tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67064902024-03-11T08:02:14.260-07:00The Caveman's Wine BlogHoping the future of wine remains more style than fashioncavemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01524518542395367295noreply@blogger.comBlogger148125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6706490.post-29744101781521805022013-05-24T07:00:00.003-07:002013-05-24T07:00:54.407-07:00<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span style="font-size: large;">After “somewhereness” comes “soulfullness” </span></span></div>
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<span class="s1">A few weeks back, I was speaking at a fund raiser and towards the end of my speech, I asked people to do two things when shopping for wines - give special attention to wines made with grapes that are grown organically, and to buy wines that come from “somewhere.”</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Pushing organics is easy. The wine industry uses far more pesticides, fungicides and herbicides than they have to. So while I maintain that there is a qualitative difference between grapes grown “well” organically, and those which are raised on a diet of chemicals, from a purely environmental and vineyard worker’s health standpoint, organics make sense. I am aware that not every winery who grows organically puts that info on their label, but if more consumers demand it, then maybe more will certify.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">My second point confused and one person confronted me afterwards and asked what I meant. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">“All wines come from somewhere, don’t they?” she asked. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">Of course they do. I explained that some wines don’t reflect where they come from, or are simply blends of grapes taken from anywhere and made into a wine which is designed to please a certain palate rather than reflect where they come from. When you are talking to over a hundred people, many of whom are just getting into wine, I figured not to get too complicated. So by making the beginner simply aware of appellation, or of “place,” is a good way to start.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">“So how do I know if a wine reflects a place?” was her next question. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">Okay, not so easy to answer this one. All I could come up with was that until she had tasted enough wines from a particular place, she had to trust those who have. Those of us who taste a lot of wine, and travel to many of the world’s wine regions, begin to have certain expectations about the wines of a particular place. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">For example, when I taste a Chablis, I look for the wines to show a steely freshness, minerality and with just enough “fat” from the chardonnay grape to coat the mineral core. There must be a balance between the natural richness of the chardonnay grape and the acidity that one should find in a grape grown so far north. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">This quality in a wine, whether you call it “terroir driven,” or “somewhereness,” a term coined by Wine Spectator’s Matt Kramer, happens when a wine shows a certain uniqueness, a certain accent that, even if you can’t place it, strikes you as being a texture, aroma or taste that you have never experienced before. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">But then I got hit with the inevitable questions, and the ones that are the most difficult to answer for any one who recommends a wine.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">“So how do you decide which wines to recommend? Is it because some wines reflect a place more than others?”</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Uggh. My immediate response was that some wines seem more authentic or genuine than others. I could see by her expression that this wasn’t cutting it and I was going to be asked what I meant by that. So I promised that I would think about it and get back to her. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">So here is your answer Miss. The wines that I recommend and enjoy drinking are those which I deem have “soul.” Now let me explain.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Four years ago, I held a tasting of Cru Beaujolais where my panel blind tasted wines from four different appellations - Morgon, Fleurie, Moulin A Vent and Brouilly. Our goal was to define, if possible, the “somewhereness” in each of these Beaujolais appellations.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">We tasted wines over a number of different vintages, from the same producers, to see if we could find certain commonalities between wines of the same appellation. Some of these winemakers used conventional farming and wine making techniques, while others were from the school of what are referred to as “natural” winemakers, those who use little sulphites and indigenous yeasts. In short, as few additives and manipulations as possible. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">The most striking result was that the winemaker became far more apparent than that of the appellation. And as I marked down my preferred wines from each flight, they tended to be from the same people, those who worked more naturally.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">They were not always the “most perfect” wines. Some showed a number of small degrees of “faults,” which was a turn off for a few of the panel members. But those wines where I happily gulped back the rest of my glass, were, while challenging at times, showed that uniqueness and energy that I look for in a wine.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">So do these more naturally made wines better reflect the land that they were grown, because they were less manipulated? Logic tells me yes, but maybe what I look for in a wine has more to do with winemaking practices and grape growing. Maybe by doing less, and allowing for the grapes of a place to make a wine that reflects all that is both good and bad about the vintage and the land, comes across as more genuine and authentic. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">I’ve said many times that “la beauté c’est dans le défaut,” that true beauty is found in imperfection, and not how close it comes to being perfect. That is as much a statement about people as it is about wine. If what separates wine from other beverages is that it is a reflection of a culture, of a place, of a time, then it should as well reflect all the imperfections that can be found in each. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">I remember tasting wines with Maurice Barthelmé, of Domaine Albert Mann in Alsace, and asking him how they always seem to make an interesting wine, even in tough vintages. His response was “if you are honest and listen, the land will always tell you what the wine will be.” Not all terroirs are created equal, not all places, every year, can produce wines of pure fruit and perfectly ripe tannins. Sometimes the wines have notes of green or rough tannins that require age to iron out. Sometimes when you allow grape juice to become a wine, the results are not exactly what you want or expect.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">It is not easy quantifying “like,” which is why this is such a difficult question to answer. In a recent article, Kramer wrote that great wine is a product of winemakers who are willing to pursue ambiguity, to seek to make 2+2=5. That striving for perfection through manipulation and control can only get you so far. And while he doesn’t answer where that “extra 1” comes from, I would say that maybe, what separates the great from the good, might be allowing the innate imperfections of a time and place, which is maybe what “soul” is, to have it’s rightful place in the final wine.</span></div>
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<span class="s2"><a href="mailto:gazettewine@gmail.com">gazettewine@gmail.com</a></span></div>
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<span class="s1">twitter.com@BillZacharkiw</span></div>
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<span class="s2"><a href="http://www.facebook.com/billzacharkiwwine">http://www.facebook.com/billzacharkiwwine</a></span></div>
cavemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01524518542395367295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6706490.post-3713519550076844962013-05-07T11:02:00.001-07:002013-05-07T11:02:08.325-07:00The search for summery wines <br />
<div class="p1"><span class="s1">I get asked a lot for wine suggestions. Here’s a conversation that I had a few weeks back with a good friend. </span></div><div class="p2"><span class="s1"></span><br />
</div><div class="p1"><span class="s1">Carrie: Bill, there’s a sale at the SAQ this weekend and we want to buy a few cases of wine to bring with us out to the country. We’re there for three weeks and I don’t want to stress about wines when we are up there. Can you suggest a few Summery wines?</span></div><div class="p2"><span class="s1"></span><br />
</div><div class="p1"><span class="s1">Bill: What’s a Summery wine? You mean like white wines?</span></div><div class="p2"><span class="s1"></span><br />
</div><div class="p1"><span class="s1">Carrie: You know I don’t like white wine that much. You keep forcing them on me and yes, I am starting to like them a bit more but that’s not what I am talking about. You know- summer wines. </span></div><div class="p2"><span class="s1"></span><br />
</div><div class="p1"><span class="s1">Bill: No, I have no clue what you are talking about. You mean rosés? Most people only drink those in the summer.</span></div><div class="p2"><span class="s1"></span><br />
</div><div class="p1"><span class="s1">Carrie: I’ll get a few, sure. But that’s lunch and afternoon drinking. I need good reds.</span></div><div class="p2"><span class="s1"></span><br />
</div><div class="p1"><span class="s1">Bill: Summer reds? You mean as opposed to winter reds? I didn’t realize that wine was seasonal. What are you eating? </span></div><div class="p2"><span class="s1"></span><br />
</div><div class="p1"><span class="s1">Carrie: How would I know, we aren’t even leaving until the second week of July. Stop messing with me, you aren’t being any help at all. You’re Mr. sommelier wine critic. </span></div><div class="p2"><span class="s1"></span><br />
</div><div class="p1"><span class="s1">Bill: (Pause) So really what you are asking me is if I were to take two cases of wine with me to the country, and that’s all I could drink, what would I bring? It’s like that desert island question where if you could only drink one wine for the rest of your life, what would it be? I always answer JJ Prum’s Wehlener Sonnenhur Kabinett Riesling. You should bring lot of those.</span></div><div class="p2"><span class="s1"></span><br />
</div><div class="p1"><span class="s1">Carrie: That’s your German wine. Didn’t we drink some a few weeks ago? That was yummy. How much was that?</span></div><div class="p2"><span class="s1"></span><br />
</div><div class="p1"><span class="s1">Bill: Hey you remembered! It’s close to $40, but there is good stuff around $20 that will do the job. It’s great pre-dinner wine when you are cooking and when you eat spicy shrimp and other seafood. </span></div><div class="p2"><span class="s1"></span><br />
</div><div class="p1"><span class="s1">Carrie: $40 is way to steep, keep them around $20. Are they good for fish too? We eat a ton of fish.</span></div><div class="p2"><span class="s1"></span><br />
</div><div class="p1"><span class="s1">Bill: Nah. Save them for spicier meals. I would bring a few drier whites. Maybe something light and zippy like a sauvignon blanc for trout, and something fatter if you cook some Walleye or other richer fish. A chardonnay would work. </span></div><div class="p2"><span class="s1"></span><br />
</div><div class="p1"><span class="s1">Carrie: Like salmon?</span></div><div class="p2"><span class="s1"></span><br />
</div><div class="p1"><span class="s1">Bill: No, you get to drink a red with that. Pinot noir would be best.</span></div><div class="p2"><span class="s1"></span><br />
</div><div class="p1"><span class="s1">Carrie: Okay, so four rosés, four of your German wines and 4 other whites. Now get to the important wines, the reds. </span></div><div class="p2"><span class="s1"></span><br />
</div><div class="p1"><span class="s1">Bill: Oh yes, the summery reds. Barbecue wines you mean.</span></div><div class="p2"><span class="s1"></span><br />
</div><div class="p1"><span class="s1">Carrie: Exactly.</span></div><div class="p2"><span class="s1"></span><br />
</div><div class="p1"><span class="s1">Bill: You need a few Burger wines. You guys eat Hamburgers don’t you?</span></div><div class="p2"><span class="s1"></span><br />
</div><div class="p1"><span class="s1">Carrie: Of course. </span></div><div class="p2"><span class="s1"></span><br />
