Regions

In Support Of Napa And Sonoma

16 October 2017

I don’t write much about Napa and Sonoma. The most famous wine regions in the United States don’t often have a place on a blog about the unusual and the obscure. But how could I not write something about them now? I returned from a week in northern Wisconsin, blissfully disconnected from the news, and returned to discover that some of America’s finest wine country was threatened with destruction. As of this writing, 19 wineries in Napa, eight in Sonoma and four in Mendocino have been damaged or destroyed in the fires, according to The Mercury News.

It’s fashionable in some quarters to disparage Napa and Sonoma. At the top of the list is the overuse of oak, followed closely by overly high alcohol content. Fans of Old World wines also sometimes accuse Californians of sacrificing subtlety and complexity for fruitiness and richness. And I’ve certainly argued that the quality-to-price ratio isn’t as good in Napa as in numerous other less well-known regions. None of these complaints is unfounded.

Nor do these complaints tell the whole story. For some time, Napa and Sonoma have been moving away from over-extracted oak bombs to more balanced wines. Butterball Chardonnays and jammy Merlots have increasingly become an exception, rather than the rule, as tastes turned against them.

I generally write about more esoteric, thought-provoking wines, because I love them, and because they often don’t get the attention they deserve. But when I’m on vacation from taking tasting notes, as I was last week in Wisconsin, at least one or two bottles from California end up in the case I bring along. Subtle Old World wines standing firm against Parkerization are great, but sometimes I just want a big, round aroma and bold, rich fruit. These are my comfort wines.

Beef stew topped with (mostly boiled) puff pastry

On this recent vacation in Wisconsin, we made a beef stew topped with puff pastry. It was delicious, if not exactly Instagram-worthy, and to go with it, I opened a 2012 Atalon “Pauline’s Cuvée” from Napa, a Bordeaux-style blend of 75% Merlot and 20% Cabernet Franc along with some Cabernet Sauvignon and Malbec. I loved its rich fruit and touch of oak, balanced with refined spice. My husband took a sip and said, “Now this is my kind of red.” I felt hard-pressed to disagree. It ordinarily sells for about $30, but I purchased it at Whole Foods on sale for about half that, which was a downright steal. Even at full price, you’re getting a lot of flavor bang for your buck.

I still remember my first trip to Napa back in 2003, when I knew next to nothing about wine. But I knew enough to realize that Rutherford Hill’s Merlot was gorgeous, and that St. Clement’s Sauvignon Blanc had real class. I bought bottles of each to bring home. I also purchased a case of wine from Ravenswood, a winery not exactly known for subtlety (its tagline is “No wimpy wines”). I’d go back to any of those wineries in a heartbeat. But this time, I would use the spit buckets. My stars and stripes, was I drunk by the end of the day. Even so, I felt sublimely contented as I passed out late each afternoon.

Juicy and elegant Mumm Prestige Brut by the pool at Bardessono in Yountville

My point is that though people love to criticize the wines of Napa and, to a lesser degree, Sonoma, these valleys are famous for a reason. The wines they make are frequently rich, fun and seductive, and who doesn’t like that? The valleys have suffered greatly in recent days, and they need all the help they can get. Now is the time to head to your wine shop and pick up a bottle or two of wine from Northern California. A good store clerk can help you find just the right one to suit your palate. Put any fears of oak, butter and jam aside and see what Napa and Sonoma have been up to lately.

Cracking Croatian Wine: A Book Review

29 September 2017

To purchase this book, click here.

France and Italy, to take two examples, are complicated. But if you want to learn more about the wine scenes of France and Italy (or California or Germany or Argentina, to name a few more), you have no shortage of resources at your disposal. I’m sure the books written about French wine alone could fill a storefront shop.

Croatia? Not so much.

Yet Croatian wine deserves attention. I fondly remember the Katunar Syrah from the island of Krk that I recently found at my favorite wine shop, In Fine Spirits. It cost just $21, but it counted among my favorite wines of the year. Gone are the cooperatives of the socialist era, which prized quantity over quality. Once again, Croatian winemakers are free to pursue the best expression of their grapes, as they had been for the two millennia before Tito took over.

