On a cold, snowy night on the cusp of February, I find myself thinking about the roots of wine. Blame the Greek wine I've been drinking this week, but considering the ancient Greek rituals of wine service: in which wine would be poured from an amphora into a Krater and ladled by the Kythos into the drinking vessel, the two-handled Kylix, where it would be mixed with water to fend off intoxication (and no doubt cut the aromas of the Aleppo pine resin), and enjoying two throughly modern Greek reds, the Boutari Nauossa Xinomavro 2004, and the Skouras Nemea Aghioritiko 2005, I found myself thinking about the centuries of Greek dormancy as an international wine, when it was Greece itself that taught the Romans to make wine, who then spread winemaking up through Northern Europe, leading us to the present moment, where an American wine drinker will enjoy as delightful and contemporary a wine as the Didier Dageneu "Silex," without any desire to try any Greek wines, the cousins of any contemporary European wine, and the most direct descendants of ancient Greek viticulture, the ultimate lineage of such a modern wine. Krassato, a component of Rapsani from Thessaly, is in fact the grape that gave us the descriptor "Krassato" which is most famously employed in the Odyssey, in Homer's reference to a "wine-dark" sea. (MacNeil, The Wine Bible, pp. 611)
Thinking about the ways in which Greek viticulture has finally caught up with the international market, and the more recent criticism of the "International" style of winemaking, which practically suggests that Michel Rolland passing by a vineyard will leach every note of authenticity out of it, I found myself considering what constututes vinuous authenticity, and just who's doing the measuring? In Pedro Almodovar's "Todo Sobre Mi Madre," the transsexual prostitute Agrado gives a rousing oration on authenticity, which immediately came to mind. She discusses the literal cost of her authenticity, and defines authenticity as coming closest to one's vision of one's self no matter how far from the starting point it takes you. Pine resin was a reliable ancient preservative, but it would only serve to distort the subtleties of either of these wines.
The Boutari Nauossa 2004 was a delight. With a saline, mineral nose, a palate of asparagus, laurel and fennil seed, and an unnervingly long, evocative yet evanescent finish, it made for easy drinking, and immediate consideration of what a vegetal, nuanced light-bodied red like this would fetch if it were produced in Burgundy, and not from xinomavro.
The Skouras St. George (Agiorgitikos) 2005 invited similar speculation. Its nose is full of wild strawberries, plums and roast lamb, with a palate of cloves and red cabbage, and an artichoke roundness, which extends into a fast-fading finish of bright acidity and berry patch richness.
Both these wines invite quaffing, and would drown in water, Socrates be damned, but both these wines also point to the power of modern wine-making technique to bring ancient varietals into clean and nuanced focus, without the palate dulling influence of pine resin.
Thinking about the roots of viticulture, I also found myself thinking about the sentimental education one must undergo to really engage with wine. I was lucky that my father introduced me to the pleasures of the vine early, inviting me to try such beautiful wines as the 1972 Mouton-Rothschild and NV Krug, which I never really fully appreciated until I found myself working in Chicago in the early years of this decade, lucky enough to receive a comprehensive wine education from two Master Sommeliers still working in the city at the time, Serafim Alvarado and Jason Smith. My generation of servers at Charlie Trotter's now helm the wine programs at a number of the city's best restaurants, and I am proud to count myself in their number, however humbly.
Thinking of the Boutari family, with a winemaking tradition that stretches back six generations into the nineteenth century, in a region that's been making wine since the birth of philosophy, I am suitably humbled. These Greek varieties have been cultivated since the birth of Western Civilization and they still have something to say. "Muy autentica," in other words.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Thursday, January 24, 2008
The California Cab
Much as middle-of-the-road German whites were once the gateway to more sophisticated vinuous pleasures, California Cabernet now sounds the siren's call to wine drinkers of a certain income level and gender. Perhaps blame Robert Parker, who never met a hot, heavy blockbuster he didn't like, but people with money, especially men, enjoy the masculine, brash quality of California Cabernet, and often never move beyond its voluptuous charms to enjoy more slender, demure wines.
Most of my most unforgettable experiences of Cabernet have been Old World wines: the 1945 Mouton, the 1990 Lynch-Bages, the 1959 Margaux. Even among New World producers, the Bordeaux blend has always offered a level of nuance and complexity that a typicaly busty New World Cabernet doesn't present. I think about the Andrew Will "Klipsun" blend, or the Ecole No. 41 Apogee in this light, or even Opus One.