</div><div class="p1"><span class="s1">Bill: Sounds strange but you need a red that goes well with ketchup. A rosé with some torque will do the job, or fruity red with not too much tannin. A red that you can chill a bit and crank it back. A Barbera, a Languedoc, Beaujolais, something like that. i would stay Euro with these but you two like oaked-up wines, so maybe a lighter shiraz.</span></div><div class="p2"><span class="s1"></span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYhrriOHwoJsZlf36OKuZuYWUnV8aRTp6VA55vC1RaBv369iGqR6i_kzydfYxNDXPod8EteEJPmw1fbIVHxdTSZxzbeEG0wEJU8j2KYFgiJqjmi8brD4To2KoB3FkII7X594Ix/s1600/IMGP2928.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYhrriOHwoJsZlf36OKuZuYWUnV8aRTp6VA55vC1RaBv369iGqR6i_kzydfYxNDXPod8EteEJPmw1fbIVHxdTSZxzbeEG0wEJU8j2KYFgiJqjmi8brD4To2KoB3FkII7X594Ix/s400/IMGP2928.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="p1"><span class="s1">Carrie: You will write these down for me won’t you?</span></div><div class="p2"><span class="s1"></span><br />
</div><div class="p1"><span class="s1">Bill: No problem. This is actually fun. So now a few wines to go with barbecue sauce- ribs, chicken pieces, pork chops, stuff like that. I would go new world here - California, Australia. Wines with loads of oak and lots of fruit, alcohol sweetness, especially if your sauce is a little spicy. Zinfandel, shiraz, they would all work. Oh and if you do white meats with herbs, bring some Loire cabernet franc. It’s made to be chilled a bit and the green pepper flavour works well with the herbs. Killer with a Greek salad as well.</span></div><div class="p2"><span class="s1"></span><br />
</div><div class="p1"><span class="s1">Carrie: What about steak? We eat a lot of steak.</span></div><div class="p2"><span class="s1"></span><br />
</div><div class="p1"><span class="s1">Bill: Steak wines. You can go wherever you want. I mean any wine with some good tannin that has done some time in oak will do. (Pause) But nothing too serious. Okay I see what you mean now by summer wines. I wouldn’t go Bordeaux, Rioja or Barolo or anything like that. I would go with wines that have less tannin and earthy notes and instead, more fruit. So if you want your oak and jam, this is California or Australian cabernet sauvignon. Rhone reds are great as well, been drinking a lot of those recently, especially syrah from the northern Rhône.</span></div><div class="p2"><span class="s1"></span><br />
</div><div class="p1"><span class="s1">Carrie: Okay perfect, you will write everything down. </span></div><div class="p2"><span class="s1"></span><br />
</div><div class="p1"><span class="s1">Bill: Not everything. I’ll give you a few specific wines and for the rest just find wines you want to try in the same style. But bring an ice bucket, hopefully it will be hot.</span></div><div class="p2"><span class="s1"></span><br />
</div><div class="p1"><span class="s1">Carrie: We keep the whites in the fridge.</span></div><div class="p2"><span class="s1"></span><br />
</div><div class="p1"><span class="s1">Bill: No, it’s for your reds. If it’s hot out, make sure it is always handy so you can dunk your bottle in it to keep temperature down. Hot red wine is gross, and you always serve your reds too warm. </span></div><div class="p2"><span class="s1"></span><br />
</div><div class="p1"><span class="s1">Carrie: You are such a snob. You make me nervous every time you come over.</span></div><div class="p2"><span class="s1"></span><br />
</div><div class="p1"><span class="s1">Bill: Okay, I won’t bring my own glass with me this time if it makes you feel better.</span></div><div class="p2"><span class="s1"></span><br />
</div><div class="p1"><span class="s1">Carrie: Such a total snob.</span></div><div class="p2"><span class="s1"></span><br />
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</div>cavemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01524518542395367295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6706490.post-6547969655224794482012-10-06T21:06:00.002-07:002012-10-06T21:06:40.885-07:00Doesn't really quench, but satisfies
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<span class="s1">Taburno 2011, Falanghina Del Sannio, </span>Fattoria La Rivolta</h2>
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<span class="s1">Italy white, $19.25, SAQ # 11451851</span></div>
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<span class="s1"><b>Leaner than last vintage. Lemony, and add some pear juice as well. That’s the extra bit of body right there. Get’s saltier as it warms. You don’t really notice the minerality at first but the more you drink, the more it takes up space. It’s almost oppressive. Only almost. Bottle gone.</b></span></div>
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cavemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01524518542395367295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6706490.post-41470396995149397502012-10-04T15:32:00.002-07:002012-10-04T15:32:37.195-07:00Alsace and Biodynamics<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Understanding Biodynamics in Alsace</span></h2>
<span style="font-family: -moz-fixed;">by bill zacharkiw </span><br style="font-family: -moz-fixed;" /><br style="font-family: -moz-fixed;" /><span style="font-family: -moz-fixed;">I was chatting with wine maker André Ostertag next to his vegetable garden in his vineyard in Epfig. We were discussing how his vision of biodynamics had evolved since we had last seen each other three years ago. He suddenly stopped talking and with a note of frustration in his voice said, “you know, when I go to Japan and I explain what I am doing, they get it immediately. Most North Americans just think we are crazy.” </span><br style="font-family: -moz-fixed;" /><br style="font-family: -moz-fixed;" /><span style="font-family: -moz-fixed;">I must admit that even though I’m very sympathetic to it, biodynamics can give the left side of the brain a bit of a work out. The biodynamic approach to grape growing has become one of the more controversial issues within the wine industry. The skeptics, who are many, see it as an incredible waste of time and money. For some, it is pure quackery, an affront to science and modern thinking. </span><br style="font-family: -moz-fixed;" /><br style="font-family: -moz-fixed;" /><span style="font-family: -moz-fixed;">But what began in the early 1990s has developed into a movement whose practitioners include some of the world's best winemakers, producing some of the world's most unique wines. Many are their respective region’s best producers and the list of those wineries who are either biodynamic or in the process of converting is impressive: Pingus and Clos Martinet in Spain, Clos Jordanne in the Niagara, Joseph Phelps and Opus One in California, Castagna in Australia and Oregon’s Beaux Freres. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi57kuV5CMiFrdrdroynlsBLt3jCcfe0jR4QdpwnOKzgP4oMaoLQmB3L8gYgesRY5UkwnKyN6EvsibzcWqe5MDh5aol6zzPsVOkoWgo7ZidNjBLnwEYpHeQmiRXTG04o3_xq1Sg/s1600/548585_117256788426087_1333336628_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi57kuV5CMiFrdrdroynlsBLt3jCcfe0jR4QdpwnOKzgP4oMaoLQmB3L8gYgesRY5UkwnKyN6EvsibzcWqe5MDh5aol6zzPsVOkoWgo7ZidNjBLnwEYpHeQmiRXTG04o3_xq1Sg/s320/548585_117256788426087_1333336628_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pierre Gassmann</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: -moz-fixed;">French adherents include the Rhône's Chapoutier, Burgundy's Domaine
Leroy, Comte Armand and Leflaive. In the Loire, there is Muscadet’s
L’Ecu, Nicolas Joly and Domaine Huet. Other high-end producers such as
Drouhin and Romanée Conti have parts of their vineyards farmed
biodynamically. </span><br />
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<br />But there is one region which surpasses all others in terms of sheer
numbers of biodynamic wineries, and is considered by many the spiritual
home of the movement: Alsace. The list is a "who's who" of the region's
best: Domaine Marcel Deiss, Zind-Humbrecht, Weinbach, Réné Muré,
Kraydenweiss, Bott-Geyl, Pierre Frick, Josmeyer, Rolly Gassman and
Ostertag to name but a few. In all, over 30 different wineries are
biodynamic.
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<br />Why is Alsace such fertile ground for biodynamics? The reasons are
rooted in the region’s cultural and political history, and how these
influences manifest themselves today are as complicated as biodynamics
itself. But first, what exactly is biodynamic agriculture?
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<br />Biodynamics, not organics
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<br />Biodynamics is often lumped together with organic farming however there
are some important differences. While both rely on organic materials for
enriching the soil and do not use synthetic pesticides, fertilizers and
herbicides, biodynamics embraces a much more holistic perspective.
Unlike both chemical and organic agriculture, biodynamics is not just
concerned with the nutrients a plant needs to grow.
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf0ns6xpS_rEoYKuZNWMXONuBmeL8yC3_7_DEquau0xlG2ikHbLRxxljVXnsIz0vli7wkzQo4GqemIL5mHQ4ELA2vWfSOIwn2GPmGiQCYCxxz-ZCNzq-bR-soRutc8QP5LJNub/s1600/601350_117257731759326_408615557_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf0ns6xpS_rEoYKuZNWMXONuBmeL8yC3_7_DEquau0xlG2ikHbLRxxljVXnsIz0vli7wkzQo4GqemIL5mHQ4ELA2vWfSOIwn2GPmGiQCYCxxz-ZCNzq-bR-soRutc8QP5LJNub/s320/601350_117257731759326_408615557_n.jpg" width="214" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span aria-live="polite" class="fbPhotosPhotoCaption" id="fbPhotoSnowliftCaption" style="background-color: white; display: inline; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; outline: none; text-align: left; width: auto;" tabindex="0"><span class="hasCaption"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Maurice Barthelmé of Albert Mann</span></span></span><div class="fbPhotoPagesTagList" id="fbPhotoSnowliftPagesTagList" style="background-color: white; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px; text-align: left;">
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<br /><div class="moz-text-flowed" lang="x-western" style="font-family: -moz-fixed;">
Those who practice biodynamics view the health of the vine in a more
unified ecological vision. They are not simply concerned with the plant
itself, rather they believe that the health of the vine and the ultimate
quality of the resulting wine is dependent upon the health of a number
of life forces - the soil, the vine, the people who work in the
vineyard, and all the other plants and animals that are a part of the
eco-system. Biodynamics is concerned with the subtle manipulation of
these life forces, or energies, and aims to work in harmony with the
rhythms of nature.
<br />
<br />On a practical level, biodynamic farmers use homeopathic doses when
treating their plants and the soil. Some of the oft-lampooned
"interventions" are compost energizers made from plants fermented in
animal bladders and bones, or spraying ground-up quartz on the vine to
increase the luminosity of the sun. Leaf sprays, used for treating and
re-enforcing the vines, are made from the juice of ground-up flowers,
dried plants and other natural sources.
<br />
<br />Biodynamics also has its astrological influences. Many biodynamic
winemakers will add compost, spray their plants, work and weed the soil,
and ultimately pick their grapes and bottle their wine following a
calendar that is loosely based on the position of the moon, the stars
and the constellations. As British wine writer and scientist Jamie Goode
put it, "biodynamics sees the farm in the context of the wider pattern
of lunar and cosmic rhythms."
<br />
<br />The spiritual father of the biodynamic movement was an early
20th-century Austrian philosopher, Rudolf Steiner. While he knew little
about wine, his musings gave birth to anthroposophy, a spiritual
philosophy or spiritual science that attempts to bridge the gap between
science, art and religion. It espouses a principle of "human respect"
for the community at large and the belief that every individual has a
unique destiny. Aside from biodynamics, the Waldorf school network,
which includes close to 2,500 schools worldwide, uses a holistic
approach to teaching that is based on these principles.
<br />
<br />What this has to do with wine, and why Alsace?
<br />
<br />Looking east from the vineyards in Alsace you see the Black Forest, and
the border with Germany. Because of this proximity, throughout its
history Alsace has bounced back and forth between French and German
control, leaving it with distinct ties to both. Many still speak the
regional dialect, which sounds German but is loaded with French vocabulary.
<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13.333333015441895px; text-align: center;">The Deiss man<br /></td></tr>
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<div class="moz-text-flowed" lang="x-western" style="font-family: -moz-fixed;">
When I asked Jean-Michel Deiss about what made Alsatians in particular
so open to biodynamics, he cited the marriage of these two cultural
influences, but what each brought was not what I had expected. There is
a tendency to look upon the French as the romantics, with the German
influence bringing a more dogmatic, logical way of looking at the world.
But it is in fact the opposite.
<br />
<br />“The German spirit,” he told me, “is all about a unity. It’s a romantic
sensibility and it’s mythology is tied directly to religion and nature.
