It's easy to mock the European wine glut. And Simon gets in a few shots at the Eurocrats for good measure. It's worth remembering two things, however. The first is that there are two entirely separate European wine industries. One makes origin-controlled, excellent wines (think the AOC, DOCG, DO, etc systems, or even VDQS or VdP) that are quite marketable. These are the wines you see in the United States, and there is no crisis involving them. The problem is with the enormous mass of table wine, of which there is far too much produced. This is a wine universe totally separate from what Americans think of when French or Italian wine comes to mind. The glut of table wine has nothing to do with the other wines.
Second, the wine glut is not the result of some unfortuitous happenstance. It's the predictable result of perfectly well-considered policies designed to subsidize farmers and thereby preserve the traditional character of the European countryside. These policies apply to categories other than wine with similar side effects (think of the butter mountain), and they have largely succeeded. Rural areas in France have not been transformed by massive agribusiness, and the world is better off for it. That fabric of life is something worth saving.
I always find it amusing when Americans make fun of European agricultural policy and the resulting surpluses. Like the Europeans, we spend vast sums (in our case tens of billions of dollars a year) on farm subsidies and other agricultural price supports. Here too, the result is enormous agricultural overproduction. But, unlike the Europeans, we subsidize massive agribusinesses rather than small farmers and therefore get none of the cultural and aesthetic benefits their policies obtain. Agricultural gluts are a price worth paying to preserve the hedgerows of Normandy or the charm of Languedoc. They are not a price worth paying to improve the bottom line at Archer Daniels Midland.
Thursday, May 31, 2007
EU Wine Reforms, Perspective
EU Wine Reforms, Update
The European Union is expected to scale back its proposed reforms for its ailing wine industry, reducing the number of vineyards to be ripped out and signaling a willingness to compromise on its intended ban on chaptalization.
The proposed ban on chaptalization has run into fierce criticism from major northern European countries, with Austria and Germany already on the record as being opposed. According to one diplomat, the proposed ban will likely be used mainly as a bargaining chip and will not be a "deal-breaker."
The practice is already banned in Mediterranean countries such as Italy, Spain, and Portugal but remains commonplace in France and other traditional wine making nations. EU agriculture commissioner Mariann Fischer Boel had hoped to supplant the traditional enrichment of wine with sucrose with the more expensive practice of adding concentrated grape must as a means of reducing the sucrose surplus. With chaptalization banned, it would be easier for Fischer Boel to push through her proposed reforms of the sugar industry, including reduced quotas and subsidies.
A European Commission spokesperson also announced that the proposed 400,000 hectacres of vines targeted for its "grubbing up" scheme will be reduced to 200,000ha. Instead, the EU plans to shift its efforts toward increased marketing.
The EU faces a real crisis in its wine industry, with a reported 1.5 billion liter "wine lake" of surplus. Once again, Brussels has proven itself to be a model of efficiency.
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Age of Anxiety
When reading posts like all of these, I can never be quite sure whether I'm exhilarated or depressed. The imagination takes flight, and I definitely enjoy fantasizing about the wines, but that's tinged by the despair of knowing that I'll never be able to taste the vast majority of them. It's quite distressing--the unfairness of it all.
It's enough to make me wish I were born seventy or a hundred years ago when these wines were affordable. I'd happily give up my various electronic devices in exchange. As long as no one else had them, I don't think I'd much miss the conveniences of modern life. This will sound odd coming from a blogger but, frankly, I'd probably be better off without a computer. And document review would be a lot less unpleasant in the absence of e-mail.
Just Because It's Summer Doesn't Mean You Should Drink Bad Wine
Ever since the Constitutional Convention during that long Philadelphia summer of 1787, the languorous expanse between Memorial Day and Labor Day has been an indelible part of the rhythm of American life: the days of summer holidays and roadtrips, weekends at the Hamptons or the Shore, the party season at Gatsby's, the height of baseball season and Presidential campaigns, and lazy afternoons of Ultimate and barbecue. And accompanying that all-American tradition of outdoor grilling of late have been the obligatory articles from wine writers detailing the appropriate pairings for pulled pork, beef ribs, brisket and the like.
Wine writers for middle-brow newspapers tend toward the condescending, and never more so when recommending the "ideal summer wine." (Do they really drink Ravenswood themselves at home?) Exhibit A is Karen Page and Andrew Dornenburg's "Four Hot Prospects for Summer Sipping" in today's Washington Post, which offers recommendations for "BBQ" wines: "big, bold and quaffable." (No doubt a dozen other writers this week have arrived at a similarly egregious acronym.)
While I admit that many barbecue dishes, especially those slathered with thick sauces, require wines of some brashness and verve, just because the mercury's risen and you're drinking outside doesn't mean you've taken leave of your senses or, more importantly, your taste. Therefore, I humbly propose to offer four counter recommendations to Page and Dornenburg, all with the proviso that these wines are a bit splurgy and not meant for mindless quaffing. But, hey, you only live once, and with all that barbecue you've been eating, the man may come around sooner than you think.
As an all-purpose barbecue wine, Page and Dornenburg suggest the Sauvion Rosé d'Anjou ($10), a simple Loire rosé made from gamay and groslot. A perfectly respectable wine and probably the most apt of their four choices. But if you are indulging in the frivolity that is rosé, why not go all the way and have a Rosé Champagne, one of the most delightful mood wines there is (remember Cary Grant and Deborah Kerr in An Affair to Remember?). Rosé Champagne is an excellent match for barbecue, as it has the fruitiness, acidity, and bubbles to complement traditional sauces. Most of the famous Champagne houses put out a very good non-vintage rosé, and few are better than the Billecart-Salmon Rosé ($65), with refreshing cherry and strawberry flavors, good acidity, and impeccable balance.
For that "red-meat person" in your party, the Post writers recommend Ravenswood Icon Syrah ($17). The less that is said about the monstrosity that is Ravenswood the better (it's owned by the corporate giant Constellation Brands, whose portfoilo also includes Corona Extra and Corona Light). Admittedly, my next choice is a splurge wine, but it is also by far the finest New World Syrah or Shiraz I have ever tasted: the 1992 Henschke Hill of Grace ($300). Bearing little resemblance to the over-extracted, over-oaked Shiraz currently in favor in Australia, the Hill of Grace offers stunningly pure red fruit, with hints of spice and eucalyptus. Accessible now but still youthful, with a long life ahead.
As a pairing with "pork, chicken or virtually anything other than red meat," Page and Dornenburg suggest the Hogue Columbia Valley Riesling ($9), which throws in a dollop of Gewurztraminer for good measure. Yet if you're in the market for an off-dry Riesling, why not go for the real thing and pick out a good German Kabinett or Spatlese. German Rieslings are one of the few remaining bargains from Old World noble grapes, and a top producer like Ernst Loosen (whom I've written about previously) puts out excellent wines from top to (almost) bottom. Even mature German Rieslings can be found on the market for reasonable prices. The 1990 Weingut A. Gessinger Riesling Spatlese Zeltinger Sonnenuhr ($30) displays classic Middle Mosel notes of kerosene, apples, minerals, and honey and features a juicy mid palate and a nice, fresh acidity despite its maturity. An especially good pairing for foods inclining toward the sweet or the spicy.
And, finally, Conundrum ($27, né Caymus Conundrum) is the authors' choice of a somewhat more "upscale" white to pair with grilled fish or chicken ("its price tag means we save it for dinner with guests, who invariably thank us"; perhaps they're just being polite). Conundrum, which is blended from some combination of Viognier, Sauvignon Blanc, Chardonnay, Muscat or Semillon, has gone steeply downhill since the heady days of the early '90s when the wine garnered positive reviews from Robert Parker. For another proprietary white that is upscale enough to reserve for the table, I would suggest the 2003 Clos des Papes Chateauneuf du Pape Blanc ($60). It is a rich, full-bodied wine with floral notes and white fruit flavors that despite the scorching heat of the vintage has great acidity and fine poise. An incredibly versatile, food-friendly wine -- perfect for that West Egg dinner party.
Update: As Mark Slater, sommelier of Citronelle, helpfully points out in a post on Don Rockwell's board, Constellation Brands had a bigger hand in this article than I initially thought. In addition to distributing the Ravenswood Icon Syrah, Constellation ("THE LARGEST WINE AND SPIRITS COMPANY IN THE WORLD," as Slater notes) also distributes Hogue Cellars and owns Caymus Cellars, producer of Conundrum. (Sauvion is part of W.J. Deutsch & Son's portfolio.)