And Croatian wine is complicated. The country has some 130 indigenous grape varieties, many of which are all but unpronounceable to those of us who require the occasional vowel (or to those of us who haven’t the faintest idea what to do when an accent mark appears over a consonant). The place names, too, often look wholly unfamiliar. Istria maybe rings a bell, but Pelješac? Brač? Maybe not.

I’ve even been to Croatia — more than once — but I still feel like a rank amateur when it comes to the wine. I was therefore very excited to see that two of my favorite fellow wine writers, Dr. Matthew Horkey and Charine Tan of Exotic Wine Travel, released a new book: Cracking Croatian Wine: A Visitor-Friendly Guide. If you’re fortunate enough to be heading to Croatia sometime soon, I highly recommend looking over this highly readable and well-organized reference work. It will give you all the tools you need to drink some of the best that Croatia has to offer.

Dr. Matthew Horkey overlooking vineyards in the Dingač wine region

As a lover of unusual and obscure wines, I simply enjoyed reading the book, even though I have, alas, no plans to visit Croatia in the foreseeable future. Some stores in Chicago do carry the occasional Croatian wine, but they’re rarely presented in an appealing fashion. As Neal Martin of the Wine Advocate once wrote (as quoted by Horkey and Tan in their book), “Let’s not turn a blind eye to the fact that it has not been easy [for Eastern European wine] to shake off the tag of a ‘poor man’s’ wine, the kind of cheap-looking bottles you see languishing on the shelves next to the cat food in corner shops.” Now, I have a much better idea what to look for.

Even the most casual wine consumer, however, will find this book to be indispensable if he or she is traveling to Croatia. Horkey and Tan spent approximately seven months in Croatia researching this book, tasting wine all over the country, and trying out different wine bars and restaurants. Their book explains Croatian wine, yes, but it also serves as a guidebook to enjoying the good life up and down the whole of Croatia.

Charine Tan in Kutjevo, Slavonia

Cracking Croatian Wine has plenty of juicy tidbits for wine geeks like me, but it never gets bogged down with minutiae. The “Brief History of Croatian Wine” chapter, for example, is just two pages long. The chapter that follows, “Croatian Cuisine,” is one that everyone should read before heading off to the Balkans, particularly the list of “20 Croatian Dishes to Try.” I wouldn’t mind a bowl of pašticada right about now…

I also appreciate the list of Zagreb’s top wine bars and wine shops in the “Where to Buy Wine” chapter, and the subsequent “How to Decipher Croatian Wine Labels” is essential reading. It ends with the line, “Not so difficult, right?” I’m not sure I agree — I think I may need to have a copy of that chapter at the ready next time I plan on buying some wine from Croatia.

Similarly, the descriptions of indigenous Croatian wine grapes are incredibly useful. If you’re going to Croatia, give it a read-through, but then keep it handy as a reference for when you’re faced with a wine list. Few of us will be able to keep all 20 of the grapes straight, especially with names like Kujundžuša and Trbljan.

The Kozlović Winery in Istria

And, of course, there is quite a large chapter on the various wine-growing regions, including not only descriptions of the local wine style(s), but also recommendations of local wine bars. Each section has a list of suggested wines to try, with options “For the discerning palate and the connoisseur,” “For the adventurous palate and the wine geek,” and for “Fun and easy to drink.” Each wine recommendation comes with a photograph of the bottle, which can be ever so helpful for jogging the memory when one is in a wine shop.

The book ends with fascinating interviews with three authorities on Croatian wines, including writers and a winemaker.

I had a few minor qualms with the book. The vocabulary choices are occasionally a touch overblown, as in: “In Croatia, this would be a spurious opinion.” And more important, I wish that the authors had taken more of an opportunity to share personal anecdotes about their experiences. They warn us that “tasting visits may turn into a hedonistic afternoon of copious food and wine,” but they give us only the briefest of examples in a paragraph in the Preface. I would have loved to have read more about those hedonistic afternoons, but perhaps that’s for another book.