The French spirit,” he continued, “is much more rational, it is a spirit
of logic.”
<br />
<br />A quick study of the two country’s past and present support Deiss’
assertions. many of the great French philosophers and thinkers, such as
Descartes and Pascal, were rationalists. The world was understood
through logic, through observation. What could be deduced was via a
certain scientific rigour. Across the border, German poet Goethe, was
considered one of the philosophical world’s most important writers of
Humanism. One of the tenets of Goethe’s teachings was that the
individual, to realize his or her own full potential, must develop their
individuality to their fullest, and only by doing so can they fully
experience their own humanity, and thus be at one with all humanity,
including the natural world.
<br />
<br />The reality of these influences can be seen throughout the social and
political sphere today. The most telling example is that it was in
Germany, and not in France, where the Green Party gained significant
political power. Deiss mentioned “look at German politics, it is full of
religion.” And while consumer demand for organic produce is growing
across Europe, it was in Germany, and not in France, where this demand
started. Back in 2000, according to The Journal of Agrobiotechnology,
“Germany was the leading country in terms of organic production and
consumption with 28% of the EU market.”
<br />
<br />But it was in France, and not in Germany, where biodynamic wine
production took hold. A reason for this might lie with the French
fascination with the concept of terroir. The majority of the wine makers
I talked with believe that is through biodynamic agriculture that the
subtle expressions of soil and climate can be best transferred to their
grapes. As he reached down to pick up a handful of earth, Jean-Baptiste
Bott, from Bott-Geyl, told me “ if you want to get down to the primary,
most elemental part of terroir, you can’t use chemicals. You have to
work with nature, and not against it if you want to express it fully.”
Réné Muré went even further, “you can’t make truly great wine without
biodynamics.”
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiioZN57y78yQ9ogE0Uc6-hrEUfAkopXn_lFG8-YBlq-DSxZA7vcFu5vEE6iSd5dPkMhbBOOlHQ6IcNgA6yIZ8nV2MhN23p5h5w9j6yP3fKAnYAx7HxzOwm37gVNw_pxLdeGZKp/s1600/47941_117258451759254_1571975706_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiioZN57y78yQ9ogE0Uc6-hrEUfAkopXn_lFG8-YBlq-DSxZA7vcFu5vEE6iSd5dPkMhbBOOlHQ6IcNgA6yIZ8nV2MhN23p5h5w9j6yP3fKAnYAx7HxzOwm37gVNw_pxLdeGZKp/s200/47941_117258451759254_1571975706_n.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13.333333015441895px; text-align: center;">Andre Ostertag and his fave tree</td></tr>
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<div class="moz-text-flowed" lang="x-western" style="font-family: -moz-fixed;">
The biodynamic continuum </div>
<div class="moz-text-flowed" lang="x-western" style="font-family: -moz-fixed;">
<br />Depending on which wine maker you talk with, you see a blend of these
seemingly contradictory influences of French rationalism with Germanic
mysticism. My first question to each of the wine makers was “What
attracted you to Biodynamics?” The responses were varied, but clearly
reflect this cultural duality. “I am a student of Pascale and
Descartes,” proclaimed Réné Muré. “For me, biodynamics is logical,” was
Josmeyer’s Christophe Ehrhart’s response. However, get Jean-Michel Deiss
or André Ostertag talking about the subject and the reasons are much
more a desire to be in a sort of communion with the earth and their
vines. Deiss sees logic as a roadblock. “Sometimes I don’t know why I do
certain things, I just feel the urge to go out and till certain field,
because I have to.” Olivier Humbrecht, who seemed to walk the line in
between the two camps, was more direct, “Organics just didn’t go far
enough.”
<br />
<br />I asked Humbrecht to give me an example of what is so logical about some
of his biodynamic treatments and he had no shortage of examples. “Take
stinging nettle for example,” pointing to a tea-like liquid that was
sitting in a plastic container in the corner of his equipment room. “We
spray it on the vines because nettle, no matter what the weather
conditions, will always produce the same amount of flowers. We are
teaching the vine how to deal with vigour”
<br />
<br />So plants can learn from other plants. A number of wine makers
reiterated this same principle though Ostertag tied this belief in with
one of the larger principles of Anthroposophy. Biodynamics is not only
concerned with the health of the plant, but the health of the
individuals who work with these plants. “In the modern industrial
system,” said Ostertag “the place of each individual is written down.
Man becomes machine. Biodynamics allows people to exist as human
beings.” I asked him how this approach makes for better grapes. “Plants
are receptive, and not just to what you feed them. The whole concept of
the ‘green thumb’ is based on being receptive to what a plant needs, and
when they need it.”
<br />
<br />Réné Muré and Christophe Erhart believe that biodynamics will be shown
experimentally that it works. Deiss and Ostertag see this type of
approach as unnecessary, that the proof is in what you see in your own
vineyard. In fact each wine maker I talked with has his or her own
vision as to what it is. “Biodynamics is about evolution and personal
reflection,” said Maurice Barthelmé of Domaine Albert Mann. “It is about
adapting and preparing the plant.” Olivier Humbtrecht, from
Zind-Humbrecht, remarked that “there is a danger to being too dogmatic,
like the person who refuses a transfusion out of principle.”
<br />
<br />But the real lesson here is that we still have much to learn about the
subtle interactions in the natural world. It might be due to that Alsace
is one of the more densely populated areas that has made so many
Alsatians so concerned about their land. Deiss made the point that,
“maybe that has forced us to be more attentive to our environment.” But
whether their approach was more scientific or more romantic, each of the
wine makers talked about making not only wine, but nature even better.
<br />
<br />They all mentioned in one way or another what I believe is the real
importance of biodynamics. It lies in a crucial paradigm shift, from
humans behaving as masters of the natural world to that of participants.
Biodynamic agriculture is about healing and protecting the life forces
that sustain the Earth rather than simply consuming its resources. In
light of much of the evidence pointing the finger at humans as being the
culprits behind climate change, dead or sick water systems and putrid
air, maybe this shift is essential if we are to confront these problems.
<br />
<br />Albert Einstein once said that "the religion of the future will be a
cosmic religion...It should be based on a religious sense arising from
the experience of all things, natural and spiritual, and a meaningful
unity between the two." When Ostertag told me that not only the Japanese
understood the essence of biodynamics, but us North Americans seem so
resistant, I wonder why we are so hesitant to embrace a different
reality, how are so attached to proof and logic. Perhaps there is a
lesson to be learned from what is happening in Alsace.
<br />
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cavemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01524518542395367295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6706490.post-22972499072591079112012-10-02T19:32:00.002-07:002012-10-02T19:32:52.340-07:00The dry dam ain't dry, damn<br />
<h3>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Riesling 2011, The Dry Dam, Fleurieu Peninsula, D'Arenberg</span></span></h3>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">Australia white, $18.95, SAQ # 1115788</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih02KA74nGVYcfuEcI9GhXd3r7M_ejoRu9m9UKiuXyYu2iOK_yCGdBzncYiql_hykdCYCID7SSzBP8BEu_T_mheKz0_c_VcIIGpm02nYeEBZbgXO65dY9KBGEhlE9ThIA9iEqY/s1600/IMG_1255.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih02KA74nGVYcfuEcI9GhXd3r7M_ejoRu9m9UKiuXyYu2iOK_yCGdBzncYiql_hykdCYCID7SSzBP8BEu_T_mheKz0_c_VcIIGpm02nYeEBZbgXO65dY9KBGEhlE9ThIA9iEqY/s320/IMG_1255.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">Drunk cold, it's great, but hides the slight imbalance. As it warms, the minerality shows, but the sugar seems to float on top of the wine. So you start sweet, finish sour. Perfect balance in riesling is tough - this one almost has it. Could have been just a touch leaner, but for the price, I'm being overly picky. Might just need time.</span></div>
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cavemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01524518542395367295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6706490.post-8355192440148717652012-10-01T17:26:00.002-07:002012-10-01T17:26:29.797-07:00Patience (forgetfulness) is rewarded<h2>
Corse Figari 2010, Clos Canarelli </h2>
<h3>
France red, $36.50, SAQ # 11794521</h3>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">It took two days so lazy folks move on. Opened it Saturday, poured a glass, had that reductive stink of a rodent's hovel. Put the cork back in and left it outside in the rain and cold until tonight. Okay I forgot about it but whatever. Now incredibly intriguing. Animal is there, but now more alive. The spice element is so complex- sandlewood, cinnamon, nutmeg. Very pure plum. Absolutely rocked my couscous with merguez. Sexy dirty. Wish I had more.</span><br />
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<br />cavemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01524518542395367295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6706490.post-27959525662376250042012-09-30T14:57:00.000-07:002012-09-30T14:57:52.488-07:00Day 1 - The Wine Trip<br />
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<br />
Yes, I have a pretty good job. I get to taste lots of wine, but the best part is the opportunity to travel the world’s wine regions. Being on the ground is essential to understanding more profoundly what the wines are all about. It’s about meeting winemakers and grape growers on their turf.<br />
<br />
But wine travel is not always easy. Winemakers tend to be a festive group — wine writers can be as well — and love pouring their wines. Once they get you in their grips, they will pour and pour. These trips are a constant battle with staying on schedule, avoiding excess and, most importantly, trying to get enough sleep.<br />
<br />
My partner used to give me that “yeah, right” look when I would arrive home from one of these trips and would need a few days to recover. That was until I brought her along on one of them. After Day 1, she said I would never be allowed to complain again. After Day 2, she was only tasting half the wines poured during the afternoon visits. By Day 3, she didn’t even want to put a glass to her lips.<br />
So what’s it really like? Right now, I am in France’s Loire Valley. What follows is a typical “Day 1” — from winemaker to winemaker, one glass to the next.<br />
<br />
Sunday, Sept. 9<br />
<br />
7:50 p.m.: Plane is taxiing and leaving on time. It’s packed. I’m in economy, hoping to sleep as I have to hit the ground running tomorrow morning.<br />
<br />
Monday, Sept. 10<br />
<br />
8:10 a.m.: Six-hour flight and a six-hour time change. That’s the problem with the overnight flight — there isn’t enough overnight. Managed almost three hours of sleep, so not bad.<br />
9:15 a.m.: Cleared customs in Paris and have my luggage. Looking for my taxi driver.<br />
9:26 a.m.: Found her. My driver, Inès, says we have a minimum 2½-hour drive to get to Sancerre, the easternmost appellation of the Loire Valley. I need a coffee in a bad way, and haven’t eaten anything aside from a poor excuse for a muffin on the plane.<br />
10:15 a.m.: Stuck in Paris traffic. I was hoping to sleep, but Inès loves to chat. Turns out we have a common challenge: raising a 12-year-old daughter.<br />
10:48 a.m.: Finally cruising down the autoroute. Coffee stop No. 1. Automatic espresso dispenser at the gas station. That will have to do. We’re late. I knew I wasn’t going to make the first winery visit of the day at 9 a.m., and now I will have to miss the second. We are going directly to a restaurant in Sancerre, where I am to join up with my travelling mate, Toronto sommelier John Szabo, who arrived a day earlier.<br />