This certainly calls into serious question Page and Dornenburg's method of selecting wines for review, as well as the New York-based writers knowledge, or lack thereof, of the DC wine market.
Monday, May 28, 2007
Wine of the Week: 2005 Clos du Caillou Cotes du Rhone
Continuing with our theme of reasonably priced wines of the week, I tried a 2005 Cotes du Rhone from Clos du Caillou. This domaine, also known as Vacheron-Pouizin, is a small grower in Chateauneuf du Pape and the surrounding areas that has quickly been developing an excellent reputation. Much of this reputation comes, of course, from their Chateauneufs (tending toward a modern style) rather than from their other wines, but I decided to taste their least heralded wine: a plain Cotes du Rhone--not even a villages or their impressive Bouquet des Garrigues.
The wine is definitely young--it could probably use a year or two in the cellar. But it is very drinkable right now. It was a little forward, even brash, initially. After getting some oxygen in the glass it calmed down and came nicely into balance. Like almost any wine you can get at its price, it wasn't terribly complex (although it certainly was not dumb either). The bottom line is that this is a very enjoyable drinking experience with moderate, well-integrated fruit and an appropriate level of acidity to complement. It's perfect to drink after a hard day of work when looking for a wine to casually appreciate rather than to subject to the full intensity of one's intellectual and tasting capacity.
Update: The wine should be available in the neighborhood of $15.
Parker: "I would not spend a dollar on '06 Futures"
Robert Parker has bluntly reaffirmed his pessimistic view of the U.S. market for 2006 Bordeaux, saying, "I would not spend a dollar on '06 futures."
These remarks, made at the Duquesne Club in Pittsburgh two weeks ago, come on the heels of his prediction earlier this month that "the 'futures' market in the USA will be largely a failure." (A self-fulfilling prophecy, perhaps?)
A weak dollar, combined with large expenditures on the outstanding '05 vintage and the availability of strong buys among the '03 Northern Medocs, all lead Parker to advise against any spending in the '06 en primeur campaign.
Curiously, Parker's latest column for Business Week offers his picks on "Where To Place Your 2006 Bordeaux Bets." He is less blunt for the "Executive Life" crowd than he was at the Duquesne Club, advising, "I wouldn't load up on 2006 futures, as the vintage is good but not great."
Nevertheless, Parker offers up his recommendations for futures worth a gamble if priced below $45: Branaire-Ducru, Malescot St.-Exupéry, Haut-Bailly, Duhart-Milon, Fleur Cardinale, Monbousquet, Smith-Haut-Lafitte and Clos de L'Oratoire.
Anyone care to bet on how many of these wines come in under that price point? (My prediction is three: Duhart-Milon, Fleur Cardinale and Clos de L'Oratoire.)
Friday, May 25, 2007
On the Map
This is great news. We can only hope that it will encourage efforts to further entrench the sense of place of American wines. Moreover, if American wines start to benefit from protection of the names of their geographic origins along with European wines, it can only increase the likelihood that American negotiators will be amenable to further protections in future trade deals.
A Toast to the Long Weekend
Classic Orson Welles ad for Paul Masson, the "Champagne King of California," abandoned after three sublimely loopy takes (Hat tip: Dan Tobin). Some of the greatest American screen acting on record.
Thursday, May 24, 2007
EU to Propose Ban on Chaptalization
Europe's Agriculture Commissioner has proposed banning chaptalization, the historic practice of adding sugar to wine during fermentation to boost alcohol levels and enhance a wine's body.
Mariann Fischer Boel is set to unveil a wide range of measures to reform Europe's ailing wine sector July 4 but previewed her proposals in remarks that can be found here (thank you, Jancis).
Chaptalization, while not as frequently utilized now as it was fifteen or twenty years ago, nevertheless remains common practice in less ripe vintages even among some of the very best producers of Burgundy and Bordeaux. As reported here, Pierre Lurton of Cheval Blanc chaptalized in 1998 to increase the alcohol level of 8 perecent of his crop by 1 degree. In the more challenging vintages of 1992 and 1997, Lurton added sugar to even more of his crop. And the practice is even more ingrained in the winemaking of Burgundy, where ripeness (outside of a freakish year like 2003 or the miraculous 2005 vintage) remains a perpetual challenge. (Of course, global warming may change all of that.)
Fischer Boel's proposed ban comes as part of the EU's intended reforms of the sugar industry, with lowered subsidies and production quotas intended to bring down the EU's surplus of sucrose. Though this was not specifically addressed, the practice of adding concentrated grape must to wine, as opposed to sugar, may remain untouched. She also argued that the EU needs to bring the European wine industry in line with the guidelines of the World Trade Organization and the International Organization of Vine and Wine (OIV), which both prohibit the use of sugar.
The other proposed reforms include:
-Extending the planting restrictions, now set to expire in 2010, until 2013
-Continuing the program of ripping out vines
-Removing subsidies for distilled alcohol made from industrial wines never intended to reach market
-Labelling the varietal and vintage on wine bottles
Fischer Boel famously said last year that Europe needs to allow producers to make "New World style" wines. These measures come as the EU struggles to come to grips with a crippling wine surplus.
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Industrial Marketing
Apologies for my recent lack of posting. Work has been crazy the past week or so. Luckily Simon has been able to hold down the fort. He's been posting about one of the most objectionable techniques of industrial-style wine-making--the use of oak chips to impart overwhelming, fake flavors to wines that would otherwise be merely insipid, unbalanced, and badly textured.
But from my perspective that's the least of these wines' troubles. I can avoid drinking the wines, and their existence gives me something to criticize when feeling grumpy. On the other hand, I'm regularly subjected to their offensive marketing, in which I'm told that if only I drink the wines a certain classiness and sophistication will be added to my life. I'm also informed that I will have a delightful aesthetic experience. And, for whatever reason, the aesthetic particulars seem to be remarkably similar from bottle to bottle.
I have recently had the misfortune to come into possession (through no fault of my own) of two bottles of industrial-style Australian wine. The first is imported by an outfit called "The Country Vinter," in whose website are revealed operational details not entirely consonant with the picture of a barn on the frontpage (although they do peddle (pdf) some wines that I would be more than happy to drink). They describe the particular wine I received thusly:
It has oodles of berries on the nose with suggestions of plum and spice. The fruit and spice follows through to the palate, fills the mouth and finishes soft and velvety.
The second importer does not appear to have a website, but I am sure they are just as objectionable. They describe their wine as having:
Generous ripe berry flavors followed by a silky, spice finish.
We can conclude that the standard marketing formula promises plenty of berry flavors plus spiciness and a smooth finish. Those looking for some variety can choose between ripe or (presumably) unripe berry flavors and having their spiciness on the nose(!) and palate or on the finish. Perhaps there is also some meaningful difference between analogizing wine to velvet or to silk.
I wonder if these sellers have explicit contempt for the customers, since they seem to regard them as automatons who think "good wine" when the label repeats three rote characteristics. And it's amazing to me that this is an effective marketing regime--one so effective that it's worth it to competitors to mimic each other and split the audience rather than to appeal to a different consumer with some new strategy.
Of course, making fun of this sort of wine is easy to do. But if there is a larger point here, it is the foolishness of the tasting note, which this exercise shows to be ultimately no more meaningful than a numerical score.
Naming Names
In response to our post below on "oak alternatives," reader Phil from New York asks if we know of specific producers who use oak chips in their wine. This information is often tightly held in the industry, to say the least, as many wine lovers consider the practice taboo. Quite helpfully, though, the Wine & Vines issue on "oak alternatives" conducted a blind tasting of wines from known users of these controversial techniques.
The five producers who provided samples were: Romel Rivera, Corté Riva Vineyards, Santa Rosa, Calif.; Gordy Venneri, Walla Walla Vintners, Walla Walla, Wash.; Steve Pessagno, Pessagno Winery, Salinas, Calif.; Sean Larkin, Larkin Wines, Yountville, Calif.; and Clark Smith, GrapeCraft Wines, Sebastopol, Calif. (Have they no shame?)
Obviously, this is just the tip of the iceberg.
The Wine & Vines article, complete with the results from the blind tasting, can be found here.