Of course, with the exception of one particularly thrilling bottle of Grace Family Vineyards, I've never had a chance to try many of the California Cabernets that certain oenophiles wax poetic over: Bryant Family Vineyards, Dalla Valle, Harlan Estate. I don't see myself failing to throughly enjoy any of these bottles. I get excited when people order them, since serious winemaking never fails to excite me, and these are serious wines.
What of the more reasonably priced California Cabernets? During certain busy weeks, the supermarket ends up being my default wine merchant. Now, the Edgewater Domenick's doesn't have the worst selection going, but one doesn't go there looking for jewels. Nonetheless, I've been trying a number of Cabs there in the last few weeks in the $10-$20 range and have been pleasantly surprised.
The least exciting of the bunch was the Estancia 2005, Keyes Canyon Ranch, Paso Robles Cabernet. While its dark chocolate and cherry nose bode well, and its palate of sweet and sour cherries, artichoke and asparagus was suitably nuanced, the finish was hot and sweet, and it ultimately proved a not terribly compelling wine.
Not anchored to a specific geographic area, I expected even less of the Hess 2005 California Cabernet, as geographically generic as they come. Much to my surprise, with its nose of basil, strawberries and violets, palate of mint and blackberries, and soft tannins which suggested a shot of merlot in the cepage, this proved a stunning bargain. The finish was long and full of cassis and pipe tobacco, and its diverse expression of aroma and flavor made this quite a winner for the price.
Tonight, I cracked open a bottle of Rodney Strong 2004 Sonoma County Cabernet. With a nose of mocha and leather, and a palate of lingonberry, black cherry and black olives, green notes of dill and bitter greens, and a lingering finish of cured meat and the mediterreanean larder, with green olive oil and stewed tomatoes in the mix, this proved a pleasantly nuanced wine, and another bargain for the money.
On a desert island, I suppose I would nonetheless drink Burgundy. The best red wine I've enjoyed so far this year was a 2003 Vosne-Romanée, "Les Malconsorts" from Albert Bichol. The nose had raspberries, pistachio and wet earth in its bouquet, and its palate of red fruit, chalk, green tea and roses was thriling. The finish was green and laced with subtle minerality. Burgundy always triumphs or fails in a subtler key, which is why I suppose I love it.
On a related note, the latest issue of "Out" features the food celebrity I most love to hate, Sandra Lee, who bragged of enjoying Opus One and caviar at the same time, in the rarified environment of the New York Four Seasons. She might as well have sat down to a meal of kumamoto oysters and motor oil, if Kraft made motor oil and sold it in bordeaux-shaped-bottles. Semi-homemade? How about semi-déclassé? She apparently followed up the caviar with a Kobe beef burger. Need one say more?
Most of my most unforgettable experiences of Cabernet have been Old World wines: the 1945 Mouton, the 1990 Lynch-Bages, the 1959 Margaux. Even among New World producers, the Bordeaux blend has always offered a level of nuance and complexity that a typicaly busty New World Cabernet doesn't present. I think about the Andrew Will "Klipsun" blend, or the Ecole No. 41 Apogee in this light, or even Opus One.
Of course, with the exception of one particularly thrilling bottle of Grace Family Vineyards, I've never had a chance to try many of the California Cabernets that certain oenophiles wax poetic over: Bryant Family Vineyards, Dalla Valle, Harlan Estate. I don't see myself failing to throughly enjoy any of these bottles. I get excited when people order them, since serious winemaking never fails to excite me, and these are serious wines.
What of the more reasonably priced California Cabernets? During certain busy weeks, the supermarket ends up being my default wine merchant. Now, the Edgewater Domenick's doesn't have the worst selection going, but one doesn't go there looking for jewels. Nonetheless, I've been trying a number of Cabs there in the last few weeks in the $10-$20 range and have been pleasantly surprised.
The least exciting of the bunch was the Estancia 2005, Keyes Canyon Ranch, Paso Robles Cabernet. While its dark chocolate and cherry nose bode well, and its palate of sweet and sour cherries, artichoke and asparagus was suitably nuanced, the finish was hot and sweet, and it ultimately proved a not terribly compelling wine.
