In their latest column for the Washington Post, Page & Dornenburg extol the virtues of a very popular -- and increasingly dogmatic -- food and wine pairing: wild salmon and New World pinot noir. The pairing brings together two important trends in the American culinary scene -- the greater availability of fresh, wild Alaskan salmon in the continental U.S. and the wild popularity of all things pinot. The writers quote Doug Mohr, sommelier at Vidalia, who offers the party line: "If you think 'salmon,' you automatically think Pacific Northwest -- and Oregon pinot noir with wild salmon is symbiotic. Wild salmon eat a diet of shellfish, which translates into their meat being sweet -- which plays off the natural cherrylike sweetness of Oregon pinot noir."
With all due respect to Mr. Mohr -- whom I've had the pleasure of meeting and who is one of the finest sommeliers in D.C. -- I have to disagree. I've always found the inherent "cherrylike sweetness" of New World pinot -- whether from Oregon, or California, or New Zealand -- to be cloying, rather than symbiotic, when paired with the richness of wild Alaskan salmon. A recent tasting of Copper River King salmon (ordered fresh from a Seattle fishmonger and simply grilled) confirmed for my palate the unhappiness of this pairing. Unlike the magical union of foie gras and Sauternes -- where sweetness enhances sweetness -- the pairing of salmon and New World pinot is a profound mismatch, with sweetness overwhelming sweetness. Salmon cries out for something more savory, something more minerally.
I'm reminded of the words of Pierre-Antoine Rovani -- Parker's longtime collaborator at the Wine Advocate -- who once observed: "As much as it's politically incorrect to say it, I believe that nobody would sing the virtues of matching Pinot and salmon if Pinot Noir had never been planted in Oregon." Rovani prefers Chardonnay with his salmon and delineates his preferences as follows: "Grilled, with the fatty skin charred into a bacon-like state, calls for a big buttery California Chardonnay. Grilled lightly calls for a Kistler-like bottle. A delicate preparation (like Troisgros's Salmon with Sorel) calls for a white burg from a not-too-rich year, poached with a cream-based sauce calls for a richer burg." I could not agree more, and only wish I had that range of choice in my personal cellar.
So if anyone happens to have, oh, I don't know, a great Montrachet they're willing to share, I'll order up some Yukon River King fillets before the season closes, and we'll have ourselves a proper meal.
Sunday, July 1, 2007
Salmon & Pinot
Friday, June 15, 2007
Jancis: "I hope 2006 fails"
Jancis Robinson blasts the en primeur system and adds her voice to the chorus hoping for failure in the 2006 campaign: "Wouldn't it be nice if we didn't have to play this game?' I hope 2006 will not be a success. I hope it will really show the Bordelais the shortcomings of the system." Jancis's remarks come from a "podcask" interview with the sales director of London merchant Berry Bros. -- well worth a listen.
Tuesday, June 5, 2007
Wine of the Week: 2005 Les Cailloux Chateauneuf du Pape Blanc
In my former life as a student of literature, I spent much of my time contemplating the relationship between canonical and marginal texts (or, rather, resenting I had to divert my attention at all from Shakespeare and Donne but nevertheless wading through travel journals, diaries, and the "voices of the oppressed" in order to engage in the "professional conversation" -- but I digress). And it's an interesting exercise to apply that paradigm to the Old World - New World divide and dynamic in the wine world. Indeed, it's worth contemplating for a moment that European vineyards are in many ways a post-colonial legacy of the Roman Empire -- and, in another scholastic parallel, that the tradition of vinification survived largely through the work of devoted monks during the Middle Ages.
While I won't even begin to sketch out what such a thought experiment would conclude, I would like to turn my attention to the historic Rhone varietals, which have found their way into all parts of the New World as the next big thing (or rather things -- there are something like twenty-two individual varietals). This week's Grape Radio segment broadcasts a seminar from the 2007 Hospice du Rhone that features Viogniers and Syrahs from such exotic locales as Chile, Baja California, Italy, and Southern Oregon. These are grapes that, in many cases, have replaced the traditional Bordelais varietals in New World vineyards. Host Patrick Comiskey opines that "these varieties tend to seek out the fringes ... because their terroir expression in exotic locales ... never fail to surprise and delight people." These are hot growing regions that often have much more in common with the South of France than with Bordeaux or Burgundy. And the tradition of blending these varietals in the Rhone lends itself to the sense of creativity of a young winemaker seeking to put a New World vineyard or winery on the map.