House Wines
Today's Washington Post features a useful survey of a perennial topic: inexpensive wines for daily drinking under $15. To be honest, I've never thought much of the idea of a having an established "house wine" -- I like variety too much to buy multiple cases of a single, inexpensive wine and even for casual company like to serve something a little special. But I do like the idea an "occasional wine" -- wines for a particular mood or setting or season -- and many of the recommendations in the article (most from DC-area chefs and sommeliers) are wonderful suggestions for casual summertime drinking.
I must say, however, that I don't care much for the authors' -- Karen Page and Andrew Dornenburg -- choice of "house white": the "Dr. L" Riesling from Ernest Loosen in Germany ($12). Having tasted through most of Loosen's wines last year in the U.K., I found the 2004 "Dr. L" Rieslings clumsy, imbalanced, and lacking in freshness. The "Dr. L"s are Loosen's entry-level Rieslings and by far the weakest in his range. For a small step up in cost, one can drink far, far better from Loosen's truly impressive portfolio. For example, the 2004 Dr. Loosen Wehlener Sonnenuhr Kabinett -- balanced, elegant, and refreshing, with great minerality -- is available for around $17.
Spinning Oak Chips
"Get the information out yourself, on your own terms, so you can set the terms of debate." The dictum that was page one of the Clinton White House's media playbook has now been appropriated by the wine industry with regards to the use of oak chips. As Eric Asimov reports in his latest dispatch, the trade magazine Wine & Vines devoted an entire issue last month to "oak alternatives" in the hopes that the industry can get out in front of the issue. The desired end, of course, is having the general public accept the much reviled practice of imparting traditional oak flavors in a wine through the use of oak chips, wooden blocks, powder, or barrel staves rather than the significantly more expensive process of traditional barrel aging.
Oak chips have long been used to flavor cheap wines, and the results are usually quite vile: wines with caricatured oak flavors without any of the nuance -- let alone the structure, texture, or body -- of wines carefully aged in new oak barrels.
But Wine & Vines editor Jim Gordon, in spin worthy of James Carville, argues: “People are going to find out sooner or later about all of this, so wouldn’t the American wine industry be smart to shape the story itself, rather than let some political opponent or competing region do so? The industry is probably much more frightened of the subject than consumers will be. Oak is as natural as it comes. Whether it surrounds and contains the wine or is immersed in it, it’s still just a natural flavoring from a tree that symbolizes strength and longevity."
It is all too easy to take part apart Gordon's statement ("symbolizes"? powdered tannins as "natural" as traditional oak barrels?) and, instead, I would like to turn to a more helpful framing of the issue from David Schildknecht of The Wine Advocate. Schildknecht, writing in a thread on the Squires Board, states that as with any manipulative technique in winemaking, there are "issues of taste and issues of authenticity, both matters of degree, and both with an irreducible component of human preference and volition."
Schildknecht surveys many of the oak alternatives currently available and finds some techniques to be much more successful than others in the context of low-cost alternatives for wines "never designed or priced to go through a traditional, expensive barrel-élevage." Yet Schildknecht concludes that even if he may find the taste of a particular wine enhanced by the use of oak blocks, he may, just the same, avoid that wine for its lack of authenticity: "I might, in short, think that its use represents cheating in the game with nature that is called 'making wine.'" Of course, as Schildknecht observes, the argument then turns to how to define "cheating" and how indeed to distinguish barrel aging from oak chips. This is precisely the line that Jim Gordon and the industry seek to blur with their talk of all forms of oak being "a natural flavoring."
Schildknecht, like Gordon, comes out in favor of greater openness about the issue, but for very different reasons. Schildknecht argues: "The irony is that as long as winemaking techniques and technology are viewed by a significant segment of the wine-drinking public ... as transcending or offending against some vague notion of 'tradition' - in short as taboo - the less information oenologists and winery owners are inclined to divulge about their practices and hence the more likely that you are buying and enjoying wine whose production involved methods you may be claiming are a tool of the devil!"
I am generally sympathetic toward Schildknecht's free market argument: have all the information available to the consumer and let the market decide. But I also agree with the decision of INAO (the French regulatory agency overseeing wine production) to ban the use of oak chips in all appellation contrôlée wines in the face of the EU's recent directive allowing their limited use. I firmly believe it is the place of a regulatory body with the historic mandate of INAO to hold the line with regards to the best French wines (if only INAO were as vigilant in limiting yields). Yet in the absence of such a regulatory scheme in the United States, the onus will rest upon the consumer to be informed and inquisitive and demand that the use of these techniques be fully disclosed.
And I am hopeful. As one contributor to the Squires Board thread put it: "... there's cheese and then there's 'cheese product,' process cheese like Kraft Singles. Maybe it's time for wine labels to reflect the same distinctions."
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Compromised Winemaking
In an earlier post, my co-blogger Jeffrey compares a Meursault-Genevrieres from Burgundy to a painting by Titian -- both aesthetic monuments demanding respect for their incomparable beauty, masterful execution, and uncompromising artistic ideals. Yet just as the art world has changed from the time of Titian, so too has the world of wine from the time of the monks. To take just one small facet of these seismic changes, the shift from artistic production for a coterie or a connoisseur-based audience -- the court, or landed gentry, or merely the very rich -- to production for a mass audience -- whether it be gallery audiences, or restaurant goers, or Napa tour buses -- has not been insignificant. In the case of wine, oenological science, particularly in the New World, has sought ways to compete with, and even improve upon, Old World tradition in the eyes of the marketplace. Aside from maybe the top three or four dozen producers worldwide, winemakers today are less like the Old Masters and more and more like Jeff Koons (see right).
This week's Grape Radio interview with winemaker Mike Trujillo (of Karl Lawrence and Sequoia Grove) provides uncommonly frank insights into the economic forces shaping the aesthetics of winemaking. While not exactly riveting radio in the vein of Gary Pisoni, the Trujillo interview paints a fascinating portrait of an upper-mid-tier producer struggling to navigate the demands of the contemporary marketplace and the taste of today's consumer. When asked point-blank if he makes compromises to accommodate the demand for wines that deliver instant gratification, Trujillo answers, "Yes." He admits: "If money didn't play a role in my career, my wines would be even more wound tight."
Trujillo also admits to embracing two controversial, interventionist techniques -- fining and filtration -- for the sake of delivering a reliable consumer product. (Fining is the addition of a substance like egg whites or skim milk to act as a comb to remove particles and clarify the wine. Filtration acts as a screen to remove bacteria and solid particles. Many winemakers and critics believe that both techniques strip wine of its character. Andrew Jefford writes that filtration "achieves stability at the cost of lost aroma and flavour" while fining "is rarely necessary after unhurried elevage.") "I'm a big proponent of filtration ... if it's done right," Trujillo says, as it serves to "polish up the wine, make it brilliant and make it real shiny and sparkly in the glass."
Now, admittedly, Trujillo has a more nuanced position, as he cites the need for sterilization and also argues that many winemakers who claim to produce unfiltered wines still use some method to achieve the same ends. Yet, as Jefford writes, almost all of the top domaines in Burgundy have long abandoned fining and filtration to no ill effect. It is interesting to observe, here, that it took the pressure of American journalists and importers like Robert Parker and Kermit Lynch to get producers to stop using these techniques, and many domaines produce special unfined and unfiltered cuvees for the USA market alone. Readers of Parker and Lynch have long accepted the gospel of unfined and unfiltered wines, while it is the European consumer who has lost sight of wine as an agricultural product and cannot bear the thought of a single, stray particle in the glass. Yet Trujillo either misreads the American market or is targeting a less sophisticated consumer when he says he needs filtration to deliver a sterile, stable product: "The customer is very important, and I need to deliver an expectation to this customer year after year after year."
While it is not exactly news that wines are being made in a more fruit-forward, consumer friendly style (or that artisans can and do compromise their ideals for market share), these trends do evoke an almost tragic sense of loss. If a Brian Loring says he makes wines in the super-ripe, high-octane style that he does because that's the style he enjoys and believes in, then more power to him. Let him stand or fall by his ideals. But there is something irredeemably sad about Trujillo's case when he says he cannot make the wine he ideally would produce.