Not anchored to a specific geographic area, I expected even less of the Hess 2005 California Cabernet, as geographically generic as they come. Much to my surprise, with its nose of basil, strawberries and violets, palate of mint and blackberries, and soft tannins which suggested a shot of merlot in the cepage, this proved a stunning bargain. The finish was long and full of cassis and pipe tobacco, and its diverse expression of aroma and flavor made this quite a winner for the price.
Tonight, I cracked open a bottle of Rodney Strong 2004 Sonoma County Cabernet. With a nose of mocha and leather, and a palate of lingonberry, black cherry and black olives, green notes of dill and bitter greens, and a lingering finish of cured meat and the mediterreanean larder, with green olive oil and stewed tomatoes in the mix, this proved a pleasantly nuanced wine, and another bargain for the money.
On a desert island, I suppose I would nonetheless drink Burgundy. The best red wine I've enjoyed so far this year was a 2003 Vosne-Romanée, "Les Malconsorts" from Albert Bichol. The nose had raspberries, pistachio and wet earth in its bouquet, and its palate of red fruit, chalk, green tea and roses was thriling. The finish was green and laced with subtle minerality. Burgundy always triumphs or fails in a subtler key, which is why I suppose I love it.
On a related note, the latest issue of "Out" features the food celebrity I most love to hate, Sandra Lee, who bragged of enjoying Opus One and caviar at the same time, in the rarified environment of the New York Four Seasons. She might as well have sat down to a meal of kumamoto oysters and motor oil, if Kraft made motor oil and sold it in bordeaux-shaped-bottles. Semi-homemade? How about semi-déclassé? She apparently followed up the caviar with a Kobe beef burger. Need one say more?
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Alsace
For a variety of reasons, I've started trying to drink my way through Alsace. Of course, the most compelling reason is the unique expressions of Riesling, Pinot Gris and Gewurtztraminer one can find in the Northwest of France along the German border.There's Muscat too, but even Faller-Weinbach's version leaves me rather cold. As much as Pinot Gris finds a completely different profile in Alsace than it does in other settings, my real love affair with Alsace wine begins with Riesling.
The Chateau d'Orschwir Riesling Bollenberg 2006 is bone-dry with a nose of lime rind and ginger root. The palate presents grapefruit, fennil and tarragon, with mineral notes and an acidic finish that recalls white asparagus as the acidity dissipates.
The Marcel Deiss Riesling 2005 has an off-dry quality, married with acidity, that both recalls and confounds the impressions of Alsace Riesling left by the Chateau d"Orschwir. The nose presents candied ginger and lime, while the palate is full of ginger, lime and Lily of the Valley. The bracing acidity gives way to an ephemeral honeyed quality in the finish.
More full-bodied, the Trimbach Pinot Gris 2003, while its nose is spicy and citric, has a mouth-filling palate of bananas and baking spice, as well as thyme and a lanolin quality. While this wine is both fruit forward and off-dry, the finish is green, reflective of its Old World pedigree.
While the grapes are mostly shared with Germany, Alsace occupies its own ground stylistically. This is food-friendly wine, neither purely austere or overly honeyed.
The Chateau d'Orschwir Riesling Bollenberg 2006 is bone-dry with a nose of lime rind and ginger root. The palate presents grapefruit, fennil and tarragon, with mineral notes and an acidic finish that recalls white asparagus as the acidity dissipates.
The Marcel Deiss Riesling 2005 has an off-dry quality, married with acidity, that both recalls and confounds the impressions of Alsace Riesling left by the Chateau d"Orschwir. The nose presents candied ginger and lime, while the palate is full of ginger, lime and Lily of the Valley. The bracing acidity gives way to an ephemeral honeyed quality in the finish.
More full-bodied, the Trimbach Pinot Gris 2003, while its nose is spicy and citric, has a mouth-filling palate of bananas and baking spice, as well as thyme and a lanolin quality. While this wine is both fruit forward and off-dry, the finish is green, reflective of its Old World pedigree.
While the grapes are mostly shared with Germany, Alsace occupies its own ground stylistically. This is food-friendly wine, neither purely austere or overly honeyed.