12:30 p.m.: I arrive at the bistro, on time, to meet John and a woman named Hélène who works for the local wine syndicate, which handles the promotional and communications needs of the Centre Loire (the regions of Sancerre, Pouilly-Fumé and other neighbouring areas). She will be driving us — making sure we arrive sort of on time — over the next two days. John and Hélène aren’t here, but I get an espresso and sit in the sun and wait.<br />
eing poured. We step in. Like most French, they love to chat with Quebecers.</div>
<div id="3" style="font-family: arial, verdana, 'Lucida Grande', sans-serif; font-size: 11px;">
3:30 a.m.: Finally get to bed. Need this. We leave in four hours. Five wineries, one winemaker lunch and a dinner on the schedule.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUwACnPy3vxlCtIL5cR2KQ2XMzIlPxn4NaXC4rFDU5wlRTAF4qrpRLC5ETlHWfGGA-2_ESPKUn8JFS79SpTOLUs0IEiWNdju16XPjb67isjtr557sTkIstUC7cLOIUOPcf7odg/s1600/Helene+from+The+Sancerre+Growers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUwACnPy3vxlCtIL5cR2KQ2XMzIlPxn4NaXC4rFDU5wlRTAF4qrpRLC5ETlHWfGGA-2_ESPKUn8JFS79SpTOLUs0IEiWNdju16XPjb67isjtr557sTkIstUC7cLOIUOPcf7odg/s200/Helene+from+The+Sancerre+Growers.jpg" width="200" /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhr-EeGrCBwSqe4vzh7gHFNruoAenTN5GJ0tml8pWNdX5UVC8BB3s2WzHYA7h_J-JicKRf-2RTQdxZ9oua_AB4iVP3a-jLEfzUzf6zmuCMCi91aA8RMO_0HwFN8fGf2_JaXteP/s1600/vineyard+manager+at+Pascal+Joliver+.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhr-EeGrCBwSqe4vzh7gHFNruoAenTN5GJ0tml8pWNdX5UVC8BB3s2WzHYA7h_J-JicKRf-2RTQdxZ9oua_AB4iVP3a-jLEfzUzf6zmuCMCi91aA8RMO_0HwFN8fGf2_JaXteP/s320/vineyard+manager+at+Pascal+Joliver+.jpg" width="214" /></a>1:05 p.m.: They show up late, but that isn’t a shock. It is rare that a winemaker doesn’t open one last bottle of something special just before you are supposed to be leaving. I am just happy to have some food and wine. Four bottles are open. One great white from Tinel-Blondelet, the tasting I just missed, and a great red from Chotard. Good to have a glass of wine and eat some crottin de Chavignol, the famous goat cheese of the Sancerre region.</div>
<div id="2">
2:15 p.m.: Next tasting is scheduled for 2 p.m., which means I’m late for it. The little village bistro where I’m eating is not big on speedy service. “The dessert is coming,” says our waiter. It gets there 10 minutes later, and after another espresso, we are off.<br />
2:40 p.m.: Arrive at Pascal Jolivet winery, which was luckily only a 10-minute drive from the restaurant, 40 minutes late. Quickly lay out the game plan for the visit with the people at the winery: 30-minute vineyard tour with the vineyard manager to learn about soil types. Interesting guy with 30 years of grape-growing experience. Lots to talk about: organic conversion, the different soils found in the region. Thirty minutes becomes 60.<br />
3:40 p.m.: Begin tasting with the head winemaker and the vineyard guy. Fifteen wines on the table in front of us, each from a different vineyard site. Talk centres on the difference between Sancerre and Pouilly-Fumé. In the end, there isn’t that much of a difference.<br />
4:24 p.m.: Powering through the wines. Next visit is with Alphonse Mellot, a legend in the region, scheduled for 4 p.m. He said not to be late. He won’t be surprised that we are, as many winemakers will say this just to make sure we aren’t really, really late.<br />
4:37 p.m.: Only around 40 minutes late; Mellot is there and full of energy. It’s cloudy and hot. Coffee buzz has worn off. Starting to feel really tired.<br />
5:19 p.m.: Mellot loves to talk. Been tasting wines from last year’s vintage from barrels for the last half-hour. Haven’t even started tasting bottles yet. There is a lot of action in the facility, as harvest starts in two weeks and the barrels and grape presses need to be cleaned.<br />
5:41 p.m.: I need air, so we take the tasting outside — on the street of this tiny village. Mellot leaves and comes back every 10 minutes with a new wine to taste. I sit on the curb, spitting into the street drain. Lose track of how many wines we’ve tasted.<br />
6:15 p.m.: My third wind kicks in; I am feeling more energetic. Four Austrians show up to taste, then Nadine, the assistant maître d’hôtel at a local restaurant. Yan, a friend of John from Ottawa, shows up out of nowhere.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZfwRL12UWXhBqxIbeWxoD-7uPkIQPbcJ-OY9CoGFou59bSyllhOOjJt9RdEXAmUtn7VdoOAUkZtIQ_HohhBbAT-T0y5cVThyTcKXMXjU7mtPp-OTJAM3dfHTFy-WBhbpV6PMH/s1600/alphonse+bill+curb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZfwRL12UWXhBqxIbeWxoD-7uPkIQPbcJ-OY9CoGFou59bSyllhOOjJt9RdEXAmUtn7VdoOAUkZtIQ_HohhBbAT-T0y5cVThyTcKXMXjU7mtPp-OTJAM3dfHTFy-WBhbpV6PMH/s320/alphonse+bill+curb.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
6:28 p.m.: Haven’t moved from my spot on the curb. Mellot keeps coming back with more and more wine. Locals passing by stop and join in. This is becoming a street party wine tasting.<br />
6:54 p.m.: Really need to check in to my hotel, and desperately need a shower. Mellot brings a bottle of white, no label, and wants to play “guess the vintage.” The wine is still fresh; the colour is getting golden. Something tells me it’s a 2002. I am right. I ask for my prize and I get a big hug from Mellot.<br />
7:10 p.m.: Really want to go now. Have a dinner with a winemaker in less than an hour. Mellot now wants us to try a white wine that has spent 24 years in barrel. I stay. Tastes like sherry.</div>
<div id="3">
7:40 p.m.: Hélène finally drives me to the hotel. John has stayed with Mellot and said he will meet us there. Just time for a quick shower and a change of clothes. A bit dizzy now from the tasting, trying to synthesize all this new information under a lack of sleep.<br />
7:55 p.m.: Hurry downstairs and meet Hélène, who is waiting to drive to the restaurant to meet Sophie, winemaker at Eric Louis winery. “Where’s John?” she asks. “Dunno,” I reply. “Probably still with Alphonse.”<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3I_fFBzmoK1t7nkSeQdc4PZyEOM4fJrcF1bw9Xp0LHmFWc_wNsCKD2-4aOEnQ95oSIKLztF0ln_GMQQXSv-xKxNkiXAFlOhHPbrzNLyAU9LRp-LCsbbQcjW6wIywfx9fKU5L_/s1600/alphonse+and+Szabo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3I_fFBzmoK1t7nkSeQdc4PZyEOM4fJrcF1bw9Xp0LHmFWc_wNsCKD2-4aOEnQ95oSIKLztF0ln_GMQQXSv-xKxNkiXAFlOhHPbrzNLyAU9LRp-LCsbbQcjW6wIywfx9fKU5L_/s200/alphonse+and+Szabo.jpg" width="200" /></a>8:10 p.m.: Late again, trying to find John in the maze that is Mellot’s wine cellar.<br />
8:15 p.m. Find him, and hurry to the restaurant.<br />
8:25 p.m.: Make it, though our initial reservation for five has grown to seven, as we have invited Nadine and Yan to accompany us.<br />
11 p.m.: Dinner almost finished. Have tasted maybe 15 Sancerres and Châteaumeillants (a new appellation that grows gamay and pinot noir on granite soils). Coffees all around. Feeling good. We decide to take the 15-minute walk back to the hotel. John grabs a bottle. “Just in case,” he says.<br />
12:30 a.m.: As usually happens, I don’t really feel tired now — even though I haven’t slept in what seems like days. Jet lag has officially kicked in, and from experience I know that the key is to stay up as long as possible. John, Yan and I end up sitting on a curb having a nightcap, catching up. It’s a beautiful night in a tiny country village, though I go through waves of fatigue.<br />
1:30 a.m.: Finally moving back to the hotel. Come across a small bar, the Ramparts. Typical of the French, Champagne is being poured. We step in. Like most French, they love to chat with Quebecers.<br />
3:30 a.m.: Finally get to bed. Need this. We leave in four hours. Five wineries, one winemaker lunch and a dinner on the schedule.<br />
Each winery has its own story. My job is to take all these stories, and all the information culled from these visits, and turn them into a portrait of the region. In a few weeks, I will do my first article on the Loire. After I catch up on some sleep.</div>
<br /><i>Originally published in The Montreal Gazette, September 23, 2012</i></div>
<span style="font-family: arial, verdana, 'Lucida Grande', sans-serif; font-size: 11px;"><br /></span>cavemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01524518542395367295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6706490.post-91545477420309379242009-05-04T17:39:00.000-07:002009-05-04T18:05:18.789-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9-RIJFeipTx3tt3mKYvRzA0ptUmvStaLfAl-qSeAWdxFWBhMjJCGf4QgWDMYYjRiwSqhDtUEFXnq12Dr-rxpOpDmsjC237e8ugqD57p9VDuSLW9ljaFsBIhGpCeySrRTLDz6n/s1600-h/IMGP0593.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9-RIJFeipTx3tt3mKYvRzA0ptUmvStaLfAl-qSeAWdxFWBhMjJCGf4QgWDMYYjRiwSqhDtUEFXnq12Dr-rxpOpDmsjC237e8ugqD57p9VDuSLW9ljaFsBIhGpCeySrRTLDz6n/s320/IMGP0593.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332138647149203986" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-size:180%;">Birthday Meal</span><br /><br />Marsannay 2002, Saint-Jacques, Pinot Blanc, Fougeray de Beauclair</span><br />Aged, expensive wood and caramel. Apple cider with unsweetened brown sugar. All the signs of oxidization were on the nose, thankfully, and not in the mouth. Rich, buttery, ripe with a definite move towards old pear compote,with just a note of caramel to sweeten it up. Long and still pretty fresh. Probably should have been drunk a year or two ago but much better than I expected for a 7 year old Burgundian Pinot Blanc.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Vosne-Romanee 2002, Au D</span><span style="font-size:130%;">essus de la Riviere, Christophe Perrot-Minot</span><br />Tender and powerful. Some sort of creamy red fruit with it’s green top, sweet earth and a liquified rose. Enticing to no end. You stick your nose in the glass, you want to get closer but there is a thin veil of tannin and acid that keeps you away. It is why we drink Burgundy, to on one hand be given a glimpse of perfection, only to be denied by the other.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM6WN4c_-bjcSGlnMtJe3Lg_tbBAAuxGG3yDBP4iZ1wyg5EK9PreYijFS22rWu5kYTddDZ77kgsmW4xljHJfW1ogSg5tVw1T2U8_4zjOwrxN6D7jI6WATkR74uXdHWEBtYLuJX/s1600-h/IMGP0596.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM6WN4c_-bjcSGlnMtJe3Lg_tbBAAuxGG3yDBP4iZ1wyg5EK9PreYijFS22rWu5kYTddDZ77kgsmW4xljHJfW1ogSg5tVw1T2U8_4zjOwrxN6D7jI6WATkR74uXdHWEBtYLuJX/s320/IMGP0596.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332139045533277522" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Riesling 2001, Spatlese, Rauenthaler Baiken, Rheingau, Kloster Eberbach</span><br />Good. But just good as opposed to exceptional, as other bottles have been. The minerality has morphed into an almost wooden veneer, with pineapple and guava slopped onto it. That is all fine, it’s just the acidity has decided to curl up in a ball somewhere, leaving you with a touch of unrequited sugar. The cork was fine. Hmmm.cavemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01524518542395367295noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6706490.post-44659528741183442702009-05-02T03:30:00.001-07:002009-05-02T03:32:38.669-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVBoiLP6TRssSKuLyhhJGakIMY6EzZz4ZqALcKcZ3oKzOkJV_Uv-1-YQCViT3zQU90wD-fCmX9-OmJq1InC3F9zyjZnPtypzXE2_nChJxjbtJLs6s29AGcI8unOY55rXo_M0Er/s1600-h/IMGP0518.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVBoiLP6TRssSKuLyhhJGakIMY6EzZz4ZqALcKcZ3oKzOkJV_Uv-1-YQCViT3zQU90wD-fCmX9-OmJq1InC3F9zyjZnPtypzXE2_nChJxjbtJLs6s29AGcI8unOY55rXo_M0Er/s320/IMGP0518.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331172564967189618" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">The '76 Wynns!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Cabernet Sauvignon 1957, Coonawarra Estate, Wynns</span><br />Tried two bottles with both showing definite signs of getting tired with life. Tannins have almost disappeared, but there is still just enough pretty red berry fruit to make it am interesting drink. It’s lightweight, yes, and it’s dying, but it’s looking good on it’s decline.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Cabernet Sauvignon 1962, Coonawarra Estate, Wynns</span><br />Wonderfully fresh and with remarkable complexity. First sniff is a mix of sweet red berries, a touch of dried spice and earthier notes mixed with a hint of bitter chocolate. But after 15 minutes, it turns to white tobacco, dried spice, and a bit more chocolate. Great depth, and a pleasure to drink.