Of course, the conversation works both ways, as Eric Asimov observed in a recent article on Condrieu. It took the attention and ingenuity of New World producers of Viognier, who revived interest in this long languishing varietal, to resuscitate demand for wine from the grape's traditional home in the Northern Rhone. I must admit that I've never had a satisfying Viognier that wasn't a Condrieu (of course, I have absolutely fallen in love with many other New World expressions of Rhone varietals) and comparisons to Old World benchmarks will always be made. These wines (unless graced by genius marketing) will always be defined in relation to those from the historic estates of France. The marginal only exists because of the canonical. The labeling of wines with varietal names, as opposed to only an AVA or another geographical designation, and all the talk of "varietal correctness," make even more inevitable the backward glance to Europe.
All this is a long-winded way of introducing our third "Wine of the Week": the 2005 Les Cailloux Chateauneuf du Pape Blanc ($30; Bobby Kacher, importer). Having made my own inclinations clear at outset, I thought I'd turn our attention back to the canonical -- but to a relative rarity in the French canon. Ninety-seven percent of the wine produced in Chateauneuf du Pape is red, making the white wines from the appellation both rare and expensive. Yet the best efforts are undoubtedly worth seeking out, as they offer great character and presence and are unlike most other whites on the market.
The 2005 Les Cailloux Blanc, made by Andre Brunel, is a relative bargain at $30 (two benchmark wines, the 2005 Clos des Papes and Beaucastel whites, cost around $60 and $80, respectively) and is an outstanding white Chateauneuf, irrespective of price point. Pale gold, with a slight greenish tinge, the Les Cailloux Blanc has a delicate floral nose and is far less extroverted than the more typically heady whites dominated by notes of peaches and apricots. Blended from 80% Roussanne and 20% Clairette and vinified in tank, the wine is full-bodied, with great weight and undeniable class. It has good acidity, yet it manages to be both lively and poised on the palate and makes for a good food wine. When the Les Cailloux is served at the proper temperature (around 50-54 F, warmer than most whites), the wine's relatively high alcohol content (a stated 13.5%, but probably a bit higher) peeks through slightly on the finish. Yet this doesn't disturb the overall balance too greatly, and the wine's fruit undeniably sings at the warmer serving temperature. A wine of truly distinctive character. Ah, back to France.
Monday, June 4, 2007
Pretty in Pink
Domaine Tempier's Bandol Rosé is, as Robert Parker writes, one of the "rare rosés produced in the world today to actually have a cult following." And as such, it challenges the conventional notion of rosé as a mere summer quaffer, if only through its price tag (the 2006 costs around $30). Jamie Goode has written that rosés "are not wines to dwell over too long, but are best glugged joyfully," and that one ought not to devote extensive tasting notes to these wines which are drunk by the "tanker-load." I must admit that I have long avoided rosés as unfashionable and, worse, unmanly (bring me Mouton!) but have recently turned my attention to them as I pondered alternatives to the latest supermarket selections from The Washington Post.
Compared with the Mordorée Tavel Rosé I wrote on last week, the 2006 Domaine Tempier Bandol Rosé ($30; Kermit Lynch, importer) is a more refined, far prettier wine. The Mordorée is a big, aggressive wine for a rosé, with a heady alcohol level and relatively dark fruit flavors. It needs food to tame it -- and itself can tame big foods -- and never quite comes to rest on the palate. Meanwhile, the Tempier Rosé brings a sense of harmony to the table. Light salmon colored, the wine has a fresh, delicate nose of strawberry and watermelon. It is medium-bodied, with refined, almost mellow fruit, good lively acidity, and impeccable overall balance. It is a classy, poised yet refreshing effort from one of the most famous of Provence wineries. Is it worth the $30 tariff? Maybe not, but it is one of the best French rosés I've ever had, and properly savored, rather than quaffed, the Tempier Bandol Rosé isn't an unreasonable buy.
Friday, June 1, 2007
A Real BBQ Wine: 2006 Domaine de la Mordorée Tavel Rosé
Okay, I admit it, my suggestions for "barbecue wines" were pretty absurd. As one poster on Don Rockwell's board put it: "Surely there's a happy medium between painfully 'middlebrow' and unbearably upscale. Next time I'm cruising Charles County for 'cue I'll be sure to bring my iced Billecart-Saumon and a couple of flutes. Nothing says authentic barbecue like bubbly." Point taken. (Though the sheer absurdity of my picks was largely the point.) As I replied:
I absolutely agree that there's a happy medium between the industrial wines written up in the Post article and my "unbearably upscale" counter suggestions. My post was deliberately reactionary -- to bring out the big guns that would still pair well with barbecue in taste, if not necessarily in spirit. I'd probably prefer a beer or two with Charles County 'cue, myself. I just found it incredibly frustrating to see the Post's wine writers trotting out four seemingly arbitrary "factory wines," as someone called them, without any discussion of where they come from, how they're made, or how they relate to other wines. Of course, as Mark pointed out, they weren't that arbitrary after all.I haven't yet had the 2006 Domaine Tempier Bandol Rosé, but I can heartily recommend Domaine de la Mordorée's 2006 Tavel Rosé ($17), which I drank over lunch today. Beautifully colored (trying to think of words to describe it, I couldn't come up with anything better than "rose colored"), the Tavel Rosé is heady and full-bodied (a stated 14.5% alc., probably higher) with delightful strawberry and framboise flavors. The wine is voluminous (from the alcohol) but not weighty, and the fruit is well balanced by good acidity. It's a bit one-dimensional in the mid-palate, but it is undeniably a great food wine. Served well chilled, it is an ideal pairing with BBQ -- refreshing and hedonistic -- if one can do without PBR.