Monday, January 7, 2008
The Worst Liquor Store in Edgewater
It was with great trepidation that I entered the only liquor store South of my apartment off Broadway, to find a wine to drink with the prosciutto cotto, bacon and onion pizza I had just ordered from Apart Pizza, which recently opened in the neighborhood. All of the liqour and wine there is held hostage behind the counter, and I feared the worst. Such are the vagaries of wine marketing, that you never quite know what you're going to find, even at a liquor store with more malt liquor than wine. Imagine my surprise at finding a Renwood Zinfandel "Sierra Foothills" 2005 standing dusty on a top shelf. If there was ever a wine merchant with poor storage conditions, this would be it. The Korean proprietress, who was surprisingly jovial, assumed that I was looking for White Zinfandel. "No," I said. "I'd like a bottle of the Red Zinfandel."
When she pulled it down, she touched the tip of her finger to the top of her nose, laughed, and then addressed herself, "bad," she said, "very bad. Customer look for Red Zinfandel, and I tell them we don't have it, and here it is."
I certainly was equally surprised. I didn't expect a label I once recommended at Charlie Trotter's to be sitting on the top shelf of her store either. Sure, it's their basic bottling, but this is a wine you'd find at Kafka, whose environment is distinctly more wine friendly than where I was.
It's been an amiable companion to the pizza. The nose has a certain austerity, even as you can smell the fruit and alchohol, with black pepper and nutmeg at the forefront, but this light bodied wine doesn't just have jammy raspberry and blueberry fruit, but also a pleasing acidity that can match a tomato, and a tight bud of flavor that flowers in the mouth and throughout the finish, which posed a certain sweetness against the bacon and ham, and cut the saltiness of both.
There's a certain tyranny in the reification of food and wine pairings as a minor cult among food and wine cognoscenti. Larry Stone once remarked that every dish should favor either a white or a red, if the wine is well-chosen, and I think there are a number of wines that can complement any dish, the best choice being the wine you actually have on hand. I could've happily drunk Alsace Riesling with this pizza, Oregon Pinot Noir or Loire Cabernet Franc. I certainly could've drank more of the Zaca Mesa Roussanne, but I think I would drink that with anything, come to think of it. Maybe not a Pastel de Tres Leches, but if I had both on hand, I might let them fight it out.
When she pulled it down, she touched the tip of her finger to the top of her nose, laughed, and then addressed herself, "bad," she said, "very bad. Customer look for Red Zinfandel, and I tell them we don't have it, and here it is."
I certainly was equally surprised. I didn't expect a label I once recommended at Charlie Trotter's to be sitting on the top shelf of her store either. Sure, it's their basic bottling, but this is a wine you'd find at Kafka, whose environment is distinctly more wine friendly than where I was.
It's been an amiable companion to the pizza. The nose has a certain austerity, even as you can smell the fruit and alchohol, with black pepper and nutmeg at the forefront, but this light bodied wine doesn't just have jammy raspberry and blueberry fruit, but also a pleasing acidity that can match a tomato, and a tight bud of flavor that flowers in the mouth and throughout the finish, which posed a certain sweetness against the bacon and ham, and cut the saltiness of both.
There's a certain tyranny in the reification of food and wine pairings as a minor cult among food and wine cognoscenti. Larry Stone once remarked that every dish should favor either a white or a red, if the wine is well-chosen, and I think there are a number of wines that can complement any dish, the best choice being the wine you actually have on hand. I could've happily drunk Alsace Riesling with this pizza, Oregon Pinot Noir or Loire Cabernet Franc. I certainly could've drank more of the Zaca Mesa Roussanne, but I think I would drink that with anything, come to think of it. Maybe not a Pastel de Tres Leches, but if I had both on hand, I might let them fight it out.
Friday, January 4, 2008
Holiday Wines
Having reached the point just after the holidays when life and wine consumption assume their normal pace, it seemed a propitious moment to collate my notes on certain particularly pleasing wines I enjoyed during the holiday season, and reflect on the ways in which very different grapes, grown in different settings, reveal their own special grace, and the ways in which the same wines can be cagey, especially if one imagines having tasted them blind.
I brought a bottle of Orin Swift "The Prisoner" 2006 home for Christmas dinner. Universally acknowledged to have been a particularly interesting blend released within the last year, with Zinfandel unusually occupying the most prominent place within the cepage, the nose revealed blackberries and laurel leaf, with a palate of black raspberry, thyme and anise. It wasn't surprising the second grape in this Napa Blend waas Cabernet, but the footprint left by a small percentage of Charbono on this wine was almost imperceptible. Certainly, the nose and mouthfeel revealed hot fruit, which said New World, and even Zinfandel, but the initial rustic palate mellowed quickly in the glass to stymie even half-educated guesses at its precise composition.