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Cabernet Sauvignon 1976, Coonawarra Estate, Wynns</span><br />By far the winner of the tasting. Blackberry, dark plum but moving towards earthier, mintier notes. You can taste the terra rossa, that red soil that is all over the Coonoawarra region. It’s in the wine, giving a sanguine, iron-laden, iodine feel. The texture is regal, with the accent on length as opposed to largesse. It just keeps on getting fresher. Remarkable.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Cabernet Sauvignon 1988, Coonawarra Estate, Wynns</span><br />Still some solid tannin, and fruit that seems not sure whether it wants to be red or black. The acidity seems a touch out of balance with the rest of the wine, giving it a delicate, sour fruit character while the tannins would lend themselves better to a bigger wine. It’s just not sure what it wants to be. Will it ever? Good wine, but I doubt that it will achieve the greatness of the ’76 and ’62.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Cabernet Sauvignon 1994, Coonawarra Estate, Wynns</span><br />Stewed blackberry and plums, vanilla and herbed spice. Lacks a touch of finesse as the fruit is a bit chunky, it comes at you as a block. Is this in a weird phase or simply a case of the modern Australia sacrificing longevity for immediacy.cavemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01524518542395367295noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6706490.post-91888798347315942152009-03-25T03:46:00.000-07:002009-03-25T06:16:49.040-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgPiKPYp-QgHzgIdCmgBpkqLx6m7SbyPWzVgrlVCd1BlsO-zdMS5ZDqHyBwnPTPsf_abYah7oE7fB1SArPP-_lPLn9_fYWpbAIxv_ur1qhpsnw0ZXVS8jqBN6mf-tLmXML2kP1/s1600-h/IMGP0269.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgPiKPYp-QgHzgIdCmgBpkqLx6m7SbyPWzVgrlVCd1BlsO-zdMS5ZDqHyBwnPTPsf_abYah7oE7fB1SArPP-_lPLn9_fYWpbAIxv_ur1qhpsnw0ZXVS8jqBN6mf-tLmXML2kP1/s200/IMGP0269.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317081996042082946" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-size:180%;">Dinner with Lou, Early Spring</span><br /><br />Apero<br />Fleurie 2006, Yvon Métras</span><br />Bizarre nose of beet juice and cabbage leaf, infused with geraniums. The fruit is there, it is a Beaujolais after all. The fruit is red, a bit tart on the finish and totally refreshing. After 7 or so vintages of faithfully drinking Metras at happy occasions, I am not any closer to understanding the wine, able to foretell what it will taste like, or even explain why I love it so much. I just wish that I could share a glass of it with every person out there who truly loves wine. Just received my 07’s.<br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />Cabbage stuffed wi</span><span style="font-size:130%;">th Braised Cabbage, Bacon, Shrimp</span>. <span style="font-size:130%;">Salmon too.</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Arbois 2004, Traminer, Ouillé, Tissot</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz5duoWEA76HouBZxyyV9wCb6yfwyxdAAP-MR5KHvwumIpTnBQxw_w7CU6ruX7dgDr-NLKevpSbhfrMMgObtx4W9S_vAYD8nr3NQMGDIxAwJt-STsPMDHuJXUvI4IotBupct9I/s1600-h/IMGP0276.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz5duoWEA76HouBZxyyV9wCb6yfwyxdAAP-MR5KHvwumIpTnBQxw_w7CU6ruX7dgDr-NLKevpSbhfrMMgObtx4W9S_vAYD8nr3NQMGDIxAwJt-STsPMDHuJXUvI4IotBupct9I/s200/IMGP0276.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317082330951286530" border="0" /></a><br />Savagnin, non oxydized, because Stephan Tissot chose to top up the barrels. That is “ouillage.” Such a complete bouquet: grilled almonds, covered with honey and rubbed with ginger and lemon rind. It smells as if bees made this wine, after feeding on lemon flowers. Fresh, rich, quite extraordinary.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Osso Bucco</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Barolo 200</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4knQz-w3mBQqOlEf8QTjxN4DOA4DxcLa5FaokgRpqLXN_ogcY07tInAE9dkGd0w81e0W0L-3qrdWXYlltY1EY8lrLdZRbo-FBMN7bjpcGFbhqEdMPpj8VjNXkosDxq3gTqbF6/s1600-h/IMGP0295.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4knQz-w3mBQqOlEf8QTjxN4DOA4DxcLa5FaokgRpqLXN_ogcY07tInAE9dkGd0w81e0W0L-3qrdWXYlltY1EY8lrLdZRbo-FBMN7bjpcGFbhqEdMPpj8VjNXkosDxq3gTqbF6/s200/IMGP0295.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317082784729675122" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">1,</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> D</span><span style="font-size:130%;">a</span><span style="font-size:130%;">rdi Le Rose, Bussia, Poderi Colla</span><br />I still feel bad about opening this up, just as it is about to enter adulthood and all. It’s just starting to get that beautiful Barolo “thin-ness,” when ripe Nebbiolo is not overly extracted, gobbed with wood, and allowed to develop some bottle age. It has finesse, bright cherries, red plums, cloves and essence of cola on the finish. Long, and not large, would be the best way to describe it. Best days are still ahead of it.cavemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01524518542395367295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6706490.post-34599388817510507942009-03-16T04:13:00.000-07:002009-03-16T04:21:27.078-07:00<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-size:180%;">Bloody Wine</span><br /><br />Gaillac 2004, Renaissance, Domaine Rotier</span><br />An interesting wine to watch as it morphed from a pretty and delicate fruitiness to this raw piece of meat. Huh? Act 1 - It starts with ripe red cherries and cassis. Act 2 - Tannins soften, flavours get redder as the cassis fades into something red, iron-laden. Act 3 - Fine, polished tannins, and the curtain falls with an image of a wild boar, or some other beast, dead and bleeding in a field of grass. Very good. A bit strange, but very good.<br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />Tannat 2005, Reserva Familiar, Leonardo Falcone</span><span class="doctext"><br />Watch out, Bullwinkle! There is a wine here that wants you served up on a plate with mushrooms. Tannat, the grape of France's Madiran, often produces dark and dense wines that need years in the cellar to tenderize. While this Uruguayan version is much more forgiving, it is still not for everyone. Its bouquet made me think of meat, raw meat, laced with the juice of black olives and mint. If purple were a flavour, it might be this. But it grows on you, despite its sanguinary references, like falling for a pretty vampire.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;">Grenache 2005, The Custodian, McLaren Vale, d’Arenberg</span><br />A bit shocking at first sip, as it is incredibly fleshy. There is a rawness to this wine, almost like a freshly killed animal: sanguine, fresh, pure. But once it opens up, there are cherries and other red fruits, earth, coffee grounds, and some oaked spice on the end palate. Very original, and if you like something off the beaten track, this is spectacular.cavemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01524518542395367295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6706490.post-2060382836735308122009-03-10T17:59:00.000-07:002009-03-10T18:06:59.773-07:00<span style="font-size:180%;">Growing Pains</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Chablis 1er Cru 2005, Vaillons, Domaine Bernard Defaix</span><br />Sweet almonds with a dusting of<span style="font-style: italic;"> "</span><em style="font-style: italic;">piment d'Espelette</em><span style="font-style: italic;">”</span> and a squeeze of lemon juice. The intense minerality that I tasted last year is morphing, slowly moving towards nuttiness, but caught at an awkward moment of adolescence. Its rich, mouth filling, but with a nervous acidity. This is a very good wine with some pimples. Still very likable, but far from beautiful.cavemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01524518542395367295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6706490.post-88809353569030965952009-03-08T13:24:00.000-07:002009-03-08T13:28:17.183-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.nramemberscouncils.com/newsbriefs/Pictures%203Q2008/bullwinkle.gif"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 302px; height: 425px;" src="http://www.nramemberscouncils.com/newsbriefs/Pictures%203Q2008/bullwinkle.gif" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">Duck, duck, moose</span><br /><br />I attended a tasting maybe five years ago of wines from the southwest of France. After an hour or so of tasting the reds, my gums started to ache, my teeth were purple and my mouth was as dry as the Gobi dessert. I hesitantly offered up my tasting glass at the next table and asked the winemaker- what do you guys drink when it’s hot out? He laughed and filled my glass with yet another beasty, purple wine and he stared at me intently as I swirled the wine around my glass. I stuck my nose in, gulped down a sip and did my best to find something more to say than, “wow, nice and dry.”<br /><br />I think I might have been scarred from that experience because I honestly cannot remember the last time I actually drank a whole bottle of one of these wines. Granted, these are not the easiest wines to drink without food. These are big wines, often with lots of drying tannin. Rather than showing lots of bright fruit, they tend to be meaty, earthy and with hints of black olives and liquorice - not the the type of wines my fragile, white loving palate tends to gravitate towards. But in contrast, I love the white wines of the southwest - Jurancon, Pacherenc du Vic Bilh from the Madiran area, Gaillac, Irouleguy. Bring em on.<br /><br />But what about these reds, and specifically two of the best known appellations - Cahors and Madiran. When I ran my own restaurant, I couldn't keep them on the wine list as they sold out so fast. When I help people navigate a wine list, they are often cited as examples of wines that they like. And a simple scan of the SAQ inventory here in Quebec reveals 50 different Cahors and 35 Madirans. I must say that I feel out of step.<br /><br />So as I was organizing the samples that are sent to me to taste, I found that I had over 25 Cahors and Madiran sitting down there. I wasn’t surprised, there is not a lot of Chianti or pinot noir gathering dust down there. These are gibier wines, wines that are made to accompany rich and flavourful dishes, so with some duck cassoulet on the stove and a piece of venison on my plate, it was time to face the beast and see how these wines work at the table. But first, a little background on these two historic regions of France.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Cahors</span><br /><br />It’s a sign of how international wine has become that many wine lovers associate malbec, the grape of Cahors, more with Argentina than they do with France. But malbec, known also by the name cot or auxerrois in the south of France, is indeed very much French. And while the majority of the vines today are planted in the southwest, it has historic importance which touches the Loire Valley, and more importantly Bordeaux.<br /><br />It only received the status of its own appellation in 1971, but Cahors is one of the oldest wine making regions in France, dating back to 50BC. It garnered it’s reputation as “the black wine of France” as early as the 13th Century where it was served at the tables of many of the kings of Europe.<br /><br />Because of its dark colour and tannin, as well as its relative proximity to Bordeaux, during the 19th century it was sometimes blended into the wines of Bordeaux during poor vintages to add colour and structure to weaker wines. Malbec can still be found in very small quantities in certain regions of Bordeaux, though it is very much on the decline as the grape seems to appreciate the hotter summers of the southwest. As it is sensitive to rot and other humidity born diseases, the higher rainfall and humidity of Bordeaux also made it a difficult grape to grow.<br /><br />Appellation rules state that malbec must make up over 70% of the final wine- with the other 30% allowing for either merlot or the grape of Madiran, tannat. In general, the less expensive Cahors that I tasted were those that had higher percentages of merlot in the blend, which added fruit and seemed to soften up the wine. But the biggest change that I noticed from the last time I did an extensive tasting of Cahor’s wines, was in the aromatics and texture in the more expensive wines that were either entirely, or close to 100% malbec. They were softer, even pretty. Go figure.