full2bung

Value in more expensive wines

2009-03-02T06:23:00.000-08:00

In the April-May Bloom Magazine, I will report on my trials of a few wines which are similar in grape variety and style but very different in price (e.g., Cotes du Rhone vs. Chateauneuf du Pape from the same producers). Of course cheap is always good but I think it’s also worthwhile to search for value in more expensive wines. Anyway, that’s the idea and I invite you to submit results of your own comparative tastings along this line. Comments are open.

Chocolate and Cheese

2009-01-31T08:41:00.001-08:00

I gave a talk on January 31 at Sahara Mart. Here is an outline.

CHEESE AND WINE

1) You really can’t go wrong pairing wine with cheeses.

2) Think white wine more often. Acid (freshness) not tannin, is the key.

3) If you want a perfect match, think a single cheese, with a condiment or nuts.

4) Some perfect matches:
Goat and sauvignon blanc
Pinot Noir and hard cheese, especially Ossau Iraty or Vermont Shepherd
Chablis and brie
Sauternes and blue

5) Outside the box: cider with pont l’eveque, stout or Belgian ale with stinky cheese.

CHOCOLATE AND WINE

1) You really can go wrong pairing chocolate with wine.

2) Great reference to conventional wisdom: http://www.nataliemaclean.com/view.asp?id=100

3) Steiman’s law (Wine Spectator, Jan. 31, 2009): The wine must taste sweeter than the chocolate.

Never Champagne
Bitter chocolate (80%) and Amarone (or really ripe zinfandel).
A little sweeter–(70%) or “death by chocolate” –Banyuls or port.
Typical chocolate dessert–Campbell’s Rutherglen muscat or tokay.
Mainly fruit with a bit of chocolate, e.g., dipped strawberries–Ice Wine (do try Oliver’s)

Outside the box: sweet sherry.

Lessons for less than ten dollars.

2009-01-28T16:08:00.000-08:00

In 2001, Robert Parker’s Wine Advocate listed several hundred value wines, all priced for less than $16 and some for as little as $5. In those days I thought the only reason to spend $25 for a bottle was vanity, or maybe curiosity. The 2008 Advocate now defines a value wine as one under $25. This week’s Wine Spectator uses the $20 figure and lists a thousand value wines, of which exactly thirteen are under $10 (although another dozen or so are listed at exactly $10). But people in the business say that in the present mood of careful spending, many more people are asking for wines under $10. You’ll see big displays in local stores of wines in that category.

In my wine column for the February-March Bloom Magazine, I try out an idea that reflects my personal view in the so-called “wine wars.” I find the under $10 bottles from the wine conglomerates boring: they are free of flaws, technically competent and chemically correct drinks. But they don’t have any snap or surprise or charm. If you’re going to go this way, you might as well visit Trader Joe for Three Buck Chuck. I wondered, however, what would happen if I went to Sahara Mart and Big Red, asking for interesting wines from small producers for less than $10. I came home with more than two cases, so the 10% mixed case price actually made these $9 wines. The column contains my general comments but I didn’t have room for complete tasting notes, which follow, in the order I drank the wines (with much help from friends). Wines marked with an “*” were ones I thought to be very good at any price. I wasn’t bored or unhappy with any of them.
Vinum Africa, Chenin Blanc 2007 (Big Red). Rich and creamy wine from South Africa, with an appetizing bitterness. No hint of the special quince-like flavor of chenin blanc. A good match for slightly sweet vegetables like corn or winter squash.
Oxford Landing Grenache-Syrah-Mourvedre (Sahara Mart). Bright red Australian, tart with clean fresh fruit flavors, not smooth. Soak some oak chips in it and it would taste like what you get in cheap steakhouse chains, but it’s much nicer with the freshness.
Cuvee de Pena 2005 (SM.). A beautiful dark glowing color, good bite and a slight oxidative note, giving it a rustic feel, straight from the heart of darkest France. I liked it but not everyone will enjoy the rough edges as I did. You can also buy this in a three-liter box for $30, which is both a good buy and kind to the environment. (I didn’t try the box and I would be a little concerned about accelerated oxidation. If you try the box, please share your opinion.)
Restoration 2007 (SM). A Portuguese wine with a reddish-black color, good body, lots of acid, and a long finish of plums and cherries. Different and for sure worth trying.
Caposaldo Pinot Grigio 2007 (BR). Tastes like Pinot Grigio but it’s short on aromatics. Inoffensive but I wouldn’t buy it again.
*Hugues Beaulieu, Picpoul de Pinet 2007 (BR). Wow. Made of an obscure grape from Languedoc, this is a soft and seductive white wine with a sense of melons and a meadow. June in a glass.
Skouras White 2007 (BR). A Greek white wine, smooth with a nose of lemon drops. Not bad but a little heavy for my taste. This is a big firm and I do like some of their pricier whites.
Black Wing Chardonnay Padthaway 2006 (BR). Made by a small Australian winery from purchased grapes. Gold color, bright pineapple flavor, pleasant but nothing special.
Jurschitsch Mozart Gruner Veltliner 2007 (BR). This is a “fun” wine made by one of the classical producers of classy G.V. in Austria. It’s spicy, a little yeasty, and fresh. It lacks the finesse and elegance of its big sisters but it would brighten any meal. Try it with fried catfish for a nice kick.
*El Ganador Malbec 2006 (BR). Absolutely everything you could ask of an Argentinian malbec. Big and purple, filling the mouth with black fruit and the nose with sweet flowers. Lingering aftertaste. If you eat red meat, you should have this wine.
Maipo Malbec 2007 (BR). Another good malbec from Argentina, refined, aromatic and full of blackberries.
Vinedos El Seque 2006 (BR). A Spanish wine from Alicante, made of Monastrell (Mourvedre) grapes. Big, fresh, purple color with lively red fruit flavors. A first-rate wine if you like some acid.
La Mano Bierzo 2006 (BR). Made from Mencia grapes, pretty much unknown elsewhere, Bierzo wines are trendy and a favorite of hip sommeliers. This version, although not outstanding, shows you exactly why, with its bright red color and subtle blueberry-like flavor.
Cellers Unio, Roureda Rubi 2007 (BR). This Spanish rose, imported by Bloomington-based Manolo’s Wines, is meatier and more substantial than most roses, based on half grenache and half merlot grapes. It is soft and floral and would be close to perfect if it had a little more acidity.
Figaro Calatayud Tinto 2005 (BR). I’m snowed in as I write this and this would be a good wine to be snowed in with. Deep red with black cherry notes and hints of spice and almonds, the long finish of this all garnacha wine leaves a warm glow, helped along by 14.5% alcohol.
*De Bortoli dB Petite Syrah 2006 (SM). Petite syrah is a mysterious grape and, so far at least, DNA testing only adds to the mystery of what is called petite syrah around the world. But this is definitely a mystery to engage and here is a sensational example. Deep plums, a long finish hinting at prunes but all moderated by real freshness. Unique and appealing.
Colombelle Rouge Cotes de Gascogne 2007 (SM). Fruity with good acid, very deep color, and a definite taste of bubble gum. Why would someone take tannat grapes and try to make Beaujolais? There is a limit to chemistry and marketing and this, for me, is that limit. I suppose it is not, objectively, a bad wine but it pissed me off.
Skouras Red 2006 (BR). An undistinguished Greek wine made mostly from cabernet grapes. Not offensive but needs more freshness and some aromatics.
Marques de Moral Valdepenas Crianza 2004 (BR). This tempranillo was fresh and pretty at first but there was a medicinal aftertaste that, well, left a bad taste in my mouth.
Raimat Tempranillo Costers del Segre 2003 (SM). A pleasant wine with no special distinction. I found it a little hard on the finish and wonder if there is too much oak.
Agricola de Borja Borsao 2007 (SM). Traditionally one of the great values in wine (I paid $7), this was a respectable wine, lively if not complex. I’d be happy to have it but I think the next wine knocks the socks off this one.
*Don Ramon Campo de Borja 2006 (SM). A blend of 75% garnacha and 25% tempranillo, this fruity eight-dollar wine is ripe, spicy and complex. Put it in a lineup with some $40 Chateauneuf du Pape and it will more than hold its own.
Crucillon Campo de Borja 2005 (SM) Balanced, almost elegant, easy to enjoy but not especially exciting.
D’Aragon Garnacha 2007 (SM). A dark and perfumed wine, international in style, smooth drinking. Everyone will like this, no one will remember it.
*Red Diamond Cabernet 2006 (SM). This Washington wine is about the best bargain there is in cabernet (given the competition, maybe I should say the only bargain). It hits all the notes – black currants, tobacco, chocolate – while remaining light and fresh. It is definitely not from Napa, not rich or velvety, and is meant to go to dinner not to a tasting.
Fattoria della Vitae, Chianti Colli Senesi 2006 (BR). Just Chianti, tart, red, fruity, appetizing and a good friend to Italian food.
Santa Martina Toscana Rosso 2005 (BR). A more ambitious Italian – smooth, international, ambitious, “don’t call me Chianti, I’m a super Tuscan.” Not bad if you go for the type.
Col des Vents Corbieres 2005 (BR). This is a lush, comforting southern French wine, with bright berry flavors mingled with herbal notes. Just delicious, not showy, for Sunday dinner with the family, if you’re lucky.

Sahara Champagne

2008-04-02T09:05:00.000-07:00

If Mercedes Benz made Champagne, I’d want to drink the BMW. Mercedes used to make exciting cars. Once they were established as the world’s best, they then turned to hanging onto that reputation by making cars that reassure the owner of his worth rather than exciting him. The Big Brand Champagne houses must have a similar marketing plan. Having spent fortunes on advertising and good solid wine-making over the years, their labels reassure the purchaser that he must indeed be a person with good taste and spare change. The reassurance is nice, of course. If your girlfriend picks you up in a Mercedes with a bottle of Moet et Chandon Champagne, you have a lot to look forward to. To achieve this stable luxury, the big brands buy Champagne from hundreds of farmers and blend the wines of different years over time. The wine tastes the same, you can relax. A little sweet, no surprises, nothing exaggerated.

