Riesling

The Not Shiraz Of Australia

10 June 2017

The wild success of Australian Shiraz caused its own undoing. Like Santa Margherita did with Pinot Grigio, Yellow Tail made Shiraz first ubiquitous and then reviled. Fortunately for Italy, few regard the insipid and overpriced Santa Margherita as representative of all Italian wines. I’m not sure the same can be said of Yellow Tail and its fellow critter quaffers (wines with cute animals or animal parts on the labels). Insta-hangover Yellow Tail put me off of all Australian wine for years, and only after I visited the continent a few years ago did I start dipping my toe in again.

Australia’s unjust reputation as a lake of rustic, chemically-tinged Shiraz lingers, despite the country’s vast variety of wine grapes and wine styles, made in an array of vastly varying terroirs. It’s not all sun-baked cooked fruit Down Under. The cool-climate Pinot Noirs, Chardonnays and even Rieslings are pure delight: fresh, vivacious and well-balanced.

Don’t beat yourself up too much if you’re unaware of these wines. A large part of the responsibility for Australia’s ongoing reputation as a Shiraz monolith lies with distributors. At a recent Australian wine tasting in Chicago, I tasted some superlative not-Shiraz, and I wondered aloud to a gentleman pouring why we don’t see more of that sort of wine on store shelves. “It’s the distributors,” he remarked. “This is really hard to sell to them — they just don’t buy it.”

Most distributors must think that we’re not interested in interesting Australian wines. Let’s give them a reason to change their minds. I found all sorts of beautifully crafted wines at this tasting, and I didn’t have the time to try even half the ones I wanted to.

First, what to avoid: About 60% of Australia’s wine grape crop comes from hot interior regions, according to The World Atlas of Wine, and much of this is sold in bulk, often without indicating its place of origin. Skip any wine that doesn’t come from a specific region. Look in particular for bottlings from the Adelaide Hills, Clare Valley, Margaret River, Yarra Valley and Tasmania. Of course, this list is not exhaustive — Australia makes high-quality wines in numerous other locations — but I find examples from these regions consistently compelling.

You might not see the specific labels below on a wine list or in a local shop, but this at least gives you an idea of the sort of thing that’s happening right now in Australia. My goodness, they’re making some exciting stuff!

WHITES:

Assyrtiko: I can’t recall trying an Assyrtiko produced outside of its home in Greece (the grape originated in Santorini). The Oxford Companion to Wine notes that “its ability to retain acidity in a hot climate has encouraged successful experimentation with it elsewhere,” notably in Australia. This 2016 Jim Barry Assyrtiko comes from the Clare Valley, north of the Barossa Valley which is north of Adelaide. Its higher altitude gives it cooler nights than Barossa, and cool nights help grapes retain acidity. I loved this wine. Its apple-inflected fruit had a touch of creaminess to it, and its lemon-lime acids were so lively as to verge on pétillance. The wine felt juicy, but it ended clean and dry. Not inexpensive at $35, but it has the chops to back up the price.

Chardonnay: I’m sure that like California, Australia makes its share of flabby, over-oaked and over-buttered Chardonnays. And like California, it can also make Chardonnay with focus and elegance, rivaling those of Burgundy. For example, the 2014 Tolpuddle Chardonnay from Tasmania, an island off the south coast that is Australia’s coolest wine-growing region, had a wonderful aroma of slightly burnt buttered popcorn. It tasted a little of butter too, it’s true, but juicy lemon-orange acids and refined white-pepper spice kept the wine perfectly in balance, and it finished on a refreshing tart note. Superb, but expensive at $60.

Marsanne: This grape variety may be from the Rhône, but the world’s largest Marsanne vineyard is in Australia’s Nagambie Lakes region, north of Melbourne, as are the world’s oldest Marsanne vines. Both belong to Tahbilk, a winery founded by a Frenchman in 1860 (the oldest vines date to 1926). The 2015 Tahbilk Marsanne had the appealing aroma of a fresh caramel apple, overlayed with a hint of roses. It starts with clean, clear, pure fruit, which promptly gets roughed up by some rowdy orangey acids. The wine tastes fresh, juicy and round, and worth every penny of its $18 price tag.