And he is not alone. Even in Bordeaux and Burgundy, fewer and fewer producers are willing to make the old-school tannic beast that needs twenty years in the cellar to settle down and bring it into a remarkable balance worthy of the wait. The vin de garde may be becoming a thing of the past. And the true wine lover is in the position of the museum patron who, while recognizing that art must always speak to the present and that old forms need to be made new, nevertheless stands in awe before Titian's Europa and sighs: "Why can't they make them like this anymore?"
Monday, May 21, 2007
"They're real, and they're spectacular"
Ever wonder what to do with wine that's been sitting out for four or five days? Actress Teri Hatcher has a novel solution -- she uses it to bathe. In a recent interview, the Desperate Housewives star reveals that she'll throw leftover wine into her bathwater for its supposed health benefits.
"When you're alone you open a bottle of wine, and then it's not really good after four or five days," Hatcher said.
"This make-up chemist that I know was talking about all the good properties in wine - antioxidants and stuff, exfoliating qualities - and she said, `Never throw it out, dump it in your bath,’" she added.
Hatcher, who famously eschews plastic surgery, advocates an all-natural lifestyle: "For as long as I can get away with it, I'd rather just be natural. The idea of putting stuff in your body is weird to me."
No tasting notes, alas, are available at this time.
Readers seeking more home-spun wisdom from the 42-year-old former Bond and MacGyver girl are best advised to consult Burnt Toast: And Other Philosophies of Life, Hatcher's 2006 memoir.
Wine Blogging Interactive Edition, Update
Jeffrey and I have decided to wait until next week to discuss the selected wine for our proposed blogospheric tasting. This is to allow readers an additional week to participate (and, admittedly, give us time to taste the wine ourselves). Please do let us know, though, via the comments feature if you've had the chance to pick up the wine, so we can gauge interest in the project (and also so we can see if people are actually reading our blog, or if they're just stumbling onto us via Google searches like "2005 Parker Bordeaux upgrades.")
To recap: the wine is the 2004 Las Rocas de San Alejandro Garnacha ($10). It is a special project from importer Eric Solomon, who sourced the grapes from 70-100 year old high-altitude vines. These vines are low-yielding, and the wine itself is unoaked, so it ought to deliver exceptional purity of fruit for the price point. As noted below, the wine is currently available at Calvert Woodley in DC and Sherry-Lehmann and Zachys in New York. Readers in other cities may want to consult Wine-Searcher. (We have no affiliation with any of these places, nor with Eric Solomon Selections.)
Wine of the Week: 2004 M. Magnien Bourgogne Rouge
"Rustic" is a term that I often find misused or misunderstood in wine writing. All too frequently, a wine is described as "rustic" to excuse its being underripe, thin, imbalanced, or overly acidic -- generally unable to compete by world-wide standards. Conversely, critics who favor more modern-styled wines tend to employ the term pejoratively to criticize wines for those very same negative qualities.
I would like to reclaim the word "rustic" as a positive, yet accurate, descriptor in wine writing by returning to an older definition of the word, one cited by the OED in the works of Shakespeare, Milton, Dryden, and Johnson: "Plain and simple; unsophisticated; having the charm of the country." The key element here, of course, is the notion of "charm." For me, rustic wines are those that while lacking in sheer richness, power, and sophisticated tannins nevertheless have a certain brightness, a liveliness, a distinctive character that make them eminently pleasurable to drink. Could "the charm of the country" perhaps even connote a sense of terroir?
Our wine of the week, Michel Magnien's 2004 Bourgogne Rouge ($20), is a wine that I would call "rustic" in the best sense. It displays a brilliant ruby color, and the classic pinot nose is dominated by raspberries and earth. It is medium-bodied, high in acidity, yet very well-balanced, with bright red fruit flavors. As this wine originates from the generic Bourgogne appellation -- meaning the grapes can be sourced from anywhere in greater Burgundy -- it inevitably lacks in concentration and sophistication. It does, however, offer great persistence and length for its level as well as an attractive core of ripe fruit. (Magnien is known for making Burgundies in a riper style, an asset in a difficult 2004 vintage that left many wines with a green or vegetal streak.) And most importantly, the racy acidity gives the wine a liveliness on the finish that freshens the palate and makes it a great food wine (it paired excellently with roast chicken). Red fruits and earth -- charm of the country, indeed.
Friday, May 18, 2007
On Vintage 2005: "Perfection ... doesn't have much character"
Reading through Fiona Morrison's profile of Chambolle-Musigny, I was struck by the comments of leading producer Frédéric Mugnier on the 2005 Burgundy vintage: "There is something perfect about it but also something bothersome -- perfection almost doesn't have much character -- it needs aging to give it more character."
As Morrison reports in her October 2006 article for Wine & Spirits (a must-read; PDF file here), for Mugnier, "2004 is more intriguing; he finds the essence of Chambolle in the best wines." In contrast to the forgivingly perfect weather conditions in 2005, "2004 did not allow for errors, as it was riddled with traps such as risk of rot, disease and the temptation of excessively high yields."
It is not surprising that a producer of Mugnier's skill would find 2004 more interesting. 2004 was a winemaker's vintage, rewarding those with the most rigorous methods and highest standards of vinification while punishing lesser producers with under-ripe, austere wines. Reading through numerous producers' notes for 2005, I almost found a sense of boredom as they recited the same litany of vintage characteristics -- optimum weather, ample time for harvest, perfectly ripe, clean fruit with little, if any, sorting needed. Bruno Clair confessed that during the growing season, he had "nothing to do."
Yet it is interesting to juxtapose Mugnier's near disdain of "perfection," and his embrace of the challenges of a difficult vintage, with his professed non-interventionist approach to winemaking. "I'm wary of enology," Mugnier tells Morrison, and on his website states that "processes that traumatise the wine – over extraction, for example, or excessive woodiness – are limited to a minimum."
It becomes clear, then, that for Mugnier, the vigernon's work rests more in the vineyard than in the cellar. Tending the vines as a farmer -- with treatments against rot or pruning to reduce yields -- is the paramount work. Once the grapes are harvested and sorted, the "goal is to preserve the inherent quality of the grapes and not fiddle with them too much," as Morrison puts it. That is, to bring out the distinctive character of the vintage and the vineyard rather than achieve a certain generic standard of ripeness or concentration through interventionist techniques.
It also becomes clear what Mugnier means by perfection being "bothersome" and lacking "character." Young wines made from perfectly ripe fruit tend to lack transparency -- that is, they don't yield the distinctive characteristics of a particular vineyard, which are initially overwhelmed by blanket fruitiness. The "essence of Chambolle" is muted. Yet it is this quality of transparency -- "the ability to transmit clearly the underlying terroir," as Allen Meadows puts it -- that traditional Burgundy lovers prize most in their favorite wines.
Now Meadows is optimistic that the underlying terroir will shine through in these wines with age, but it may take twelve, fifteen, or twenty years for the very best '05s to reveal their distinctiveness and their greatness. People coming into Burgundy for the first time with the '05 vintage ought to know they have a long wait ahead of them. I shudder to think at the inevitable acts of infanticide that will be committed by those weaned on California pinot. Perhaps point chasers, if it is instant gratification that they desire, ought to follow Freddy Mugnier's advice and seek out wines from those many imperfect vintages.
Wine Blogging Interactive Edition
My friend Emily makes an excellent suggestion, namely that we should have a blogospheric wine tasting in which Simon and I suggest a wine that is available and affordable, allow people time to purchase and drink it, and then have everyone discuss it on the site afterwards using our delightful comments feature. So this post will suggest a wine. And in a few days, after our dear readers have had time to drink it, we'll put up another post in which to have a discussion.
Our first wine is a somewhat obscure red wine from Spain which we think might be a great value at $10: the 2004 Las Rocas de San Alejandro Garnacha from Calatayud. Calatayud is a DO (an officially classified Spanish wine region) in the province of Saragossa, which is Northeast of Madrid and was part of the Kingdom of Aragon back in the day. Garnacha is probably familiar to most Americans as Grenache, one of the primary grapes in Chateauneuf de Pape. (Chateauneuf is a great wine from the the southern Rhone and can be a real higher-end value if you're looking to splurge--but choose growers carefully.) This will be both Simon and my first time trying this wine, but you can probably expect it to be approachable with forward, dark fruit flavors balanced by earthiness. I can't read the number on the label (pictured in the link below), but I would bet it's pretty high in alcohol.