Along the Pelješac Peninsula

Those quibbles aside, I wholeheartedly recommend investing in Cracking Croatian Wine. It’s easy to read, well-organized and concise. For those traveling to Croatia who plan on drinking wine, it’s essential. And, no less important, it’s inexpensive.

You can purchase an electronic copy here for $7.99, and you can also use that link to buy a paperback copy if you prefer. The book certainly whetted my appetite for a return trip to Croatia, and this time, thanks to Horkey and Tan, I’ll be prepared.

Full Disclosure: Odd Bacchus receives a small percentage of the price of the books purchased using the links above.

Photo Credit: All photos above provided by Dr. Matthew Horkey and Charine Tan.

An Interview With A Champagne Specialist

29 August 2017

I adore my job, but even I would pause a moment if I suddenly had the opportunity to become a Champagne Specialist. I recently learned, through the wonder that is Facebook, that a former classmate of mine has become exactly that.

Davis Anderson III and I studied theater together at Florida State University some years ago, and though we both had (have?) the model-like good looks and movie-star charisma to take the entertainment world by storm, the world of wine seduced us instead.

After moving to New York, Davis worked as a sommelier at restaurants like Eleven Madison Park, New York Sushi Ko and Zuma before moving to Northern California, where he now resides.

When we were bright-eyed theater students, I doubt that either of us would have expected that we’d be doing what we do today. I was curious to learn what Davis’s life was like now, and what it was about wine — and Champagne specifically — that led him to his current path. I decided an interview was in order.

Our mutual love of wine, it turns out, has a lot to do with a love of history. And, perhaps less surprisingly, I learned that we both have expensive taste.

*****

Me: You work as a Champagne Specialist for Strategic Group on behalf of the brands of Moët Hennessy in Northern California; that sounds like a dream job. What exactly does your work entail? What’s an average day like?

Davis Anderson III in Krug’s Clos d’Ambonnay vineyard (Photo courtesy of Davis Anderson III)

Davis Anderson III: So, yes — it is a dream job (for me, at least). But there is no such thing as an average day. I cover roughly 50 accounts covering the areas south of San Francisco down to Carmel, so I spend a lot of time in my car. I don’t work for Moët Hennessy directly and I don’t work for the sales arm (Pacific Wine and Spirits here in NorCal). My job is to help both teams by providing education (to the sales teams, to the restaurant buyers and their staffs, as well as to consumers at events).

I also try to plan events to then help drive sales once products have been brought into an account. An example might be a poolside event featuring one of our newer products, such as Moët & Chandon Ice, a Champagne meant to poured over ice, where we bring in a bunch of Moët swag and create a party atmosphere.

Another might be an exclusive dinner working with one of our restaurants to feature a producer like Krug, with many different Champagnes from them paired with different courses through out the night, while having our ambassador from Krug on hand to discuss the wines and the differences between them.

And then, of course, like any job – there’s the administrative part which is nowhere near as sexy, but equally as important.

Me: How did you end up focusing on Champagne?

D.A.: Good question. So, unlike almost every other sommelier I know, Champagne was never truly an obsession of mine. Don’t get me wrong — I love Champagne and always have — but I didn’t have quite the same relationship to it that everyone else I know seems to have. But these Champagne houses are special. Not only are they all delicious, they’re all innovative, and they’re all very important to the history of Champagne. Champagne simply would not exist without Dom Pérignon, Dom Ruinart and the Widow Clicquot (that’s three of our five houses).

And Champagne most likely wouldn’t have survived World War II without the help of the head of Moët & Chandon, Count Robert-Jean de Vogüé. That brings us to four.

Then there’s Krug. Krug is unlike any other Champagne house, and is a house that I believe inspires all other Champagne houses. So that’s how I wound up putting my focus here: the wines are too good, too important, and have such rich history that it’s impossible not to love them.

Me: Have you been to the region itself? Any particularly memorable experiences? 

Davis and coworkers in vineyards around Hautvillers (Photo courtesy of Davis Anderson III)

D.A.: I was lucky enough to have my company send me to Champagne to study at the house of Krug for three days back in May of this year. They then extended the trip a few days so that we could visit the other houses in our portfolio. The whole trip was memorable — getting to visit Clos d’Ambonnay and Clos du Mesnil (where we had lunch in the vineyard while drinking Krug’s Clos du Mesnil), as well as visiting Hautvillers, the abbey where Dom Pérignon did all of his research… These experiences were amazing.