Rebecca Loewy of importer Old Bridge Cellars with some Brokewood Semillon

Riesling: Riesling fear still runs rampant. Just as many think of all Chardonnay as oaky butter bombs, there are those who regard all Riesling as insufferably sweet. There is sweet Riesling, yes, but there are also bone-dry versions like the ones presented at this tasting, a 2016 Jim Barry “Lodge Hill” Riesling ($19) and a 2010 Kilikanoon “Mort’s Reserve” Riesling ($35). They both came from the Clare Valley, a region which produces “some of Australia’s finest Riesling,” according to The Oxford Companion to Wine. And both had classic aroma aromas of shower curtain (more often called “petrol”) and white fruit, flavors like apples and pears, tart and juicy acids, and dry finishes. The impressive liveliness of the 2010 Kilkanoon served as a reminder of Riesling’s capacity to age with great grace.

Semillon: The most important grape in Sauternes can also produce dry wine of great distinction, as evidenced by the 2009 Brokenwood “Oakey Creek” Hunter Valley Semillon ($32). This wine is an exception to my cool-climate recommendation — it’s far to the north of the other regions noted above and as such, it’s subtropical — but according to The World Atlas of Wine, “Hunter Semillon is one of Australia’s classic, if underappreciated, wine styles.” I loved the Brokenwood’s juicy freshness, balanced with a touch of creaminess to the fruit. It was the wine equivalent of a margarita, in the best possible way. I’d buy this wine any day.

Vermentino: Traditionally grown in northern Italy and Southern France, this grape also does quite well in the McClaren Vale, a region just south of Adelaide with thin topsoil and a climate that “could hardly be better for the vine,” according to the World Atlas. The 2016 Mitolo “Jester” McClaren Vale Vermentino had aromas of shower curtain and tart orange, and deliciously light and clean fruit on the palate, followed by orangey acids and a dry finish that verged on tannic. Very well-integrated, and a steal at $16.

REDS:

Grenache: I tried two examples of this very fruity variety, known as Garnacha in Spain, from regions on either side of Adelaide: the McClaren Vale to the (cooler) south and the Barossa Valley just to the north. The 2014 Yaldara “Ruban” Barossa Grenache tasted ripe and richly fruity, with ample white pepper spice and a savory, almost bacony note underneath. An excellent value for $23. The 2013 Woodstock “OCTOgenerian” from McClaren Vale blends 15% Tempranillo with the Grenache, resulting in a cherry-tinged wine with a cough-syrup note, leavened by bright acids, focused spice and a eucalyptus freshness. A bottle of this would be $27 well spent.

Pinot Noir: Perhaps the ultimate cool-climate red grape, known for its success in places like Burgundy, Oregon and New Zealand, Pinot Noir also shows beautifully in Australia. Consider the 2016 Innocent Bystander Pinot Noir from the Yarra Valley, which exhibited classic aromas of dark cherry and earth. I loved its clear tart-cherry fruit, lively acidity and notable spice, as well as its surprisingly long finish. It would surely pair well with a range of foods. More power to you if you can find a Pinot of similar quality for $20. I also tried the 2016 Giant Steps Pinot Noir, also from the Yarra Valley, which costs twice as much. For that additional $20, you get more depth and ripeness of fruit, more polished acids and spice, and more-than-usually graceful shifts from note to note.

Shiraz: Well, I couldn’t escape an Australia tasting without trying at least one Shiraz, so I made it count. I sampled the 2012 Jim Barry “The Armagh” Clare Valley Shiraz, and I knew immediately that I would love it. I could smell the wine three inches away from the rim of the glass! The aroma exploded with big, jammy red fruit, along with a touch of wood. Woo! And what a luscious flavor: huge fruit, like fresh raspberry jam, and no small amount of wood. Yet both flavors were beautifully balanced, and ample acids kept the wine from feeling ponderous — it felt startlingly light on its feet, though certainly not light-bodied. Immense, but elegant. And that’s what you get if you plunk down $245 for a bottle of Shiraz!