For DC area residents, the wine is available at Calvert Woodley, which is right near the Van Ness stop on the red line. So grab a bottle, drink it over the weekend, and we'll discuss it next week.
Update: For our New York readers, the wine is available both at Sherry-Lehmann (on Madison Ave. near 61st) and at Zachys in Scarsdale.
Further Update: The wine is also available at MacArthur Beverages in D.C.; Blanchards, Andover Liquors, and Nejaime's Wine Cellars in Massachusetts; and Woodland Hills, San Francisco Wine Trading Company, and K&L Wines in California. For other states, try a search for "Las Rocas Garnacha" on Wine-Searcher.
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Austria: Vintage Report 2006
Terry Theise has just posted his 2006 vintage report for Austria, and it is definitely worth a read. His conclusion? 2006 is "a vintage of muscle and density, often magnificent, occasionally overdone, usually superb. It is an especially resplendent vintage for Grüner Veltliner, but Rieslings are often astonishing as well."
Theise, a legendary wine importer, has an outstanding reputation for publishing definitive vintage reports and tasting notes for Germany and Austria, despite his own position in the trade. He doesn't hesitate to call a spade a spade, but he has also single-handedly brought countless hidden gems into the US market. Austria is a great source for good, inexpensive wines, and Theise's advice is well worth heeding.
The Dead Hand of the Law
I learned yesterday that I'd won my first victory as a practicing lawyer (we obtained a reversal in a interlocutory appeal for which I drafted the briefs) and to celebrate I figured I'd serve some nicer wine than usual while watching the NBA playoffs with my friend Matt. Accordingly, I swung by one of DC's more well-known wine stores (which shall remain nameless to avoid providing it with any undeserved publicity--not that this site has any market power, but it's the principle of the thing) after dinner and picked out a bottle of Latour-Giraud Meursault-Genevrieres from a good but not great year (99). At which point I went to pay and was promptly carded.
When I asked the clerk whether they normally had a problem with 18-year-olds buying premier cru Meursault, he didn't seem to think that they did. I suppose in some sense this is just a minor annoyance, and showing my driver's license isn't even much of a hassle in situations where I'm already pulling out my credit card. But there's something morally objectionable about a society where controls on alcohol are enforced so rigidly that people have to produce identity documents before being allowed to purchase fine wines. Just as the government shouldn't be regulating what paintings its citizens are allowed to view, it shouldn't control other forms of aesthetic expression, of which fine wine is an example.
People under twenty-one should be allowed to drink wine as they please. If they can't, they will be unable to develop their palates. And they have a right to enjoy Meursault just as they have a right to view a painting by Titian. As best I can tell, the 21-year-old drinking age has also been entirely ineffective at its intended goal of preventing drunk-driving fatalities. To the extent that is a serious problem, the more reasonable thing to do would be to ban under-21 driving, which would likely more effective and would have other beneficial externalities (i.e., reducing driving).
But even if restrictions on teenagers were appropriate, the government shouldn't be regulating adults' wine consumption simply to prevent teenagers from drinking. Teenagers' supposed inability to drink responsibly has nothing to do with adults and doesn't justify subjecting them to identity checks, especially when the wine they're buying makes it almost certain that they're not underage and drinking irresponsibly.
A Humble White from Domaine de la Romanée Conti
A Haute-Côtes de Nuits Blanc from Domaine de la Romanée Conti? Surely you jest. Or as the French would say, "C'est un blague ou quoi!" But as Neal Martin reports in his latest installment of Wine-Journal (now housed on eRobertParker.com; subscription, alas, required), this is no joke. This most famous of Burgundy domaines, producer of seven grand crus, is bottling a simple white wine from one of the humblest appellations in the region. But unlike the novelty bottling from Chateau Palmer I wrote on the other day, this is solely a charitable venture from Aubert de Villaine, co-owner of DRC, as all of the proceeds will be donated for the restoration of the historic monastery of Saint Vivant.
There have been scattered sightings of the bottling reported on French wine boards for the past few years, but Martin's, I believe, is the first major report in English. Further details on the venture can be found here in French and Japanese. For those without either language, here's my schoolboy's rendering from the French (corrections heartily welcomed):
The Monastery of Saint-Vivant is situated above a splendid site behind the Côte de Nuits and Vosne-Romanée. Founded around the year A.D. 900 by a vassal of the Dukes of Burgundy, and attached to the Abbey of Cluny in the 11th century, it is a "haut-lieu" of Burgundy, unfortunately in ruins today, which the Association "Abbey of Saint-Vivant" has undertaken for some years to preserve.
This Haute-Côtes de Nuits is made from vines situated in an enclave in the abbey. Proceeds from the sales of the bottles are given to the Assocation, which will devote them entirely to the work of preservation.
Martin declines to give a tasting note for the 2003, writing " it seems inappropriate for a wine not commercially available." It is quite unclear whether DRC's famously rigorous methods can work a kind of magic with vines of such humble pedigree. Martin reports that only 60 cases are produced annually, with most going to the French restaurant Lavinia. Yet the British scribe was perhaps a little naive in declaring: "do not expect to see them on eBay." A quick Google search revealed that indeed one bottle of the 2000 DRC Haute-Côtes de Nuits Blanc was offered on eBay.fr this March! (Bidding went up to 25 euros, below the reserve price; the picture above is from the now-concluded auction). Happy hunting!
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
In Praise of White Bordeaux
Eric Asimov, in a recent post, surveys the early critical reaction to 2006 Bordeaux ("somewhat mixed" but "pretty good") and the by now well rehearsed reasons why the vintage's claret will not be a great buy for the American consumer. Asimov reserves his greatest enthusiasm, however, for the promising reports about vintage's dry white Bordeaux, which he calls "sort of an anachronistic wine" but one that "really ought to get more respect." 2006 was, by all accounts, an outstanding vintage for the region's dry whites, and Neal Martin, among others, has called the whites from Pessac "fabulous."
Dry white Bordeaux, blended from Semillon and Sauvignon blanc, is too often a neglected wine, overshadowed by the world class sweet white and dry red wines from its own region, as well as more popular dry whites, like Chardonnay, worldwide. Yet if you have never tasted a dry white Bordeaux, I can almost guarantee you have never had anything quite like it. The best examples of dry white Bordeaux combine the crisp acidity and tropical fruits of Sauvignon blanc with the richness and unique, waxy texture of Semillon. It is a wine that is weighty and, with some age, carries complex non-fruit notes while not sacrificing freshness. It pairs excellently with fish and seafood dishes of all kinds, and provides a great alternate pairing with foie gras, for those not wanting a sweet wine.
Asimov lists Haut-Brion, Laville Haut-Brion, and Domaine de Chevalier as his top tier of dry white Bordeaux, and to that list I'm almost tempted to add "Y", the dry white wine from the fabled Chateau d'Yquem. "Y" is somewhat of a rarity, as it has been produced in only 23 vintages since 1959 and carries a unique fascination as being the product of the same estate that produces the world's most famous, and most expensive, dessert wine. While "Y" may not quite reach the heights of Haut-Brion blanc or Laville Haut-Brion, the 2000 "Y", which I tasted last year, was everything one wants in a dry white Bordeaux -- graceful and uncannily poised, with crisp, even slightly exotic, fruit flavors balanced by a richness of texture and a roundness of body. A wine of class and understated beauty, with a touch of that special Yquem magic.
Pinot Pressures
Yet another unfortunate consequence of that detestable movie whose name shall not be mentioned on this site (although I suppose I ought to have consulted my co-blogger before saying that) is that it has encouraged all sorts of people to decide that they want to drink wines made from pinot noir. This is despite their not actually liking the sort of wines that pinot most lends itself to and traditionally has produced the most sublime examples of. The result has been the production of a lot of pinot-based wines that taste as much as possible like bad cabernet. The Kosta Browne Simon wrote about a few days ago is a good example of this trend.
But that's not to say that all California pinot noir is like this. Eric Asimov has an article in today's New York Times reviewing some pinots from the Santa Barbara area, and his recommendations are definitely worth checking out. Asimov was "pleasantly surprised by how many wines seemed balanced and somewhat restrained." I'm not all that surprised. While California has a lot of bad pinots, there are lots of little wineries committed to making great ones (more on that in later posts). I also suspect that there's some selection bias going on here. These NYT tasting panels have to be choosing the wines they review pretty carefully, and they certainly have the expertise to be doing a good job. I'd be interested to know how, in preparing for a tasting like this (where they not only want to review specific wines but also to give an overview of Santa Barbara pinot), they balance giving a comprehensive overview with choosing wines that are likely to be worth recommending.
