesling"), and his adoration of German rieslings was on record long before his serendipitous marriage. He believes chenin blanc is overlooked and underrated and has a soft spot for sauvingnon blanc. He'll help you understand a wine label and introduce you to a few new white wine grapes.
A walk on the wild red side with Willie brings to you the desirable features and food pairing pleasures to be found in cabernet sauvignon, sangiovese, nebbiolo, syrah, zinfandel, pinot (" 'Noir' is for amateurs") -- both Burgundian and American. How happy I was to see him dub pinot one of the sexiest wines on earth, and along with his beloved riesling, the most versatile food wine in the universe. You've got your barbera, your gamay, and your cabernet franc rounding out the red riff.
Storing, decanting, and sulfites -- oh my: "The most common source of bad wine is a muttonhead winemaker."
Gluckstern covers storing your wine and pouring your wine. How long will it keep? What is corked wine? At what temperature should reds and whites be served? And please, if you learn nothing else from him, don't hold your wine glass by the bowl: "We humans are a greasy species, so for God's sake keep your hot, sweaty mitts off the bowl of your wineglass. Always hold a wineglass by the stem or the base...the right wineglass grip shows terrific breeding."
As for cooking with wine -- here I am shamed: "Never put anything in your food that you wouldn't put in your mouth." So much for all that horrible wine that I save to cook with. (Of course, since I don't cook, it eventually gets tossed down the drain anyway.)
The second half of the book will help you learn to spot and patronize an enlightened wine retailer; how to find a good wine on a bad restaurant wine list; how to understand markup ("those bastards!"); teach you in one-and-a-half pages the protocol for bringing your own bottle into a joint (aka corkage policies); and advise you on how to conduct yourself once inside said joint when confronted with your wine choice: "Sniffing, squeezing, or otherwise fondling a wine cork is a sure sign you hail from an alternate universe. Only a total meniscus looks for color or clarity or legs or sheets or some such pretentious folderol." Two minutes to truly hip, yours for just 11 US dollars!
"In a perfect world, everyone would have a glass of Champagne every evening, no later than 6:00 P.M. People with personality problems would begin each day with a glass." A full chapter homage to Champagne is followed by the über-comprehensive "Wines for Food." Gluckstern shines when pairing wine with food. He offers some general dos and don'ts and then follows up with specifics based on type of food and serving course along with a plethora of ethnic cuisine suggestions. He devotes separate sections to pairing wine with cheese: "A mystery to most people, sort of like North Korea or automobile transmissions" (all the more pertinent eight years after publication). On desserts: "dessert wines are dessert!"
"In case there is anyone in the wine industry I haven't offended in this book, be patient" he concludes. I have hoped for years that there would be a sequel to the Wine Avenger primer -- but alas. If you love wine, or love someone that loves wine, or want to learn to love wine, this book is a must have.
Paraphrasing his own final paragraph: Wherever a retailer tries to slip a crummy wine into a customer's basket, he'll be there. Wherever there's a wine writer pandering to the masses, he'll be there. And wherever it is they put lunatics who rant about the most unpopular wine in the world as if it were the Second Coming, he'll be there. Go visit him. Please?
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
The sensualists are sipping pinot noir
If you were to poll wine lovers and ask this one simple question: "What is the most food-friendly red wine produced in California today?", chances are the most frequent reply would be: "Pinot Noir." A lighter, fruitier, more acidic and less tannic red grape varietal, Pinot Noir is one of the oldest grapes to be cultivated. Its ancestral roots trace back to the rather small Burgundy region in France, the only growing region able to claim a history of consistent success with the grape until very recently. The last 25 years have found California winemakers and growers improving and refining their planting and growing methods, tweaking their winemaking techniques, and achieving their own impressive record of success.
Pinot Noir can be one of the most sexy, seductive, satisfying, graceful and elegant red wines produced. It is also the most fickle, temperamental and hardest to handle in every stage of its life, from vineyard to cellar. It is susceptible to damage from early spring frosts as it is one of the first grapes to undergo leafbreak, and it can ripen too early. It is easy prey for a multitude of viruses, rots and destructive insects and birds. Crops must be kept low to produce concentrated fruit, and it can be hard to ferment. Once bottled, most California Pinots reach their peak within 3 to 6 years of the vintage. This explains why it is also pretty expensive (for me: The Queen of the Single Digit Wine). It is rare to find a bargain Pinot, but they're out there. It just takes a lot of frog kissing along the way.
My favorite California regions for Pinot are the Russian River Valley in Sonoma County and the Carneros district, which spans parts of Napa and Sonoma. The other prime growing regions in the state include the Central Coast regions of Santa Maria Valley and Santa Barbara County and a few areas of Monterey County. (No accident that I have lived in Santa Barbara, Monterey and Napa. And Fresno. But I don't admit to that in print.) These appellations all share the required environment to nurture this sensitive grape: close proximity to the Pacific Ocean offering foggy and misty mornings, warm and sunny afternoons, and cool evenings. This keeps the fruit acidity high and the sugar levels low.
The complexity of the aromas alone can cause Pinot aficionados to swoon. The nose can offer up a medley of intense cherry, raspberry, strawberry, plum and currant. With luck the fruit-filled promise of the nose delivers in the mouth accompanied by pungent spices -- anise, cinnamon and peppermint. Other commonly found descriptors include cedar, tobacco, leather, chocolate, vanilla, fresh earth, mushroom, tomato, green tea and barnyard smells.
Good Pinot Noir offers the delicate and perfect balancing act for optimum food pairing. It contains just the right amount of enlivening acidity and satisfying sweetness, moderate alcohol levels (13.5% or less, ideally), low tannins, with a flavor and mouthfeel that should be soft, full, and smooth as velvet. Pinot is full-bodied and rich, yet delicate and sensual. Beguiling grape!
Pairing with Pinot:
Tracing the grape's roots back to its indigenous homeland, Burgundian cuisine has evolved to enhance the wine. A large array of meats perform quite well, along with all manner of wild mushrooms, nuts, mustards and other earthy foods. Think classics like Cassoulet, Coq au Vin, and Boeuf Bourginon. Pheasant, goose, duck, squab, turkey, Cornish game hen and roasted chicken dishes pair beautifully; likewise veal, lamb, ham, pork and liver dishes.
In the seafood arena nothing washes grilled salmon down better than Pinot. Appetizers like smoked salmon, sushi, rumaki, and fois gras will shine. The wine's rich subtleties blend beautifully with the earthiness of wild mushroom and eggplant dishes along with lighter pasta and quiche offerings. Gotta have my cheese: Swiss, Gruyere, a young Brie or a creamy Roquefort. Use a light hand when it comes to cooking spices in your dishes so as not to overwhelm the delicacy and subtle nuances of the grape.
Pinots to pick:
I've kissed a lot of really hideous Pinot frogs over the years, and yes, most of them were found in the lower price ranges. You really do need to expect to pay more than you would for your Shiraz, Merlot or red blend when shopping for this finicky seductress. Here are some winners that I have discovered over the years from reliable California producers who know their way around this persnickety grape:
Dr. David Bruce, a gentle and genteel soul, poured his ruby-colored offerings into my tipped glass under the hot and crowded tasting tent in the park at the 1997 Telluride Wine Festival. I liked his wine, I liked his dignified and understated labels, and I liked his dignified and understated personal style. Look for this respected and noteworthy producer who specializes in Pinots derived from several California coastal appellations, ranging from $20-$45 There's sure to be something for everybody in this extensive and diverse portfolio.
Rodney Strong, who passed away in March of this year, was a visionary pioneer -- one of the first to plant Pinot Noir in the Russian River Valley. The estate vineyard bottling comes in around $19.
Mark West has a reasonably priced array of bottles to choose from, sourcing grapes from Russian River, Somona and Santa Barbara vineyards. Look for their Central Coast offering at under $10. One of the few value Pinots available.
Two more widely available choices in this category are Gallo of Sonoma ($13) and Clos du Bois Sonoma ($18 suggested retail but often found for much less.)
With a little smart shopping and some thoughtful swirling and sipping, you, too, can call yourself "a sensualist".
Pinot Noir can be one of the most sexy, seductive, satisfying, graceful and elegant red wines produced. It is also the most fickle, temperamental and hardest to handle in every stage of its life, from vineyard to cellar. It is susceptible to damage from early spring frosts as it is one of the first grapes to undergo leafbreak, and it can ripen too early. It is easy prey for a multitude of viruses, rots and destructive insects and birds. Crops must be kept low to produce concentrated fruit, and it can be hard to ferment. Once bottled, most California Pinots reach their peak within 3 to 6 years of the vintage. This explains why it is also pretty expensive (for me: The Queen of the Single Digit Wine). It is rare to find a bargain Pinot, but they're out there. It just takes a lot of frog kissing along the way.
My favorite California regions for Pinot are the Russian River Valley in Sonoma County and the Carneros district, which spans parts of Napa and Sonoma. The other prime growing regions in the state include the Central Coast regions of Santa Maria Valley and Santa Barbara County and a few areas of Monterey County. (No accident that I have lived in Santa Barbara, Monterey and Napa. And Fresno. But I don't admit to that in print.) These appellations all share the required environment to nurture this sensitive grape: close proximity to the Pacific Ocean offering foggy and misty mornings, warm and sunny afternoons, and cool evenings. This keeps the fruit acidity high and the sugar levels low.
The complexity of the aromas alone can cause Pinot aficionados to swoon. The nose can offer up a medley of intense cherry, raspberry, strawberry, plum and currant. With luck the fruit-filled promise of the nose delivers in the mouth accompanied by pungent spices -- anise, cinnamon and peppermint. Other commonly found descriptors include cedar, tobacco, leather, chocolate, vanilla, fresh earth, mushroom, tomato, green tea and barnyard smells.
Good Pinot Noir offers the delicate and perfect balancing act for optimum food pairing. It contains just the right amount of enlivening acidity and satisfying sweetness, moderate alcohol levels (13.5% or less, ideally), low tannins, with a flavor and mouthfeel that should be soft, full, and smooth as velvet. Pinot is full-bodied and rich, yet delicate and sensual. Beguiling grape!
Pairing with Pinot:
Tracing the grape's roots back to its indigenous homeland, Burgundian cuisine has evolved to enhance the wine. A large array of meats perform quite well, along with all manner of wild mushrooms, nuts, mustards and other earthy foods. Think classics like Cassoulet, Coq au Vin, and Boeuf Bourginon. Pheasant, goose, duck, squab, turkey, Cornish game hen and roasted chicken dishes pair beautifully; likewise veal, lamb, ham, pork and liver dishes.