But in recent years, some individual farmers in Champagne have begun to bypass the highly advertised conglomerate owned brands – all the brands you see advertised in the New Yorker – in favor of selling their own wines, unblended and made with a minimum of manipulation. These are wines that taste different from one batch to the next, wines designed to thrill you with racy flavors and vibrant textures, wines that do not speak with the polite hush of a gentleman’s club. But, also, wines you might not like and that will not simply invoke expensive comforts. Less than three percent of the total crop is sold in this way as artisanal Champagne, often called “farmer fizz” or, with slightly more formality, “grower Champagne.” Basic big brand Champagne sells for thirty to forty dollars and the grower wines are usually ten to twenty dollars more. This step up to farmer fizz is the biggest bang you can get in the wine market for ten or twenty bucks. All the famous brands also make very expensive bottles as well, typically selling for one or two hundred dollars. These pricey bottles can be first-rate and individualistic too, of course. For myself, though, the price is simply too much, given the thrills available from good grower Champagnes. [Except maybe Krug, the one important Champagne house that makes only the best and most expensive – if Mumm is a Mercedes, Krug is the Bentley.]

The importer Terry Theise has made it his life’s work to bring farmer fizz to the US and Sahara Mart has newly found a spot in his distribution chain. In February, Sahara Mart and Farm Restaurant held a tasting for nine different examples of these wines and the wines are, in general, available at the Mart. I had three favorites. These three were also the least expensive (never happened that way to me before):
1) Margaine, Cuvee Traditionelle, Brut Nonvintage. $48. Champagne can be made from a mixture of grapes, pinot noir and chardonnay typically predominating. This one is 90% chardonnay, with a bouquet of delicate flowers, maybe honeysuckle, and fruity flavors somewhat like peach. The result is very pleasant with food – something fresh and bright, like melon with prosciutto.
2) Hebrart, Selection, Brut Nonvintage $52. This is a little tangier than the Margaine. There are flowers in the bouquet but also a more serious note, spices perhaps. The taste definitely evokes lemons and the whole would be a lively aperitif or good company for some smoked salmon.
3) Aubry, Brut Nonvintage, $47. This is a big boy, unusual in that a full 50% is neither pinot noir nor chardonnay, but a red grape called pinot meunier. The result is richer than the first two, with flavors less of fruit and more of something like bread and butter. This actually tastes wonderful with popcorn but don’t tell the luxury police, who will bust you for not using caviar. I’m sure caviar would be swell.

Big Red Merlot

2008-03-30T13:22:00.000-07:00

It seems impossible to talk about the red wine made from merlot grapes without quoting Miles’ line from the film Sideways. “If anyone orders merlot, I’m leaving. I’m not drinking any fucking merlot.” Since the film was released in 2004, the consumption of merlot has declined some and the price has definitely plummeted. One irony of the price drop is that we may all be drinking more merlot than ever but without knowing it. An American wine labeled simply by grape, say cabernet, can actually contain up to 25% of a different variety. The production of merlot grapes has not declined as much as the consumption of merlot wine, a pattern which, when combined with the lower price for merlot, suggests that it may have become a filler for other varietals. It would be a splendid irony if Miles’ beloved pinot noirs are now made of 25% merlot – and given the increased flow of undistinguished pinot since the movie, there could well be a lot of things lurking in these bottles. Anyway, while I was boring Big Red’s wine manager, Bobby Wallace with such thoughts, he decided to organize a tasting of merlots. So he pulled out six different bottles of fairly recent merlot from Australia, California, Washington and France. To these I added two older Europeans from my cellar, we bothered Dave Tallent for a few delicious appetizers and sat down with wine manager Bobby DerOhanian to see what we thought.

I found three wines to like. We all liked a wine from Washington, the 2003 Northstar for $28. This was a fresh, spicy wine with a bold blackberry flavor and hints of mocha. It seems to be common in recent tastings around the country for Washington merlots to outclass those from California. Merlot ripens easily and things (grapes, plots, politics) that ripen easily anywhere else can quickly become overripe in California. The Northstar kept its freshness well. I also liked the Chateau Bon Pasteur 2000, from my cellar. This large, complex Bordeaux wine from Pomerol has a thick texture and rich fruit – but it would clearly have been better if it had stayed in the cellar for another few years. My third pick, and a real bargain at $20, was the Chateau Suau 2005 – a nicely balanced lighter Bordeaux, suggesting plums and cherries.

I was put off by the one Australian example, the 2006 Mollydooker “Scooter” for $20. It smelled like candied fruit, felt a little like syrup and tasted too much like vodka for me. A true Mollydooker – strong feelings, positive or negative, pretty much guaranteed. The two Californians, Shafer 2005 for $55 and 2004 Jarvis for $75, were well-made, suave and polished wines – but I found them a bit dull. They lacked the depth of the Pomerol on the one hand while also falling to bring the uplifting freshness of the Northstar or the Suau to the table. My Italian contribution, the 1998 Montiano, was weedy and uninteresting. This wine has a considerable following but I’d never had it before. It may just have been a bad bottle. Another French wine, Chateau L’Ecuyer for $43, was a little funky in the nose and somewhat brambly in the mouth. Perhaps it will settle down in a few years and repay cellaring but with a tasty Chateau Suau for less than half the price, I won’t be the one to find out.

What do I think about Miles’ dictum now? Merlot is easy to make, and usually turns out OK. It happened to be just coming into visibility in California in 1991, the year the CBS documentary on the “French Paradox” was pushing the idea that red wine will save your heart. A lot of folks in America decided to replace their ubiquitous cheap bar glasses of chardonnay with something red – merlot was easy to grow, easy to drink, easy to pronounce, and good for you besides. Too much was planted, too much drunk, too much of it dull and sweet, as befits a cheap bar drink. It was already losing its appeal when Miles dispatched it. But good merlot remains a fine wine indeed, and I will be looking for mine in the State of Washington and from Pomerol, on the right bank of the river by Bordeaux.

2006 Beaujolais

2007-09-10T14:26:00.000-07:00

I finally had a chance to taste some Beaujolais from the 2006 vintage. Beaujolais is often dismissed because the marketing hype surrounding Nouveau Beaujolais leaves the impression that the whole area is devoted to froth. In fact, the “crus” can be very fine and elegant drinks. Even these top examples are sometimes overlooked because they are subtle rather than overpowering. They’re meant for a roast chicken or a grilled sausage, not for a haunch of marinated boar or a banker’s ransom of Kobe porterhouse. The importer Kermit Lynch has long worked at bringing in the best examples of these charmers and Cédric Picard, wine guru at Big Red, persuaded Lynch to send in some advance samples. (I guess I should respect his ethnicity and refer to Cédric as a savant rather than guru.) Anyway, last night we got to drink some of these, 2005’s as well as 06’s and here are my notes.
First the 05’s. Thévenet, Morgon Vielles Vignes. The nose had a deep background scent, which everybody liked, and another element which people characterized with descriptors ranging from funky to barnyard to worse. I liked it and also liked the thick flavors of cherry, almond and vanilla. Not for the faint of heart, anyway. On the other hand, the Guy Breton Morgon was a beautiful violet wine, with a wonderful bouquet of flowers (finally justifying the word) and a light but pleasant taste of red berries – a good choice for those put off by the earthiness of the Thévenet. Then the 06’s. First a Dupeuple Beaujolais, a simple wine with a slight note of bubble gum. It reminded me of cherry cough drops, but good cherry cough drops. Then a more serious wine, a Thivin Cotes de Brouilly, with a silky texture, maybe red currant more than cherry, and a lingering spicy note. I was disappointed in the Diochon Moulin-à-Vent, usually a more impressive wine but tonight shallow and short. Finally a real winner, the Domaine Chignard’s Fleurie “Les Moriers.” The powerful fruits climbed right out of the glass, no need to bury the geeky nose in the glass for this one. The liquid coats the mouth and perfumes it for a good while afterwards. I thought at first that this was an impostor, that a pinot noir from Beaune had been slipped in to test us. I think the bottom line is that 06 will both require and reward careful buying.

What I've been doing instead of blogging.