<br /><br />Malbec, despite its blackness and earthy nature, can show very pretty, floral aromatics. Mostly violets, I also found many of the wines much easier to drink than I remember. But the pure joy of Cahors is at the table where it matched up perfectly with both my duck cassoulet and deer steak. The liquorice notes seemed to blend in perfectly with the stronger flavour of these two flavourful meats. And like any self-respecting cassoulet, it’s loaded with fat which helped smooth out the tannins.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Madiran</span><br /><br />Located further south than Cahors, right next to Armagnac, is Madiran. If Cahor’s wines can be at times astringent and strong flavoured, Madiran’s wines can be downright burly and incredibly tannic. The grape here is tannat, and that wine that I was swirling at that tasting when I had my oral breakdown was in fact a Madiran.<br /><br />Madiran’s wine making history rivals that of Cahors, though it is a much smaller appellation. But if Cahor’s initial fame and importance was tied to it’s relationship with Bordeaux, Madiran’s addition to the world of wine making goes beyond it’s wines, rather it is a wine making technique that is rather controversial - micro oxygenation.<br /><br />Developed in the early 1990’s by Patrick Ducourneau of Domaine Mouréou, the technique involves injecting small amounts of oxygen into the wine as it ferments or while it ages. By doing so early in a wine’s development, micro-ox can speed up the polymerization of tannins - which means that those little tannin molecules bind together into longer chains and makes the wine feel less astringent. It effectively gives the wine a tannic structure of a wine that has bottle age.<br /><br />Not everyone has jumped on board, as many wine makers feel that the technique alters the texture of the wine and trade off wine of long term ageability for short term ease of drinking. While this debate is worthy of an entire article, there is no doubt that it has made certain wines of Madiran easier drinking at an earlier age.<br /><br />However, it s not the only way to make Madiran. The undisputed leader of the appellation is Alain Brumont, whose Chateau Montus and Bouscassé are the best wines I have tasted from the region (see tasting note for the 2002 Bouscassé below). Brumont believes that a long maturation in new oak barrels is the best way to treat the tannat grape, followed by a certain amount of patience. While his wines do require some cellar time, they have an elegance and depth that can rival some of the world’s best wines.<br /><br />My tasting showed exactly that. While the Cahors tended to be juicier, richer and have a wider range of flavours, Madiran’s wines were much more elegant and finessed. They all required at least an hour in carafe, but especially with the deer steak, covered in a blueberry sauce, they really were an exceptional match.<br /><br />So I have a new found respect for these historic wines, they just need the right food. While I tested the wines with wild meats and duck, any very flavourful meat or recipe will do the job. I guess the next time I go to one of these tastings, I will have to set up a picnic somewhere in the corner of the room. Cassoulet anyone?cavemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01524518542395367295noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6706490.post-49621265035414620882009-03-05T17:01:00.000-08:002009-03-05T17:11:40.308-08:00<span style="font-size:130%;">Madiran 2002, Vieilles Vignes, Château Bouscassé</span><br />Seven years of age, and the oak and tannin are still slowly integrating into the whole, but this is already a pleasure to drink. It's heading towards silkiness, and once full balance is achieved - watch out. But even right now, there is leather, there is coffee, at least a hint of red fruit, and an unaggressive and long smoked spice finish. Got a cellar?cavemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01524518542395367295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6706490.post-83645812378443480292009-03-05T03:25:00.000-08:002009-03-05T17:12:21.515-08:00<span style="font-size:130%;">Cahors 2005, Le Combal, Cosse Maisonneuve </span><br />Big Cahors, authentic and made for the hunter-gatherer in you, with black licorice and meat. There is some animal that is "pheasanting" in the bottle, covered in rose petals and mint. Big, burly tannins. This a wine for the true Cahors lover. Bring on the cassoulet! Biodynamic.cavemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01524518542395367295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6706490.post-1634135323905149782009-03-03T18:23:00.000-08:002009-03-03T18:28:43.872-08:00<span style="font-size:180%;">Two Greek</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Vin de Pays de Tégéa 2005, Cabernet/Merlot, Domaine Tselepos</span><br />A bouquet of the sweetest, floral and prettiest part of the plum, cherry and cassis, with a touch of spinach-type greens in the background. The rest of the fruit is waiting for you in the glass, gathering intensity and flesh as you work your way through the bottle, and all held together by finely grained, spicy tannins. Nothing overtly complex here, just an exemplary, unique and honest interpretation of two well-known grapes, and made by a man who seems to want to show what his land can offer. Sure, it’s yet another cab-merlot blend, however that’s the only mundane thing about it.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Vin de Pays D'Epanomi 2007, Domaine Gerovassiliou</span><br />Creamy lemon lime on the nose, focussed mineral notes, with a muscat type floral kick. The acidity keeps it fresh on the attack but this has a remarkable richness and length to it. The grape is assyrtiko with a small percentage of malagousia. I drank this over two days and on the second day it got more exotic, and even a spicey note. Buy 6 and try and keep a few until summer.<br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span>cavemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01524518542395367295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6706490.post-43223323874095688212009-03-02T16:43:00.000-08:002009-03-02T16:50:15.258-08:00<span style="font-size:180%;">Mencia</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Bierzo 2005, Pittacum</span><br />This is either a powerful wine that drinks delicate, or the other way around. Whatever it is, it is mineral, there are olives, a hearty earthy component, and lots of delicious fruit. There is definitely some good tannin, but I don’t think quite enough for a big steak. I guess pleasant is the best way to describe the wine, maybe even fun to drink, but you could serve it at an important business meeting. I really like the mencia grape, but it confuses me.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Bierzo 2004, Crianza , Mencia, Tilenus</span><br />Light but not at all wimpy. Underneath that fruity exterior, it has a bit of a mean streak, if something so easy drinking can possibly be mean. Dark, mineral laden plums and black cherries, dipped in rose water is about as close as I can describe this. Sure, there are some decent tannins, but they have evolved, giving the wine just enough structure to keep the fruit going for a little bit longer. It’s different, very good, and really fun to drink.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span>cavemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01524518542395367295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6706490.post-22372091313467024082009-03-01T04:11:00.000-08:002009-03-01T04:14:41.158-08:00<span style="font-size:180%;">Hey dude, that wine stinks!</span><br /><br />I vividly remember the first Château Pradeaux I tasted. This mourvèdre-based red from the region of Bandol in France's Provence had the distinct odour of a horse-filled barn. When I served the wine to a friend, he looked up, smiling, and pronounced his judgement: "This smells like s--t."<br /><br />But he drank his glass, as did I, and once the initial shock wore off, we both kept going back for more. We even planned a Bandol party, replete with steaks, shiitake mushrooms and lots of smelly blue cheese. Call it "sado-aroma-masochism." While for some people wines such as my bottle of Pradeaux may be considered "aromatically challenged," these aromas have become a quality in a wine that I appreciate more and more. But what makes a wine, made with grapes, smell like a saddle, or a mushroom, or a horse-filled barn?<br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;">People, meet Brett</span><br /><br />This is not an easy question to answer; even experts are not clear as to how these odours find their way into a wine. Some say it's the way the wine was vinified, others say it's because of vineyard sites, others will talk about temperature and ripeness. But we will focus this discussion on the most controversial suspect - a wild yeast nicknamed Brett.<br /><br />Its real name is Brettanomyces. The single-celled fungus is found in old barrels, in the chais where they make the wine, and, in some regions, on the grapes themselves. While it is not clearly understood how it enters the wine, or whether the odours found in a wine are even a result of high levels of Brett, the smell is very particular. It's perhaps best described as a sweaty saddle, or even a horse; if you get a whiff of this in your wine, there is a good chance that you have some Brett in there.<br /><br />While this may sound a bit gross, there is a debate as to whether or not this yeast in fact spoils a wine. Many people actually appreciate small levels of this aroma in their wines, and some of the most sought-after and reputable wines in the world are known for their "Brettiness." These include many expensive Bordeaux, Burgundies, Côtes du Rhône, Bandols and Riojas.<br /><br />I recently toured an Internet tasting board where an older vintage of a famous Châteauneuf du Pape, made by Beaucastel, was reviewed. I was amazed by the difference of opinions on the wine. For some, it was the model of complexity and elegance, while for others, the more animalistic nature of the bouquet was a turnoff. The people on this board seemed to be serious wine collectors, so this is not simply a case of more educated palettes vs. the uninitiated.<br /><br />Another case in point: Last week I was at a tasting of the latest wines to hit the shelves of your local SAQ, and at my table were a number of local wine critics. One of the wines, a Spanish blend of tempranillo and cabernet sauvignon from Vallformosa, became the subject of some discussion (you can read my review in this week's suggestions). The first bottle was decidedly stinky, and we asked for a second bottle to be opened, which was pretty much like the first. While a couple of the tasters had that "yuck" look on their faces, I wrote "nice and stinky" in my notes. "Must be old barrels," remarked Jean Aubry from Le Devoir (and he was right). Jean and I just shrugged our shoulders at one another. I assume he liked the wine as well, but I'll let him cast his own judgment.<br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />Brett likes the heat</span><br /><br />There are a number of theories as to why Brett decides to show itself in certain wines, and sometimes just in certain vintages. What is known is that it's found more often in red wines than whites, and often in wines that have relatively low acidity. This usually means riper grapes, so it is not surprising that it is usually associated with hotter grape-growing regions.<br /><br />It is also possible that certain grapes are more prone to Brett infection than others. Mourvèdre, which is the most planted grape in Bandol and is also a primary component in Beaucastel, is often associated with these aromas. Tempranillo, the main grape of Rioja, also can show saddle-type aromas. I have also tasted a number of merlot-based wines that have made me wonder whether there was Brett present.<br /><br />One of the comments I have heard of the 2005 Bordeaux vintage, a year that was extremely warm, is that the merlot-based wines have shown a certain amount of Brettiness. In her appraisal of the vintage, wine writer Jancis Robinson wrote, "With acidity levels notably low, especially in many of the riper merlots, the Brettanomyces yeast was another threat. On quite a number of wines I smelled a telltale trace of sweaty animal hide."