But one of my favorites was the emphasis on none of our brands being pretentious, and engaging what can be most fun about all of our brands. On our first night at Krug, we played ping-pong while a jazz duo played Django Reinhardt, and then we had Krug Rosé with burgers and fries in Krug’s beautiful newly renovated space.

Me: I love all sorts of sparkling wines, but Champagne does seem to be something special. Few other bubblies that I’ve tried can quite match it. Why do you think that is?

D.A.: Champagne is a unique place. You don’t find that soil everywhere in the world (the chalk and limestone). It’s an extreme climate, being about as far north as you can go and still get grapes to make wine. It rains 200 days a year on average. There’s nowhere else in the world quite like it. Even Champagne houses that make sparkling in other parts of the world are proud of them and work hard at them, but none is Champagne. Rightly, they are a reflection of the areas which they are from, which have their own unique terroir.

Me: If I’m in a store and faced with the Moët Hennessy Champagne brands, Moët & Chandon, Veuve Clicquot, Ruinart, Dom Pérignon and Krug, how do I know which one is right for me? What are the differences?

D.A.: Okay, I’m going to simplify this, and focus on the signature wine from each house.

Moët & Chandon is more focused on being bright and young and fresh and is often the most affordable of our houses. It is the #1 Champagne brand in the world, but is the #2 brand here in the U.S.

Veuve Clicquot is a much richer style, using older reserve wines (typically up to 7-10 years old on average), and a higher proportion of Pinot Noir in their blends. This is the #2 Champagne in the world, but it is #1 here. It is typically a bit more expensive than Moët & Chandon.

Ruinart is the oldest Champagne house in existence, founded in 1729, and the focus on Blanc de Blancs (100% Chardonnay) as their house style. This Champagne is a laser beam. Bright and racy with zippy mineral backbone.

Dom Pérignon, once the tête de cuvée from Moët & Chandon, is now its own house, and it will always be a vintage Champagne. The blend is roughly 50/50 Pinot Noir and Chardonnay, and it focuses on the tension between the two grapes. It’s also known for its signature pin-prick like sensation from the bubbles, which comes from its extended lees aging.

Krug Grand Cuvée takes a minimum of 20 years to make. Even though it is not a vintage Champagne, I believe it rivals all vintage Champagnes in terms of quality. Krug is a truly unique offering in all of Champagne.

Me: Champagne, of course, tends to be expensive. What kinds of sparkling wines do you think give us the best value for the money right now?

D.A.: Value is a great word to use, as it regards one’s opinion of what is most important in life. I personally love Champagne because I really think it is an amazing value, even if it is not the least expensive in the bunch. The process that Champagne goes through, the time it requires to make even a simple bottle of NV Champagne is so much more than any other wine region. And when you see a bottle of Moët & Chandon Imperial Brut for about $50, knowing that it took three years to reach that shelf, and then you see the 2015 Caymus on the shelf for $80… I don’t understand how people think that Champagne is comparatively expensive.

To not be totally tone-deaf, I know that $50 is not an affordable every day item for most people, but it should be an affordable luxury that you can indulge in more than just once or twice a year. But it’s also worth exploring the sparkling wines these Champagne houses are making in other parts of the world as well, which are frequently less expensive.

Me: I agree that at $50, Champagne can be a good value, and I also agree that at $80, Caymus is overpriced. But both are expensive. As you say, most people can’t spend that kind of money on wine frequently. What other sparkling wines do you think are great values right now, and can be had for less than $20?

D.A. It’s hard to do under $20… but probably Jansz from Tasmania. It’s usually closer to $20-25 depending on your retailer, but so worth it. The sparkling wine being made in Australia may be my favorite sparkling being made outside of Champagne. It’s an area that’s highly misunderstood, as people only think of Shiraz when they hear Australia, but it’s a huge country making many great and unique styles of wine, from Riesling to Cabernet. And very few of the sparkling actually reach our shores, so if you get the opportunity, I highly recommend checking it out!