2007-03-21T12:24:00.000-07:00

Memory and the Twenty-First Amendment
Patrick Baude*

The Twenty-First Amendment (1) repeals Prohibition and (2) allows states to prohibit the transportation or importation of intoxicating liquors. Justice Stevens, dissenting from a recent Supreme Court opinion somewhat limiting state bans on importation, observed that the Court’s decision would “seem strange indeed to the millions of Americans who condemned the use of ‘demon rum.”’ This is a sensible thing to say about Prohibition but quite an odd thing to say about an amendment repealing Prohibition. His comment was especially powerful, however odd, in light of the implication that he had personal memory of this particular bit of legislative history. In fact, one can remember that history as a condemnation of strong drink or as a condemnation of the corruption created by the ban itself. Which memory one privileges is not purely a historical issue.
Two contemporary questions turn in part on the question whether the amendment’s penumbra is “wet” or “dry.” First, the language of section 2 of the amendment prohibits the importation into any state “of intoxicating liquors, in violation of the laws thereof....” This section contains a serious ambiguity. It might, on one hand, be read simply to empower any state to pass a law banning importation. This reading would vindicate complex state regulatory regimes whose main effect is to award monopoly profits to politically favored businesses, especially wholesalers. But it might also be read only as allowing the state to ban the importation of alcohol that was otherwise outlawed – i.e., to go dry in whole or county by county. If Justice Stevens is right that the combined force of the 18th and 21st amendments demonizes rum, exiling it from the constitution, then the first reading seems logical enough and the varying lawsuits challenging the current regimes are doomed. The second contemporary question concerns the general regulation of alcohol in society. A typical narrow question is whether alcohol can be banned from places of sexual entertainment. A broader version of that question is to ask why we, as a society, have followed the supposedly discredited model of the 18th amendment in our marijuana laws, relying on a sweeping prohibition, even in the growing number of states which have themselves recognized medical uses of the drug.
The first version of this history is the story of the “Noble Experiment” – a story popular with viewers of "The Untouchables." Liquor had corrupted the workingman, leading him to spend his wages on drink rather than family support, to spend his time in saloons away from his family, and into a descending spiral of alcoholism and self-indulgence. The commercial alcohol interests fueled this process in the pursuit of profits, developing a system of saloons that particularly seduced immigrants away from efforts to join the American Way. In an age of reform, progressives seeking the same sort of benefit as those sought by wage and labor laws, protected the health and welfare of workers, and the economic and social needs of their families, by protecting them from the attacks by the liquor industry. Unfortunately, organized crime and corrupt politicians conspired to profiteer on the weakness of the flesh. In the end, the wickedness of these criminals could not overcome the good of sobriety and repeal was a necessary evil.
The other version of the history is a story of puritanical subversion of egalitarian democracy. The just-published work, Dry Manhattan, by Michael Lerner, is a gripping portrayal of this point of view. The Anti-Saloon League showed a mastery of single-issue pressure politics, driven substantially by nativism and hostility to Catholic and Jewish immigrants particularly. In the political system of the time, before one person one vote, over-represented rural voters imposed their religious and cultural strictures on the nation as a whole. Dissent, especially from immigrant communities, was silenced by jingoistic attacks on their patriotism. It took years for the actual will of the people to reassert itself through the convoluted amendment process. The difficulties of repeal were so extensive that Texas’s Senator Morris Sheppard observed: “There is as much chance of repealing the Eighteenth Amendment as there is for a hummingbird to fly to the planet Mars with the Washington Monument tied to its tail.”
Both of these mythic versions are partially accurate descriptions of a flawed political process employed to some extent in a search for the public interest. I believe, however, that they both miss a deeper point crucial to the meaning of the constitutional experience. As the historian David Kysig observed in 1985: “[T]he national prohibition was arguably the most radical and significant constitutional reform ever adopted.” Among other things, prohibition for the first time introduced federal agents into the direct regulation of private life, essentially suspended the system of federalism, and thereby altered both the public and private life of the nation.
My point here, however, is to point in a more limited way to radical nature of the 18th amendment, in ways reinforced by both versions of the myth. The point, related to the theme of our panel about food and the law, is that food (and drink) are the essence of identity itself. Without ( I hope) parodying Lévi-Strauss’ Le Cru et le Cuit, it remains that personal identity is connected with food in ways far more intimate than any other form of consumption. Children begin to separate from their parents as they assert autonomy at the feeding table. Many nationalities are identified in slang, at least, by distinctive dietary items – “frogs,” “krauts,” “limeys” and other derogatory epithets. The place that food and wine play in Communion is only the most dramatic illustration of the centrality of this oral consumption to autonomy – indeed, one of the fascinating skirmishes of the prohibition era was the different approach to Jewish and Catholic sacramental wine.
I suggest, in short, that a central fact of Prohibition was that it therefore regulated identity, not behavior. As such, it was an act of cultural violence to the minority rather than an ordinary law regulating behavior. A comparable contemporary act would be an English-only law which made it a crime to speak any other language – a step no nativist organization, so far as I know, has yet even proposed. The prohibition of medical marijuana, by contrast, does not regulate an incident of identity.
If I am right about the centrality of the identity-food-drink connection, the 21st amendment should then be understood as preserving to the states their right to define their own political identity rather than a general enhancement of their police powers because of the potentially harmful effects of alcohol. This would uphold partial or complete prohibition of beverage alcohol but not its economic exploitation or discriminatory regulation.

(This an extended abstract of a presentation for the 2007 Annual Meeting of the Association for the Study of Law, Culture, and the Humanities)

*Ralph F. Fuchs Professor of Law and Public Service, Indiana University, Bloomington.

Rethinking Australians

2006-09-15T20:33:00.000-07:00

Len Evans died a few weeks ago. He was a kick-ass champion of Australian wines and other Rabelaisian pursuits. People say he would come up to them, estimate their fitness and thus their longevity, and say something like “You have fourteen years to go, that’s only fifty-one hundred bottles of wine, you have no time to waste on bad wine.” The end of his wine-drinking days turned my thoughts to Australian wines. Years ago, when I did more traveling in food-forsaken parts on the country, I discovered that I could almost always be happier in an Outback Steakhouse than in its Texas-style competitor, not because the meat was any better and certainly not because my cardiologist endorsed the “bloomin’ onion,” but only because the cheap industrial Australian wine they sold was way better than the cheap industrial quality American wine at their competitors. In those days, even the better Australian wines, as it seemed to me, were similarly meant for grilled rich red meat in an uncomplicated hearty way. I heard from time to time from friends who had been to Australia that there was also a world of variety in Australian wines but I found little evidence where I shopped.
More recently, an importer called “The Grateful Palate” has begun to bring in some of these other wines, typically from smaller producers, often with older vines, and invariably with lower yields resulting from less irrigation. Some of them are just arriving at Big Red and I am wowed. One of them is Trevor Jones Virgin Chardonnay 2004 ($20), which also benefits from the fact that 2004 may have been the best year in South Australia for a long time. This is a chardonnay that spends zero time in oak, so it has no butterscotch or coconut. It just tastes like late summer – cantaloupe and peaches, maybe, with a squirt of citrus. It’s a perfect match for fresh corn, no easy task.
And then for thirty-two dollars, there’s a real eye-opener from Teusner, a 2005 “Joshua,” which is an also-unoaked wine, this time red, from the classic Chateauneuf du Pape blend of Grenache, Mourvedre (they call it Mataro), and Syrah (they call it Shiraz). But this tastes nothing at all like its French counterparts. A beautifully deep red, it tastes of black cherries and spicy herbs, rich but juicy, with a fresh tartness I haven’t previously met in Australian wines. The other day I had it with some beef from the grill, the usual use of an Australian red for me. The wine was good but the match was wrong. So I had some again tonight with some beef braised with juniper berries. The freshness of the wine and the depth of the beef played together well. The perfect match, I think, would be this wine with Dave Tallent’s short ribs. Since I can never cook ribs like his, I can only hope they add a new Australian like this to their list. Anyway, of the 6205 bottles I hope to have coming, there are going to be more Australians than there have been. Peace, Len Evans.

A favorite?

2006-05-02T16:20:00.000-07:00

Someone asked me the other day what my favorite wine was. I was stumped, way too many choices. Observing my incoherence, she switched and asked me what was the cheapest really good wine in town, to which the answer, for me, was a no-brainer. La Vielle Ferme, for six dollars at Big Red, is a rich and satisfying blast of black fruit. I’ve been thinking about her question, though. I don’t know about my favorite wine but the one I’ve been obsessed with lately is Chateau d’Yquem. This was the last bottle of wine I shared with my father, sometime about 1980. I was thus tempted by the 2001, despite a price tag around $500 a bottle, as it is a serious contender for the greatest ever. I was only egged on by another, lesser but still marvelous, 2001 Sauternes, the Ch. Myrat from Big Red for about $25 the half-bottle. I shared it with a friend who thought he didn’t like sweet wine and said he would just have a taste. Ha! A man of refined manners he is, but that didn’t stop him from actually licking the glass (his second) when he thought I wasn’t looking.
One problem with the 2001 Yquem is that it may not be drinking prime until about 2050 – when I doubt that I will be. One of the surprises of the wine I had with Dad was this: a 1967, it had been badly scorched in a fire, the cork pushed out half an inch, and the wine turned from lemon-colored to caramel. So we drank it on an impulse, expecting nothing, when it was a dozen years old. The heat had aged it prematurely, bringing it close to perfection. Anyway, this memory sent me looking for some older Yquem after the 2001's were released this past September. The result was that I recently spent my birthday at a Hart Davis Hart wine auction in Chicago, where I did buy some bargains and, not in the bargain category, a few half-bottles of the 1990 Yquem, another revered vintage – and one which is perhaps ready to drink now and, indeed, probably needs to be all drunk up by 2065 or so. I am a little afraid to share a bottle with any of my own children, however, in light of the family history. On the other hand, this was the very last bottle from my father’s cellar so perhaps always having one undrunk is the key. In any case, if the final act opens with Yquem, it’ll sure beat Two-Buck Chuck.

Ten bucks

2006-03-03T13:26:00.000-08:00

Big Red opens a few wines for tasting on most Saturday afternoons. Last Saturday offered a couple of inexpensive ($10+ ) winners so I bought one of each and confirmed my opinion at dinner over the week. The first is a Spanish wine made from grenache grapes – "garnacha" in Spanish. The vineyard, Bodegas Valascro, is located on the northern edge of the Rioja district and most of their wines are entitled to the Rioja name and priced accordingly. But this one, "Razon," is grown just outside the Rioja district, thus having no official designation, and is less expensive. It’s a suave and easy-drinking red, a fine companion to a fairly zesty dish – in my case, for a chicken with green olives and garlic. It’s not likely to remain in the store for long. During the tasting, two different customers tried it and picked up a case on the spot. The other bargain was an Argentinian cabernet sauvignon, the 2004 Andeluna. While I was tasting it in the store, a friend came in, tried some, and asked why it didn’t taste like his familiar cabernets. In wise-ass mode, I was tempted to say, "What’s different about it is that it’s not over-oaked, over-extracted, over-priced and over-hyped." Reflecting on the fact that my supply of friends is for some reason not expanding and I have no need to shed the ones I have, I said "h’mm" instead. When I took my bottle home, however, I soon saw that my first reaction, that this was delicious because it was natural and simple, was all wrong. The wine is full of fruit, cherry and other red fruits, and has lots of sweet tannins. To a more attentive taster than I was, these are the classic earmarks of the international style. It pretty clearly has been manipulated and oaked, but with a deft hand. The winemaker is Michel Rolland, the Bordeaux avatar of micro-oxygenation if Jonathan Nossiter’s caricature in Mondovino is to be believed. In any case, this is a fine, modern example of pure, beautiful cabernet sauvignon at a simple price.

Diesel fumes

2006-02-08T12:33:00.000-08:00

A friend gave me a glass of white wine to taste on Saturday. He hid the bottle from me, knowing that if I had seen the screwcap I would have said "Australian" and my prejudices would have engaged – "another blowsy, heavy over-manipulated bottle," I would have thought. In fact, this Australian riesling, Radford Dale 2004, was a beautiful wine. Zind Humbrecht riesling from Alsace was my first thought, except the circumstances weren’t right for a fifty-dollar bottle and my Zind Humbrechts don’t really taste good until I’ve cellared them for at least five years. (This Radford Dale is available for eighteen dollars at Big Red but not in large supply.) It’s a riesling with real class, a bright gold color, a clean but bitter flavor, and hints of lemon and grapefruit as well as that special minerally note that riesling-lovers unappetizingly call "diesel." I can only say that, if my old MB 240D had smelled like this, I’d have it still.

Marmandais?

