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?