In the seafood arena nothing washes grilled salmon down better than Pinot. Appetizers like smoked salmon, sushi, rumaki, and fois gras will shine. The wine's rich subtleties blend beautifully with the earthiness of wild mushroom and eggplant dishes along with lighter pasta and quiche offerings. Gotta have my cheese: Swiss, Gruyere, a young Brie or a creamy Roquefort. Use a light hand when it comes to cooking spices in your dishes so as not to overwhelm the delicacy and subtle nuances of the grape.
Pinots to pick:
I've kissed a lot of really hideous Pinot frogs over the years, and yes, most of them were found in the lower price ranges. You really do need to expect to pay more than you would for your Shiraz, Merlot or red blend when shopping for this finicky seductress. Here are some winners that I have discovered over the years from reliable California producers who know their way around this persnickety grape:
Dr. David Bruce, a gentle and genteel soul, poured his ruby-colored offerings into my tipped glass under the hot and crowded tasting tent in the park at the 1997 Telluride Wine Festival. I liked his wine, I liked his dignified and understated labels, and I liked his dignified and understated personal style. Look for this respected and noteworthy producer who specializes in Pinots derived from several California coastal appellations, ranging from $20-$45 There's sure to be something for everybody in this extensive and diverse portfolio.
Rodney Strong, who passed away in March of this year, was a visionary pioneer -- one of the first to plant Pinot Noir in the Russian River Valley. The estate vineyard bottling comes in around $19.
Mark West has a reasonably priced array of bottles to choose from, sourcing grapes from Russian River, Somona and Santa Barbara vineyards. Look for their Central Coast offering at under $10. One of the few value Pinots available.
Two more widely available choices in this category are Gallo of Sonoma ($13) and Clos du Bois Sonoma ($18 suggested retail but often found for much less.)
With a little smart shopping and some thoughtful swirling and sipping, you, too, can call yourself "a sensualist".
Viognier -- You fill up my senses
I love Viognier. It is second only to Sauvignon Blanc on my list of top ten favorite white wine grapes. Once an endangered wine grape species, the last decade has brought an explosion in plantings and production throughout the world. And yet, I seem to have a hard time finding a Viognier that satisfies my craving for this exotic, ambrosial, lushly aromatic Rhone grape. If I do find a good example that brings to the table all of the floral, spice, honey and ripe, sweet fruit components that this varietal can offer, I often fatigue from the intensity of it all after a glass or two, finding myself too satiated and overwhelmed by the wine to enjoy it with a meal.
The opposite end of the Viognier spectrum frequently presents me with a wine that is watered down and insipid -- so low in acid and so lacking in character that it barely deserves the name Viognier. In addition, this grape too often shows great bottle variation after the passing of just a month or two (or even a night in the 'fridge.) You definitely want to drink this one while it's young. Once the fruit dies away you're left with a flabby, overbearing, high alcohol mess.
The Viognier grape can be challenging to grow, requiring a cooler microclimate to really show its stuff and develop the intense and concentrated flavors and fragrances it bears. If the growing season is too cool, however, the grapes may not ripen fully. While the grape grows more easily in warmer climates, it does not always develop its signature flavors, aromatic complexity, full-bodied mouthfeel and lingering finish.
Now that all of the negatives are out of the way, it is safe to say that this full-bodied white varietal makes one of the most distinctive wines around today. It can offer the attractiveness of a big, complex Chardonnay with an alcohol level that is usually quite high (14% and above) combined with the fragrant spiciness and perceived sweetness of a Riesling or Gewürztraminer. The aromas are intensely floral with honeysuckle, jasmine, freesia, orange blossoms and gardenia abounding. The exotic fruits evoked include thick and delicious overlays of ripe and stewed apricot, peach and pear along with tropical fruits, sweet citrus, and a jazzy bit of spice and honey. Mineral notes rendered by the growing region are often in evidence as well as oak nuances if the wine has been fermented or aged in barrels. This wine will fill the palate and the senses with a finish that should linger on and on and on.
When it comes to choosing foods that will make a lovely consort to this alluring grape, the options are not as varied as for other white grapes. Because Viognier lacks the sharp and clean cutting power delivered by high fruit acid content, has a relatively high alcohol level for a white wine, and is so naturally opulent in its fragrance and sweet taste sensations, a bit of thought is required for the pairing possibilities. In general, this grape puts its best foot forward when paired with rich seafood and shellfish selections, risotto, chowders and lighter meats. It also does quite well with spicy stir-fry and curry dishes. It can be a fantastic compliment to pork and ham, especially if there is a bit of sweetness in the glaze and sauce. I love Viognier with the traditional Thanksgiving meal. Turkey tastes better with this wine, as do the stuffing and sweet potatoes. Other natural poultry pairings include stuffed and roasted Cornish game hens, chicken in cream sauce, or lightly sauteed breasts in olive oil or butter and herbs.
Should you become too anxious over the pairing with food issue, Viognier makes an awesome aperitif. Here are two of my recent favorites:
Smoking Loon California Viogner 2004 ($9)
A massive whiff of ripe banana and fresh apricot greet the nose supported by gentle spice notes of clover and cinnamon. The taste matches the nose perfectly: stewed, ripe apricot up front along with fresh peach, hints of tropical fruits and lingering spice flavors. A firm mineral backbone cuts some of the sweet fruit that hits the front of the palate. This wine offers some really interesting flavors for the money without being so intense that you'd suffer from palate fatigue too soon. Hefty alcohol levels at 13.5%. What a great summer wine to serve ice cold!
Yalumba South Australia Viognier 2005 ($11)
This one is much quieter on the nose when compared to the Smoking Loon. In the tasting a rush of apricot fruit comes forth but the majority of the wine's structure is citrus rind and mineral with some light pear on the aftertaste. The lively and sharp characteristics promise that it is a great food wine. The copious alcohol content (14.5%) is obvious on day two as that's all that's really left in the bottle insofar as flavor. Where the Smoking Loon was more round and full in my mouth, the Yaluma is sharp and lean.
Both Viognier offerings are very pleasing and great warm weather, value buys. Your choice will probably depend upon how much cash you have on hand to blow and perhaps the time of day and circumstances. I'd be inclined to enjoy Smoking Loon in the afternoon, on a picnic or at a party as an aperitif. The Yalumba would probably be the better choice for a more formal and rich meal.
The opposite end of the Viognier spectrum frequently presents me with a wine that is watered down and insipid -- so low in acid and so lacking in character that it barely deserves the name Viognier. In addition, this grape too often shows great bottle variation after the passing of just a month or two (or even a night in the 'fridge.) You definitely want to drink this one while it's young. Once the fruit dies away you're left with a flabby, overbearing, high alcohol mess.
The Viognier grape can be challenging to grow, requiring a cooler microclimate to really show its stuff and develop the intense and concentrated flavors and fragrances it bears. If the growing season is too cool, however, the grapes may not ripen fully. While the grape grows more easily in warmer climates, it does not always develop its signature flavors, aromatic complexity, full-bodied mouthfeel and lingering finish.
Now that all of the negatives are out of the way, it is safe to say that this full-bodied white varietal makes one of the most distinctive wines around today. It can offer the attractiveness of a big, complex Chardonnay with an alcohol level that is usually quite high (14% and above) combined with the fragrant spiciness and perceived sweetness of a Riesling or Gewürztraminer. The aromas are intensely floral with honeysuckle, jasmine, freesia, orange blossoms and gardenia abounding. The exotic fruits evoked include thick and delicious overlays of ripe and stewed apricot, peach and pear along with tropical fruits, sweet citrus, and a jazzy bit of spice and honey. Mineral notes rendered by the growing region are often in evidence as well as oak nuances if the wine has been fermented or aged in barrels. This wine will fill the palate and the senses with a finish that should linger on and on and on.
When it comes to choosing foods that will make a lovely consort to this alluring grape, the options are not as varied as for other white grapes. Because Viognier lacks the sharp and clean cutting power delivered by high fruit acid content, has a relatively high alcohol level for a white wine, and is so naturally opulent in its fragrance and sweet taste sensations, a bit of thought is required for the pairing possibilities. In general, this grape puts its best foot forward when paired with rich seafood and shellfish selections, risotto, chowders and lighter meats. It also does quite well with spicy stir-fry and curry dishes. It can be a fantastic compliment to pork and ham, especially if there is a bit of sweetness in the glaze and sauce. I love Viognier with the traditional Thanksgiving meal. Turkey tastes better with this wine, as do the stuffing and sweet potatoes. Other natural poultry pairings include stuffed and roasted Cornish game hens, chicken in cream sauce, or lightly sauteed breasts in olive oil or butter and herbs.
Should you become too anxious over the pairing with food issue, Viognier makes an awesome aperitif. Here are two of my recent favorites:
Smoking Loon California Viogner 2004 ($9)
A massive whiff of ripe banana and fresh apricot greet the nose supported by gentle spice notes of clover and cinnamon. The taste matches the nose perfectly: stewed, ripe apricot up front along with fresh peach, hints of tropical fruits and lingering spice flavors. A firm mineral backbone cuts some of the sweet fruit that hits the front of the palate. This wine offers some really interesting flavors for the money without being so intense that you'd suffer from palate fatigue too soon. Hefty alcohol levels at 13.5%. What a great summer wine to serve ice cold!
Yalumba South Australia Viognier 2005 ($11)
This one is much quieter on the nose when compared to the Smoking Loon. In the tasting a rush of apricot fruit comes forth but the majority of the wine's structure is citrus rind and mineral with some light pear on the aftertaste. The lively and sharp characteristics promise that it is a great food wine. The copious alcohol content (14.5%) is obvious on day two as that's all that's really left in the bottle insofar as flavor. Where the Smoking Loon was more round and full in my mouth, the Yaluma is sharp and lean.
Both Viognier offerings are very pleasing and great warm weather, value buys. Your choice will probably depend upon how much cash you have on hand to blow and perhaps the time of day and circumstances. I'd be inclined to enjoy Smoking Loon in the afternoon, on a picnic or at a party as an aperitif. The Yalumba would probably be the better choice for a more formal and rich meal.