2006-01-29T19:18:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I picked up a bottle of Ch. De Fontalem 2004, for about eleven dollars at Big Red. The label said A.O.C. Cotes du Marmandais. What’s that? I asked Cedric and he had to pull out the Oxford Companion to point out a map of some district to which Marmande was kind of near – Bordeaux is fifty miles down the Garonne. A quick search of the New York Times finds a reference in an article on "wines most of us will never drink." That would be a pity and I am glad it no longer applies to me. The wines, these days, are made mostly from merlot and cabernet, with 25% from traditional local grapes, especially one called abouriou. The wine has a clear red color, a nose of fresh strawberry somewhat like a good Rhone rose, a soft feel in the mouth and a pleasant, earthy taste with good tannins. It was a perfect partner to a relaxed Sunday meal of grilled chicken and frites. I have often been struck by the old British view that claret was a light wine meant for a simple bird, when most Bordeaux these days are deep, rich wines best with heavy beef. I suspect this wine is a lot like what red Bordeaux used to be. "And that’s a good thing."

Meanwhile, back in Bloomington

2006-01-16T09:42:00.000-08:00

I have spent some time since the last post away from Bloomington and it doesn’t seem fair, or newsworthy either, to dwell on the fact that they sure do make some good wine in Tuscany. I was struck by the variety of inexpensive but distinctive sangioveses. Sure a great aged Brunello is a wonderful thing and maybe even worth a hundred euros now and then. So, also, are the commercial inexpensive Tuscans like, say, Antinori’s Santa Cristina, dependable values widely available for about ten dollars everywhere. But the range and quality of in-between wines, either lesser bottlings from the great Brunello growers or prime wines with more obscure geography, gave this thirsty traveler a real thrill for never more than twenty euros. I’m going to have to look more carefully at what’s available here. I have had some delightful non-Tuscans since I have been back. One great bargain: a Spanish wine, the 2003 Las Rocas grenache. For about ten dollars, this peppery and deeply fruity grenache can give stiff competition to a Chateau-Neuf du Pape at three times the price. Not much more expensive is the Cavalotto 2003 Dolcetto Scot, rich in cherry and almond flavors. If, like me, you think Australian wines cloying and heavy, disabuse yourself with 2004 Two Hands Brave Faces, a syrah/grenache blend sold in the high twenties at Big Red. The producer calls this very lightly oaked wine, with lots of red fruits and anise, the "whore" in his line-up. This wine is no more plausible as a hooker than was Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman.

Nouveau

2005-11-15T16:46:00.000-08:00

November 17 at midnight (the third Thursday in November) marks the official release of Beaujolais Nouveau. This is the wine made this fall from the summer’s grapes. In fact, ten thousand cases have already been shipped to Japan alone, ready for celebration at the exact hour of release. The nouveau is light, fruity, pretty insubstantial, and quite pleasant to drink with a little chill on it. Its international reputation is mainly a matter of marketing hype and I, like many Beaujolais fans, used to be irritated by the hoop-la. Beaujolais can be a wine of real substance too and this flashy nouveau business tends to obscure even more the serious merits of the good stuff. By now, though, I recognize my attitude as just another form of wine crankiness. Anything that celebrates simple, honest wine is a good thing for wine’s contribution to joy, for evidence, as Benjamin Franklin put it, that “God loves us and wants us to be happy.” All it takes to complete the picture is equally simple and direct food. And here’s the simple dish that’s on my mind this month – a clever way to strip roast chicken to its delicious basics, thanks to the newest Cook’s Illustrated television series with book. Heat the oven to 500F. (Yeah, we know that’s the best way to roast a chicken but doesn’t the smoke drive you out of the kitchen? Hang on.) Cut out the backbone, easy with poultry shears but a slight nuisance with a knife, and flatten the chicken a little by smashing down on the breastbone. (This way, the thighs and the breast will be done at the same time.) Now peel and slice two russet potatoes. (They will absorb the chicken fat as it renders, which is why your kitchen won’t be engulfed in acrid smoke.) Finally, and this is the genius part, get out the broiler pan, line it with foil, put the potatoes in the bottom, then put on the ridged part, with the chicken on its back on top. (Keeps the potatoes moist, the chicken greaseless.) Salt, roast for about 45 minutes for a three-and-a-half pound-bird, and you are done. The fat should pour right off the potatoes but you can also blot them a little with a paper towel. You could also work an ounce or two of butter under the skin before you roast it. No need to brine the chicken, especially if you start with a good one: I prefer either a Maverick Farm roaster from O’Malia’s or a Bell and Evans from Kroger. A simple dish that will show your nouveau at its best but wouldn’t let down your expensive pinot either.

Bitter Harvest

2005-10-06T10:16:00.000-07:00

At the beginning of the summer, I wrote about making some vin de noix by steeping green walnuts (from my yard) in red wine with a little brandy and some simple syrup. It was bottling time over the weekend and I have to say this is not an experiment I am likely to repeat. The mahogany-colored result was beautiful to look at but undrinkably bitter. Maybe the nuts were too ripe, not ripe enough, the wrong kind? With the help of an experienced wine-nutter, maybe it's worth trying again. At the same time, I also made a batch by steeping California walnut leaves (marketed for this very purpose) in the same way. I didn't have to spit this version out but it, too, was quite bitter. I'll give it a rest and try a glass later. I was expecting something soothingly countrified and gentler but, maybe, just maybe, if I aproach it as an urbanite-kicking Campari, Dubonnet, or some quinine-infused aperitif, it might work. On the success side, however, I also put up some local sour cherries in sweetened vodka and some wild blackberries in cheap Spanish brandy: both are delicious and well worth doing.

Funk

2005-09-11T20:33:00.000-07:00

I had dinner with friends last night, friends who are as devoted to cheese as I am to wine. They had received from fromages.com a selction of cheeses from the Auvergne. These were “advanced” cheeses to boot, not ones I'd heard of like bleu d’Auvergne or Cantal. And the cheeses were intriguing and delicious. Fromages.com also sent along two regional wines from the Cotes d’Auvergne, both from Domaine Peyra and both made, organically, from the gamay grape familiar to Beaujolais drinkers. I have never seen either of these wines before, not in France and certainly not in Bloomington. A little Googling produced tasting notes for one of them from France. The taster thought it tasted like chicken shit. He asked a knowledgeable friend for a second opinion. I thought his friend was wine-knowledgeable and would perhaps compare this taste to sous-bois, or mushrooms or forest undergrowth or the like. But it turns out he was a merde expert from kibbutz days, and confirmed it was chicken, not pig or cow. Wine-tasting is such an enriching hobby. These funky notes did blow off after a while, revealing a wine that was complex and definitely not a Parkerized fruit-bomb. English tasters in particular think that Americans are too sensitive to these funky notes – as, likewise, we can be put off by gamebirds which are hung for a while before they are cleaned and eaten. Well, it was all very interesting but I was glad to return, tonight, to a delightful 2002 Spinetta Barbera Ca’ di Pian, a tart and juicy wine with clean and spicy, herbal flavors, from Big Red in the middle teens. I do note that wines of the Auvergne are not available in Bloomington and I probably won’t take desperate steps to acquire them. But those who are interested in expanding our options can find ongoing details of my shipping lawsuit at: Baude v. Heath.

Apologies to Vouvray

2005-08-19T15:06:00.000-07:00

I ended my last post looking forward to a 2002 Ch. Gaudrelle, using it as an example of an ordinary wine that could still give a lot of pleasure. What a stupid thing to write! There was nothing even remotely ordinary about this elegant and steely Vouvray, with lively fruit and rich mineral flavors. I have spent some of the intervening time educating myself about this and other wines of the Loire valley. I was helped by a few days at the beach on Lake Michigan, which I began by taking advantage of a special offer from Sam’s in Chicago. Sam’s had assembled fifteen pretty much unknown (to me and most Americans anyway) Loire wines through the services of Tom Calder, a specialized broker in Paris. This was not an expensive venture, at $250 for the fifteen. It has been, in fact, a pretty cheap lesson in the great pleasures of the world of honest wine. The Loire is about as far north as any wine I’d care to drink can be made (excluding, thus, the entire wine production of the United Kingdom, grape, parsnip or rhubarb). This far north, in a chilly year, the vintage can be so acid it hurts but, in a warm year, the results can be lively and stimulating. Luckily, both 2002 and 2003 were warm to heat-wave hot, and the wines are just wonderful. There are two good examples, both white wines from Chenin Blanc grapes, each less than $15, available at Big Red – the Chateau Gaudrelle Vouvray and an Aubert la Chapelle Coteaux du Loir [not a misprint – the Loir, masculine, is a tributary of the Loire, feminine] 2003. The Chapelle comes close to what apple cider would be if it really tasted like fresh tart apples. It was perfect with shrimp cooked with chipotles. The Gaudrelle is a touch richer and could accompany a roast chicken. Either would be just the right thing for a young goat cheese. I recently got my copy of Mondovino from Netflix. This documentary is the controversial indictment of the wine world’s global infatuation with rich, overripe, overpriced and too-similar wines allegedly manipulated to please Robert Parker and his hedonistic supposedly sheep-like followers. I shall have several Loires on hand as antidotes to this trend.

Everyday life with wine

2005-07-28T20:25:00.000-07:00

I had planned to write a little meditation on the importance of everyday wine. Recently I’ve had a delicious South African Sauvignon Blanc from Jardin and a quite different Sauvignon de Saint Bris from Verget, more famous for his good value chardonnay. These were both priced in the teens, both racy and fun to drink (I’ll buy the Jardin again, probably not the Verget which is a little more expensive). My theme was to be a defense of mediocrity. I don’t especially like beer, so I have no trouble at all saying that I would rather have Chimay once a month than Bud every day. Wine fans like to advise one to drink good wine once a week rather than ordinary wine every day. Not me. I love wine. Give me honest clean wine every day. I love my friends. I’d have dinner with my friends every day rather than saving up for a banquet with John Roberts (Julia Roberts is in a different category, for obvious reasons). So I went to Lexis to find a celebrated example of the “life is too short to drink mediocre wine” quotation often attributed to Lady Pamela Harlech, second wife of the British ambassador to John Kennedy’s Court. As I recall, she served Barbaresco and Montrachet at cocktail parties. But the successive tragedies of the Harlech family took the wind out of my sails. Lord Harlech died in a traffic accident, as had his father. His older brother, who would otherwise have inherited the title, shot himself. His sister, who was once engaged to Eric Clapton, died impoverished and of an alcohol-drug interaction in a London bedsit. Lady Pamela herself was banned from driving because of alcohol-related charges. The eight-thousand acre estate had to be sold to pay the death duties, which I shall now think of as a Barbaresco tax. Perhaps the ultimate indignity, the Express wrote thus of the sixth Baron Harlech, facing drunk driving charges himself four years ago: "THE SMALL, dark figure in the dock of Dolgellau magistrates court in North Wales was a sorry sight. With his lambchop sideburns and his jetblack hair greased back behind his ears, he looked like a cross between Fred West and a reject from the Seventies band Showaddywaddy." Myself, I have a fifteen-dollar Vouvray, 2002 Chateau Gaudrelle, chilling for tomorrow night. Life is too long to drink great wine all the time, thank heaven.