Me: I am definitely putting a Tasmanian sparkler on my list! Do you have a favorite Champagne food pairing?

D.A.: People always mention caviar and oysters, which are great. But for me — it’s gotta be french fries!

Me: Sounds good to me! And long before you were pairing food and wine as a sommelier, we studied theater together. How did you end up moving from theater into wine?

D.A.: When I studied theater, I came at it from the perspective of wanting to be a writer more than an actor, and this was because I loved stories so much. I had a mild affinity for wine from a young age thanks to my father, who wanted someone to share it with, and my mother preferred (and still does) bourbon.

When I was waiting tables, as all theater majors do at some point, we would receive lots of education on the wines we were supposed to be selling, and I loved the stories of the wineries. I also noticed that people who were buying the wines cared much more about the stories and the histories than they did descriptors like “cherry, bright, apple, smoky, rich, etc.” The more I tasted and learned, the more in love with it I fell.

Wine to me is an amazing art form. It’s one in which man has to work with Mother Nature to extract the greatest expression of that grape, that area, that year, and their vision. And it’s alive and constantly evolving — having a bottle of any given wine today, it won’t be the same tomorrow. Not just because of the difference in education, but because of all the outside factors that shape the experience while you’re having the bottle: the people you’re with, the food you’re eating, the music you’re listening to, and the environment in which you’re enjoying it. I don’t know how someone who loves or appreciates art doesn’t love wine.

Me: Aside from Champagne, is there a wine region you’ve visited that you particularly connected with? And/or one that you would particularly recommend that people visit themselves?

Davis and his wife Lisa in Barolo (Photo courtesy of Davis Anderson III)

D.A.: I’ve been fortunate to visit many wine regions in Oregon, California, New York, Italy and Australia. They’re all beautiful, magical places in their own way. I highly encourage everyone to find if there’s any wine being made near them, and to go and learn about it. Wine is a constant learning experience, and there are valuable lessons to be learned from every region.

Me: And what will you be drinking with dinner tonight?

D.A.: Well, tonight will actually most likely be beer, as I’m meeting up with my extended family (my in-laws) to go and enjoy Filipino food. My wife is Filipino, and we’ve found a great restaurant not far from our house that makes authentic Filipino cuisine. While I could definitely enjoy some Champagne with it, even I like to take a break every now and then. So a nice cold beer tonight sounds good.

Germany? Ja! Riesling? Nein!

16 August 2017

On my recent 12-day trip to Germany, I decided to try an experiment. Would I be able to have high-quality German wine(s) every night with dinner — and sometimes with lunch — and never drink a single Riesling?

One could be forgiven for thinking that such an experiment was misguided at best, or quite simply impossible. I suspect that few casual wine consumers can name a single other top grape variety grown in Germany off the top of their heads. For better or worse, Germany and Riesling are inextricably linked.

But Germany has far more to offer than beautiful Rieslings. Any guesses as to how much vineyard area in the country is devoted to other grapes? Maybe 20%? Maybe 40%?

In fact, Riesling composes just 23% of Germany’s vineyards as of 2013, according to The Oxford Companion to Wine. Second place goes to the unglamorous but productive Müller-Thurgau at 13%, followed by Spätburgunder (Pinot Noir) at 12% and Dornfelder at 8%. Indeed, red wine grapes represent a whopping 36% of Germany’s vineyards.

I love well-made Riesling, both sweet and bone-dry, but it’s time to give the other 77% of German wines some attention. Here are some of the discoveries I made.

WEISSBURGUNDER (Pinot Blanc)

Pinot Blanc barely registers in its birthplace of Burgundy nowadays. You might have seen a bottle or two from the Alsace, but there, too, it’s on the wane. But it’s one of my very favorite German whites. The Oxford Companion to Wine seems to agree: “Under the fashionable name Weissburgunder, it is now Germany’s fifth most planted white wine cultivar, with vinous personalities ranging from the full, rich, oaked examples of Baden and the Pfalz to relatively delicate, mineral-inflected variations along the Nahe and Mosel-Saar-Ruwer, and with quality aspirations ranging from workaday norm to occasional brilliance.”