Super Sippable Solstice Selections
Summer arrived in Pagosa this week and with that, my ability to enjoy red wines departed. I have what's called a Pitta constitution in the Ayurvedic tradition of medicine: I run hot. ("Pitta people do not tolerate sunlight, heat or hard work well. Pitta constitutions will be upset by alcohol and cigarettes, as well as by overwork, overexertion, and overheating. When under stress, Pittas become irritated and angry." Moi?) While chatting about wines last winter with fellow grape heads Karl and James, I tried to keep the incredulity out of my voice when asking: "Do you guys drink reds all summer long?" The fastest way for me to overheat in the warm months is to drink red wine and it is certainly the most enjoyable way to warm up in the winter.
I disclose this metabolic, constitutional flaw to prepare you for a four-month-long primary focus on the anti-reds; pinks and whites. It's the time of year to actively seek value-driven and acidicly refreshing white wines and rosés. (You will probably not find mention of oaky/buttery Chardonnays very often in this column. If ever.)
Here's a starter four-pack to kick off the season. Surely at least a couple of my Take-to-the-Lake-and-Flake Wines will please:
Yellow Tail Riesling 2005 ($8) - I am not making this up. Last month I walked into a liquor store and noticed, in my peripheral vision, a Yellow Tail label in a color that I did not recognize. How irritating that I can spot this new release way down the aisle atop a shelf from the doorway, yet have to grab my reading glasses to deduce the alcohol level (12.5%). I was thrilled to see one of my favorite value Australian producers take on a Riesling since their quality is consistently high. The wine presented dusty, musty, citrus aromas followed by a burst of lemondrop up front with a lime peel finish. Don't overchill this one -- let it warm and open up a bit in the glass before you pass any "it's too simple" judgements. The wine was not as sweet as I expected but was light and refreshing -- a pleasantly uncomplicated lemondrop for the money.
Far more interesting and complex is the Hogue Riesling 2005 from Washington's Columbia Valley ($9.50). The nose was so quiet that the explosive flavors took me by surprise. Fizzy candy fruit, and I mean that in the best way. The crisp acids perfectly framed the slightly sweet (but not a bit cloying) fruits: candied lime peel, lemon zest, tangerine. I found neither petroleum nor sweet stone fruits like apricot jam or peach, characteristics typical of Rieslings from other regions. Mineral notes kick in as it leaves the throat with far more body and a richer mouthfeel than the Yellow Tail. The alcohol is perfect at 12.7%. Hard to believe it could get any better than this for under $10. This is the wine for a summer Sunday afternoon offering up an ultra-refreshing, tightly-wound acid structure with abundant sweet fruit flavors.
Francis Coppola's Bianco Pinot Grigio 2004 ($10) - Coppola turns out some great value wines and this was my first experience with his Pinot Grigio. A burst of exuberant, crackling fruit acids whacked me across the lips followed quickly by honeydew melon flavors and subdued earth tones. Extremely crisp with a zippy 13% alcohol level. A great picnic/barbecue wine for all manner of fish, poultry and pork offerings and would pair nicely with sushi and teriyaki chicken. The remaining wine lost all flavor and signs of life after a night in the fridge so drink up soon after opening.
One of the most beautifully balanced white wines for my money and palate is the Montevina Pinot Grigio 2004 ($11). What an amazing delight. The nose is chock-full of sharp lime and tropical fruits offering one of the most promising sniffs and swirls in a long time. The wine bursts into the mouth with all the promise of the aromas. There is so much going on in this multi-layered gem, and all in the right places. Think warm tropics: mango, papaya and guava with sleek citrus flavors that stand up and take charge, peeling through layer after layer of fruit salad. The alcohol level is relatively high at 13.5% but it just works here; the wine never comes across as hot. A perfectly crafted wine!
People who love wine enjoy the evaluating and naming of components nearly as much as the drinking. It's not out of a pretentious effort to appear snobbish or smarter than anyone. Quite the opposite, in fact. It's a learning and discovering experience as the wine unfolds and reveals itself to you, sip by sip, layer by layer. How and where a wine grape is grown (and then processed) have much to do with the end product but each wine grape will display distinctly identifiable components specific to the variety. When enjoying a Riesling, you can expect to smell and taste: apricot, peach and pear; lemon, lime and orange peel; green apple, pineapple and tropical fruits; florals, minerals, honey, toast and kerosene -- what I call petroleum.
Pinot Grigio (or Pinot Gris) grapes are very similar in flavor profile but skew more toward acidic fruits than the sweet stone fruits so abundant in Rieslings. Look for: lemon, lime, grapefruit, pineapple, pear, minerals, hay and honeysuckle.
Inherent in appreciating wine is acknowledging and honoring the art forms of winemaking and grape growing. Heck yeah the buzz is great, but so is taking a moment to cozy up to the wine -- an ever-transforming, living creature that many hands helped birth. To quote Jancis Robinson: "Every glass of wine we drink represents a whole year of vineyard cultivation and perhaps several years of effort in the winery...Yet most of us throw it away, straight down our throats, without even trying to 'read' it."
Go grab one of these bottles and have yourself a good read!
I disclose this metabolic, constitutional flaw to prepare you for a four-month-long primary focus on the anti-reds; pinks and whites. It's the time of year to actively seek value-driven and acidicly refreshing white wines and rosés. (You will probably not find mention of oaky/buttery Chardonnays very often in this column. If ever.)
Here's a starter four-pack to kick off the season. Surely at least a couple of my Take-to-the-Lake-and-Flake Wines will please:
Yellow Tail Riesling 2005 ($8) - I am not making this up. Last month I walked into a liquor store and noticed, in my peripheral vision, a Yellow Tail label in a color that I did not recognize. How irritating that I can spot this new release way down the aisle atop a shelf from the doorway, yet have to grab my reading glasses to deduce the alcohol level (12.5%). I was thrilled to see one of my favorite value Australian producers take on a Riesling since their quality is consistently high. The wine presented dusty, musty, citrus aromas followed by a burst of lemondrop up front with a lime peel finish. Don't overchill this one -- let it warm and open up a bit in the glass before you pass any "it's too simple" judgements. The wine was not as sweet as I expected but was light and refreshing -- a pleasantly uncomplicated lemondrop for the money.
Far more interesting and complex is the Hogue Riesling 2005 from Washington's Columbia Valley ($9.50). The nose was so quiet that the explosive flavors took me by surprise. Fizzy candy fruit, and I mean that in the best way. The crisp acids perfectly framed the slightly sweet (but not a bit cloying) fruits: candied lime peel, lemon zest, tangerine. I found neither petroleum nor sweet stone fruits like apricot jam or peach, characteristics typical of Rieslings from other regions. Mineral notes kick in as it leaves the throat with far more body and a richer mouthfeel than the Yellow Tail. The alcohol is perfect at 12.7%. Hard to believe it could get any better than this for under $10. This is the wine for a summer Sunday afternoon offering up an ultra-refreshing, tightly-wound acid structure with abundant sweet fruit flavors.
Francis Coppola's Bianco Pinot Grigio 2004 ($10) - Coppola turns out some great value wines and this was my first experience with his Pinot Grigio. A burst of exuberant, crackling fruit acids whacked me across the lips followed quickly by honeydew melon flavors and subdued earth tones. Extremely crisp with a zippy 13% alcohol level. A great picnic/barbecue wine for all manner of fish, poultry and pork offerings and would pair nicely with sushi and teriyaki chicken. The remaining wine lost all flavor and signs of life after a night in the fridge so drink up soon after opening.
One of the most beautifully balanced white wines for my money and palate is the Montevina Pinot Grigio 2004 ($11). What an amazing delight. The nose is chock-full of sharp lime and tropical fruits offering one of the most promising sniffs and swirls in a long time. The wine bursts into the mouth with all the promise of the aromas. There is so much going on in this multi-layered gem, and all in the right places. Think warm tropics: mango, papaya and guava with sleek citrus flavors that stand up and take charge, peeling through layer after layer of fruit salad. The alcohol level is relatively high at 13.5% but it just works here; the wine never comes across as hot. A perfectly crafted wine!
People who love wine enjoy the evaluating and naming of components nearly as much as the drinking. It's not out of a pretentious effort to appear snobbish or smarter than anyone. Quite the opposite, in fact. It's a learning and discovering experience as the wine unfolds and reveals itself to you, sip by sip, layer by layer. How and where a wine grape is grown (and then processed) have much to do with the end product but each wine grape will display distinctly identifiable components specific to the variety. When enjoying a Riesling, you can expect to smell and taste: apricot, peach and pear; lemon, lime and orange peel; green apple, pineapple and tropical fruits; florals, minerals, honey, toast and kerosene -- what I call petroleum.
Pinot Grigio (or Pinot Gris) grapes are very similar in flavor profile but skew more toward acidic fruits than the sweet stone fruits so abundant in Rieslings. Look for: lemon, lime, grapefruit, pineapple, pear, minerals, hay and honeysuckle.
Inherent in appreciating wine is acknowledging and honoring the art forms of winemaking and grape growing. Heck yeah the buzz is great, but so is taking a moment to cozy up to the wine -- an ever-transforming, living creature that many hands helped birth. To quote Jancis Robinson: "Every glass of wine we drink represents a whole year of vineyard cultivation and perhaps several years of effort in the winery...Yet most of us throw it away, straight down our throats, without even trying to 'read' it."
Go grab one of these bottles and have yourself a good read!
My Father's Daughter
I am so not a Scotch drinker. I have never suffered one moment's temptation to learn to appreciate the spirit. I'm a wino, pure and simple. Several years ago I posted a portfolio of over 200 wine reviews on a pay-per-click web site. I co-created what came to be known as Wine Write Offs: a group of reviewers would sample identical wines and upload their perceptions as simultaneously as possible. It was great fun, this cyber tasting panel.
A Single Malt Scotch Sip Off was inevitable. I was the only woman who participated with a group of six men. A girl could not have asked for a more supportive first-time single malt experience. The men were very practiced and knowledgeable in all things Scotch. They were all frequent imbibers with decades of practice to call upon. Me? I did it for my father.
My father had been dead for four years. There are times in which I think of him and miss his annoyingly practical advice more than others. This period was one such passage. Should you ask me to reel off a list of the things he cherished most, I would quickly reply: "Golf; deep sea fishing (albacore!); writing his own monthly column for Riviera Country Club's magazine; being a West Los Angeles realtor; Brentwood Presbyterian Church; Don Rickles; and Scotch Whisky. (Runners up include: artichokes; Glen Miller and His Orchestra; Bob Newhart; my brother's little league years; and that first big job I landed fresh out of college with Blue Cross of California.)