Heat Wave

2005-07-25T20:01:00.000-07:00

In this terrible heat, it’s been hard to think about serious wine. Big Red sponsored a tasting and I think one of the Tuscan reds was probably really good but I couldn’t imagine buying any. Even thinking about the wine would have meant thinking about something like a braised boar shoulder and the very thought of something that hearty, cooked that long, was oppressive. My idea, these last few days, of a hearty meal is something like a plate of melon with some Serrano ham (thanks to the butcher shop), or an omelette with sliced tomatoes and basil. So I have been drinking light white wines with gratitude. And stumbled across a fantastic cooler – “Pasil” 2004, a Rueda Vedejo imported from Spain by Kysela, priced somewhere in the low teens (it’s too hot to think about saving receipts against the eventuality of blogging). As required by the season, it is light and fresh and clean, with citrus overtones. But it goes beyond the call of duty with charming notes of apple and tarragon. A lot of wines like this live on acid but the Pasil is in fact soft in the mouth, with a fresh aftertaste free of bite. I would have thought that this weather favored low alcohol acid wines like Moselles but Spaniards clearly grasp heat better than Germans do. I also would have thought that Australian winemakers could understand relentless sun and humidity. I now think that they run for beer when it gets this hot. In fact, another few days like this, and I’m grabbing the Dogfish India Pale Ale myself. But the heat is supposed to break tomorrow and, if it does, I’m going to grill a steak and open a Chateau Neuf du Pape while I can, before running back inside to learn more about Spanish and Portuguese whites.

Playing with my wine

2005-07-05T20:10:00.000-07:00

An Indiana thunderstorm the other night brought down several branches from our walnut trees. There were some nicely formed green walnuts on them and I wondered if those walnuts had to be the nuisance they usually become when ripe, making it dangerous to walk outside without a helmet (these are tall old trees!) and making our footing treacherous when they lie rotting all over in the fall. Italians make a liqueur from green walnuts steeped in spirits, gathered on San Giovanni’s day (June 24) and ready by Easter. The French make “vin de noix” by steeping the quartered green walnuts in red wine with sugar and brandy. The walnuts in France are supposed to be gathered after St. Jean’s day (June 24, doh) but before Bastille Day, so get cracking! In the countryside, the resulting wine is sometimes served to guests as would be the Port it resembles – remember that the French, who are otherwise gods about everything they put in their stomachs, are children about their aperitifs, seeking constant sweetness – so porto, like vin de noix, is an aperitif. It is, however, an aperitif for which enormous health claims can be made. As we Americans would say, combining the anti-oxidants and polyphenols in red wine with those in nuts is a real power drink. I found a basic recipe in Mireille Johnson’s Cuisine of the Rose: Classical French Cooking from Burgundy and Lyonnais. Her book is out of print but there is an internet adaptation of her vin de noix recipe here. Yesterday I put up a couple of quarts as an experiment. Drop by in January and have a taste, we’ll see if this is an experiment worth repeating. To steep the walnuts, I used a wine from Big Red, a new wine from La Vielle Ferme, called V.F. This is a 2002 Costieres de Nimes, a rich and rustic wine which is an utter steal for $5.99. Not sophisticated but a deep and rewarding product of the Perrin family, who do also make some of the most sophisticated wines of the Rhone valley, for forty times the price. I had a half bottle of the V.F. left over, so I tried a recent "Sangrini" cocktail recipe from the New York Times, July 3. This is my own adaptation of the NYT formula, to fit my own leftovers. Take a half bottle of V.F. or other red wine, boil down by half, add a half cup of sugar, an ounce of brandy and an ounce of orange liqueur. Chill, then mix an ounce of this reduction with an ounce of liqueur, two ounces of vodka, a squeeze of lemon juice, and shake over ice. Serve in a martini glass with a grape. Wow! Smoother and more intense than sangria but don't make the mistake of drinking two just because they taste good. Not only is this delicious but it is also amazingly appetizing and physically beautiful when made with a richly colored wine base, like the V.F. Meanwhile, I also found a different recipe for vin de noix, using walnut leaves rather than the nuts and plan to try some of that too. The leaf-based wine is supposed to be ready in October. But if you stop by in the fall, remember the helmet.

Cahors

2005-06-24T12:52:00.000-07:00

I’ve been reading a book by Michael Sanders, “Families of the Vine.” Sanders spent part of 2003 (the year of the heat wave) with three vineyards around Cahors, a pretty, old-fashioned town southeast of Bordeaux. Sanders wanted to put wine in an “ordinary, unthreatening, everyday context,” so he chose Cahors, an ancient but not famous wine made from an uncommon grape, the malbec, which he describes as “like the local people who grow it . . . small, thick-skinned, and sometimes hard to cultivate.” I enjoyed the people he talks about in the first half of the book but my interest waned as the author waxed increasingly philosophical about terroir and the threat of global capitalism. A chapter near the end, however, about the sommelier in Cahors’ best restaurant, was worth the price of the book. To deal with my failing attention, I decided to replace passive learning with active learning, bought three different bottles of Cahors for twelve to nineteen dollars each and invited my daughter over for a grilled leg of lamb. (She is a big fan of the malbec in its more familiar appearance as the major wine of Argentina.) Here is our impression of the wines:
(1) Clos la Coutale, 2001. The wine was a youthful purple, with a shy bouquet (of blueberries, like all the wines), creamy texture, and pleasant to drink.
(2) Château du Cèdre, 2001. The wine was an entrancing deep purple, about the color of Batman’s cape at night. The bouquet was sweet fruit, smelling of mint after thirty minutes. We both found this wine, with its velvet texture, the most “delicious” in our before-dinner sampling.
(3) Clos de Gamot, 1996. When I first decanted this wine, it smelled fusty and seemed a little thin in the mouth. An hour later, it was singing a different tune, a complex assembly of fruit, herbs, flowers, game, and an earthy mushroom note. The wine seemed to lift the lamb to a higher plane as well.
The Gamot is made by the Jaffreau family, who have been making it in the traditional way for centuries. The other wines are more modern and “international” in style – which typically makes them drinkable earlier and more popular or “hedonistic.” In many ways, our impressions seemed to confirm Sanders’ paean to traditional wine-making. As he writes, complaining fashionably of the “insidious” global influence of Robert Parker: “Though Parker may have only a tangential influence on the world of Cahors wine, he is important nevertheless as a harbinger of that ever-encroaching trend called globalization, a trend whose merest ripples can be ascertained on the fringes of that bastion of traditional winemaking, the family-owned, family-run vineyard. Cahors, so far only lightly touched, represents to me almost a ‘before’ snapshot . . . ” Here’s the funny thing: Parker rates the traditional, family-made Gamot highly, describing it as “the finest example of Cahors I have ever tasted.” The so-called Parkerized Coutale is rated lower, captured by the adjective “attractive.” The Gamot is a more complex wine than we were expecting and Robert Parker himself is also a good deal more complex than Sanders seems to have taken the trouble to discover.

De gustibus

2005-06-14T12:32:00.000-07:00

There are many reasons to drink wine: it is intoxicating, delicious, and probably healthful. There are fewer reasons to write about it. For me, one of the reasons to write and read about it is that wine is a form of esthetic experience I understand personally. Much as I love music, I can quickly get lost in a serious conversation about its higher forms and nothing can spoil a good day at the art museum faster for me than someone who assumes that I noticed the brush strokes. Of course wine making is not art so much as an advanced form of agriculture and pretentious discussions of wine are even more off-putting than pedantry about sculpture. Still, the debates in the wine world about, say, the importance of terroir, track debates in esthetics pretty closely. Much of this debate has been fired up by the documentary Mondovino, which is dedicated to showing how global capitalism is leading to an homogenization of wine styles, destroying the uniqueness and diversity of the wine pool and extending the American empire through agents like Robert Mondavi and Robert Parker. Not surprisingly, the movie is praised by opponents of the World Trade Organization and trashed by much of the American wine establishment, in very heated discussions that quickly involve Iraq, fast food, the European Constitution, and about everything except a recognition of how much this duplicates discussions in other esthetic fields. This debate hit me recently as I was lucky enough in the past week to compare two different wines recently given me by friends. One was a simple cabernet sauvignon from Washington, the Chateau Ste. Michelle 2000 – a delightful straightforward expression of pretty fruit in a medium body, with refreshing tartness. The other was a blockbuster in the international style from California, a 2001 St. Clement Oroppas (80% cabernet sauvignon plus merlot and cabernet franc) – which I found full of many loud flavors, confusing, overpowering, almost a stew of oak and sweet spice and dark fruits. This second wine is rated 93 by Robert Parker, is difficult for ordinary people to buy, and costs four times as much as the first, which is given a nice bourgeois 88 points by Parker. They are both made with skill and vision by knowledgeable and respected winemakers. But the vision behind them is very different. The Ste. Michelle is meant to brighten the end of a normal day and the St. Clement is meant to be a big deal, the difference between a pretty country church and a wedding-cake cathedral in a big Italian city. Stephen Tanzer recently observed in his “International Wine Cellar” (May/June 05): “California winemaking consultant George Vierra has proposed establishing a new category for these big boys, which are always above 14% alcohol, the traditional ceiling for so-called table wines. He calls them ‘social wines,’ because they are successful at wine tastings, and as topics for conversation, but far less suitable at the dinner table.” If you want to see the future Mondovino is against, the St. Clement would show you. But if you’re having dinner, I recommend the Ste. Michelle, which is widely available and doesn’t require connections to score.