Wedding Bells and Bubbly
This morning's Washington Post features a pleasant write-up about Champagne (and sparkling wine alternatives) to serve for that very special reception on that very special day. I've always thought it a waste to spend tens of thousands of dollars serving Dom Perignon and classified Bordeaux at weddings (money better spent on crowding-pleasing premium beer and liquor), and horror stories abound of wine aficionados serving this or that cult wine only to have someone's second cousin pound a bottle in fifteen minutes.
Of course, a way around that problem is to follow Richard Nixon's example and hoard the good stuff at the head table (at state dinners, Nixon would have red wine served blind in decanters, allowing him to enjoy Chateau Margaux in secret while his guests drank California cabernet). While this brand of Nixonian paranoia might not be to all tastes, the Post reports that some DC-area chefs have started off their parties serving vintage Champagne for a smaller circle (1996 Bollinger Grande Annee -- outstanding stuff -- for Notti Bianche's Brendan Cox and his wife Leslie) while pouring lesser sparkling wines (Bisol Prosecco) for the rest of the night.
The article, written by Karen Page and Andrew Dornenburg, rightly points out that some of the best values in sparkling wine come from the lesser-known Champagne houses and the region's smaller growers. One of the best champagnes I have ever had came from one of the article's recommended houses, Duval-Leroy. The 1996 "Femme de Champagne" (pictured above; $65 for 500 ml) from Duval-Leroy exudes sheer luxury and class. It boasts an extraordinarily complex nose of floral aromas, white fruit, and pain grille, with hints of cheese and nuttiness, and on the palate it is incredibly poised with elegant fruit flavors. While I won't say it's batting in the same league as the 1996 Dom, for half the price the Duval-Leroy gives almost as much drinking pleasure.
Champagne is an outlier among the major French wine regions in that it is dominated by big houses like Moet, Bollinger, and Pol Roger rather than terroir-driven estates and producers. In the world of Champagne, corporate branding is much more important than the name of a grower or a vineyard (hence the easy pop references to Cris and Dom P). Yet almost perversely, this corporate dominance often creates a favorable situation for the consumer. For the sake of competition, the big houses tend to hold prices, particularly for their entry level cuvees, at a certain point, and therefore smaller growers and producers can't raise their prices above that level. Yet because the little guys aren't spending millions and millions on glitzy advertising campaigns, they almost always represent superior value -- you're paying for the grapes rather than ads in Vanity Fair.
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
Historical XIX Century Wine (at XXI Century Prices)
LA-based wine collector and Parker Board legend Jeff Leve has posted a scoop on a fascinating new project from Chateau Palmer: a blended wine consisting of 85% Bordeaux from Palmer's estate in Margaux and 15% Syrah. Called "Historical XIX Century Wine," this new offering is an homage to the bad old days when Bordeaux proprietors would routinely blend the traditional Bordeaux grape varietals with Syrah for added ripeness and heft. While this practice of adulteration has gone the way of adding ice to the vats to cool fermentation, Chateau Palmer apparently believes that collectors will chase this new offering for a chance to taste history.
As Leve notes, the French AOC laws create an interesting situation for this wine, as it must be labelled a vin de table, rather than Bordeaux, because the grapes come from two different regions. Also, as a vin de table, it cannot be labelled with a vintage year (this offering is from vintage 2004). The Bordeaux varietals are 50% Cabernet Sauvignon and 50% Merlot, but the Chateau is refusing to publicize the source of the Syrah (presumably from somewhere in the Rhone), so as not to adulterate the Bordeaux branding of the bottling and the estate.
Leve, who is famously close with Chateau owners and routinely hosts Bordeaux winemakers at his home, gives this 19th century throwback a favorable tasting note, calling it a fascinating blend of Hermitage and Bordeaux characteristics ("96 Pts"). But with only 100 cases made in 2004 -- and none in the 2005 and 2006 vintages -- few wine collectors will be able to decide for themselves whether this is a worthwhile endeavor or merely a clever marketing gimmick.
To Cork or Not to Cork
"The cork is here to stay," says George Taber, author of the forthcoming book To Cork or Not to Cork: The Billion-Dollar Battle for the Bottle. Over the last decade, the debate over the use of cork versus alternative enclosures, like the Stelvin screwcap, has been one of the fiercest in the wine world. As Taber says in a recent interview, "One Australian winemaker compared the issue to the wars of religion and said some feelings are so deep, he lost friends over it."
Proponents hail the screwcap, and other alternatives like glass, as revolutionary innovations that will defeat once and for all the scourge of cork taint (TCA) and other issues related to cork variability. Traditionalists, however, cling to the cork as an indispensable tradition and also argue that screwcaps damage the long-term aging potential of the finest wines. Proprietors of fabled estates like Romanee-Conti have said that if they knew of a better enclosure than cork, they would switch to it right away -- but none thus far have proven themselves superior for extended cellaring. Needless to say there is much invested on both sides.
Taber cites the usual reasons for the persistence of cork despite the strong in-roads Stelvin has made in Australia and New Zealand: the tradition, the romance, as well as laws mandating the use of cork in key wine producing countries like Italy, Spain, and Portugal. ("Americans still like the romance of the cork, and even low priced wine like "Two-Buck-Chuck" uses a cork.")
Yet more significantly, Taber appears to base his conclusion on industry research that he believes has made progress in eliminating TCA, the compound responsible for the foul, wet cardboard stench found in the occasional bottle: "There now are completely new methods for processing corks." Taber believes that cork taint is more prevalent among smaller cork producers without quality control and that these new methods will produce taint-free enclosures. It will be intriguing to read the fruits of Taber's investigation into the subject, as to date, there hasn't been anything close to a guaranteed TCA-free source of cork.
Despite my avowed traditionalist bent, the cork for me is a relic -- one properly consigned to the dust bin of history alongside other former wine enclosures, like rags soaked in olive oil. There is simply too much risk of spoiling a $300 wine with a 50-cent piece of wood. I lose sleep at night -- seriously -- for fear that my lone bottle of 2001 Chateau Ausone, opened on its 30th or 40th birthday, will end up smelling like wet cardboard. For me, the romance of wine is not in any overly elaborate uncorking ceremony (aside from maybe popping Champagne) but rather in the liquid in the bottle that has been lovingly made and cellared for decades. The fascination with cork, to me, is a superficial romanticism. This is a moral imperative -- wine must be saved from the cork.
Scoring Metastasis
Reader ScottS comments that the main problem with Parker and his points is that he's too powerful. He argues that a larger pool of reviewers, each with less power, would lessen the unfortunate market effects of Parker dominance and provide consumers with a more valuable metric for choosing wines.
I think the first is definitely correct. Scoring would be more ambiguous and would develop over time rather than appearing full-formed the day each issue of the Wine Advocate comes out. The crass market responses wouldn't be nearly so overt, and the overall market-driving power of the scores would be reduced because no one score or even compilation of scores would have the authority Parker currently does.
On the other hand, I'm less sure about the second point. When Parker gives a certain score, the consumer knows what it means. Parker has well-defined and well-understood preferences and gives 95's to one sort of wine and 92's to another. Even if you disagree with Parker's metric, a Parker score provides the consumer with information about the wine. A bundle of scores, averaged together, from various reviewers is far less helpful. Who knows what each of their preferences or scoring criteria are.
The fact that I can't accept ScottS's analogy between wine- and movie-reviewing is relevant here. Heavily reviewed movies tend to be mass-market phenomena with large family resemblances. Wines on the other hand differ enormously in very subtle and intricate ways. That, combined with the fact that reliable wine-reviewing requires a certain expertise, makes reliance on average reviews via a movie-esque star system unhelpful.
Of course, there is an enormous market for debased, uninteresting, industrial-style, mass-produced wine--in other words, wine that hardly deserves to be called wine at all--and perhaps the movie approach to reviewing is useful there. But from his comments it doesn't sound like that's the sort of wine ScottS is into, and if that's the sort of wine you're drinking you might as well just drink Smirnoff Ice. If you want to choose between a Lynch-Bages and a Cos de Estournel, conglomerations of reviews aren't going to help you much. The only exception I can think of is in the extremes--if one of them is really out-of-character bad in a particular year.