I believed that perhaps by dipping my writer's toe into the heady Highland waters for this group review I could invoke and petition, in some sacramental manner, the good graces and gentle guidance of my father, who art in heaven. But where to start? How does one who knows nothing about the designated adult beverage orient herself? Ask people you trust for advice. After consulting two of the most seasoned Scotchophiles on the web site it seemed clear that I should procure a bottle of The Glenlivet, and the older the better -- as in past the 12 year mark.
A gal pal suggested that I visit a bar and sample a glass of Glenlivet rather than committing to an entire bottle in the near-certain event that I hated it. My exact words: "I would rather flush the $55 down my toilet than sit alone in a smoky, Pagosa bar on a Saturday afternoon, a glass of neat Scotch in front of me." Gave "invitation for disaster" a whole new meaning.
I found the Glenlivet 12 but lo and behold, the 18 was in stock. Trying desperately to maximize any chance in hell that I could taste the Scotch without eliciting the gag reflex, I forked over the big bucks, all the while thinking how many Best Buy bottles of wine that same $55 could buy.
The liquor store owner looked stunned as he took my cash. I feared he might alert the local press to the breaking news: Town Wino Buys Scotch. Film at 11:00. I offered: "Oh, another little Taste Off on that web site I do all those wine reviews for", and he agreed that the Glenlivet 18 was about as smooth as they come.
Taking the distiller's advice: "Don't be hurried", I took the evaluating very, very slowly. In the wine glass the color was just exquisite to my eye; a burnt honey, a golden amber. It was a most warm and lush looking liquid. In the nose? My father. I simply smelled my father. I was a young girl again and I heard the clink clink clink of his Scotch rocks glass as he descended the stairs after dressing for a dinner out with my mother. He golfed every Thursday and Saturday. He came home after his 18 holes and ritualistically readied himself for their date over Scotch rocks. Never on a Tuesday. Never a gin and tonic. Until I was a woman I did not know it was possible for a man to barbecue without a glass of scotch rocks in hand.
Because I can not smell Scotch without thinking of my father it took a long while to get past the misting eyes, the lump in throat. I rather liked the way the alcohol tickled the little nose hairs on the upward rise and every time I swirled and sniffed I perceived a different set of aromas. Those that leaped out at me the loudest were light floral notes, orange blossom, honey, and faint hints of chocolate. The more I explored, the more I found other aromas -- vanilla, resin, and a delicate spiciness reminiscent of toffee and cloves.
Having "not hurried" for about two hours, the moment of the first sip had arrived. There was no turning back and no more pathetic stalling. I sipped tentatively. I broke out in laughter. I was stunned -- I liked it! Taking the tiniest of tastes, I was struck by what a totally different sensory adventure it was from wine. The dominant in-mouth flavors were those of honey, lemon peel, and toffee vanilla. The warmth of the whisky was shocking yet soothing. My top lip was quivering in the heat and the back of my throat, down into my upper chest, radiating. But it was a mellow and rich, almost hypnotic warmth; not a burning flame to recoil from. Ahhhhhh....so this is what you single malt freaks seek in these bottles?
The nose deepened profoundly once the liquid had touched the palate. With each sip I felt that my mouth and nose were co-joined in some harmonious pas de deux of synergy and synthesis. Once the sense of taste and sensation engaged that of eye and nose, the circuit was complete. Add to that the caressing heat on the lips, in the mouth, and down the throat -- where had I been?
After just a few swallows my head was a buzzin'. It was a very different buzz from wine -- a gentle and smooth buzz -- a mental and muscle relaxer extraordinaire. Both brain and body uttered a huge sigh of relief, free of the needless tensions I burden them with daily. I wondered if I had found the secret to my annoying bouts of insomnia. While I would not be inclined to forsake my beloved wine grape for Scotch Whisky, I was able to fully appreciate and understand, from the other side of the glass, those who have a devotion and dedication to the "Water of Life".
Today, just after the ten-year anniversary of my father's passing and the approach of Father's Day, I am still writing about wine and I am again passing through a period in which I sorely miss his steadying advice. I have a photo of him here, just next to my computer -- his back to the Pacific Ocean, seated barefoot on a beach house ledge, waiting for the grill to heat. The late afternoon sun lights him from behind, and in his left hand -- Scotch rocks.
A Single Malt Scotch Sip Off was inevitable. I was the only woman who participated with a group of six men. A girl could not have asked for a more supportive first-time single malt experience. The men were very practiced and knowledgeable in all things Scotch. They were all frequent imbibers with decades of practice to call upon. Me? I did it for my father.
My father had been dead for four years. There are times in which I think of him and miss his annoyingly practical advice more than others. This period was one such passage. Should you ask me to reel off a list of the things he cherished most, I would quickly reply: "Golf; deep sea fishing (albacore!); writing his own monthly column for Riviera Country Club's magazine; being a West Los Angeles realtor; Brentwood Presbyterian Church; Don Rickles; and Scotch Whisky. (Runners up include: artichokes; Glen Miller and His Orchestra; Bob Newhart; my brother's little league years; and that first big job I landed fresh out of college with Blue Cross of California.)
I believed that perhaps by dipping my writer's toe into the heady Highland waters for this group review I could invoke and petition, in some sacramental manner, the good graces and gentle guidance of my father, who art in heaven. But where to start? How does one who knows nothing about the designated adult beverage orient herself? Ask people you trust for advice. After consulting two of the most seasoned Scotchophiles on the web site it seemed clear that I should procure a bottle of The Glenlivet, and the older the better -- as in past the 12 year mark.
A gal pal suggested that I visit a bar and sample a glass of Glenlivet rather than committing to an entire bottle in the near-certain event that I hated it. My exact words: "I would rather flush the $55 down my toilet than sit alone in a smoky, Pagosa bar on a Saturday afternoon, a glass of neat Scotch in front of me." Gave "invitation for disaster" a whole new meaning.
I found the Glenlivet 12 but lo and behold, the 18 was in stock. Trying desperately to maximize any chance in hell that I could taste the Scotch without eliciting the gag reflex, I forked over the big bucks, all the while thinking how many Best Buy bottles of wine that same $55 could buy.
The liquor store owner looked stunned as he took my cash. I feared he might alert the local press to the breaking news: Town Wino Buys Scotch. Film at 11:00. I offered: "Oh, another little Taste Off on that web site I do all those wine reviews for", and he agreed that the Glenlivet 18 was about as smooth as they come.
Taking the distiller's advice: "Don't be hurried", I took the evaluating very, very slowly. In the wine glass the color was just exquisite to my eye; a burnt honey, a golden amber. It was a most warm and lush looking liquid. In the nose? My father. I simply smelled my father. I was a young girl again and I heard the clink clink clink of his Scotch rocks glass as he descended the stairs after dressing for a dinner out with my mother. He golfed every Thursday and Saturday. He came home after his 18 holes and ritualistically readied himself for their date over Scotch rocks. Never on a Tuesday. Never a gin and tonic. Until I was a woman I did not know it was possible for a man to barbecue without a glass of scotch rocks in hand.
Because I can not smell Scotch without thinking of my father it took a long while to get past the misting eyes, the lump in throat. I rather liked the way the alcohol tickled the little nose hairs on the upward rise and every time I swirled and sniffed I perceived a different set of aromas. Those that leaped out at me the loudest were light floral notes, orange blossom, honey, and faint hints of chocolate. The more I explored, the more I found other aromas -- vanilla, resin, and a delicate spiciness reminiscent of toffee and cloves.
Having "not hurried" for about two hours, the moment of the first sip had arrived. There was no turning back and no more pathetic stalling. I sipped tentatively. I broke out in laughter. I was stunned -- I liked it! Taking the tiniest of tastes, I was struck by what a totally different sensory adventure it was from wine. The dominant in-mouth flavors were those of honey, lemon peel, and toffee vanilla. The warmth of the whisky was shocking yet soothing. My top lip was quivering in the heat and the back of my throat, down into my upper chest, radiating. But it was a mellow and rich, almost hypnotic warmth; not a burning flame to recoil from. Ahhhhhh....so this is what you single malt freaks seek in these bottles?
The nose deepened profoundly once the liquid had touched the palate. With each sip I felt that my mouth and nose were co-joined in some harmonious pas de deux of synergy and synthesis. Once the sense of taste and sensation engaged that of eye and nose, the circuit was complete. Add to that the caressing heat on the lips, in the mouth, and down the throat -- where had I been?
After just a few swallows my head was a buzzin'. It was a very different buzz from wine -- a gentle and smooth buzz -- a mental and muscle relaxer extraordinaire. Both brain and body uttered a huge sigh of relief, free of the needless tensions I burden them with daily. I wondered if I had found the secret to my annoying bouts of insomnia. While I would not be inclined to forsake my beloved wine grape for Scotch Whisky, I was able to fully appreciate and understand, from the other side of the glass, those who have a devotion and dedication to the "Water of Life".
Today, just after the ten-year anniversary of my father's passing and the approach of Father's Day, I am still writing about wine and I am again passing through a period in which I sorely miss his steadying advice. I have a photo of him here, just next to my computer -- his back to the Pacific Ocean, seated barefoot on a beach house ledge, waiting for the grill to heat. The late afternoon sun lights him from behind, and in his left hand -- Scotch rocks.
Test Your Wine Q
A little wine knowledge can be a fun thing. Impress yourself with how much you know:
1) Who do we have to thank for creating White Zinfandel in the early 1970s?
a) Derek Farrah
b) Karl Isberg
c) Bob Trinchero of Sutter Home
2) When it comes to syrah and shiraz...
a) They are lyrics in that old Doris Day song: "Kay syrah, shiraz -- whatever will be, will be."
b) Syrah is a red grape found in France's Rhone region and shiraz is a pink grape found in Australia.
c) They are the same grape called different names dependent upon growing region.
3) Define the French term "terroir":
a) What you feel when you pull up to pump your gas.
b) Suddenly realizing that you're fresh out of wine and it's Sunday.
c) The combination of soil, topography and weather conditions of a wine growing region.
4) If you were a Pinotage, where would you be hanging?
a) Excuuuuuuuuuuuuuse me?
b) Between pink and mauve on the Martha Stewart color wheel.
c) In a South African vineyard.
5) When dining out, smelling the cork from your bottle of wine tells you:
a) If the wine is defective.
b) The relative age of the wine.
c) Nothing, but it tells everyone else that you're a pretentious boob.