Matching morels

2005-05-31T10:38:00.000-07:00

Matching food and wine is where the fun part of this addiction sets in. Of course there are no rules and fashion changes. Before 1900, the British often drank sweet white wine with dinner and claret afterward. In France, even now, Port is mainly a before-dinner drink. The Russian Imperial Court took Champagne with caviar but the Champagne sent to the Czars was sugared well beyond anything available today. Still, there are some combinations that really do seem favored, like raw oysters and Chablis. For years I had convinced myself that Muscadet worked with oysters, and it does, that New Zealand sauvignon blanc’s bright tartness was as flattering to the oyster as a squeeze of lemon, and maybe it is. But when I feel flush enough to spring both for the Chablis and the oysters, I have to face the fact that I have been fooling myself – this is how things are meant to be. Sauternes and foie gras, less predictably, are also a simply perfect fit. In the current fashion, wild salmon (and the Copper River Kings are running this week) and Oregon pinot noir are thought inseparable: I like this match just fine but I am not a true believer here. The great, eternal, one and only, match for good pinot is the wild mushroom. Last week O’Malia’s had morels for $40 a pound. So what could I do but buy a couple of ounces, saute them in butter, reduce a little heavy cream, and pour them over a slice of rare beef? With a bottle of pinot noir from Burgundy (Gros Hautes Côtes de Nuits 2002), what a perfect match. The forest floor undertones of the wine matched the mushrooms and the bright cherry fruit added a new note, almost a new dimension. The same combination of morels, cream and Burgundy would do much the same for a piece of chicken, or, for the fashionable, some roasted salmon, or, for that matter, a piece of ordinary toast. Happily, the morels at O’Malia’s are near their pinots and they have two excellent pinots under twenty dollars at the moment – one from Au Bon Climat in California, the other from Cloudline in Oregon. Sure the morels are expensive but a couple of ounces are only five dollars and they’ll make your $18 pinot taste like fifty bucks.

Shipping now?

2005-05-26T10:13:00.000-07:00

The Supreme Court has spoken. It is unconstitutional for a state to allow shipping by in-state wineries while forbidding shipments from out-of-state. States that meet that description will have to make a choice. From my perspective (that of a wine-loving free-market supporter) the choice is not hard. But of course real legislatures don’t necessarily love wine and they rarely see it their duty to promote free markets when there are donors and constituents who would rather make money without competing. So the coming political battle is between wholesalers, who make tons of money providing “services” that are required by law whether you want them or not, and consumers, who want to choose for themselves what to buy and want to look around for the best price. Consumers have the vote and wholesalers have the well-funded lobby. What makes me a little optimistic is that, in Indiana, for example, the farm lobby looks on wineries as a kind of farm – so consumers won’t be in this by themselves. I am also hopeful that responsible state officials will see legalizing direct interstate commerce in wine as a good tax move. I don’t know how many Indiana residents buy wine in person out of state and bring it back themselves. But I do know that none of them, not a single one, pays any Indiana tax on that transaction – because they are not allowed to. Legalizing shipment would mean that Hoosiers who buy wine in Chicago, say, and have it shipped, could be required to pay to Indiana the sales taxes that now go to Illinois. Legislators who turn down this revenue source should be held to explain why. But there is another twist to the tale in Indiana. A state statute (7.1-5-11-1.5) now provides:“(a) It is unlawful for a person in the business of selling alcoholic beverages in another state or country to ship or cause to be shipped an alcoholic beverage directly to an Indiana resident who does not hold a valid wholesaler permit under this title.” This appears to me to be a clear violation of the Supreme Court’s decision. Yet the state alcohol commission argues that other statutory provisions implicitly prohibit instate wineries from shipping as well, because they don't mention it either way. The Indiana statute allows instate wineries to sell their product but doesn't mention that they can ship it to the purchaser (or that they can hand it to the purchaser, or that they can put it in a paper bag). We used to joke that the distinguishing factor of a totalitarian state was that all was prohibited which the government has not specifically allowed, whereas under the principle of legality, everything is permitted unless it has been forbidden. Pretty clear which school the alcohol commission comes from. As one would ask a student in the first year of law school, what statute would one violate by shipping wine instate -- the answer is, the statute that isn't there. I guess this is what courts are for, which is why a group of us, including two out-of-state wineries, have filed suit in Indianapolis Federal Court. See the account in IndyStar

2004 rosés

2005-05-12T12:30:00.000-07:00

Three weeks ago, Robert Parker posted an informal “head's up that 2004 rosés, primarily those I have been tasting from southern France and Spain are very impressive....seems the cooler growing season has given them considerable aromatic dimensions in addition to crisper acid profiles and loads of fruit.” So, as a sometime dutiful lemming, I was off to Big Red, where I found three 2004 rosés, all from France, all modestly priced, and all imported by Kysela. As I was standing in line, a young woman behind me looked casually through my basket and then looked away, I imagine to conceal her little grin of superiority (I had to resist the temptation to peer into her basket competitively, but I bet it held over-oaked and overpriced chardonnay). There seem to be many inconclusive opinions about why rosé wine is so looked-down-on here. Years ago, people said it was because of my generation’s experimentation with Mateus and Lancer’s, sweet bubbly Portuguese rosés that were popular with marijuana. Twenty years later, they said the next generation’s disrespect was due to Sutter Home’s blush zinfandel. My own theory blames the fact that pushy waiters believe that rosé “goes with everything” so diners are fobbed off a bottle when one is having fish and chips and the other a porterhouse steak – guaranteed to disappoint everybody. Or maybe the culprit is the general belief that darker wines necessarily have more flavor. Turley Wine Cellars’ Ehren Jordan is quoted in yesterday’s New York Times about the move to make darker wines: ''There's no doubt that people are fixated with color. People seem to equate darker wines with better wines. For me it always seems odd.” Anyway, I made it home with my three rosés, chilled them and invited my daughter over to taste them with some anchovies, olives, beans and a roast chicken. Our impressions: (1) Beauvignac 2004, from a cooperative in Languedoc, made from 100% syrah grapes for $8. The color is a perfect match for the actual rose flower. The scent is pure strawberry, the flavor a little astringent. Pleasant, good value, but I won’t buy another. (2) Mas Neuf Rosé 2004, a wine made from 45% syrah, 45 % cinsault, 10 % grenache, in the Costieres de Nimes, for $10. The color had a touch of salmon to it, not quite as drop-dead gorgeous as the Beauvignac. The nose had lots of strawberries but other summer fruit as well, peaches and raspberries, a flower or two, and a note Leora called “red licorice.” It was gentle in the mouth, not sweet at all but soft and lovely. This was our favorite. (3) Chateau de Segriès Tavel, the aristocrat of Rhone rosés, 50% grenache and the rest cinsault, clairette and syrah, for $17. The color had a touch of peach, the nose was a sweeter strawberry than the other two, and the flavor a little fuller and more winey. This too was a nice wine and it seemed to complement the strong flavors of anchovy and olive well. I’d be happy with any of these. Just remember they don’t go with fish and chips or porterhouse, they go with summer.

Schildknecht

2005-05-08T11:03:00.000-07:00

A lot of the fun of drinking wine is finding affordable bottles you haven’t met before. The days of doing that bumming around Italy or Northern California seem to have dissolved in the glare of globalism. Still, these can be good days for the hunt if you follow small importers with similar tastes. One of these is United Vintners in Cincinnati and its representative, David Schildknecht. Big Red recently got in half a dozen new choices from Schildknecht and I have been having fun with them. One was the Ladoix I talked about in my last post. I have recently had a couple of others. First was Ch. Micalet 2001. This is a wine made in a small Bordeaux village, tucked anonymously between St. Julien and Margaux. The wine is half merlot and half cabernet, purple-black, an aroma of violets and then black currants, with a whiff of tobacco leaf. In the mouth it has a creamy texture, a little vanilla and more black fruit, with sweet tannins and a long finish. My first thought was of a California meritage wine but when I paid more attention there were signs of a complex Bordeaux. All in all, almost a steal for twenty dollars. The second was a white Burgundy, 2002 St. Romain, made by Verget for eighteen dollars. I simply pulled the cork and the scent jumped up to greet me with a mixture of stones, pears and some simple flower. When I poured it, I got a gold color and additional notes of honey and citrus. When I was halfway through the glass, Julia walked in and asked what I was drinking, saying she could smell it from the next room. For some inexplicable reason, the wine kept bringing Cate Blanchett to mind. On an only vaguely related note, during a tasting in Bloomington last year, Schildknecht mentioned particularly a restaurant in Lexington, Kentucky, called Jonathan’s. He liked the food and praised the chef’s palate for wine as well. So we were in Lexington over the weekend and ate there. Jonathan is indeed an imaginative and accomplished cook, whose menu is obviously connected with the South – fried green tomato salad, country ham with asparagus, lobster grits, you get the idea. I had some beef medallions with morels (lots of morels) that made be a happy man. With this I had an Oregon pinot noir (Erath 2003) that was delicious if not complex, and to my delight served in a Riedel pinot noir glass. One of the charms of the wine list is the reasonable markup in price: The Erath was $32.

Ladoix

2005-04-23T10:24:00.000-07:00

When I was in Paris a few years ago, I ate several times at Anacreon, a small neighborhood place where the main clientele seemed to be couples my age entertaining each other for dinner – not a party place or big deal. The first time I went, I overheard several tables exclaiming with pleasure that the Ladoix was back. I had no idea what they were talking about but it became clear that this was a wine they all liked. I had already ordered something else but returned the next week, partly to see what the buzz was about. At first, I thought the waiter wasn’t even going to bring me the bottle of Ladoix I ordered. It turned out that Americans never ordered it (busted again for bad French) so he assumed that what I wanted was Badoit mineral water. We got that straightened out and my daughter and I enjoyed the wine very much and the reasonable price added to the pleasure. Back in the states, I looked it up in Parker’s wine guide, only to find this: “Ladoix is Burgundy’s least-known appellation.” I proceeded to forget all about it, until this week, when some 2003 Ladoix from Jean-Luc Dubois turns up at big Red for $20.00. The wine has a fairly light red color and a powerful nose of sweet fruit. The scent is not the usual red fruit/cherry of a new burgundy but a combination of blackberries and stone fruit – it seems like peach to me, improbable as that sounds in a red wine. The aroma is so intense that you can almost pour it into your mouth. There is a background of spice, hints of ginger and pepper I think. The taste has plums and a touch of blood, with a good shot of tannin. Maybe some of the wine's distinctiveness is due to the fact that 2003 was the year of the heat-wave. This is my first 2003 Burgundy. Anyway, this is authentic Burgundy, a complex and interesting wine, with good structure, and an amazingly low price. I’ll not be so quick to forget it again.