Books on Wine
If you ask wine geeks to name their favorite wine books, they will often answer as if asked their favorite (i.e., most important, most expensive) wine: they will list the towering, indispensable reference tomes of the wine world, like Hugh Johnson's World Atlas of Wine, or Robert Parker's Bordeaux, or Clive Coates's volume on Burgundy, books that are undeniably great but most fully appreciated by those already in the know. While Johnson, in particular, is a felicitous writer, these are books to dip into for a half hour at a time -- or to quickly look up which vineyard is situated where -- rather than devote an evening's pleasure to. On the other hand, ask the non-specialist reader, and you'll inevitably hear Sideways or A Good Year.
Jamie Ivey in today's Guardian has published his top ten books about wine, and while the list is geared toward the generalist (and predictably features those two books-turned-Hollywood confection), it does have some gems. In particular, readers are directed to Donald and Peter Kladstrup's Wine and War: The French, the Nazis, and the Battle for France's Greatest Treasure, a fascinating account of the Nazi occupation as experienced by vignerons. As Ivey writes, proprietors had to devise ingenious ways of saving their wine, "tricks like ageing young bottles by changing the labels and covering them in cobwebs to fool the Nazis into thinking they were vintage, or building false walls to hide the valuable years."
Yet a book left off Ivey's list that brings a distinctively literary and lyrical sensibility to a rigorous study of wine is Andrew Jefford's The New France: A Complete Guide to Contemporary French Wine. While a reference work ostensibly in the mold of Johnson's Wine Atlas, Jefford's volume is really a book on how to think about wine -- a Tao of wine, if you will. Jefford is an avowed defender of the notion of terroir and brings the soul of a poet to an examination of wine as understood in the context of the land, its history, and the people devoted to it as an agricultural product. It also has some of the best short profiles of the major French wine regions and leading producers to be found anywhere. Highly recommended.
Monday, May 14, 2007
Parker on 2006 Bordeaux Futures
Pricing is starting to roll out for 2006 Bordeaux futures, and already prospective buyers are up in arms about prices that are not far below those from 2005, a far superior vintage. The usual venting has been on display on the Squires Board, and Robert Parker himself weighed in on this thread. As usual, Parker's market analysis is worth hearing:
I still believe the "futures" market in the USA will be largely a failure....we presumably purchased loads of expensive 05s, after taking a gigantic position on 2000s....moreover, the dollar is so weak that it just doesn't make much sense to pay up front two years in advance....what if 2007 is fabulous?.....too many negatives working against the USA buyer.
In his book on Bordeaux, Parker advises that there are only four valid reasons for purchasing Bordeaux futures (two years before the wines actually hit the shelves): superb wine from a great vintage; prices that will save you money 2-3 years down the line; securing a limited production wine; or buying in bottle sizes other than the standard 750 ml. Right now, it just does not look like the first two conditions are being met, despite wines that have surpassed the initially dismal expectations for the 2006 vintage. Of course, as Parker observes:
I definitely believe the finest 06s are superior and more complete wines than the 2004s, but the Bordelais also realize that and will price the 06s accordingly...will be interesting to see if the "new" emerging markets....eastern Europe, central and South America, and of course the Pacific rim countries, take important positions on 06s.
Parker acknowledges that his 2006 report gave the Bordelais license to price the '06s above the '04s, despite the hope of many consumers to see Bordeaux prices fall back to earth. Here's hoping that a failed 2006 en primeur campaign in the U.S., as Parker predicts, will help bring the market in that direction.
Randy Savage as Grape Grower
Grape Radio has just put up the final segment of its Podcast on the 2006 Pinot Days convention in San Francisco, a two-day Pinot-fueled bender in celebration of the world's trendiest grape varietal. This third segment is rather dry, as it somewhat pointlessly tries to "broadcast" a series of blind wine tastings (how maddening not to be able to taste the juice!), but the Parts 1 and 2 feature a series of short interviews with growers and producers (some, of course, more interesting than others). The undeniable highlight of these segments -- worthy of anyone's attention -- is the interview with the exuberant -- and clearly toasted -- Gary Pisoni, who sounds uncannily like Randy "Macho Man" Savage from the old WWF.
Pisoni (pictured above), of Pisoni Vineyards, grows the fruit for some of the trendiest California pinot made in a fruit-driven, high-octane style, and the Grape Radio interview (which begins at 12:35 of Part 1) is a testosterone and alcohol-fueled rush of energy. Pisoni describes some of the early challenges of growing pinot noir in the United States and after some minimal prodding reveals the secret, and illicit, source of his success:
In the early '80s we could not grow good pinot noir in California ... I didn't know if it was the clones or the sites ... So anyway I went to a famous vineyard in Burgundy and went and got cuttings ... In my hand I got five hundred buds, wrapped them with gauze, stuck them down my pants ... I went through customs, and the customs lady says, "What's that?" And I go: "You want to check? I'm Italian." Scared her to death.
Pisoni is in many ways a throwback, a self-taught grower (he got a degree in psychology so he could "talk to the grapes") who never had the benefit (or handicap) of formal viticultural training: "I meet all these winemakers, get them drunk, and try to figure out their secrets." He is also an unabashed defender of the bigger, riper style of California pinot and boasts of California's superiority to the grape's traditional Burgundian home: "You can't beat California! We've got sunlight! Sometimes they have to put sugar in their wines, the poor dudes!" (Which is, in fact, true.)
A fantastically entertaining interview that begs to be heard -- check it out!
In Defense of Wine Seriousness
A lot of people (including some I care about greatly) are turned off by what they view as pretentious wine writing. I think they see it as arrogant, exclusivist, and overly fastidious in a way that sucks all the fun and enjoyment out of wine. To a large extent, they have a point. Wine is something to be shared and appreciated with friends, and pointlessly formal talk that pushes people away is totally contrary to the reasons both Simon and I are into wine.
At the same time, I think that it’s possible to enjoy wine much more if you approach it as a subject of exploration. Sharing wine with your friends is enormously enhanced by the ability to talk about it together, to discuss it together, "trying however imperfectly to describe in words the sensations in the glass" and share that with others, as Simon says over gmail chat. That’s the way to really come to appreciate wine. There’s a happy middle ground here between a pompous and empty focus on detailed trivialities and a desire to appreciate and know about what you’re drinking. Every wine has a story--and finding the good stories is usually a damn good way to find good wine.
That’s what Simon and I are trying to do here. But if you just want to drink and appreciate a good bottle, we have no problem with that.
Wine of the Week: 2005 Giacosa Dolcetto d'Alba Falletto
With all of the hyperbolic "vintage of the century" talk being lavished upon 2005 Burgundy, Bordeaux, and German Riesling, I think it imperative for the sane wine collector to take a step back from all the hype and examine some of the less discussed (and less dear) treasures from the world of wine. It is in this spirit that we feature Bruno Giacosa's 2005 Dolcetto d'Alba Falletto ($19) as this blog's inaugural "Wine of the Week." Dolcetto, from the Piedmont region of Italy, is a wine that usually retails for no more than $20 to $25 and, as Antonio Galloni has observed, has acquired the unfortunate reputation for being the "Beaujolais of Italy" -- an easy-drinking wine with soft, pleasing fruit, but by no means a serious effort. Yet Dolcetto is in fact the most common wine at the classic Piedmontese table, enjoyed throughout mealtime with a wide range of foods. At its best, Dolcetto offers refreshing notes of black and sour cherries, blueberries, and other dark fruits wrapped in a firm, but not overbearing structure of acid and tannin.
Bruno Giacosa (the granddaddy of traditional Piedmontese wine - pictured above) like most top winemakers in the region, produces a serious Dolcetto, and his Dolcetto d'Alba Falletto is made from fruit from his fabled vineyard in Serralunga. This wine offers dark, mesmerizing aromas of black cherry and a hint of spice with ripe, concentrated, and almost plush dark fruit flavors -- all balanced by a nervy acidity and soft tannins. It proved an excellent match for salami and risotto al Barolo, and even stood up remarkably well to Carbonada, the Piedmontese version of braised beef. (An attempted pairing with that other Italian speciality, grilled hamburger, was far less successful.) One would be hard-pressed to find a superior Dolcetto on the market today.