6) A punt is:
a) What a football team does after blowing the first three downs.
b) What you do when you have forgotten something important like a friend's name, lover's birthday. Also called "CYA".
c) The indentation on the bottom of still and sparkling wine bottles.
7) Malolactic fermentation is:
a) What happens to all the old milk you never toss from your refrigerator.
b) That cop involved in the OJ Simpson trial.
c) A secondary fermentation process in white wine making wherein the tart, crisp, malic (apple) acid in the grapes is softened and made to taste more like butter or milk (lactic).
8) "Sur lie" means:
a) The attitude some people display when they dine out and can't find one good wine by the glass on the menu.
b) The attitude other people display when they can't find one reasonably priced bottle of wine on the menu.
c) Aging the wine after fermentation on the dead yeast cells, grape skins and pulp, imparting a rich and toasty character.
Answer Key:
The correct answer is always "c". If you scored eight out of eight, you are a Wine Whisperer. If you scored less than eight correctly, you have a great sense of humor and wonderful taste in newspapers.
I tend to whine a lot about the year-to-year variation in some of my favorite bottles of wine. I know that the word "vintage" refers to the yield of wine (or grapes) from a vineyard (or district) in one specific growing season (or year). I realize that growers and winemakers have many fickle, nature and weather-related conditions thwarting their ability to replicate a consistent taste. But who wants excuses when you've purchased a wine that you usually love and find your nose and mouth making involuntary rodent face gestures?
I know am not the only one who makes the rodent face when confronted with a loser wine. In an effort to elicit a human smile from your face instead of a twitching rat nose, here are two reasonably priced selections that consistently gratify, year to year. I have been enjoying both for decades and have never once opened a bottle, regardless of vintage, that was not fully pleasing:
Sterling 2005 Vintner's Collection Sauvignon Blanc, Central Coast ($11) -- I loved this wine when I worked in Napa in 1990 and I love it today. Ten years ago this summer I sat in the Greenhouse Restaurant for the first time and found that it was one of the few white wines by the glass on the menu bearing a name that I recognized. I loved the 1995 that night and made a mental note to self to eat at the Greenhouse a lot. Sterling crafts a moderately priced sauvignon blanc that is extremely refreshing, crisp, clean and very food-friendly. The acidity is always pitch-perfect for me with a lengthy and satisfying finish. The vibrant citrus flavors lean closer to the lemon-lime/orange blossom side of the scale than the too-pungent grapefruit side. Bless them for their 100% stainless steel fermentation choice -- two flavors I abhor in a sauvignon blanc are vanilla-soaked oak and enough grass to feed a herd of elk.
Laurel Glen 2003 REDS ($10) -- This is one of my top five favorite California red blends. I'm not usually a big fan of the zinfandel grape as it can be so intense and overpowering that I almost feel allergic, but here, when blended with carignane and petite sirah, it so works! My tasting notes from the 2000 are nearly identical to those for the 2003: Dark black cherry, plum, anise spice, cedar, tobacco, chocolate. Mocha coffee and meaty leather, but in a good way. The wine reveals itself layer-by-layer with each sip as the palate warms up. This is one opulent and complex red wine for the price.
In the Broadening My Wine Horizons file, I was in New Mexico last month and stopped in a wine store. I asked the owner to recommend his favorite value red from any region. He asked what I look for in a red. (Good question indicating a professional merchant who will calibrate his suggestion to my palate, not his.) I told him fruit-forward, intense cherry/berry flavors, medium-bodied, smooth tannins. He led me to Altos Las Hormigas 2005 Colonia Las Liebres Bonarda. I learned that Bonarda is a grape with origins in Italy and the most widely planted red grape in Argentina, homeland of this bottle.The wine was spicy and rich with coffee/toffee and anise/licorice flavors. I got my dark black cherry fruit fix and found the medium body and firm tannins I sought. A few weeks later it showed up in the May 15 Wine Spectator as a Best Buy, albeit with a suggested retail ($8) lower than I paid ($9.50). Overall, a very pleasant discovery that left me proud of my courageous step out of my New World Wine Box.
1) Who do we have to thank for creating White Zinfandel in the early 1970s?
a) Derek Farrah
b) Karl Isberg
c) Bob Trinchero of Sutter Home
2) When it comes to syrah and shiraz...
a) They are lyrics in that old Doris Day song: "Kay syrah, shiraz -- whatever will be, will be."
b) Syrah is a red grape found in France's Rhone region and shiraz is a pink grape found in Australia.
c) They are the same grape called different names dependent upon growing region.
3) Define the French term "terroir":
a) What you feel when you pull up to pump your gas.
b) Suddenly realizing that you're fresh out of wine and it's Sunday.
c) The combination of soil, topography and weather conditions of a wine growing region.
4) If you were a Pinotage, where would you be hanging?
a) Excuuuuuuuuuuuuuse me?
b) Between pink and mauve on the Martha Stewart color wheel.
c) In a South African vineyard.
5) When dining out, smelling the cork from your bottle of wine tells you:
a) If the wine is defective.
b) The relative age of the wine.
c) Nothing, but it tells everyone else that you're a pretentious boob.
6) A punt is:
a) What a football team does after blowing the first three downs.
b) What you do when you have forgotten something important like a friend's name, lover's birthday. Also called "CYA".
c) The indentation on the bottom of still and sparkling wine bottles.
7) Malolactic fermentation is:
a) What happens to all the old milk you never toss from your refrigerator.
b) That cop involved in the OJ Simpson trial.
c) A secondary fermentation process in white wine making wherein the tart, crisp, malic (apple) acid in the grapes is softened and made to taste more like butter or milk (lactic).
8) "Sur lie" means:
a) The attitude some people display when they dine out and can't find one good wine by the glass on the menu.
b) The attitude other people display when they can't find one reasonably priced bottle of wine on the menu.
c) Aging the wine after fermentation on the dead yeast cells, grape skins and pulp, imparting a rich and toasty character.
Answer Key:
The correct answer is always "c". If you scored eight out of eight, you are a Wine Whisperer. If you scored less than eight correctly, you have a great sense of humor and wonderful taste in newspapers.
I tend to whine a lot about the year-to-year variation in some of my favorite bottles of wine. I know that the word "vintage" refers to the yield of wine (or grapes) from a vineyard (or district) in one specific growing season (or year). I realize that growers and winemakers have many fickle, nature and weather-related conditions thwarting their ability to replicate a consistent taste. But who wants excuses when you've purchased a wine that you usually love and find your nose and mouth making involuntary rodent face gestures?
I know am not the only one who makes the rodent face when confronted with a loser wine. In an effort to elicit a human smile from your face instead of a twitching rat nose, here are two reasonably priced selections that consistently gratify, year to year. I have been enjoying both for decades and have never once opened a bottle, regardless of vintage, that was not fully pleasing:
Sterling 2005 Vintner's Collection Sauvignon Blanc, Central Coast ($11) -- I loved this wine when I worked in Napa in 1990 and I love it today. Ten years ago this summer I sat in the Greenhouse Restaurant for the first time and found that it was one of the few white wines by the glass on the menu bearing a name that I recognized. I loved the 1995 that night and made a mental note to self to eat at the Greenhouse a lot. Sterling crafts a moderately priced sauvignon blanc that is extremely refreshing, crisp, clean and very food-friendly. The acidity is always pitch-perfect for me with a lengthy and satisfying finish. The vibrant citrus flavors lean closer to the lemon-lime/orange blossom side of the scale than the too-pungent grapefruit side. Bless them for their 100% stainless steel fermentation choice -- two flavors I abhor in a sauvignon blanc are vanilla-soaked oak and enough grass to feed a herd of elk.
Laurel Glen 2003 REDS ($10) -- This is one of my top five favorite California red blends. I'm not usually a big fan of the zinfandel grape as it can be so intense and overpowering that I almost feel allergic, but here, when blended with carignane and petite sirah, it so works! My tasting notes from the 2000 are nearly identical to those for the 2003: Dark black cherry, plum, anise spice, cedar, tobacco, chocolate. Mocha coffee and meaty leather, but in a good way. The wine reveals itself layer-by-layer with each sip as the palate warms up. This is one opulent and complex red wine for the price.
In the Broadening My Wine Horizons file, I was in New Mexico last month and stopped in a wine store. I asked the owner to recommend his favorite value red from any region. He asked what I look for in a red. (Good question indicating a professional merchant who will calibrate his suggestion to my palate, not his.) I told him fruit-forward, intense cherry/berry flavors, medium-bodied, smooth tannins. He led me to Altos Las Hormigas 2005 Colonia Las Liebres Bonarda. I learned that Bonarda is a grape with origins in Italy and the most widely planted red grape in Argentina, homeland of this bottle.The wine was spicy and rich with coffee/toffee and anise/licorice flavors. I got my dark black cherry fruit fix and found the medium body and firm tannins I sought. A few weeks later it showed up in the May 15 Wine Spectator as a Best Buy, albeit with a suggested retail ($8) lower than I paid ($9.50). Overall, a very pleasant discovery that left me proud of my courageous step out of my New World Wine Box.
Cinderella Comes To
The possibilities sounded too good to be true. The potential ramifications that this opportunity might bring to my life astounded me. I was dizzy, yet sober.
With a stroke of the send now key, a spontaneous and cheeky little email whisked off to California had quickly escalated into an interview with a prospective employer on the west coast in an industry that I love. Randall Grahm liked my online review of two of his desert wines and yes, in fact, he did have a marketing position open. He offered to fly me out to Santa Cruz. I floated along in a surreal state of shock for days. Could this be? Would this be? Had my brass ring finally come around? And where were my golden slippers?
I left the California coast exactly six years prior and headed for the Southwest. After five years in Pagosa -- back then, a town with one stop light, one grocery market, and not one sushi or wine bar -- my ongoing refrain went something like: "Every day is the same here. Choices are too limited. Everybody knows everybody. People move too slowly. Does anyone wear a watch? Why don't we have any good restaurants?"
I thought I missed the Pacific Ocean that I had lived beside all my life. I thought I missed family and friends. I knew I missed simple things like stores with interesting inventory and restaurants with interesting food and wine, along with a population large enough to foster some healthy competition in the business community. I was tired of dull and monotonous; bored with quiet and slow; severely deprived of excitement, endless options and multiple choices. Or so I thought.
I flew into Monterey, the city I last called home. I was struck by the absence of any feelings of homecoming. I did not visit my last apartment to see what was growing in my flower garden. I did not race straight to the shore to touch the ocean and breathe the salt air. I got into the rental car and drove north to Santa Cruz while some subconscious, internal device kept me oriented east. A deeper, more authentic part of me was pulling me back to Pagosa.