Waiting for the Court

2005-04-20T08:29:00.000-07:00

I had been hoping that yesterday would see the wine-shipping case among those the Supreme Court handed down, but no such luck. Even when the decision comes down, and even if it is on the right side, nothing much will improve in Bloomington immediately. The most the Court is likely to do is to say that in-state wineries and out-of-state wineries have to have equal shipping rights – which will then call on the Indiana legislature either to stop Oliver from shipping or allow Screaming Eagle to. It is true, however, that a legislative victory for the anti-competition forces will not be automatic. Indiana winemakers are part of the farm community and voting to narrow markets for in-state farms may give legislators pause. What I really want is not to receive wines direct from California wineries, even though that’s a good start. I want to be able to buy wine from Sam’s and Convito Italiano and John Hart in Chicago and have it safely shipped to me. In return, I’d be happy to pay taxes for legal access to a full range of smaller producers, hard-to-find new releases and futures, and auctions of older wines. Speaking of auctions, John Hart has now become a major world player, forming a new firm, Hart Davis Hart, with former auction managers from Christie’s and Sotheby’s. There’s nothing illegal about an Indiana resident buying at auction in Chicago. It’s getting the wine home that may be the legal problem. Under one reading of this state’s law, you can only bring it home one bottle at a time. I wonder about this: suppose I pull my station wagon up to the Indiana state line on the Illinois side. Then I step out, and one at a time, bring my bottles over the line, then drive my car across the line too, load it up, and tool on home. Seems legal to me (?) but I suppose the hazards of actually doing this on the Tollway are too numerous to contemplate. Anyway, there’s a major auction at Hart Davis Hart on May 7. Despite the sentence underneath this blog’s title, how could I resist pointing out that you could probably pick up a half-dozen bottles of 1995 Le Pin for $4000. (So cheap because it’s not a stand-out year.) If you get the catalog, you’ll see some stuff for mere mortals as well – the real deal, though, is the pre-auction tasting. For $65 you can taste a lot of the gems for sale – the 1970 Lafite, 1982 Mouton, 1976 Echezeaux, great Californians.... Or you can just bid on the Internet, which I have done before with great ease (Julia has suggested it might not be prudent for me to actually be there, sample some really great wine, and then stroll into the auction room with a bidding paddle. I think she’s right.) Locally, there are a couple of good tasting opportunities too. Tomorrow, April 21, you can taste some Australians from five to seven in the back room of the Uptown. These are good but not great wines, mostly not to my taste but perhaps to yours. Every Saturday afternoon, Big Red conducts an informal tasting at the front of the remodeled store. Patrick promises some unusually interesting things this week.

Oregon bargain

2005-04-10T09:21:00.000-07:00

Thirty years ago was the breakthrough for Oregon, when an Eyrie pinot noir shone in a competition against top French burgundies. Robert Drouhin, of the well-known Burgundian family, responded by opening a major vineyard in the Willamette Valley. The Drouhin wines from Oregon have always been good, but not the best even if among the most expensive. I wonder if the hippie spirit (perhaps I should say contrarian individualism) that drove the early days in Oregon simply doesn’t translate perfectly into French. Anyway, members of the Drouhin family have collaborated with a new venture, called “Cloudline.” This is a bargain-priced Oregon pinot noir, made of grapes purchased from growers who have long worked with Domaine Drouhin Oregon and produced in consultation with Veronique Drouhin-Boss. Big Red has a lot of it. The Cloudline 2002 is a first-rate pinot for the stunningly low price of $15 – wine from the Domaine Drouhin itself costs three or four times as much. My notes on the Cloudline: “Deep red but not dark, nose of sweet cherries, a hint of gunpowder, a whiff of oak. Silk in the mouth, a long finish with notes of plum and prune. Not complex but pure and delicious.” The only question I had about the wine was the acidity on the finish, which was a little much for plain drinking. But at dinner, the same acidity made it work beautifully. (I thought the acidity was like a good Italian barbera, which can be sharp when you first taste it but then complements a meal perfectly.) If you serve this wine, your guests may not think you’re a wine guru but I bet they will think you have become a good cook. And if they find out how little you paid, they’ll be wanting investment advice too.

Fizz

2005-04-02T16:12:00.000-08:00

Last night, for fifty dollars as part of a benefit for the Boy’s and Girl’s Club, you could go to the “connoisseur room” of the Big Red Wine Festival at the Bloomington Convention Center. Ths is an annual event but I’d never been before. The ticket gave me the chance to sample some 59 different wines, ranging in retail price up to $120 a bottle. At first I found it really difficult to taste at all critically over such a huge range of wines. Fortunately a good idea struck me: drink Champagne, stupid! There were ten real Champagnes and a couple of other sparking wines to taste, and this is a manageable amount for an amateur like me. I find it surprising that, entirely apart from the alcohol, just the variety of tasting a dozen different wines is hard work for the taste buds. After the Champagnes, I tried a few other wines but they were closed books to my senses. I found three Champagnes I particularly liked. First, the Pommery Cuvee Louise. This was a big wine, with persistent bubbles and a lovely flavor of raspberries? Red currants? At $120 a bottle, I can hardly claim a discovery. But the $42 Egly-Ouriet Brut nonvintage Tradition was very similar and every bit as good. This is a big wine and it wants a lobster or a rich cheese. The other hit was the Trouillard Brut Cuvee du Fondateur 1995. This $60 wine, unlike the Egly-Ouriet, is made entirely from white grapes and tastes of pears and peaches, with notes of toast, nuts, and yeast. It doesn’t want a lobster at all. It just wants someone to drink it. It makes sense to have a bottle of this chilled and waiting. That way, you’re ready for a friend to finish a book, for someone you love to stop by, for your grandchildren to be born. If all you have cold is some beer, all you’re ready for is mowing the lawn.

Suave move

2005-03-30T07:38:00.000-08:00

In the last post, I was lukewarm to the Marcato Soave. So I thought I would try again. Last night I had the Anselmi San Vincenzo 2003, for two dollars more than the Marcato. Anselmi no longer calls his wines “Soave” but that is essentially what this is. And it is a delightful bargain. The scent is mainly lemon, but with a soft quality (is this what they mean by “lemon custard?”) There are also light floral overtones, clover perhaps. The taste is dry but not biting, with definite mineral notes. The Italian word “soave” is often translated “suave,” which implies something a little too slick for this fresh and charming drink – “gentle” seems better. It went beautifully with some stir-fried scallops from the Butcher’s Block.

Three inexpensive Italians

2005-03-27T08:55:00.000-08:00

At a casual dinner for students last night, I tried three moderately priced (low teens) Italian wines bought at Big Red earlier in the week. (1) I liked the Zardetto Brut Prosecco. I used to think of Prosecco, the high-production sparkling wine of the Veneto, as a kind of cheap champagne, worth about what it cost. But when you travel around the small towns of the Veneto, you see it as a different sort of thing, something more like the world’s most luxurious ginger ale. I think especially of a day in Montegnana. I had just visited a church to see some frescoes, I forget whose or why, but I remember leaving with some embarrassment when I saw that I was about to intrude on a funeral rather than an art museum. I walked gravely over to the nearby bar for a coffee. Next to me were a half-dozen elderly gentlemen, rather soberly dressed and quiet, gathered around poured but undrunk Prosecco, accompanied by a bowl of potato chips. As the bells tolled, they lifted their glasses of sparkling wine to the departed, a scene hard to imagine with Champagne. With all the earnest seriousness surrounding the Schiavo case this weekend, I think my own end-of-care directive calls for a good Prosecco for my friends. The Zardetto brut would be a fine choice, drier than most with a sharp apple taste and a lot of zest for life. (2) Back to last night in Bloomington, we then had a Marcato 2003 Soave. I thought it was a disjointed and somewhat ill-defined wine. The nose hinted at tropical fruit but the dry and flat taste seemed a real disappointment in context. I have a bottle left, which, for a gathering of law students, tells a very complete story. (3) But then we had a really lovely red, the Poliziano Rosso Di Montalcino 2002. The year was generally not a good one for Montalcino but this wine was a real exception. I have read that the grapes weren’t quite good enough for the pricier Vino Nobile that Poliziano specializes in, so they were declassified for the plain Rosso – but there was also a good bit of merlot added in to the sangiovese and clearly some time in oak as well. The result was some nice cherry fruit with a spicy finish, an appetizing wine at a good price. And, speaking not of wine but of a good finish, BLU (http://www.bluculinaryarts.com/) provided a delicious Zuppa alle Fragole, a combination of cake, ricotta and strawberries with a precise and perfect balance.

California bargain

2005-03-24T19:01:00.000-08:00

I bought a 2003 Bogle petite sirah on sale for nine dollars at O'Malia's and drank it with a grilled steak tonight. This was a rustic but agreeable wine, dark in color with smoky peppery notes, lively acid and noteable tannins. The wine used to be on the list at Truffles, I don't know if it still is. Petite sirah is a mystery grape, according to DNA testing not always the same from one vineyard to another, but well adapted to hot climates like the California central valley and South America. Worth picking up the next time you have something simple and hearty.
Trying to describe the wine reminds me of a cool site I just found through Robin Garr. http://redwinehaiku.blogspot.com/ The author has reviewed fifty or so wines, all in haiku. For example, a few weeks ago, I tried to describe my lack of enthusiasm for a well-made Mondavi cabernet. From the blog, here's a review of a different California cabernet:
[Louis B. Martini Napa Valley Reserve Cabernet 2000, copyright Lane Steinberg]
Everything correct
Tannin & acidity
Bored me to pieces

In that spirit, here are my thoughts on the Bogle:
Good friend for nine bucks
Black fruit with a winey bite
Stop by on Thursday

This blog's title.