The Best Wine Pairing For Thai Food

13 January 2017

Every now and then I worry: Is this blog just a really, really elaborate cover for alcoholism? But then I glance at my wine rack, heaving with unopened sample bottles, and I realize that if I were an alcoholic, I would probably have transformed those samples into tasting notes and hangovers long ago. I feel relief, but only for a moment, because it strikes me that the wonderful PR people who sent me those dust-gathering samples would probably rather that I were an alcoholic.

In an effort to catch up, I brought two of my sample shelf’s oldest residents to Andy’s Thai Kitchen, a BYOB restaurant near the home of one of my favorite wine tasting friends, Liz Barrett, the Vice President of Corporate Communications and PR at Terlato Wines, one of Chicago’s most important wine importers and distributors. The company recently made news for severing its relationship with Santa Margherita, of Pinot Grigio infamy, and good riddance, too. (Terlato’s Friuli Pinot Grigio is ever so much better. It has important qualities lacking in the Santa Margherita, such as flavor.)

As Liz and I unloaded our wine onto our too-small table — five bottles in all — I briefly reconsidered my potential alcoholism, but that unpleasant thought was swiftly washed away by the exquisite Riesling Liz poured into my glass. Riesling and Gewürztraminer are classic choices for pairing with Thai food, and she brought along beautiful examples of each.

Both came from the Alsace, a region in eastern France along the border with Germany, which excels at producing dry whites (most famously, as luck would have it, Riesling and Gewürztraminer). Wines from the Alsace rarely lack acidity, and they sometimes even verge on the austere, making them an excellent choice if sweetness in wine gives you the heebie-jeebies.

The wines were created by Michel Chapoutier, a family wine company distinguished, according to The Oxford Companion to Wine, by “its combination of high quality, often vineyard designated, and almost restless vineyard acquisition.” Chapoutier released his first Alsatian vintage in 2011, from fruit grown “on the only vein of blue schist in the Alsace region,” according to the Schieferkopf website. “Schieferkopf” literally means “head of schist.”

The 2012 Schieferkopf “Via Saint-Jacques” Riesling lived up to its hefty price tag of about $45, with a rich attack, wonderfully juicy and focused lemon/orange acids and a surprisingly long and minerally finish. “It’s crisp and rich at the same time,” Liz noted. Absolutely. It paired beautifully with some sweet and salty chicken satay — it even cut through the heavy peanut sauce — and the wine positively sang with some savory gyoza dumplings. (Why so many Thai restaurants insist on also serving Japanese food is beyond my comprehension, but at least Andy’s didn’t attempt sushi.)

The 2014 Schieferkopf Gewürztraminer — which had a seductive nose of honeysuckle and perfectly balanced flavors of tropical fruits, taut orangey acids and exotic spice — fell rather flat with the gyoza and satay, however. It felt tamped down. But paired with an aromatic and slightly spicy dish of fermented Isaan sausage with cabbage, fresh ginger and peanuts, the wine became magnificently bright and lively. It also stood up well to some sweet and spicy pork belly as well as some slightly spicy shrimp pad Thai.

I wouldn’t be Odd Bacchus if I stuck to classic pairings, of course, and so I selected some less conventional (and less expensive) wines to sip with our Thai/Japanese feast.

Remembering how much I loved the 2010 Planeta Carricante, with its lush fruit and incense-like spice, I brought along a bottle of 2014 Alta Mora Etna Bianco, made from 100% Carricante, an ancient grape variety grown on the slopes of Mount Etna. Etna wines have become rather fashionable these days, and when you sip wines like the Planeta and the Alta Mora, it’s easy to see why. Again, I noted something exotic and “incensy” in the nose, and the wine had some real heft on the palate. Nevertheless, it felt taut and dry, with some tart acids and an impressively long finish.