<br /><br />This theory was backed up by Bordeaux winemaker Jean-Pierre Amoreau of Château le Puy. I have tasted a number of his wines, and the '03 was decidedly gamey. Amoreau told me that when his merlot grapes became over-ripe, a different yeast strain came into play. While he wouldn't use the word Brett, I am assuming that is what he meant.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Kill Brett?</span><br /><br />Marc Perrin refused to acknowledge that his Beaucastel owes its aromatics to Brett infection, saying that it is the "terroir." There is an association of Brett infection with poor sanitary practices in winemaking facilities. While this may be true in certain cases, especially in older cellars with lots of old barrels, there is another possible reason for why many more wines don't have these odours.<br /><br />One thing that Château le Puy and Beaucastel have in common is organic farming practices in the fields and a commitment to using fewer sulphites in their winemaking. Because the Brett yeast thrives only when there are sugars and other "nutrients" left over in the wine after it is vinified, winemakers who choose to add less sulphur, which is used to kill any remaining organisms in the wine, risk creating a Brett-friendly environment.<br /><br />Aside from sulphur additions, many winemakers practice a technique called sterile filtration, which also eliminates any micro-organisms still alive in the wine. One of those organisms is Brett. The problem with this is that many winemakers believe it strips a wine of its nuance.<br /><br />The end result is that if a winemaker strives for a more "natural" wine, he or she must be willing to live with the possibility of Brett. This leads to the question: Is Brett a natural part of wine or is its presence a defect, like too much oxygen (oxidized) or high levels of TCA (cork taint)?<br /><br />The answer is, well, it depends. For those winemakers and consumers who want their wine to taste of fruit and oak, and only that, Brett is an uninvited guest. However, there are probably as many who believe it adds complexity and in small doses can make a wine better.<br /><br />A Californian winemaker once told me that if he could harness and control Brett, he would love to have small amounts in some of his wines. But in the end, the risk of having it run uncontrolled was too much, and therefore he chooses to eliminate it totally.cavemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01524518542395367295noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6706490.post-68098500957515352132009-02-18T05:51:00.000-08:002009-02-18T06:03:14.763-08:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHVNXppRCV68GcdoYh5TAALz1ENit7EhkoqZpi385go8qhyphenhyphenY9Z5iLJiOcdx6XUS1OA3U5JA4VDgWTlwDlEUPdyvLgOpZtBCdwVfG2O4ycD7dqm22JnvtetN8Mc0MpdPbX-5Fkd/s1600-h/IMGP0064.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHVNXppRCV68GcdoYh5TAALz1ENit7EhkoqZpi385go8qhyphenhyphenY9Z5iLJiOcdx6XUS1OA3U5JA4VDgWTlwDlEUPdyvLgOpZtBCdwVfG2O4ycD7dqm22JnvtetN8Mc0MpdPbX-5Fkd/s200/IMGP0064.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304136983796416722" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:180%;">Veal Chop</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Bandol 2000, Château Pradeux</span><br /><br />Shitake-infused purple fruit with a distant bouquet of dried garden herbs. Dark, gaining intensity and power as it opens up. Tender tannins, enough to give structure but not getting in the way. Getting to that last glass now, the mystery fruit gains complexity- it's growing on some sort of rock, in a well kept barn, filled with fresh mushrooms. Bordeaux of the south? Perhaps the comparison works, but this is maybe a touch more generous.cavemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01524518542395367295noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6706490.post-51265735045117955852009-02-18T05:35:00.000-08:002009-02-18T05:51:19.474-08:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNGkn19OMbzsA03BftKzz4tq2SSIrVEwzXoFJbk5D623jnmGnjc01fHO62t501vG3rN5BtCsbBNcjmDrRU1kqG8_0mIoUVSBmsc1w4zOhYjN2yNjkgFNnDnpp-9zknOz-axvf5/s1600-h/IMGP0058.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNGkn19OMbzsA03BftKzz4tq2SSIrVEwzXoFJbk5D623jnmGnjc01fHO62t501vG3rN5BtCsbBNcjmDrRU1kqG8_0mIoUVSBmsc1w4zOhYjN2yNjkgFNnDnpp-9zknOz-axvf5/s200/IMGP0058.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304134229467752578" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">Scallop Entrée</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />Jasnières 2004, Calligramme, Domaine de Bellivière</span><br />Red apples and green grapes, just starting to brown, giving the fruit an aromatic sweetness, but it is very dry the mouth. Around halfway through the bottle, soft, white and yellow flowers, perhaps chamomile, seem to come out of nowhere, giving depth, pretty perfume. Much like a crescendo, each sip gains amplitude in the mouth , only to finish on a fine, focussed point of minerality. last bottle, damn.cavemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01524518542395367295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6706490.post-17505652497292045472009-02-15T16:13:00.000-08:002009-02-16T03:21:03.990-08:00<span style="font-size:180%;">Can't hold the sulphites?</span><br /><br />There are a lot of misconceptions surrounding organics and wine, and especially about the role of sulphites in organic wine. But why are they there? Are they dangerous? If so, for whom? And if they are necessary, then what are acceptable levels?<br /><br />Sulphites refer to the family of sulphur-based compounds - those most commonly used in winemaking being the gas, sulphur dioxide (SO2), and the powder, potassium metabisulphite. Sulphites are naturally produced by many organisms and found in such food items as grapes, oranges and chicken eggs. They are even produced by our own bodies, close to a gram per day.<br /><br />Because of their antioxidant and antimicrobial properties, they are used as preservatives for a number of foods, including dried fruit, shrimp, fruit juice, potato chips and a variety of fresh vegetables. Ultimately, they keep our foods fresh-looking and give them a longer shelf life. And wine is no different.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">How sulphites get in your wine</span><br /><br />All wines contain sulphites. They are a naturally occurring by-product of the fermentation of grape sugars by yeasts. The amount is minimal, generally under 10 mg/L, but that means a sulphite-free wine does not exist. But adding extra sulphite has become an accepted and, for most, a necessary part of modern winemaking's battle against the two enemies of wine: bacteria and excessive oxygen.<br /><br />They are used to clean winemaking equipment, like barrels, which assures that spoilage bacteria like brettanomyces do not become a problem in the winery. They are added directly to the uncrushed grapes as they come in from the field, which helps prevent unwanted wild yeast strains and other bacteria from taking control.<br /><br />During fermentation, some winemakers will add sulphur to protect the future wine from contact with oxygen. Because it is a yeast killer, it is sometimes added to stop a fermentation if the winemaker wants to leave some residual sugar in the wine, as with German Rieslings. Perhaps the most significant addition happens at bottling, where a final dose of SO2 is added to protect the wines while they are being shipped around the world. Even more importantly for wines that are to be cellared, sulphite additions are used to prevent oxidation, assuring that the wines will reward those who stash their bottles away.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Free and combined</span><br /><br />One of the peculiarities of sulphites is that they are constantly being ingested by the wine, reacting with oxygen and other chemical elements. These are referred to as "combined" sulphites. Once ingested, they have little or no preservative effect on the wine.<br /><br />Free sulphites are the uncombined sulphur compounds that remain in the wine and protect it from oxidation and other potential problems, such as an unwanted fermentation that can result from the combination of having live yeasts and residual sugars in the wine, and storing the wine at too high a temperature (above 14C).<br /><br />I remember a case of vouvray I bought a couple of years back that had no added SO2. When I bought it, it was demi-sec, meaning that it had some residual sugar in it. During the winter, when my cellar temperature hovers around 10C, the bottles were fantastic. But as summer arrived and the temperature rose in my cellar, because the wines still contained live yeasts, my wine started fermenting. The result? My slightly sweet white transformed itself into a dry bubbly. It was still okay, but not what I paid for.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Sulphites and your health</span><br /><br />I spent the better part of a week looking at whom, in fact, the "contains sulphites" warning is for. Not very many of us, apparently. Studies seem to point to two groups: people who suffer from sulphite oxidase deficiency (under one per cent of the population) and asthmatics. In the case of asthmatics, reactions only seem to occur when sulphites are near the maximum allowable levels (over 300 mg/L). There is little evidence that they are bad for the rest of us.<br /><br />What about the classic "red wine headache" after an evening of revelry? Sulphites are usually blamed, but red wines usually have the least amount of sulphites, because they already contain natural antioxidants that come from the skins and the branches of the grapes. White wines and rosés, which aren't macerated with the grape skins, require more. Sweet wines have the most, because the SO2 combines so readily with the sugar. It seems that headache comes from other elements of a red wine - perhaps histamines.<br /><br />In the European Union, the maximum sulphite level for red wine is 160 mg/L. The limit for whites and rosés is 210 mg/L, and for sweet wines it's 400 mg/L. In the U.S. and Canada, the maximum level is set at 350 mg/L. While organic certification agencies are specific to grape growing, certain agencies (like the biodynamic certification agency Demeter) do impose limits on the maximum amount of sulphites allowed in wines made with biodynamic grapes, which is usually half of "conventional wines."<br /><br />When I asked the SAQ laboratory about its policy on sulphite levels, the response was that while they check to assure a wine is under the maximum allowable levels, they don't have a specific amount that they want to see in a wine. If they judge it necessary, however, they will ask winemakers to increase sulphite levels. Their primary concern, like most retailers, is shelf life. This means that many of our wines probably contain more sulphites than necessary. I have talked with a couple of organic winemakers who add extra SO2 to satisfy their export markets, even though they feel their wine doesn't need it.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">So why hold the sulphites?</span><br /><br />If the health issue is not very important, why even be concerned about sulphite levels? My concern is a qualitative issue. Sulphur dioxide smells like a freshly struck match. Studies show that most people can detect the odour at over 40 mg/L, though some sensitive noses can detect it at lesser levels.<br /><br />Marcel Lapierre, Beaujolais winemaker and one of the gurus of "natural winemaking" (wines without added sulphur), told me that sulphur alters the aromatics of his wine. I would concur. I drink lots of these wines, and they have a purity of fruit in their bouquet that one does not find in more conventionally made wines. I know many wine makers who only add at bottling as they believe that earlier sulphite additions have a negative effect on the fermentation process, again , especially for the aromatics.<br /><br />On the other hand, I have had a number of these wines that went the route of my vouvray. While certain winemakers have theories as to how to almost completely reduce the need for sulphites, I am happy with those who try to use the minimum.<br /><br />Back to being bitter about modern wines next article.cavemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01524518542395367295noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6706490.post-26158650014242700892009-02-13T05:53:00.000-08:002009-02-13T16:13:35.700-08:00<span style="font-size:180%;">My Sweet Clemence-wine<br /><span style="font-size:100%;"></span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br />Devoté of Michel Rolland, Dauriac's Clemence has garnered a reputation as one of the better 'new' properties in Pomerol. I love to hate what Rolland does, and usually I find good reason to do so. Not so for the 2003 and 2006.