Two-and-one-half days, four airports, one wacky interview, a quick overnighter with Mom and Grandma in Napa, and a plethora of major highways later my tiny plane prepared to land in Durango, surely the most user-friendly airport on Earth. The seasonal, late afternoon lightning storm was warming up for a majestic performance. The mountains and flatlands of southwest Colorado never looked as stunning to me as they did in the shadow and light display that early evening.
I drove home in a near-trance state of elation and gratitude, awed that I could travel miles on Highway160 and never see another car. No concrete walls divided multiple lanes crammed full of frenzied drivers who drove right up my rear, regardless of my speed. My eyes did not need to stay glued to the rear view mirror, only on the winding road ahead for deer crossing. "I can't believe I live here" was my spontaneous and deeply-felt mantra. After five years in the same place, 60 hours in another blessed me with beginner's eyes. I fell in love with my Pagosa life with an intensity not felt before. I was ferocious and protective of my lifestyle. I was deeply committed to preserving it.
As the weeks passed after my juxtapositional journey, my sense of wonder deepened for my quiet, uncomplicated and creatively fulfilling life. More often than not I awoke to deer in my yard, mere feet from my bedroom window. I acquiesced to no leash laws when I walked my dog, nor was she banned from any parks or beaches. I hardly ever noticed the wail of a siren, and the Big News in town that Summer was the installation of the second traffic light. I kept a log in which I recorded the precise dates of annual leaf break on my two, huge sentry aspen. The dates never deviated by more than five days. A family of birds nested just under my roof for five consecutive years and I bore up-close witness to the tenuous first flight lessons.
I did not get the dream job offer. The position was not made for me after all. It was not the possible move back to the California coast that was too good to be true; it was my daily existence in the verdant mountains of southwest Colorado that was the grand prize. I grabbed my own brass ring in June of 1996 when I moved here. I remain grateful to this day that I had the chance to explore something that I thought I wanted so badly -- a return to a more dynamic and exciting place and time.
Most days I move about in silent contentment, the whir of my computer, the snoring of the cats, and the chatter between my ears the only sounds. In Spring I wonder what new species of wildflower might appear spontaneously in my yard. Last Spring the Village Lake swans presented us with four cygnets who made their Winter home on Lake Forest, my lake. Last month their feathers turned from grey to white overnight. Come late Summer I will be tasting and smelling aphrodiasical Fall, the restorative elixir for my Summer-heat-weary soul. As the aspen flaunt their gold, I will be wondering if our first real snowfall will come before Halloween. When will the ski area open? How many times will my driveway need plowing? Will I ever experience the Real Winter that the old timers memorialize? These questions and observations give me a sense of continuity -- palpable access to the seasonal rhythms and patterned perfection of nature. Here in my Pagosa home I have the time, the silence, the slowed-down-enough pace and presence to witness these daily wonders. Talk about your dynamic and exciting lifestyles.
The one thing I do regret about not working for Bonny Doon is all that free wine. Grahm bottles a ton of interesting offerings under several different banners and their website is a great resource.The corporate mantra includes this promise: "Bonny Doon is the champion of the strange and the heterodox -- Ugly Duckling grape varieties whose very existence is threatened by the dominant Cabo/Chardo-centric paradigm." When I met with him, I brought a custom-made, pique assiette mosaic wine carafe. He quipped that I bust "shards" like he busts "chards". What a beautiful mind.
The Doon wines suffer from more year-to-year variation than I enjoy. It can be a tortured and frustrating love affair if you seek relative consistency in your wine producers. It's not too hard to find a decent sampling of Bonny Doon wines here in Pagosa -- each wine shop carries at least a few:
2003 Big House Red -- I just tried this wine last week and found it incredibly pleasing, smooth and warming, and very harmonious. Year-to-year this blend of syrah, petite syrah, zinfandel, carignane, barbera and malbec is pretty reliable. Aromatic fragrances tickle the nose and an exuberant burst of tart bing cherry fills the mouth upon first sip. Spice and plum appear mid-mouth with an earthy herbal, tobacco-laced finish. Had I known this vintage was so good I would have consumed more last Winter. I'll be looking for the 2004 to hit our shelves soon, but don't turn up your nose at the 2003.($11)
I praised the 2004 Big House Pink ($10) in a previous column but it's worth re-praising. Italian grape varietals are blended into a fragrant and fresh rosé replete with berries, citrus and light mineral notes. Do look for what Grahm calls "the more cerebral" and bone dry rosé, the Vin Gris de Cigare ($12), a blend of southern French grapes. The 2004 might still be around but the 2005 is on its heels.
I was delighted to find the 2004 Pacific Rim Chenin Blanc ($13) in New Mexico. This was a new one for me. I discovered crisp green apples and honey on the refreshing nose. It was softer in the mouth than I expected -- less acidic -- with strong mineral nuances and...butter? This got me musing about the winemaking in terms of oak aging and malolactic fermentation. I found this one to be unremarkable and disappointing, but drinkable.
The Pacific Rim Riesling ($12) is the most torturous and fickle of all my beloved Doon. The 2000 rocked my world. In 2001-- not so much rocking. I drank the 2002 all Summer long, but the 2003 disappointed. I tried to be patient until last month when I found the 2004. Can you spell "insipid"? It was watery and thin at first sip. My heart sank. It got a bit better as I drank on, but I found it to be far too light in fruit, acids and body. It's not bad, but it's not good. Maybe in a few months? Maybe next year?
With a stroke of the send now key, a spontaneous and cheeky little email whisked off to California had quickly escalated into an interview with a prospective employer on the west coast in an industry that I love. Randall Grahm liked my online review of two of his desert wines and yes, in fact, he did have a marketing position open. He offered to fly me out to Santa Cruz. I floated along in a surreal state of shock for days. Could this be? Would this be? Had my brass ring finally come around? And where were my golden slippers?
I left the California coast exactly six years prior and headed for the Southwest. After five years in Pagosa -- back then, a town with one stop light, one grocery market, and not one sushi or wine bar -- my ongoing refrain went something like: "Every day is the same here. Choices are too limited. Everybody knows everybody. People move too slowly. Does anyone wear a watch? Why don't we have any good restaurants?"
I thought I missed the Pacific Ocean that I had lived beside all my life. I thought I missed family and friends. I knew I missed simple things like stores with interesting inventory and restaurants with interesting food and wine, along with a population large enough to foster some healthy competition in the business community. I was tired of dull and monotonous; bored with quiet and slow; severely deprived of excitement, endless options and multiple choices. Or so I thought.
I flew into Monterey, the city I last called home. I was struck by the absence of any feelings of homecoming. I did not visit my last apartment to see what was growing in my flower garden. I did not race straight to the shore to touch the ocean and breathe the salt air. I got into the rental car and drove north to Santa Cruz while some subconscious, internal device kept me oriented east. A deeper, more authentic part of me was pulling me back to Pagosa.
Two-and-one-half days, four airports, one wacky interview, a quick overnighter with Mom and Grandma in Napa, and a plethora of major highways later my tiny plane prepared to land in Durango, surely the most user-friendly airport on Earth. The seasonal, late afternoon lightning storm was warming up for a majestic performance. The mountains and flatlands of southwest Colorado never looked as stunning to me as they did in the shadow and light display that early evening.
I drove home in a near-trance state of elation and gratitude, awed that I could travel miles on Highway160 and never see another car. No concrete walls divided multiple lanes crammed full of frenzied drivers who drove right up my rear, regardless of my speed. My eyes did not need to stay glued to the rear view mirror, only on the winding road ahead for deer crossing. "I can't believe I live here" was my spontaneous and deeply-felt mantra. After five years in the same place, 60 hours in another blessed me with beginner's eyes. I fell in love with my Pagosa life with an intensity not felt before. I was ferocious and protective of my lifestyle. I was deeply committed to preserving it.
As the weeks passed after my juxtapositional journey, my sense of wonder deepened for my quiet, uncomplicated and creatively fulfilling life. More often than not I awoke to deer in my yard, mere feet from my bedroom window. I acquiesced to no leash laws when I walked my dog, nor was she banned from any parks or beaches. I hardly ever noticed the wail of a siren, and the Big News in town that Summer was the installation of the second traffic light. I kept a log in which I recorded the precise dates of annual leaf break on my two, huge sentry aspen. The dates never deviated by more than five days. A family of birds nested just under my roof for five consecutive years and I bore up-close witness to the tenuous first flight lessons.
I did not get the dream job offer. The position was not made for me after all. It was not the possible move back to the California coast that was too good to be true; it was my daily existence in the verdant mountains of southwest Colorado that was the grand prize. I grabbed my own brass ring in June of 1996 when I moved here. I remain grateful to this day that I had the chance to explore something that I thought I wanted so badly -- a return to a more dynamic and exciting place and time.
Most days I move about in silent contentment, the whir of my computer, the snoring of the cats, and the chatter between my ears the only sounds. In Spring I wonder what new species of wildflower might appear spontaneously in my yard. Last Spring the Village Lake swans presented us with four cygnets who made their Winter home on Lake Forest, my lake. Last month their feathers turned from grey to white overnight. Come late Summer I will be tasting and smelling aphrodiasical Fall, the restorative elixir for my Summer-heat-weary soul. As the aspen flaunt their gold, I will be wondering if our first real snowfall will come before Halloween. When will the ski area open? How many times will my driveway need plowing? Will I ever experience the Real Winter that the old timers memorialize? These questions and observations give me a sense of continuity -- palpable access to the seasonal rhythms and patterned perfection of nature. Here in my Pagosa home I have the time, the silence, the slowed-down-enough pace and presence to witness these daily wonders. Talk about your dynamic and exciting lifestyles.
The one thing I do regret about not working for Bonny Doon is all that free wine. Grahm bottles a ton of interesting offerings under several different banners and their website is a great resource.The corporate mantra includes this promise: "Bonny Doon is the champion of the strange and the heterodox -- Ugly Duckling grape varieties whose very existence is threatened by the dominant Cabo/Chardo-centric paradigm." When I met with him, I brought a custom-made, pique assiette mosaic wine carafe. He quipped that I bust "shards" like he busts "chards". What a beautiful mind.