The Alta Mora worked well with the gyoza (though not as beautifully as the Riesling), and even better with the Isaan sausage. It became more integrated with the food, pairing well with just about everything on the table. But it was two days later when this wine most impressed me. I had taken the mostly full bottle home with me and stored it in the fridge. I thought that after two days, it would be barely drinkable at best, but it still tasted mostly intact. I suspect this wine could age well for a number of years. A fine value for about $20 a bottle.

The 2015 Ernie Els “Big Easy” Chenin Blanc from South Africa also paired generally well with all the food on the table. It tasted very citrusy, with broad, orangey acids, and it had a spicy gingery finish. The wine retained its acids and spice when matched with the satay and peanut sauce, and with the Isaan sausage it became even bigger and spicier. “This is just the right Chenin for this food,” Liz remarked, and I agreed. I wouldn’t hesitate to spend $15 of my own money on a bottle.

If you’re a red wine lover, I hope you haven’t given up on this post just yet. I also brought along a 2013 Nadler “Rote Rieden” Zweigelt from Carnuntum, in far eastern Austria. Austria made its name in the United States with Grüner Veltliner and to a lesser extent Riesling, but it also produces reds of notable character, including Zweigelt. (See my posts about velvety Austrian St. Laurent here.)

This Zweigelt had a light body — ideal for pairing with this sort of food — but no shortage of flavor: cherry, earth, mocha, black pepper… Liz also detected “something herbal, like eucalyptus.” It worked especially well with the pork, which turned the wine’s fruit darker and amped up the black pepper note. Not too shabby for a $13 bottle of wine!

So what do you pair with your favorite Thai treats? That depends. If you plan on ordering some spicy dishes, and you don’t abhor somewhat floral whites, go for a Gewürztraminer. A dry Riesling would be best if you plan on ordering dishes that are more savory than spicy. A light-bodied red like the Zweigelt would be ideal for meaty dishes, both savory and spicy. And if you like a variety of different Thai foods, an Etna Bianco or a Chenin Blanc should work well with a range of dishes.

When in doubt, choose two different bottles. Or better yet, five. After all, it doesn’t necessarily mean you’re an alcoholic.

Note: These wines, with the exception of the Nadler Zweigelt, were samples provided free of charge.

The Finger Lakes: New York’s Mitteleuropa

4 December 2015
Keuka Lake, New York

Keuka Lake, New York

“You’ll never see big-time production in the Finger Lakes — it’s boutique production,” explained sommelier Christopher Bates at this year’s Wine Bloggers Conference in Corning, New York. “We’re like the Mosel,” he continued, “where there are small spaces where grapes can grow and a lot of spaces where they can’t.”

Reviewing my notes from the conference got me thinking that perhaps Bates’ analogy was just a bit too far to the northwest. Most of the Finger Lakes wines I liked best — Riesling, Grüner Veltliner, and Lemberger (Blaufränkisch) — all grow exceedingly well in Austria. According to The World Atlas of Wine, the Wachau, for example, is “…a rich mosaic of different soils and rocks,” where “There are plots of deep soil and others where a mere scratching finds rock…” The description reminded me of the Finger Lakes soil map Bates displayed, which looked like a pointillist fever dream.

The climates of Austria and the Finger Lakes have something in common as well. In Austria, large rivers and lakes mitigate the otherwise rather tough continental climate, just as in the Finger Lakes, where vineyards cluster along sloping shorelines. There, summer warmth stored in the lakes helps prevent the vines from freezing during the extreme winters.