Consider the following two examples I tried side-by-side at Hamburg’s Louis C. Jacob restaurant:

2014 Weingut Dreissigacker “Louis C. Jacob Edition” Weissburgunder, Rheinhessen

This less-expensive example had a spicy aroma marked with a note of burnt popcorn. Its lively acids worked well with food, and I very much enjoyed its clean pear fruit, green peppercorn spice and dry finish. Later at Heldenplatz, a restaurant in central Hamburg, I tried Dreissigacker’s top Weissburgunder, called “Einzigacker.” Wow. It tasted rich, balanced, focused and elegant, truly earning the name Weissburgunder, which literally translates as “white Burgundy.” Sublime.

2015 Weingut Franz Keller “Oberbergener Pulverbuck” Weissburgunder, Baden

The Franz Keller Weissburgunder (pictured with the Dreissigacker above) is more expensive than the Louis C. Jacob Dreissigacker, but its quality is unimpeachable. The aroma was more buttered popcorn, and though the lively acids were here too, they felt more refined and more focused. The arc of polished spice lasted ages. From the start to the lengthy finish, the wine developed and built with gradual determination. Oo, I love when that happens.

*****

GRAUBURGUNDER (Pinot Gris or Pinot Grigio)

The total vineyard area of this grape has increased 90% in Germany since 2000, “[making] it the country’s fourth most planted white wine grape and far more popular than Weissburgunder (Pinot Blanc),” according to The Oxford Companion. I can understand why people love Grauburgunder, which typically has ample fruit and zesty spice, but my heart remains with Weissburgunder. Even so, many dishes call for a spicier wine, and Grauburgunder can stand up to all sorts of recipes.

2016 Weingut Klumpp Grauburgunder, Baden

In the cozy bistro restaurant of Ole Liese near Germany’s Baltic Coast, I paired this Grauburgunder with a rich cod appetizer. It had a melony, spicy aroma, and flavors of ripe apple and honeydew. Peppery spice kept things well in balance, and the wine finished clean and dry.

2016 Weingut Bercher Grauburgunder, Baden

Back in Hamburg at traditional Casse Croute, the Bercher Grauburgunder had a more citrusy aroma along with the telltale spicy note. It tasted mouthwateringly juicy, with almost prickly lemon-lime acids, reminding me of a full-bodied Sauvignon Blanc. Just the thing to pair with some veal-and-black truffle Labskaus.

*****

SILVANER

In the first half of the 20th century, this variety was the most widely planted in Germany, but after World War II, it was overtaken by Müller-Thurgau and now, Riesling. I remember drinking a few Silvaners when I lived in Germany in the late 90s, and I don’t have fond memories of the stuff. It probably didn’t help matters that the bottles I bought cost less than $5. I know this, because all the bottles I bought that year in Germany cost less than $5. The Oxford Companion to Wine gives the grape tepid praise, calling it a “suitable neutral canvas” on which to display terroir, and noting that “encouraging examples” can be found. So don’t buy just any Silvaner you come across.

2015 Weingut Bickel Stumpf “Kapellenberg Frickenhausen” Silvaner, Franken

The sommelier of Michelin-starred Courtier recommended this Silvaner to me, and I have to think it’s one of the best out there. It’s got a mouthful of a name, and it certainly worked well with food. The wine had a slightly burnt, spicy aroma, and its most notable characteristic was its big, lemony acids. Unexpectedly, the finish went on and on. If you like juicy Sauvignon Blancs — or zippy Grüner Veltliners — a well-made Silvaner should be on your list.

*****

SAUVIGNON GRIS

This little-known grape is the “non-aromatic version of Gewürztraminer,” according to The Oxford Companion, and “it can produce more substantial wines than many a Sauvignon Blanc.” I’ve tasted a few of these over the years, and I can’t recall a single disappointment. Should you encounter a bottle, particularly the bottle below, I highly recommend snapping it up.