Similarly, the Ken Wright Pinot Noir, McCrone Vineyard 2005, displays a hot nose and distinctly Californian fruit. My first guess might have been a cepage led by Zinfandel, except for a concommitant earthiness and green profile, which didn't point to Cabernet or Zinfandel, but rather Pinot. This is a full-bodied wine, with a black center and violet meniscus, but its slight acidity, herbaceous profile and demure finish says Burgundy, even as the nose belies the possibility of it being an Old World Pinot. The nose is too full of plums and black raspberry, and there is too much blackberry and cassis in the palate for the essential earthiness of the wine to deceive you into thinking you're drinking, let's say, a Gevrey Chambertin. There is a vivacious, fresh green bean quality, married with fennil and dill , but the alchohol level and fruit-forward quality bespeaks New World growing conditions. Oregon often strikes a balance betwem Californian exuberance and heat and Burgundian restraint and minerality, and this wine clearly expresses its Willakenzie soil and Yamhill-Carlton provenance, if your antennae are up.
Back in the realm of Cabernets, we consider the Chilean Calcu 2005, from the Colchagua Valley. This particular blend of Cabernet, Cabernet Franc and Carmenere is a far more accesible blend of Bordeux varietals. While the nose of roast meat might suggest Syrah, the palate of cigar box, raspberries, roses and espresso says Cabernet, as its velvety tannins suggest Merlot, which has so often been confused with Carmenere.
The final wine I offer for consideration is a California Roussane from the Santa Ynez Valley, the Zaca Mesa 2003. With it's full-bodied palate of bosc pears, figs and honey, this wine was a charmer in every way, so much so that I drank the whole bottle in one sitting, and very nearly missed my flight home the next morning as a result.
I brought a bottle of Orin Swift "The Prisoner" 2006 home for Christmas dinner. Universally acknowledged to have been a particularly interesting blend released within the last year, with Zinfandel unusually occupying the most prominent place within the cepage, the nose revealed blackberries and laurel leaf, with a palate of black raspberry, thyme and anise. It wasn't surprising the second grape in this Napa Blend waas Cabernet, but the footprint left by a small percentage of Charbono on this wine was almost imperceptible. Certainly, the nose and mouthfeel revealed hot fruit, which said New World, and even Zinfandel, but the initial rustic palate mellowed quickly in the glass to stymie even half-educated guesses at its precise composition.
Similarly, the Ken Wright Pinot Noir, McCrone Vineyard 2005, displays a hot nose and distinctly Californian fruit. My first guess might have been a cepage led by Zinfandel, except for a concommitant earthiness and green profile, which didn't point to Cabernet or Zinfandel, but rather Pinot. This is a full-bodied wine, with a black center and violet meniscus, but its slight acidity, herbaceous profile and demure finish says Burgundy, even as the nose belies the possibility of it being an Old World Pinot. The nose is too full of plums and black raspberry, and there is too much blackberry and cassis in the palate for the essential earthiness of the wine to deceive you into thinking you're drinking, let's say, a Gevrey Chambertin. There is a vivacious, fresh green bean quality, married with fennil and dill , but the alchohol level and fruit-forward quality bespeaks New World growing conditions. Oregon often strikes a balance betwem Californian exuberance and heat and Burgundian restraint and minerality, and this wine clearly expresses its Willakenzie soil and Yamhill-Carlton provenance, if your antennae are up.
Back in the realm of Cabernets, we consider the Chilean Calcu 2005, from the Colchagua Valley. This particular blend of Cabernet, Cabernet Franc and Carmenere is a far more accesible blend of Bordeux varietals. While the nose of roast meat might suggest Syrah, the palate of cigar box, raspberries, roses and espresso says Cabernet, as its velvety tannins suggest Merlot, which has so often been confused with Carmenere.
The final wine I offer for consideration is a California Roussane from the Santa Ynez Valley, the Zaca Mesa 2003. With it's full-bodied palate of bosc pears, figs and honey, this wine was a charmer in every way, so much so that I drank the whole bottle in one sitting, and very nearly missed my flight home the next morning as a result.
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