The personable Steven Fulkerson, holding a bottle of his bright and fruity Pinot Noir/Dornfelder rosé

Steven Fulkerson, holding a bottle of his bright and fruity Pinot Noir/Dornfelder rosé

Lettie Teague’s 2013 Wall Street Journal article about the region bore the subtitle, “Where Riesling Rules.” The spectrum of Rieslings I tasted during the course of the conference gives me no cause to disagree with her. The 2014 Lamoreaux Landing Red Oak Vineyard Riesling, for example, exhibited impressive finesse while shifting from ripe fruit to exotic spice to a dry finish. A languid 2013 Fulkerson Estate Semi-Dry Riesling offered lush fruit balanced perfectly by orangey acids and gingery spice. And in the 2013 Wagner Vineyards Riesling Ice Wine, sumptuously rich, sweet fruit mixed with zesty grapefruity acids and warm cinnamon spice — what a delight.

It’s tempting to go on and on about the beautiful Rieslings I tried. Ravines Wine Cellars, Heron Hill, Barrington Cellars, Keuka Spring Vineyards, Vineyard View and McGregor all make exciting examples marked by ripe fruit, balanced acids and often something exotic, like jasmine, incense and/or ginger. And the prices! Most of these Rieslings cost less than $20 a bottle, a magnificent value for the money.

But Riesling isn’t the whole story in the Finger Lakes. Another one of Austria’s most popular grape varieties grows exceedingly well here: Grüner Veltliner. It does well in Austria but rather less well in Germany, because it ripens too late to be successful in vineyards that far north. But the hot summers of the Finger Lakes seem to agree with Grüner Veltliner. John Mansfield of Three Brothers Wineries and Estates agreed, going so far as to argue that “Grüner — it’s going to take over. Take the best parts of Riesling, Sauvignon Blanc and Gewürztraminer, smash ’em together, and you get Grüner.”

Jon Mansfield of Three Brothers Wineries & Estates

Jon Mansfield of Three Brothers Wineries & Estates

His 2014 Stony Lonesome Estates Grüner Veltliner proved to have great personality, with a rather sultry, humid, greenhouse-like aroma, round fruit, tight acids, orange-peel spice and some minerality on the almost bitter finish. Other Grüners were equally as refreshing and exciting. I especially liked the 2014 Dr. Konstantin Frank Grüner Veltliner, which had an aroma of fresh green hay and dewy fruit undergirded by taut, racy acids. These are wines worth paying attention to.

In addition to fine Rieslings and Grüner Veltliners, Austria also produces a number of delicious red wines, including Blaufränkisch. The Finger Lakes is right on Austria’s heels with this variety, which goes by the synonym of Lemberger in New York (I find “Blaufränkisch” to be a little sexier than “Lemberger,” but I’m a sucker for umlauts). As The Oxford Companion to Wine notes, Lemberger produces “wines of real character, if notably high acidity, when carefully grown.”

I’d argue that Finger Lakes Lemberger is capable of standing toe-to-toe with Austrian Blaufränkisch. The 2012 Goose Watch Lemberger proved particularly striking, with ripe cherry fruit and juicy acids. Its white-pepper spice slowly grew in intensity through to a big finish. It felt light but powerful. Just as memorable was the 2012 Fulkerson Estate Goose Watch LembergerLemberger, with its surprising combination of cheerful freshness, ripe dark fruit and tart acids. And I loved the 2013 Lemberger by Element, the winery owned by Christopher Bates, which had a sexy aroma of dark fruit and violets, a light body, big fruit and big spice.

If Riesling, Grüner Veltliner and Lemberger do so well in the Finger Lakes, I’ve been thinking, why not other noble Austrian varieties? I would be especially excited to try a Finger Lakes St. Laurent. This grape, though still not very well-known, produces velvety, sexy red wines, of which I dearly wish more were imported into the United States. I would love to have a local source.

Austrian wines, especially Grüner Veltliner, have become very popular with sommeliers because of their food-friendly acids. You may have noticed that all the wines above have ample acidity, making any of them a fine addition to a restaurant wine list. Finger Lakes wines can’t be found in every corner wine shop, but if I were a New York sommelier fond of Austrian bottlings, I would be sure to include at least one or two choices from the Finger Lakes on my menu. And if I were a traveler fond of wine, I’d put the more-than-usually picturesque and friendly Finger Lakes region on my bucket list.