2015 Weingut Lichti Sauvignon Gris “Royal,” Pfalz

For a “non-aromatic” grape, this wine certainly had an enticingly spicy and buttery nose. Ripe pear flavor moved to butter and taut spice, as the wine sharpened to a point. Rich but amply balanced, and tense with excitement. I loved it.

*****

ROSÉ

Like just about anywhere with red wine grape vines, Germany also makes rosé. I had a couple of charming examples, including the one below.

2014 Weingut Geisser “Strawberry Fields” Rosé Trocken, Pfalz

 

A blend of 90% Spätburgunder, 5% Merlot and 5% Dornfelder, this rosé was ideal for my beachside seafood dinner at Bootshaus. Its spicy, watermelon-candy aroma sucked me right in. I loved its ripe watermelon fruit (and yes, the touch of strawberry), lively limey acids and clean, dry finish. Simple, refreshing and delicious.

*****

SPÄTBURGUNDER (Pinot Noir)

It’s not just Burgundy, New Zealand and Oregon that make superlative Pinot Noir. Germany’s Spätburgunder can achieve sublime clarity of fruit and refinement of spice, and sometimes even some richness. But don’t just take my word for it. According to The Oxford Companion to Wine, “Today [Spätburgunder] is at least as deep coloured, dry, alcoholic, and well structured as red burgundy…”. Because of Spätburgunder’s popularity within Germany, all too little is exported.

2013 Weingut Friedrich Becker “Schweigener” Spätburgunder, Pfalz

This Spätburgunder had a wonderful aroma of spiced dark cherries, and flavors of dark cherries and cough syrup. Light-bodied but not a lightweight, this wine held its focus for quite some time, with polished spice serving as a backbone. Superb with some Poltinger lamb at Hamburg’s Heldenplatz restaurant.

2007 Weingut Stigler “Freiburg Schlossberg” Spätburgunder GG, Baden

The “GG” stands for “Grosses Gewächs,” indicating that this wine comes from a vineyard classified as a “Great Growth,” or “Grand Cru,” one could say. There was no way for me to resist this wine, made as it was in Freiburg from a vineyard on the Schlossberg. I spent many happy evenings at the beer garden on top of the steep Schlossberg hill when I was a student in Freiburg, and I remember seeing the vineyards there, rising from the edge of the exquisite old center.

Considering my heavy nostalgia, the wine could have easily let me down, but it did not disappoint. It smelled of dark cherries, with a savory/meaty undertone. It started quite light — it seemed like nothing at first — but dark cherry fruit firmed up, and white pepper spice focused the wine into a laser. With time in the glass, it became richer and earthier.

When I tried this beautiful wine, it brought me to tears for a moment. I never drank a wine like this when I lived in Freiburg, but it took me right back there all the same.

For more about unusual German wines, read about tasting Elbing, Goldriesling and Weissburgunder with German royalty here, and discovering the delights of Kerner here.

Intimidation In Bordeaux

31 July 2017

“This is a professional tasting,” our escort told us, with a touch of concern in his voice. He was leading me and five other wine bloggers into the Union des Grands Crus de Bordeaux “Silent Tasting.” After we agreed on a place to meet after some time on our own to sample whatever wines caught our eyes, he reminded us, “This tasting… it’s professional.”

I can’t deny that I felt a little irritated at the time. Did he think we would embarrass ourselves in there? We were Millésima’s 2017 Wine Blog Award winners, which meant that each of us surely had at least some experience tasting wine. But this was Bordeaux, and Bordeaux during En Primeur Week, no less, when everyone who’s anyone in the wine world descends on the region to sample and evaluate the latest vintage. Bordeaux is synonymous with wine aristocracy, and I’m guessing that our escort felt worried that we wine commoners might not mix well with the nobility.

Bordeaux château

Our escort’s feelings, considered in that context, were perfectly understandable. I can think of few wine regions more intimidating to the average wine consumer than Bordeaux, where bottles have labels depicting palatial châteaux and, in many cases, prices to match. It’s a place, in the popular imagination, where only people with enormous wallets, super-sensitive palates and double-breasted blazers (or better yet, all three) are welcome.