Returning to vintage talk for the moment, it must be said that 2005 was a superb vintage for Dolcetto, as the grapes were able to achieve an optimum level of ripeness and were picked before the onset of the September rains that forced an early Nebbiolo harvest in Piedmont. Even the wine we used for braising, a 2005 Dolcetto d'Alba from Salvano ($12), while far less bewitching than the Giacosa, was a well-balanced effort, offering pleasing (if less concentrated) dark fruits and decent structure. I'd certainly choose that over Beaujolais any day. Of course, the Dolcettos to look out for are the ones from the top producers and, in particular, their single-vineyard offerings. The 2005 Giacosa Dolcetto d'Alba Falletto is certainly worth a special search even if it is, in the grand scheme of things, as Michael Broadbent has written, "an important but minor red wine."
Sunday, May 13, 2007
A Morbid Post
Another thing is worth mentioning in regard to the issue
discussed below. The mere fact that science lacks (as of yet) an explanation for some observable phenomenon does not mean that said phenomenon is a figment of the imagination or the construct of evocative prose.
Until recently, we did not understand the mechanism behind X-linked Severe Combined Immunodeficiency. (It turns out to result from a mutation in the gamma chain of the interleukin-2 receptor.) Unfortunately for those afflicted with X-SCID, the absence of an explanation did not absolve them of the need to live in a hermetically sealed bubble because of their compromised immune systems.
Other examples abound. Glioblastoma is brain tumor. Even today, its causes are understood not at all and its mechanisms very poorly. But it will kill you all the same. Ditto for Alzheimer's and Multiple Sclerosis.
Similarly, the mere lack of a scientific explanation of the mechanism by which a wine reflects the soil in which its grapes are grown is not evidence for the absence of the ultimate effect.
Saturday, May 12, 2007
On Minerality
From a Chablis Vaudesir to a good village cru Macon to the $13 pinot grigio recently recommended to me in my local wine store, there's nothing I love more than a wine with a great mineral cut. And I think (or at least like to think) that I can and do differentiate between different minerally tastes. On the other hand, I've never gone in for the "list all the fruits you can think of" approach to describing various fruit flavors in wine. That's always seemed silly and reductionist to me. I justify the dichotomy on the ground that, when talking about different minerals, there's something real there--grand cru chablis is actually grown in soil from kimmeridgian limestone, and that's what I'm tasting. On the other hand, grapes are not actually grown out of boysenberries, huckleberries, or whatever other fruit happens to spring to mind at the moment a taster wants to describe the fruit flavors in the wine he's drinking.
That's why I was temporarily disheartened to read in Eric Asimov's post on Friday that a recent NYT magazine article "refutes the most literal meaning of terroir – that grape vines can somehow transmit the mineral components of the vineyard soil directly into a wine." Asimov adds that "Of course [one does not literally taste granite in the glass], just as you’re not literally tasting road tar and violets in a Barolo, or gooseberries and cat urine in a New Zealand sauvignon blanc, to take a few common wine descriptions." He then goes on to defend wine lovers' appreciating the aromatic and flavor experience of drinking wine despite the lack of scientific evidence behind them.
I entirely agree with the latter part of Asimov's post, and I think he does a great job of expressing why we shouldn't allow science to undermine our appreciation of the beautiful flavors and aromas that wine evokes. But, on reflection, I think he gives up too much to the scientists when he concedes that we're not actually tasting the kimmeridgian limestone in that Chablis Vaudesir. Certainly, large chunks of limestone are not being incorporated into chardonnay grapes just because they were grown in the soil. As McGee and Patterson point out in that Times magazine article, the vines are soaking up rock particles dissolved into the soil. They read that to mean that the grapes are not incorporating the actual limestone, and so when we think we smell or taste limestone in the glass, we cannot actually be doing so. The problem with this logic is not that it misunderstands how rock is incorporated into Chablis, but rather that it misunderstands how we experience limestone in other contexts. When we say that Chablis flavors remind us of limestone, we're not comparing those flavors to the experience of biting off a chunk of rock. Rather, we're comparing them to the smell of limestone, in other words to the experience of those limestone minerals that dissolve in water and/or evaporate and/or decompose into dirt so that we can smell them--which are the same ones soaked up by vines.
I'm not a scientist, so perhaps the above is totally wrong-headed. But it makes sense to me. And I just can't believe the notion that soil qualities have nothing to do with how a wine tastes. There's just too much empirical evidence. Wines from different places taste so different. Admittedly, other factors such as climate, local practice and culture, etc. play a huge role and are obstacles to duplication. But I'm sure there is somewhere else in this world with similar climate conditions to Chablis, and if you could make a wine taste like Vaudesir in that somewhere else, people would be doing it by now.
Kosta Browne: An Unworthy Cult
Kosta Browne is one of the latest California wineries to achieve so-called "cult" status among wine collectors. The boutique Sebastopol producer of pinot noir has followed the now familiar formula of limited production, single-vineyard designation, mailing distribution (and the resultant waiting list), and strong word of mouth to develop a fiercely loyal fan base as well as hype verging on hysterics. Throw in Jim Laube's stratospheric scores for the 2004 vintage in Wine Spectator (six wines between 95 and 98 points), and a cult wine is born -- complete with eye-popping prices on the secondary market.
So are these wines worth the hype (and high prices)? For me, the answer is a resounding no -- though after tasting through two of their 2004 offerings, I think I can understand the hysteria. Kosta Browne aims to produce ultra ripe, highly concentrated, fruit-powered wines (with resulting alcohol levels pushing and exceedingly 15%) that have resonated with a younger generation of pinot lovers. These are wine drinkers who have come to pinot noir not from Burgundy, but from California cabernet and other New World wines. And as Joe Davis of Arcadian has observed, they have found in this fruit-driven style of California pinot a new delivery system for their favored hedonistic qualities. Yet what I found in the glass tasting these wines from Kosta Browne was a perversion of pinot noir -- thick, syrupy wines that, while boasting an impressive array of exuberant fruit flavors, offer little complexity and sustained drinking pleasure and ultimately prove quite tiresome to consume.
I recently drank the 2004 Kosta Browne Pinot Noir - Russian River Valley (15.2% alc., WS 96) over dinner at Palena, and it, not surprisingly, overwhelmed even the heartier courses on the menu. The nose was ripe and expressive of dark cherry and cola, with noticeable alcohol, yet nevertheless had what Michael Broadbent has called the unique "Pinot grape aroma." On the palate, the wine was sappy and rich, dominated by sweet, concentrated fruit. It boasted a plush, opulent mouth feel, but the wine was weighed down by a heaviness that became wearying as the evening progressed and gave it an increasingly monolithic quality. To be fair, the wine had commendable structure that held it all together until the disjointed finish, when the alcoholic heat back came to the fore. I had trouble finishing my half of the bottle, not from the alcohol, but from palate fatigue -- it was just too syrupy to enjoy with the meal and offered little complexity and evolution in the glass to sustain my interest over the evening.
I tasted the 2004 Kosta Browne Pinot Noir - Sonoma Coast (14.7% alc., WS 95) last winter and the wine, I suspect, was in a closed phase. It was dominated by sweet red cherry fruit and noticeable heat on the palate but after the first glass yielded little more than the outlines of the big, underlying raw material. I shall reserve final judgment until I taste it again next year, but I hold out hope that the brighter red fruits will render it sleeker than the RRV.
Ironically, my favorite wine from the Kosta Browne stable was their least ambitious -- the 2005 Rose of Pinot Noir - Russian River Valley. It is the perfect wine for summer sipping, elegant and refreshing, with lovely strawberry and cream flavors. It is a shame I could only beg one bottle of this offering from the winery and would gladly trade in my remaining bottles of the RRV and SC for more of the Rose.
I understand, and even subscribe to, Parker's mantra that wine is a beverage of pleasure, and I appreciate a sense of fun and play in my wines when done right -- like the Kosta Browne Rose. But I cannot understand the cultish desire for the ripest fruit, higher levels of extraction and concentration, greater intensity of flavors, and more sheer power in pinot noir when these qualities are so far removed from the historic strengths of the varietal. If you love New World wine and want these qualities, go chase Screaming Eagle or Hillside Select -- superlative wines deserving of their cult status. But please leave Pinot Noir alone.