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
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.
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
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.
Monday, May 14, 2007
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!
Saturday, May 12, 2007
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.
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.