Bobbing On The Surface Of The Finger Lakes

26 August 2015
The terrace of the Manor House overlooking Keuka Lake

The terrace of the Manor House overlooking Keuka Lake

As I departed this year’s Finger Lakes-focused Wine Bloggers Conference, I felt something strange. A lack. This subtle absence might have even gone unnoticed, had I not participated in previous conferences in Virginia and British Columbia. After those two conferences, I felt a strong connection to the wine regions. I can still viscerally feel the rolling vineyards of Virginia, planted along roads where Thomas Jefferson rode in his carriage, and the sweeping vistas of British Columbia, where the vineyards melted into a vast landscape of rugged mountains and lakes. This time, as my plane departed the minuscule Elmira airport in rural New York, my viscera barely twitched. Something was wrong.

Glynis of Vino-Noire.com and Reggie of WineCasual.com with the author

Glynis of Vino-Noire.com and Reggie of WineCasual.com with the author (center)

I went over the events of the conference in my mind — the tastings, the dinners, the receptions, the after-parties — all of which had been delightful. Nor could it have been the people. I deepened several friendships made at the British Columbia conference, and forged new ones as well. I left feeling more strongly connected to the wine blogger community than ever. And the winery representatives I’d met couldn’t have been more personable. One winemaker even invited me to stay at his house, should I return to the area! Then the problem became clear.

Somehow, over the course of my three nights at the Wine Bloggers Conference in Corning, I had managed to avoid visiting a single winery or vineyard. How was this possible?

I am as much to blame as anyone, since I didn’t make time for either the pre- or post-conference excursion to the Finger Lakes, both of which included multiple winery visits. The town of Corning itself, charming though it may be, with its quaint downtown and impressive museums of glass and American art, is bereft of vineyards. I knew this, and just assumed that an excursion to a winery or two would take place during the conference as had happened in the past.

We did hop on buses at one point to get into the countryside, but we didn’t know where a bus was going until we were already en route. My bus made a perfectly pleasant trip to the Manor House on Keuka Lake, where we tasted an array of delicious Rieslings. The word “exotic” keeps appearing in my notes about these Rieslings, which exhibited aromas like jasmine and incense and flavors of roses, ginger and fleshy peach. These were well-balanced and rather sexy wines, made by the likes of Ravines, Vineyard View, Barrington and McGregor.

The Manor House on Keuka Lake

The Manor House near Keuka Lake

I loved this flavor journey along the Keuka Lake Wine Trail, but it was unfortunately unaccompanied by a physical journey to any wineries or vineyards. The Manor House made for a pretty event venue, with food stations set up inside the house stocked with fluffy gnocchi in Gorgonzola cream sauce and sweet-and-sour glazed pork meatballs which we nibbled on the lake-view terrace. But it could not substitute for a winery.

I’ve been fortunate enough to visit an array of wine regions over the years, and when I drink something from a place I know, the wine transports me there in the manner of Proust’s madeleine. When I drink Tokaji, I find myself back in that 500-year-old cellar caked with mold or on the vine-clad hillside near my hotel, staring aghast at the gash in the distance where the communist regime mined a Grand Cru vineyard for clay. When I drink a well-crafted wine from Mendoza, my skin remembers how the breeze felt as it swept down from the distant Andes and across the vineyards surrounding me. I can still physically feel these places in a way that I simply can’t the Finger Lakes.

This lack made something clear to me which, in retrospect, should have been obvious. I don’t feel like I know a wine until I’ve actually visited where it’s made. When you stand quietly for a little while in a vineyard, the terroir seeps into you, just a bit, just like it does the wine. Touching and smelling the casks in a cellar — it connects you to the wine, deepening your experience when you taste it. Tasting alone is not enough.

I’m still bobbing on the surface of the Finger Lakes. One day soon I’ll have to fix that.

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