If I had been writing in a more temperate frame of mind, I probably would have suggested something like Tempier's Rose or Mordoree's Tavel Rose. Usually, my co-blogger Jeffrey and I try to stick to writing about wines $20/under. There definitely is a sweet spot to be found for the Post's audience of reasonably priced, artisanal wines, particularly given, as someone noted, DC's lax importation laws and quality retailers. But, again, it's frustrating to have these writers based in New York with little apparent knowledge of or curiosity about the DC market -- on their website, they ask distributors sending in samples to New York to document that these wines are available in DC stores, which puts the onus on the wrong party. It's not surprising that they ended up with three Constellation wines.
(For D.C.-area readers, the 2006 Tavel Rosé is currently on sale at Calvert-Woodley for $14.99; no commercial affiliation.)
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.)
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
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."
Monday, May 21, 2007
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.
Thursday, May 17, 2007
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.
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.
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.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Burghound and the Market
I certainly agree with Jeffrey's post below that there is more good-will and appreciation felt by wine collectors toward Allen Meadows, the Burghound, than toward other critics like Parker or Jim Laube. Yet I have seen signs in recent weeks of a growing frustration with Burghound's role in stimulating unprecedented demand and setting the market for what many collectors will be a very expensive 2005 Burgundy campaign.
Meadows comes in for criticism not for the wines he chooses to rate highly but rather for rating wines in the first place and, more fairly, for the timing of his reviews. Burgundy collectors are obsessive and intensively secretive by nature. They are reluctant to share the sources of their highly sought-after allocations and sometimes even the identities of their favorites for fear of losing out or being priced out. Meadows, many feel, has let the cat out of the bag, so to speak, pointing the way for novices toward hidden gems and undervalued treasures previously known only to insiders. And certainly, the timing of his reviews could not have been worse, as his 2005 Cote de Nuits issue -- "quite simply the best top to bottom vintage I have ever seen, period, full stop" -- came out well before most of the wines reviewed were even offered for sale in the U.S. Given the estimated 20% ex cellar price increase over 2004, we certainly know who in the supply change is gouging the American consumer.
Meadows reportedly sold more single issues of his Cote de Nuits report than all of the previous Burghound issues combined and is said to be concerned over the role he has played in the unprecedentedly stratospheric '05 Burgundy pricing. This Parker-esque market domination is uncharted territory for Burgundy, as The Wine Advocate's longtime Burgundy reviewer, Pierre-Antoine Rovani, generally favored the region's ripest wines and vintages while the traditional Burgundy consumer has favored elegance, balance, and finesse -- all of the qualities dear to Meadows. To cite just two examples of Meadows' influence: on the day Meadows' Cote de Beaune report was released, Bouchard's Le Corton (AM 93-95) sold out at Premier Cru for $89.95 and reappeared the next day at $109.95; Angerville's Volnay "Champans" (AM 93-95) had a one-day jump from $95.00 to $110.00 at Zachys.
Yet while rising prices are an inevitability, particularly with all the hysteria surrounding this unique vintage, I don't believe Burgundy will be subject to the same efficient market forces as Bordeaux. The far smaller production volume and the allocation system mean that Burgundy just cannot be bought and traded in the same way classified Bordeaux is. Moreover, there is a far healthier attitude toward wine in Burgundy, where it is treated as an artisanal product vinified by farmers rather than commodities produced by millionaire Chateau owners and sold by greedy negociants. And in the meantime, Burghound's growing influence can only bring about improvements in the region, as producers gravitate toward the more elegant and balanced style that Meadows favors -- and has long proven to be the hallmark of the very best Pinot Noir.
Scoring in Burgundy
Robert Parker takes a lot of flak for publishing wine scores. But others do it too, including Wine Spectator and the International Wine Cellar. Because they are far less influential, those magazines don't receive the same amount of public criticism that Parker does, although I suspect that the vast majority of Parker's critics don't have an especially high opinion of Shanken or Tanzer (the publishers of Wine Spectator and IWC, respectively).
By comparison, Allen Meadows is beginning to have an effect on the market for Burgundy similar to that Parker has on the market for Bordeaux. His publication, Burghound, is rapidly becoming the go-to resource for Burgundy enthusiasts and, upon release of his quarterly reports, highly-rated wines sell-out rapidly.