But Bordeaux does not have a monopoly on intimidation. I’ve met numerous people who enjoy wine but fear being judged in a tasting room setting, regardless of the location. What if you smell peony in the aroma, when in fact you’re supposed to smell gardenia? What if the winemaker tells you that you should be tasting a gooseberry note, but you don’t even know what the hell a gooseberry is? In short, what happens if you get it wrong?

Being told you’re wrong feels terrible, and there are seemingly so very many ways to get it wrong with wine.

Eric Monneret, Managing Director of Pomerol’s Château La Pointe

Fortunately, most winemakers and winery owners aren’t waiting, panther-like, to pounce on you for saying the wrong thing. Not even in aristocratic Bordeaux.* Not that you would know it from attendees’ behavior during tastings at En Primeur Week. Millésima took us to numerous public tastings over the course of the week, and I noticed a pattern, a pattern I’ve seen at quite a few other walk-around tastings over the years.

If the tasters spoke to the pourers at all, it was usually just to indicate the wine they wanted to try. Tasters sometimes sampled the wine at the table, with dare-to-impress-me looks on their faces, or else took the wine elsewhere to try it. They might talk with fellow tasters about the wines, but I observed very few tasters giving the pourers any feedback. Curious to see if the pourers at the Union des Grands Crus de Bordeaux event were indeed the haughty monsters of myth and legend, I decided to share my impressions of the wines with them as often as possible.

Taster at Château Mouton Rothschild

Not a single one of the pourers, who ranged from marketing people to the winemakers themselves, responded to my comments with snobbery. Some looked quite surprised to be hearing from me, and when I complimented the ripeness of the fruit or the balance or the refined texture, of course they looked pleased. They’re human! And all humans — even Bordeaux winemakers — like receiving compliments. When I ventured a more creative description, such as, “The finish of this wine [the 2016 Smith Haut Lafitte] is like putting your head into a big soft pillow of tannins,” I gave us a meatier starting point for a discussion, and the pourers seemed to enjoy it even more.

These were not scary people. Indeed, if anyone in the room was stand-offish, it was the tasters. They wore facial expressions of slight disdain like armor. Some of them avoided interactions with pourers as a time-saving measure, allowing them to taste more wines. But I saw many tasters standing around chatting with their friends and colleagues. For them, avoiding pourers wasn’t about saving time. It was about not being vulnerable. It was about the simple and ubiquitous fear of looking foolish.

I’m not the only one to have noticed the predominance of stand-offish tasters. After trying the new vintage of Château Petit-Village in Pomerol, we sat down to lunch at the winery to enjoy a vertical tasting (a tasting of several different vintages of the same wine). I sat near one of the winery’s PR people, an elegant woman perhaps in her late 20s or early 30s. Whenever I tasted a wine — which I did with undisguised pleasure — she stared at me, smiling and shaking her head. “Wonderful!” she said, almost under her breath.

Lunch at Château Petit-Village

I asked her what she meant, and she explained that most people, when they come to taste, do not visibly respond to the wine. Their faces do not change; they don’t make any sound; they don’t share their impressions. “You are so expressive! Wonderful…” she said again, looking at me like I was a delightful if incomprehensible alien. We had great fun talking about the wines together.

Tasting wine with those who work in the industry can be anxiety-provoking. Even professionals, as evidenced by the behavior of many tasters at the Union des Grands Crus de Bordeaux event, can feel intimidated. No one wants to look like they don’t know what they’re doing. But the path through the fear of looking foolish is not silence and impassivity. Talk to the pourers. Give them a compliment and see what happens. In most cases, both you and the pourer will end up feeling esteemed.

And if you do happen to encounter one of the few remaining snobs in the industry who tells you that no, it’s not peony you’re smelling but gardenia, remember two things: First, it’s not about the wine. He’s trying to boost his own self-esteem by making himself right and you wrong. Second, this is one of the few times in your life you’ll have the chance to use the phrase, “Fuck your gardenia.” Don’t pass it up.

*Bordeaux is, in a sense, old money. The people there generally have no interest in trying to make you feel inferior. Napa, on the other hand, is new money, and it’s one of the few places where wine snobbery still has a foothold.

Next Page »