Eclecticism as a Virtue

There are weeks that I try to drink my way through a region, and then the more disorganized weeks when I let my eyes and my palate carry me away, trying producers from favorite areas with little intentionality, beyond honoring the many expressions of the winemaker and the vine.

This week began with the Dogajolo Chianti 2005, which is comprised of 80% sangiovese and 20% other grapes. The inviting nose of ginger and cloves led me into a palate of blackberries and red delicious apples, with a waxy, sweet mouth prescence and a finish of vanilla and bittersweet chocolate. While it's rough around the edges, the Dogajolo is a gutsy wine.

On Sunday, I opened the 2004 Souverain Cabernet Sauvignon. Formerly known as Chateau Souverain, this producer, recently feautured in The Quarterly Review of Wines, makes a terrific California Cabernet for the money. The nose is full of cedar and mint, and the palate of blackberries and cassis evokes the best the California climate can produce. There are notes of rose and hibiscus, and green notes of thyme, bay leaf and more mint. While the fruit-forward qualities of this wine are undeniably Californian in nature, that's not a bad thing. This is a well-made and sincere Cabernet, full of diverse flavor notes.

Showing the dusty tannins of an Old World blockbuster, the Michel and Stephen Ogier Côte-Rôtie was a delight to sample. The nose was full of lavender and briny green olives, and the palate was similarly full of green olives and green herbs and olive branch. A granitic note emerges in the finish, which speaks to the schistous soil of the Côte Brun, plus a rich fruitiness balanced by a savory richness that reminded me of a garlic and squid ink reduction.

Finally, the Terra Buena Malbec from Mendoza provided yet another glimpse into the diversity of international viticulture. With Malbec structure softened by Tempranillo fruit, the deceptively medicinal nose masks the pleasures to come in this reasonably priced wine. The palate presents tart cherry, basil leaf, red plums and black-tea tannins, with hints of spring lilac and brussel sprout bitterness. The finish is light but penetrating, with minerality, red fruit and balanced acidity.

So often, a certain style or price point drives American consumers, but I took as much pleasure in the Terra Buena as the Souverain, at half the price point. The most important thing is to listen to a wine. A warmer climate can nourish a dark, fruitful Cabernet, or a lighter evocative Malbec-Tempranillo. The key is receptivity, and listening to the grapes, and the flourish notes of the winemaker. What is a wine trying to say? How can you best listen to it?

Fleurie Redux

The disappointing Fleurie opened up over a few hours to show a wholly different profile. Asparagus, pomegranate syrup and structure emerged.

I don't think I'll ever be a beaujolais aficianado, but I'm heartened to re-taste a good example of the genre and find I was hasty in my estimation of it. A bright, light-bodied acidic wine, it has a certain something I missed when I first opened it.

Beaujolais Crus tire palate

I love the names of the Beaujolais Crus as much as I love the names of the Grand Crus of Gevrey-Chambertin: Brouilly, Chiroubles, Chénas, Côte de Brouilly, Fleurie, Juliénas, Morgon, Moulin à Vent, Régnié, Saint Amour. Each one seems to evoke a different expression of Gamay. After trying a Domaine Diochon Moulin à Vent a few years ago, I'd always looked forward to trying more Beaujolais Crus wines, but I have to admit, after sampling two well-regarded Beaujolais Crus wines from different villages, that Gamay isn't ever going to be a grape that speaks to me.

It feels shameful not to enjoy a well-made wine with real terroir, but the Morgon I tried this week reminded me of cherry Kool-Aid, and the highly-praised Fleurie I bought yesterday reminded me of an inner-tube, both in the nose and on the palate.

The Morgon was from Alain Michaud, a 2005 vintage. While the nose was engaging, with notes of raspberry jam and thai basil, the light body and acidic cherry palate, mingled with notes of dill and cucumber, faded into nothing soon after meeting my tongue, and left a lemon-tartness in its wake. I found this bottle extremely hard to finish, even upon the receipt of very bad news.

The Fleurie, a 2002, was from Michel Chignard, the bottling: "Les Morriers." The write-up hanging from the shelf at Sam's made this sound like the second-coming among wines, but the nose of petrol and inner-tubes was less than inviting, even if a meaty richness lurks beneath. The palate is tart with mustard greens and dill pickles, with a huckleberry note that fades into more fructose-laden cherry notes in short order. The finish is pleasing, with a slight savor of herbes de provence to it, but this bottle promises to be another slog through terroir-incognita.

It's good to bend and push the palate, but these are "lean and hungry" wines, and they make me crave, in the words of Julius Caesar, a wine that is "fat and sleek."

the dregs of the cup

One of the few consolations of restaurant work is the opportunity to try wines you could never afford to buy in a store. With unfinished bottles lining the bar on Saturday night, I had the opportunity to try three wines in small quantities that I'd never splurge on myself.

Opus One, as groundbreaking as it was in its marriage of two giants, one from the Old World, one from the New, has acquired the reputation of a nouveau-riche brand-name wine for well off oenelogical zeros, but the 2004, with its nose of blackberries, leather and charred meat, confounds this reputation, and speaks to the realized potential of a once-daring gambit. The palate delivers espresso, cocoa nibs and more blackberries, while the supremely long, balanced finish is full of ripe blueberries and bramble.

A few guests were waxing rhapsodic about Duckhorn's Three Palms Merlot about a month back, and last night I got to draw my own conclusions. The nose of the 2003 is full of bacon and cassis, while the palate, a little hot at 14.5% alchohol, boasts saddle leather, smoke and more cassis juiciness. There is a slight acidity to the finish which is more assertive than the fairly smooth tannins.

Finally, I got to taste the true second label of Chateau Lafite-Rothschild, the Carraudes de Lafite, 2003. The nose was full of sage and thyme, while the palate, even after three years in bottle, was soft and fruity with blackberries, blueberries and violets balanced by the baking spice richness of a graham cracker crust. A 2003 Lafite would never be this amiable, but the second label displays developed fruit and fairly well-integrated tannins for a wine so young.

I've been trying to find the cepage of the Francis Coppola Black Label Claret 2005 online for long enough to lose interest. If I had a gun pointed at my head, I'd say 40% Cabernet, 30% Merlot, 15% Cabernet Franc, 10% Malbec and 5% Petit Verdot, but paradoxically, Malbec and Petit Verdot present the most noticeable grape profiles, if the texture isn't more aligned with Merlot. The mouthfeel of this wine is cetainly silkily tannic.. The nose is stewed red plums and applewood-smoked bacon, while the palate is leather-jacket, mocha and black cherry. At 13.5% alchohol, this wine still has a fruit and heat that would distinguish it from a Bordeaux Claret. The closest Bordeaux style would be that of Margaux, but this wine has an impudent acidic finish that is unmistakeably New World. The green notes of green pepper and mint, and the violet floral notes make this a layered wine, but it's still the fruit that floats it, so impudent you'd almost wish for more oak, which isn't common where I'm concerned.

Brunello upon beer

Having drunk more Amstel Light than is healthy for the palate, I cracked open the Tenuta Greppone Mazzi Brunello di Montalcino, 2001 two nights ago. The nose was gorgonzola dolce and spinach. The palate was unripe strawberries, raspberry jam and balsamic vinegar, with vegetal notes of brussel sprouts and arugula. There is an egg-yolk richness in this wine, married with a roast meat and bacon vivaciousness. With its two years in oak imparting an agreeable toastiness, which only enhanced the taut fruit to acid balance of this wine, my deadened palate came alive again, to the tune of savoring half a bottle in short order.