2005-03-24T07:45:00.000-08:00

Several people (i.e., both my readers) have asked me about the title for this blog. It comes from a story told by Professor George Saintsbury. He was a prominent literary scholar in Victorian times. His "Notes on a Cellar Book," from the beginning of the last century, was the first example of a drinker writing expansively about his tipple. I see him as the first wine-blogger. In general, as befits a Victorian professor of literature in Scotland, he was a rather formal sort of fellow, sometimes close to pompous and often pedantic. Like many of his readers, therefore, I especially enjoy this bit he tells:
"So, though I could not even then drink quite as much beer as I could thirty years earlier a little higher up the Thames, it became necessary to procure a cask. It came—one of Bass’s minor mildnesses—affectionately labeled “Mr. George Saintsbury. Full to the bung.” I detached the card, and I believe I have it to this day as my choicest (because quite unsolicited) testimonial. "

Qui e La

2005-03-24T07:39:00.000-08:00

I’m just back from a week in Venice. I have to resist the temptation to write here about the wine I drank there, since the theme of this blog is drinking wine in Bloomington – no going on about the house Refosco at the Pizzeria Accademia. Maybe I can drop a word about whisky, though. My favorite malt is Lagavullin, which is basically now unavailable here or most places in the US. Last year I got a bottle in the duty-free shop at Charles de Gaulle airport but that too has dried up. So imagine my surprise when my wife spotted a bottle in the tiny alimentaria where we bought our breakfast bread in Venice. And then my further surprise, last night, to run across this passage in the newly published Elizabeth George, “With No One as Witness:”
“When [Linley] joined his old friend, St. James was at the drinks cart beneath the window, a decanter in his hand.
‘Sherry?’ he said. ‘Whisky?’
‘Have you gone through all the Lagavullin yet?’
‘Too hard to come by. I’m pacing myself.’
‘I’ll assist you.’”
I guess I’m not the only one.

Serious Sancerre

2005-03-10T07:35:00.000-08:00

Chablis used to be the wine to wash down seafood in Paris. This certainty led to the dubious honor that every cheap, sharp wine in the world was called "Chablis." My father got an M.D. from the University of Paris in the 1920's. On his final oral exam in public health, one question was how to eat raw oysters safely, and the answer was "with Chablis." In recent years, however, Sancerre wines from the Loire have taken over. Chablis is too expensive and its name too debased by global identity theft (despite the fact that 2002 is a wonderful and inexpensive year for real Chablis.) Fifty years ago, there were 50,000 cases of Sancerre yearly, now there are more than a million. Until recently, I was underimpressed, even during a week spent cycling in the Loire valley two years ago. Sancerre struck me as no more than a pleasant and tangy white wine, nice for a casual meal of fish and a perfect match for young goat cheese. Part of its popularity in the US, so it seemed to me, was simply that it, unlike Chablis, wasn't chardonnay and so much of our chardonnay is gag-me-with-a-spoon thick and sticky. Sancerre is not the only wine made from sauvignon blanc ascendant in our market -- delicious New Zealand and California versions are also easy to find here. Pick up the Villa Maria SB at O'Malia's if you don't believe me. But over the last week, I've had some Sancerre that has awakened me to a great wine. I had Francois Cotat's Sancerre Les MOnts Damnees 2003, bought at Big Red for $37. Here are my tasting notes: "Pale yellow-gold, no hint of green. Expected scent of gooseberry, yes, but also pears and limes. Creamy texture, flavor of grapefruit and pear, with a refreshingly bitter finish. Open 30 minutes, also a touch of minerals, apple and clover honey. It is a privilege to drink this wine." I was so impressed that I went on to drink Cotat's top vineyard, La Grande Cote. This wine, surprisingly, was less exciting. Although good, it was a little dense and heavy for my taste. Maybe a year in the cellar would do something good or maybe the heat wave of 2003 did too much ripening for an already rich wine? All-in-all, delicious stuff and lovely variety but nothing will stop me from stocking up on '02 Chablis.

A la recherche du cabernet perdu

2005-03-07T19:12:00.000-08:00

When I came to Bloomington in 1968, I quickly discovered that California cabernet was my wine. The available French wines were mostly generic blends from the big shippers, B&G Vosne Romanee and the like. These wines were shipped long before Kermit Lynch and other importers transformed the global scene by insisting on refrigerated shipping containers. It's not so much that these wines were cooked, although they often were: it was more that they were made commercially to withstand the expected abuses of being shipped without refrigeration through the Panama canal. Filtered, denatured, industrial wines with good names on the label. California, on the other hand, sent us wines with character. For $2.40 (odd I can remember the exact price, but it was a significant amount for an assistant professor in those days), a Christian Brothers cabernet could excite with its clear and lively personality and, for not much more, BV and real Inglenook were the kind of wines you could think about and remember. I drifted away from these cabernets as French wines got way better in the eighties and as importing became more sensitive to heat damage. And then the prices of California cabernet became absurd. I have to drink a wine fairly often, to make its acquaintance over different moods and foods, before it becomes a friend to be invited to my home. The odd Dominus or the like that comes my way has not been enough to form that bond. When I got my newest Wine Advocate and Tanzer newsletters, I was struck that they both seemd to think Robert Mondavi was back on track in 2001 and 2002 -- both critics really liked both years in the simple Napa cabernet, a twenty-dollar wine. I couldn't find a 2002 in Bloomington but bought a 2001 at Sam's Club. Tonight, with anticipation and a flank steak, I tried it. Nah. It didn't do it for me. All the elements were there: black fruits, coffee, a touch of tar, soft tannins, a rich texture. It just didn't come together as a delicious drink so much as a gynasium for the taste buds. I don't think this is something anti-California on my part -- I had a basic Au Bon Climat pinot noir on Saturday at Big Red's weekly tasting and promptly bought a bottle for the same $20 as the Mondavi. So I think I am going to leave Cali Cabs in the realm of nostalgia. At least I'm not so disappointed now to learn that Mondavi just sold everything to a conglomerate for a billion bucks with who knows what in the future. Maybe the new owners will filter all the wines and ship them to France through the Panama canal to get even.

My Rasteau is half empty

2005-03-04T19:13:00.000-08:00

It seems disgustingly prudent for me to drink no more than half a bottle with dinner nightly. I usually accomplish this in either of two ways. One is to freeze the remainder. Freezing changes the wine in two related ways, so far as I can tell: it very slightly reduces the acidity of the wine (which can even be an improvement with, say, acidified Australian whites) and causes tartrate crystals to precipitate, which is no more than a minor nuisance. I prefer, instead of freezing, to pour off half the bottle into a 375ml tight-sealing decanter when I open it, drink the bottle that night and the decanter the next. Sometimes the wine is better the second night (young Bordeaux), sometimes a little worse (Chianti) and mostly unchanged. Neither of these techniques will save a pinot noir: carpe diem or, at least, always find somebody to share your Burgundies with. Part of the fun is figuring out which wines will gain from being split, one way or another, over two nights. Until now, I had always chosen for the decanting young, hearty red wines, which I associated also with high alcohol. Yesterday, however, I read of some experiments in Bordeaux which suggested that alcohol speeded oxidation. Though these experiments seem loaded with bias because the easy conclusion would be that Bordeaux wines therefore outlast California or Australian wines, the chemistry seemed possible. So, last night I opened the highest alcohol European wine in my cellar. This was a Rasteau Domaine La Soumade Cotes du Rhone Fleur de Confiance 2000, at 15.5% alcohol. And a wonderful wine was the first days portion: rich, with a nose of red fruit and prunes and spices, with smooth tannins and a slightly oily texture. Today, the second half from the decanter, had the definite beginning of volatile acidity -- not a bad drink by any means but definitely on the way down. I'm guessing alcohol isn't the key to overnight keeping. I'll try this again, concentrating on a wine made from a grape known for anti-oxidant properties, maybe something largely mourvedre/monastrell.

Extreme Beaujolais

2005-03-02T18:45:00.000-08:00

Wine drinkers in the US seem bored these days with Beaujolais. Personally, I think this a snobbish oversight. George DuBoeuf's everyday Beaujolais and a smoked chicken from Bloomington's Butcher Block are an easy way to have a great meal. But setting that issue aside, there is a lot of excitement from a few producers who resist the easy charms of simple Beaujolais for something special. These wines are obviously a favorite at Tallent -- currently there is a Foilard Morgon which is a lovely wine. It reminds me of a story told by Pierre Rovani, who reviews Burgundies for Robert Parker's newsletter, The Wine Advocate. He invited a friend for lunch, ordered roast chicken and a Morgon from LaPierre, whereupon the friend reached for the winelist to pick something better. My first thought was what kind of idiot would try to override Rovani's choices? Pierre can order my wine anytime he wants. But then I suppose there are people who turn down investment advice from Warren Buffett and I remember all the first-year law students who come up after class to explain to me what really goes on in the Supreme Court. (The same Lapierre Morgon, by the way, was on Tallent's wine list before the current Foilard.) These wines, anyway, are food friendly, interesting and usually a great quality to price ratio. Right now, Big Red has three wines which go a step beyond. These wines are made in Brouilly, by Jean-Claude Lapalu, who apparently lacked the heart to tell his vines they were only good Beaujolais. So he raised them like Burgundy from the Cote d'Or, stressing the vines, with low yields, long maceration and new oak. Wow! My daughter and I had the Brouilly tonight (Cuvee des Fous, 2003, $33). This is a wine with the deep purple and blue rim of young vintage port, with a rich nose of black cherries, plums and almonds. In the mouth the wine has a rich creamy texture. The finish is maybe a little short but I suspect a year in the cellar might take care of that. The tannins are smooth and elegant. Serve it to friends, don't tell them what it is, and drive them crazy.

Riesling and Chinese

2005-03-01T12:04:00.000-08:00

Here I am in O'Malia's, having just bought some shrimp with thoughts of celery, hot pepper sauce and peanuts. Happily, here is a Villa Maria riesling from New Zealand, the 2003, priced in the low teens. This is a bright and juicy wine, with flavors something like green apple and a citrus (maybe lime) touch to it, with a lot of bracing acid and a touch of sweetness. With spicy Chinese food, the sweetness soothes and the tangy fruit flavors refresh. I've not had much luck matching a weighty riesling (say Zind Humbrecht) with Chinese food. At Mark Pi's I am happy with the cheap Dr. Loosen, low in alcohol and maybe a touch too sweet but still a nice match for hot spices. But the Villa Maria adds a more interesting quality. I also can't escape the probably silly prejudice that a Pacific Rim wine suits Asian food better. I first tried the Villa Maria riesling because I also find their widely available sauvignon blanc a good wine at a good price but that will be a post for another day.

2002 Burgundy

2005-02-28T12:33:00.000-08:00

2002 is not only a good year for Burgundy, it is especially a good year among the less expensive wines. So far, I have found one excellent wine in the twenties -- Arlaud's "Roncevie," a wine just outside Gevrey. Lovely fresh fruit, cherry predominating, spicy and ready to drink. For about twice the money, the Nuits St. Georges Aux St. Juliens from Daniel Bocquenet is a splendid wine -- black cherry fruit, sousbois, anise, with some rustic tannins -- a deep and potentially complex wine. Needs a few years. Both were available at Big Red.