The Doon wines suffer from more year-to-year variation than I enjoy. It can be a tortured and frustrating love affair if you seek relative consistency in your wine producers. It's not too hard to find a decent sampling of Bonny Doon wines here in Pagosa -- each wine shop carries at least a few:
2003 Big House Red -- I just tried this wine last week and found it incredibly pleasing, smooth and warming, and very harmonious. Year-to-year this blend of syrah, petite syrah, zinfandel, carignane, barbera and malbec is pretty reliable. Aromatic fragrances tickle the nose and an exuberant burst of tart bing cherry fills the mouth upon first sip. Spice and plum appear mid-mouth with an earthy herbal, tobacco-laced finish. Had I known this vintage was so good I would have consumed more last Winter. I'll be looking for the 2004 to hit our shelves soon, but don't turn up your nose at the 2003.($11)
I praised the 2004 Big House Pink ($10) in a previous column but it's worth re-praising. Italian grape varietals are blended into a fragrant and fresh rosé replete with berries, citrus and light mineral notes. Do look for what Grahm calls "the more cerebral" and bone dry rosé, the Vin Gris de Cigare ($12), a blend of southern French grapes. The 2004 might still be around but the 2005 is on its heels.
I was delighted to find the 2004 Pacific Rim Chenin Blanc ($13) in New Mexico. This was a new one for me. I discovered crisp green apples and honey on the refreshing nose. It was softer in the mouth than I expected -- less acidic -- with strong mineral nuances and...butter? This got me musing about the winemaking in terms of oak aging and malolactic fermentation. I found this one to be unremarkable and disappointing, but drinkable.
The Pacific Rim Riesling ($12) is the most torturous and fickle of all my beloved Doon. The 2000 rocked my world. In 2001-- not so much rocking. I drank the 2002 all Summer long, but the 2003 disappointed. I tried to be patient until last month when I found the 2004. Can you spell "insipid"? It was watery and thin at first sip. My heart sank. It got a bit better as I drank on, but I found it to be far too light in fruit, acids and body. It's not bad, but it's not good. Maybe in a few months? Maybe next year?
Value Roos Rule
Yellow Tail stands out in a crowded wine store. The colorful kangaroo leaps across eye-catching labels that utilize bold colors in striking contrast against black lettering. Launched in 2000 to fill a very specific value-oriented need in the American wine market, Yellow Tail has become the number one imported wine in the US and one of my very favorite best buy wines.
I discovered the leaping roo in Spring of 2002 when I worked at a local liquor store. The Cabernet was one of the top ten best selling wines in the store that year and I was personally converted although Cabernet is not a grape that I normally gravitate to, preferring Shiraz and Australian red blends. I recall leaving a bottle of the Cabernet as a Christmas gift for my vacationing landlord and then sneaking back into his house before he returned to take it back for myself. (I'm sure I eventually replaced it. With something else.) I believe the Shiraz-Cabernet was another personal favorite over the long, cold, snowy Southwestern Colorado Winter of 2002 and 2003.
One of my favorite things about wine is the variation in character from vintage to vintage and Yellow Tail is no exception. I love that I never know which of the bottlings will be my personal favorite for the year until I taste them all in fairly rapid succession. Earlier this Fall when the air turned crisp and it was The Time of the Year to Start Drinking Reds Again, I was browsing in a liquor store and came upon the Yellow Tail 2005 Shiraz-Grenache. Who could resist that hot pink and black label? Who would not leap at the chance to taste a new product that sounded like a very promising blend of 80% Shiraz and 20% Grenache? It became my house wine for Fall/Winter/early Spring, '05 - '06. In the selfless spirit of Wine Whisperer service, I sampled the Cabernet, Merlot, Shiraz, and the Shiraz-Cabernet just to be sure I could proclaim my choice so decisively. I took two of the handy purse size (1.5 liter) bottles of Shiraz-Grenache to Thanksgiving dinner at a friend's. Though a purist Yellow Tail Shiraz fan, she was converted.
In my mouth the 2005 Yellow Tail Shiraz-Grenache is all about semi-sweet raspberry chocolate. Smooth on the palate with just the right balance between the tart berry jammy fruit acids and the slightly sweet chocolate/spice aftertaste. The tannins are mild and it lingers a moment with a lovely, medium-bodied finish. I have yet to tire of this selection and I've been drinking it for months. An open 1.5 liter bottle stays decent for up to three days on the North side of the kitchen counter and averages $15.
Mountain life was rolling along wonderfully one day last Fall. I was secure in the knowledge that I had a couple of glasses of the Shiraz-Grenache left at home for sipping by the fire but I thought I might want a white wine for the baking of chicken breasts. I wandered into the liquor store not knowing what I'd walk out with. I am not overly-fond of overly-oaked Chardonnays, from any wine growing region. I thought I might grab a bottle of the Yellow Tail Chardonnay, recalling it to be relatively palatable, but I walked out with the 2005 Yellow Tail Pinot Grigio with the gorgeous green label. Pinot Grigios are an "iffy" wine choice for me. While I demand assertive acids and fruit-driven, lively and zesty characteristics in my white wines, Pinot Grigios often cause an acid-reflux-like reaction in my delicate esophagus that feels something like vomitting up unsweetened grapefruit juice.
OMIGOD. The wine danced across my mouth and exploded into song. I e-mailed a wine-loving friend in New York: "Twice the fruit (citrus and sweet stone) and half the grapefruit seed acid reflux of most Pinot Grigios. You will love this wine. That is no guess. It's got the peach and pear intensity of a Riesling but the citrus-sharp fizz and bite of lime, much like a Sauvignon Blanc from New Zealand or Australia."
Both of these wines are food friendly to the max. My food pairing motto is usually "Drink what you love, the food will follow." I pair the Shiraz-Grenache with anything and everything and have yet to regret it. I also love this wine before and after dinner -- it is just that smooth all alone. The Pinot Grigio has the crisp acid structure to compliment a wide array of dishes including: grilled and cream-sauced seafood and poultry; Alfredo, Carbonara and pesto pastas; Thai and Chinese selections.
Honorable Aussie Mentions
These two Shiraz offerings also hail from South Eastern Australia and while lighter in body and lacking the complexity of the Yellow Tail products they are very decent food wines for the buck:
Little Penguin Shiraz 2004
I had read so much great press about this wine in both print and online reviews that I figured it'd be something I'd flip over. I figured wrong. Upon first tasting I found the wine to be thin and lacking in fruit. I got confused. And then I got hungry. And then I had some cheese and a Caesar salad. And then I realized that this is just one of those wines that needs food to really shine. Food coaxes the cherry/berry fruits to reveal themselves more fully and richly, and while it's still a bit underwhelming, you probably won't regret the $8 investment.
Peace Family Vineyard Shiraz 2004
Won't knock your socks off, but for under $8 it won't make you regret the purchase either. I would have preferred more concentration in the fruit department, but it was nicely balanced, if a bit delicate. A wine for sipping before dinner and a nice accompaniment to casual food. Like the Little Penguin Shiraz this is a great bottle to bring along to a potluck or picnic as it's sure to please, or at least not offend, many in the group.
I discovered the leaping roo in Spring of 2002 when I worked at a local liquor store. The Cabernet was one of the top ten best selling wines in the store that year and I was personally converted although Cabernet is not a grape that I normally gravitate to, preferring Shiraz and Australian red blends. I recall leaving a bottle of the Cabernet as a Christmas gift for my vacationing landlord and then sneaking back into his house before he returned to take it back for myself. (I'm sure I eventually replaced it. With something else.) I believe the Shiraz-Cabernet was another personal favorite over the long, cold, snowy Southwestern Colorado Winter of 2002 and 2003.
One of my favorite things about wine is the variation in character from vintage to vintage and Yellow Tail is no exception. I love that I never know which of the bottlings will be my personal favorite for the year until I taste them all in fairly rapid succession. Earlier this Fall when the air turned crisp and it was The Time of the Year to Start Drinking Reds Again, I was browsing in a liquor store and came upon the Yellow Tail 2005 Shiraz-Grenache. Who could resist that hot pink and black label? Who would not leap at the chance to taste a new product that sounded like a very promising blend of 80% Shiraz and 20% Grenache? It became my house wine for Fall/Winter/early Spring, '05 - '06. In the selfless spirit of Wine Whisperer service, I sampled the Cabernet, Merlot, Shiraz, and the Shiraz-Cabernet just to be sure I could proclaim my choice so decisively. I took two of the handy purse size (1.5 liter) bottles of Shiraz-Grenache to Thanksgiving dinner at a friend's. Though a purist Yellow Tail Shiraz fan, she was converted.
In my mouth the 2005 Yellow Tail Shiraz-Grenache is all about semi-sweet raspberry chocolate. Smooth on the palate with just the right balance between the tart berry jammy fruit acids and the slightly sweet chocolate/spice aftertaste. The tannins are mild and it lingers a moment with a lovely, medium-bodied finish. I have yet to tire of this selection and I've been drinking it for months. An open 1.5 liter bottle stays decent for up to three days on the North side of the kitchen counter and averages $15.
Mountain life was rolling along wonderfully one day last Fall. I was secure in the knowledge that I had a couple of glasses of the Shiraz-Grenache left at home for sipping by the fire but I thought I might want a white wine for the baking of chicken breasts. I wandered into the liquor store not knowing what I'd walk out with. I am not overly-fond of overly-oaked Chardonnays, from any wine growing region. I thought I might grab a bottle of the Yellow Tail Chardonnay, recalling it to be relatively palatable, but I walked out with the 2005 Yellow Tail Pinot Grigio with the gorgeous green label. Pinot Grigios are an "iffy" wine choice for me. While I demand assertive acids and fruit-driven, lively and zesty characteristics in my white wines, Pinot Grigios often cause an acid-reflux-like reaction in my delicate esophagus that feels something like vomitting up unsweetened grapefruit juice.
OMIGOD. The wine danced across my mouth and exploded into song. I e-mailed a wine-loving friend in New York: "Twice the fruit (citrus and sweet stone) and half the grapefruit seed acid reflux of most Pinot Grigios. You will love this wine. That is no guess. It's got the peach and pear intensity of a Riesling but the citrus-sharp fizz and bite of lime, much like a Sauvignon Blanc from New Zealand or Australia."
Both of these wines are food friendly to the max. My food pairing motto is usually "Drink what you love, the food will follow." I pair the Shiraz-Grenache with anything and everything and have yet to regret it. I also love this wine before and after dinner -- it is just that smooth all alone. The Pinot Grigio has the crisp acid structure to compliment a wide array of dishes including: grilled and cream-sauced seafood and poultry; Alfredo, Carbonara and pesto pastas; Thai and Chinese selections.