Yet, Meadows does not come in for the same criticism that Parker does. And he is rating wines whose enthusiasts are most likely to be Parker critics. Red Burgundy is famously elegant and reserved rather than forward and fruity; Parker is well-known for giving relatively poor ratings to what most Burgundy lovers consider great wines; and those Burgundy lovers are well-known for claiming that Parker just "doesn't get" the region's wines. Burgundy enthusiasts celebrate the individuality of each wine and the particular characteristics of of the many specific vineyards into which Burgundy's wine regions are subdivided.
So why the appreciation for Meadows? He's doing precisely the same thing as Parker: providing reductionist tasting notes and numerical scores for hundreds of wines. And most Burgundy lovers make their case for the region's wine precisely because it does not lend itself to that approach. Each wine is unique, with its own characteristics, and not susceptible to ordinal ranking on some absolute scale.
Perhaps what makes Meadows palatable is that he has the "right" attitude toward wine and Burgundy in particular. Every issue of Burghound comes with a disclaimer that "Burgundies that emphasize purity, elegance, overall balance and a clear expression of the underlying terroir are rated more highly . . . a Volnay should taste like a Volnay." In other words, unlike Parker, Meadows is not giving high ratings to the sort of wines that Parker critics disapprove of. And that's something. But ultimately why should it let him off the hook? The scoring/tasting note system is objectionable and that's what Meadows provides. As a Burghound subscriber (thanks to the market forces I discussed in my previous post) I often ask myself this.
Leaked Parker Points and Rising Prices
Ever since the legendary 1982 vintage, wine critic Robert Parker has made and driven the market for Bordeaux. Yet the recent leaking of Parker's latest scores for the 2005 vintage in Bordeaux, before his online subscribers had access to them, has brought into clear focus just what today's Bordeaux market has become: an efficient, world-wide commodities market, where cut-throat traders seek to exploit asymmetrical information, target mispriced offerings, and utilize all the technological advantages at their disposal.
The particular mechanisms of this market recently came to the forefront with the latest release of Parker's Wine Advocate. Parker offers a print and online version of his newsletter, and in an attempt at fairness to his traditional print-based audience, mails out his latest issue from Maryland two to three days before the reviews are posted online. Needless to say, this situation creates rampant arbitrage opportunities.
Bordeaux, of course, has long been bought and sold as a commodity, thanks to its historic pedigree, worldwide demand, and, most crucially, a large volume of production whose wines carry with them a nearly universally accepted numerical Parker score. This is a unique market situation in today's wine world that, thankfully, has not yet taken hold in other regions.
The latest issue had Parker's first reviews of 2006 Bordeaux (not yet on the market) as well as his second reviews of 2005 Bordeaux, which Parker has hailed as "an extraordinary vintage and one that is different from anything I have tasted in the last twenty-eight years." On the morning of May 2, a day before the reviews were set to be posted online, retailers worldwide were publicizing Parker's 2006 ratings -- probably obtained from a local print subscriber who makes a tidy sum faxing and PDF-ing the latest issue worldwide. The 2006 scores had no real financial value and so were freely disseminated, but the 2005 scores, which presumably these retailers also obtained, were guarded like state secrets.
This situation caused a panic on the Squires Bulletin Board, with rampant speculation about which wines were most likely to receive an "upgrade" from their initial score last April and posters hyperventilating about retailers who were set to gouge consumers with this asymmetrical information. There were even reports of "runs" on particular wines at various stores, like Premier Cru, on the barest hint of a rumor of an upgrade. While some print subscribers who had already received copies may have been able to secure some of the "upgraded" wines at their previous prices, the "leaked" 2005 scores primarily served the interests of those in the trade, for their own pricing and trading purposes, to the detriment of the consumer.
To take one example, the 2005 Pavie Macquin received one of the most significant upgrades from Parker, from 94-96 points to 96-100 points. This was a wine widely available for $99.95, or less, on and before May 2 but was now unobtainable at that price, even before the scores were posted online. It now sells for around $200.00. And this is far from the only case, as given Parker's overwhelmingly positive initial appraisal of the vintage now confirmed, prices have only gone up on the most coveted (i.e., highly rated) wines.
This is a perverse market situation -- enabled by the dominance of one single critic and the asymmetrical dissemination of information -- in which Robert Parker's paid subscribers -- of which I am one -- essentially subsidize those in the trade, to their own financial detriment.
While these market trends have been with us for a while now, the 2005 vintage in France has created a perfect storm, where "vintage of the century" reviews and ratings, increased worldwide demand, and a weakened dollar, have all combined to price out many ordinary consumers from wines they have annually bought, cellared, and enjoyed.
This is an unfortunate situation, but the reality of today's wine world is so driven and defined by reviews, points, and stratospheric prices that consumers can only ignore these issues at their own peril.