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Pomerol 2003, Château La Clemence</span><br />Dark, ripe plums, slightly sweet, hint of licorice, with fresh vanilla bean. For such a hot vintage, where so many wines were excessively tannic, Michel Rolland's strategy of micro-ox seems to have worked- the tannins are firm, but round and mouth coating. Wonderfully complex, though very much on the fruit rather than the earthier notes, you really don't want it to stop. Sure, lots of oak, but there is enough substance to handle it.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Pomerol 2004, Château La Clemence</span><br />Goopy, sticky, sweet fruit. Lacking acidity. Not lacking oak. Very forced. Many people did a great job in 2004, not here.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Pomerol 2005, Château La Clemence</span><br />Very chocolaty, which at first sip reminded me of Nestle's Quick. But with a few swirls of the glass, it opens up, with expresso, licorice and some sweet fruit, and stifling oak. Not the most comfortable wine to have in your mouth except for the cool menthol finish. Interesting, though not particularly fun to drink, at least for the moment.<br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />Pomerol 2006, Château La Clemence</span><br />Good, though very young, modern Bordeaux. A refreshing acidity, just a hint of chocolate, and very intense red fruit. The sweetness here is infers a perfect ripeness rather than excessive hangtime. While it is still oak-laden, it seems to have a better balance than the 2005. I have more hope for this in the long run than the 2005, despite the reputation of the 2005 vintage.cavemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01524518542395367295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6706490.post-55427599388730240202009-02-11T03:21:00.000-08:002009-02-11T03:36:13.759-08:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.chicagomag.com/images/2007/August%202007/table_pizza.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 339px; height: 339px;" src="http://www.chicagomag.com/images/2007/August%202007/table_pizza.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">The Science of Smell</span><br /><br />Dear Caveman:<br />When I read your wine descriptions, I find intriguing expressions such as: “Smells like a Mediterranean-style vegetarian pizza. Sun-dried tomatoes, black olives and herbs, with a touch of cherry vanilla." Where do these aromas come from? If they are actually the by-product of fermentation of crushed grapes in an oak barrel, then aren’t these conclusions about “sun-dried tomatoes, black olives and herbs, with a touch of cherry vanilla” socially constructed and ultimately subjective?<br />Ricardo<br /><br />The short answer is that while the naming of these aromas may be subjective – in that each of us has our own “aroma and taste memory” and thus associates certain aromas with different things – there is a scientific explanation as to how a wine made only with grapes can evoke such un-grapey smells.<br /><br />The sources of many of these aromas are volatile aromatic compounds. Some come from the grapes themselves or are by-products of the fermentation of the grape’s juice. But the ones that Ricardo was referring to are results of the aging of the wine, both in an oak barrel and in a bottle. This is still an area of wine that is not completely understood, but research is happening on a number of different fronts, so here is the science.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Aroma vs. bouquet</span><br /><br />Émile Peynaud, a French oenologist considered by many to be the father of modern winemaking, drew a distinction between aroma and bouquet. For Peynaud, “aroma” is used to describe what we smell in a young wine – those grapey and fruitier aromas that result from the pressing of the grapes and the fermentation of the grapes’ sugars. If you have ever been in a room where a wine is fermenting, you will never forget the smell – ripe, juicy fruit mixed with a blend of alcohol and yeast. Open any bottle of Beaujolais Nouveau and you will have a good idea of what I am talking about.<br /><br />Peynaud said “bouquet” is the result of aging a wine, which is where many of these non-grapey aromas can result. While the subtle chemical interactions are not completely understood, these new odours result from the interaction between those primary aromatic compounds and outside influences like oak barrels and oxygen.<br /><br />It starts with the grape<br /><br />So everything starts with those primary aromas, and thus the grapes you bring in from the field. The Chinon referred to by Ricardo evoked sun-dried tomatoes, black olives and herbs. I took a look at some other reviews I had done of wines made with the same cabernet franc grape, and I found one that described the wine (Saint-Nicolas-de-Bourgeuil 2005, Les Mauguerets-La Contrie) as smelling of “green peppers and violets … (and) a mix of raspberry and charcoal.” Why the difference?<br /><br />Two University of British Columbia researchers, Steven Lund and Joerg Bohlmann, recently published a study that examined how a number of different factors affect primary aromas. They refer to the assortment of chemical compounds that cause aromas as volatile organic compounds (VOCs). How and where a grape is grown will ultimately affect the degree to which these grapes will show such things as varietal character as well as “the dozens to hundreds of chemical compounds that have yet to be discovered and characterized.”<br /><br />So the same grape grown in different soils, in different years, will smell different. And the amount and proportion of these compounds to one another will ultimately affect the bouquet as a wine ages.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">The molecules of scent</span><br /><br />Lund and Bohlmann have broken down a wine’s aromatics into component compounds. So if your Gewürztraminer smells of flowers, it is in part due to “monoterpene compounds, chiefly geraniol and citronellol.” And if your Sauvignon Blanc tastes slightly grassy, the compound is part of the “methoxypyrazine family, specifically 2-methoxy-3-isobutylpyrazine,” which develops during the green stages of the grape but gets metabolized as the grape ripens. If your Sancerre tastes like freshly cut grass and your white Bordeaux doesn’t, although they are both made with Sauvignon Blanc, that is because the Bordeaux is often riper, so it will have less 2-methoxy-3-isobutylpyrazine.<br /><br />How about black pepper in Shiraz? Rotundone is the chemical compound responsible for that one. A study done by the Australian Wine Research Institute of different vineyards in Australia showed that shiraz grapes showed different levels of this compound depending on the clones used, soil types and climate.<br /><br />And what about the sun-dried tomatoes in my Chinon? According to Jamie Goode, “cis-3-hexenol is the prime culprit,” although cabernet franc also has the same leafy 2-methoxy-3-isobutylpyrazine as the Sauvignon Blanc I mentioned.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Bouquet</span><br /><br />So as a wine matures and its bouquet develops, much like great cuisine, its odour becomes the sum of its component parts. Many of these VOCs are in a sense dormant when the wine is young. As VOCs react with one another, as well as with oxygen and alcohol, they will begin to show themselves.<br /><br />A good example of this is oak. In a young, freshly bottled wine, the oak is often very pronounced, and in fact the wine has a distinct smell of wood. But as the wine ages, the vanillin – which is an oak-derived VOC and part of the family of aldehydes – will react with oxygen to give an odour of vanilla. Oak barrels are also a source of many of the cooking spices we find in wines, like cinnamon, coriander and nutmeg. Every barrel, depending on the wood source, will offer a different aromatic cocktail to the wine.<br /><br />So this is why a grape can ultimately smell like “sun-dried tomatoes, black olives and herbs, with a touch of cherry vanilla.” But why doesn’t everyone smell that? Well, there is the cultural factor. If you have never smelled a sun-dried tomato, the name you give to such an aroma might differ. But there is also sensitivity: All noses are not created equal. Many VOCs are in such small concentrations that people with highly sensitive noses might pick up on elements that others miss.<br /><br />But for the majority of us, it is simply a question of working our aromatic memories. Because wines can be complex, they often do not make us think of one particular aroma. This is why I sometimes will mention situations, like walking through a cool forest in the fall after a rain. How do you develop this memory? The first step is to load your memory with as many smells as possible.<br /><br />So, as the proverb goes, stop and smell the roses – or the pizza, in my case.cavemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01524518542395367295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6706490.post-64294766144016711052009-02-09T17:18:00.000-08:002009-02-10T07:55:34.504-08:00<span style="font-size:180%;">Newer Franc</span><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />Chinon 2006, l'Huisserie</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size:130%;">, Domaine Philippe Alliet </span><br />Next to Joguet's Chene Vert is Alliet's new baby </span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size:100%;">vineyard</span></span><span style="font-size:100%;">, filled with young vines. For you fans of Alliet, this is just plain weird- very ripe, sweet fruit, soft tannins, very little complexity, just fruit, fruit, fruit. But it works. This was not meant to be cellared, this is supposed to be guzzled. I would like to send a bottle of this to every fruit bombing winemaker. Don't over extract young vines. New oak does not a great wine make. Stop putting lipstick on 12 year olds.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Anjou Villages 2005, Clos Médecin, Domaine de Brizé</span><br />Strawberry sorbet, cherries, with a pinch of green pepper, cilantro, maybe even some cabbage. Strange mix when you think about it. The ensemble finishes on a spicy, juicy, peppery note. Easy drinking wine. Serve slightly chilled. Goes well with Tatziki.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Chinon 2004, Vieilles Vignes, Clos de la Dioterie, Charles Joguet</span><br />It's a summer meal in a glass, dessert and all. It's a piece of meat, cooked blue, covered in red berries and tarragon. The fruit then gets redder and sweeter, with a lime-like freshness. Your espresso is there as well. I am sure one day this will all come together.<br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span>cavemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01524518542395367295noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6706490.post-20287024979699612022009-02-09T04:18:00.000-08:002009-02-09T04:27:28.284-08:00<span style="font-size:180%;">Old Franc</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Chinon 1996, Clos de l'Olive, Couly-Dutheil</span><br />Remarkably youthful. On opening it tries to say too much at once, having been bottled up for over a decade. But the aromatics were staggering from the first pour. Subtle bell pepper as a base, layers of spring flowers, comfrey, camomile, and on top of the pyramid, a sweet and perfectly ripe red cherry-plum. The mouth kicked in after an hour, when the wine attained something reasonably close to perfection. Drunk with ossobuco, with olives.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Chinon 2003, Theleme, Pascal et Alain Lorieux</span><br />After two hours in a carafe, this still has a remarkable vibrancy and youthful vigour. Those who believe cabernet franc cannot produce great wine (aside from Cheval Blanc) should decant a bottle of this, and revel in the sheer intensity and richness of the fruit - dark, serious, sanguine. The tannin is solid, and the acidity is just enough to maintain an exceptional freshness. Bordeaux lovers, take note: This is really good.cavemanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01524518542395367295noreply@blogger.com3