Honorable Aussie Mentions
These two Shiraz offerings also hail from South Eastern Australia and while lighter in body and lacking the complexity of the Yellow Tail products they are very decent food wines for the buck:
Little Penguin Shiraz 2004
I had read so much great press about this wine in both print and online reviews that I figured it'd be something I'd flip over. I figured wrong. Upon first tasting I found the wine to be thin and lacking in fruit. I got confused. And then I got hungry. And then I had some cheese and a Caesar salad. And then I realized that this is just one of those wines that needs food to really shine. Food coaxes the cherry/berry fruits to reveal themselves more fully and richly, and while it's still a bit underwhelming, you probably won't regret the $8 investment.
Peace Family Vineyard Shiraz 2004
Won't knock your socks off, but for under $8 it won't make you regret the purchase either. I would have preferred more concentration in the fruit department, but it was nicely balanced, if a bit delicate. A wine for sipping before dinner and a nice accompaniment to casual food. Like the Little Penguin Shiraz this is a great bottle to bring along to a potluck or picnic as it's sure to please, or at least not offend, many in the group.
Thinking outside of the pink box
Put down that box of Franzia White Zin and back away slowly.
I'm kidding. Sort of. I am not here to talk you out of your Franzia White Zinfandel. I happen to know two seemingly-normal men right here in Pagosa that will admit in their "out loud voices" that their wives are quite fond of boxed blush. No, I am here to help you explore a few new pink wines that are tremendous values and beautifully suited to Spring in Pagosa.
All three of my pink wine choices boast alcohol contents ranging from 12%-13% for those of you who, like me, value such information. I'm not a fan of low alcohol wines. I figure if I'm going to consume all those extra calories, I deserve the buzz right along with the fat. The amount of sugar fermented determines the wine's alcohol level and the amount of residual sugar the winemaker has allowed to remain in the juice contributes to the perceived sweetness. Three of my favorite "blush" or "rose" wines are discussed in progression from sweetest to most dry.
Beringer White Merlot 2004
My New York Wine Snob e-Friend hates that I admit to drinking this wine all Summer long in my out loud e-mail voice (wait 'till he sees it in print), but then again, he's never met me in person and has no clue that I will wear brown shoes with black tights and a navy sweater. Nor does he need to know that on my days off I apply no make-up and can be seen with a scrunchy holding my hair back wearing - gasp - white athletic socks over black leggings at the Post Office. Gives whole new meaning to "going postal" but in this town if you dare to descend upon the Town's Heartbeat between 10am and 2pm, you take your dignity in your hands. Dignity Schmignity. No matter how old I get, I can not imagine having to wear make-up to fetch the mail and tote the cat litter. Or apologize for loving this wine when the temperature gets above 55.
Yeah, it's sweet. But not sickly so. The choice of the Merlot grape over the Zinfandel seems to yield so much more depth and complexity. Blush wines are tinted their pastel hues by the quick removal of the grape skins from the juice after pressing. The juice that remains after the Merlot skins are yanked from the tank is an attractive shade of ruby watermelon.
Upon sniffing and swirling I usually find the most pleasing aromas of raspberries and gentle florals like rose and geranium. In the sipping it's all about strawberries, cherries, kiwi, guava and light citrus. I've been enjoying this immenently gulp-able and very refreshing White Merlot on hot Summer days since 1999 when Beringer first released their offering. The perfect picnic, barbecue, take-to-the-lake wine. It's a wine cooler without the carbonation. I buy this wine in the handy purse size 1.5 liter bottle for $12, give or take.
Little Penguin White Shiraz 2005
This is a new favorite in my rosé repertoire. A few months ago when I spotted the darling little penguin toddling across the hot pink label that read "White Shiraz" it just seemed so right in light of my affection for penguins and White Merlot. This product of South Eastern Australia falls midway between the slightly sweeter Beringer White Merlot and my final suggestion, offering the perfect balance between alcohol and sugar levels, fruits and acids. At the risk of sounding über-pretentious, along with the berry, cherry and zesty fruit flavors I also detect rose petals on the back of the palate and in the aftertaste. Or is that citrus peel? There is something very Vitamin C-ish about this wine and I feel safe in proclaiming that it surely prevents Scurvy. An incredible value for just a bit over $7 for the 750ml bottle. This is my Goldilocks wine -- just right.
Bonny Doon's Ca' del Solo Big House Pink 2004
Randall Grahm, founder of Bonny Doon Vineyard, Santa Cruz, CA, is, er, um, well..."unique". One should not attempt to enter the parallel universe in which he resides without donning protective headgear. Visit his web site if you need proof. One of the original California "Rhone Rangers", his prolific wine portfolio and all-around creative genius are forces to be reckoned with, and respected.
The Big House Pink is a blend of primarily Italian grape varieties: Carignano, Sangiovese, Barbera, Zinfandel and Charbono. It is fragrant and fresh with just a whisper of residual sugar. The lightest flavors of strawberries blend so elegantly with a dash of citrus zest and very light mineral nuances. As with the other two wines, serve this one very well-chilled as it will lose none of the complexity. And speaking of not apologizing, embrace the screwcap. Graham was one of the first California producers to do so, and as usual, he was a visionary. This is a most comforting, accessible and imminently sippable rosè in the $10 range (750ml).
When it comes to pairing wines with food, I pretty much drink what I feel like drinking and eat whatever is around. But I'm lazy and hate to cook. For those of you with more ambition and class, all three of my pink choices are wonderful partners for Asian dishes. I am especially fond of Kung Pao or Mu Shu Anything with White Merlot and White Shiraz. Think poultry and the other white meat (pork, of course) when choosing pink wines. Grilled chicken and poultry dishes in cream sauces pair nicely, ham is fab, and put a "note to self" on your calendar for November: "Thanksgiving Day Wine Ideas". Think Pink. You won't be disappointed.
I'm kidding. Sort of. I am not here to talk you out of your Franzia White Zinfandel. I happen to know two seemingly-normal men right here in Pagosa that will admit in their "out loud voices" that their wives are quite fond of boxed blush. No, I am here to help you explore a few new pink wines that are tremendous values and beautifully suited to Spring in Pagosa.
All three of my pink wine choices boast alcohol contents ranging from 12%-13% for those of you who, like me, value such information. I'm not a fan of low alcohol wines. I figure if I'm going to consume all those extra calories, I deserve the buzz right along with the fat. The amount of sugar fermented determines the wine's alcohol level and the amount of residual sugar the winemaker has allowed to remain in the juice contributes to the perceived sweetness. Three of my favorite "blush" or "rose" wines are discussed in progression from sweetest to most dry.
Beringer White Merlot 2004
My New York Wine Snob e-Friend hates that I admit to drinking this wine all Summer long in my out loud e-mail voice (wait 'till he sees it in print), but then again, he's never met me in person and has no clue that I will wear brown shoes with black tights and a navy sweater. Nor does he need to know that on my days off I apply no make-up and can be seen with a scrunchy holding my hair back wearing - gasp - white athletic socks over black leggings at the Post Office. Gives whole new meaning to "going postal" but in this town if you dare to descend upon the Town's Heartbeat between 10am and 2pm, you take your dignity in your hands. Dignity Schmignity. No matter how old I get, I can not imagine having to wear make-up to fetch the mail and tote the cat litter. Or apologize for loving this wine when the temperature gets above 55.
Yeah, it's sweet. But not sickly so. The choice of the Merlot grape over the Zinfandel seems to yield so much more depth and complexity. Blush wines are tinted their pastel hues by the quick removal of the grape skins from the juice after pressing. The juice that remains after the Merlot skins are yanked from the tank is an attractive shade of ruby watermelon.
Upon sniffing and swirling I usually find the most pleasing aromas of raspberries and gentle florals like rose and geranium. In the sipping it's all about strawberries, cherries, kiwi, guava and light citrus. I've been enjoying this immenently gulp-able and very refreshing White Merlot on hot Summer days since 1999 when Beringer first released their offering. The perfect picnic, barbecue, take-to-the-lake wine. It's a wine cooler without the carbonation. I buy this wine in the handy purse size 1.5 liter bottle for $12, give or take.
Little Penguin White Shiraz 2005
This is a new favorite in my rosé repertoire. A few months ago when I spotted the darling little penguin toddling across the hot pink label that read "White Shiraz" it just seemed so right in light of my affection for penguins and White Merlot. This product of South Eastern Australia falls midway between the slightly sweeter Beringer White Merlot and my final suggestion, offering the perfect balance between alcohol and sugar levels, fruits and acids. At the risk of sounding über-pretentious, along with the berry, cherry and zesty fruit flavors I also detect rose petals on the back of the palate and in the aftertaste. Or is that citrus peel? There is something very Vitamin C-ish about this wine and I feel safe in proclaiming that it surely prevents Scurvy. An incredible value for just a bit over $7 for the 750ml bottle. This is my Goldilocks wine -- just right.
Bonny Doon's Ca' del Solo Big House Pink 2004
Randall Grahm, founder of Bonny Doon Vineyard, Santa Cruz, CA, is, er, um, well..."unique". One should not attempt to enter the parallel universe in which he resides without donning protective headgear. Visit his web site if you need proof. One of the original California "Rhone Rangers", his prolific wine portfolio and all-around creative genius are forces to be reckoned with, and respected.
The Big House Pink is a blend of primarily Italian grape varieties: Carignano, Sangiovese, Barbera, Zinfandel and Charbono. It is fragrant and fresh with just a whisper of residual sugar. The lightest flavors of strawberries blend so elegantly with a dash of citrus zest and very light mineral nuances. As with the other two wines, serve this one very well-chilled as it will lose none of the complexity. And speaking of not apologizing, embrace the screwcap. Graham was one of the first California producers to do so, and as usual, he was a visionary. This is a most comforting, accessible and imminently sippable rosè in the $10 range (750ml).
When it comes to pairing wines with food, I pretty much drink what I feel like drinking and eat whatever is around. But I'm lazy and hate to cook. For those of you with more ambition and class, all three of my pink choices are wonderful partners for Asian dishes. I am especially fond of Kung Pao or Mu Shu Anything with White Merlot and White Shiraz. Think poultry and the other white meat (pork, of course) when choosing pink wines. Grilled chicken and poultry dishes in cream sauces pair nicely, ham is fab, and put a "note to self" on your calendar for November: "Thanksgiving Day Wine Ideas". Think Pink. You won't be disappointed.
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