Odd Bacchus

Someone recently asked me if I could drink wine made from only one grape variety for the rest of my life, what would it be? My first instinct was Chardonnay. It can be everything from steel-spined Chablis to rich California butterballs, and — no less important — some of the best Champagne. But those over-oaked, over-extracted California butterballs ruined Chardonnay for a generation of wine drinkers, and many people, quite understandably, avoid the grape entirely (try Googling “Anything But Chardonnay”).

Even those who like Chardonnay often have misconceptions about the grape, as evidenced by a recent blind tasting I held, in which a Master of Wine took a sip of a New Zealand Chardonnay and exclaimed, “France!” I did no better than she, even though I had purchased the wines. Blind tastings are a wonderful way to keep one’s ego in check.

The Chablis component of the tasting

A bottle of Chablis inspired the blind tasting. I had agreed to sample a 2015 William Fèvre “Champs Royaux” Chablis, because how could I resist a free bottle of one of my favorite wines? The marketer who sent it wanted me to evaluate it as an example of the vintage. I decided the best way to do that was to compare it to some other 2015 Chablis.

But then, why not also compare it to some Chardonnays from elsewhere in the world, in a modified Judgment of Paris tasting? I assembled seven other 2015 wines ranging in price from $8.50 to $57, produced in Chablis (France), New Zealand, Argentina and California. In order for me to also participate in the blind tasting, I bagged the bottles, mixed up the bags and numbered them. My husband then presented the wines to the group, so that I wouldn’t be able to cheat by looking at their necks.

The results were absolutely fascinating. The $57 wine was rather unpopular, and the $8.50 wine tasted better than expected. There was broad consensus in our group of nine tasters about the best and the worst of the bunch, but not such broad consensus regarding the grape variety we were tasting. A few people guessed that we were sipping Chardonnay, but just as many thought the wines were Sauvignon Blanc, and another guessed Viognier. Chardonnay can take many forms!

Here is what we tasted:

WINE #1

This wine proved immensely popular, garnering seven Loves and two Likes on my rating scale of Love, Like, Meh and Dislike. All but one of us guessed correctly that it came from France, an indication of France’s enduring reputation for quality. People praised its creamy mouthfeel and long finish, as well as its zesty and sharply focused acids. No one thought that it cost less than $18 a bottle, and two of us (including me) guessed that it cost $57.

In fact, it was the sample bottle I’d received, the 2015 William Fèvre “Champs Royaux” from Chablis! It costs just $18 at Binny’s, where I purchased the other wines for the tasting. At that price, it’s a screaming steal. It was the hit of the tasting.

WINE #2

Wine #2 was less popular. One taster asked, “Why does this taste cheaper to me?” I noted that it smelled richer than #1 but that it didn’t taste as complex. It felt hotter, more alcoholic, and rougher around the edges. Others liked its lightly buttery quality, and only two tasters rated it as low as Meh. One gave it a Love, and everyone else rated it as Like. Guesses as to its origin ranged across the map, though three people correctly labeled it as an Argentinian wine. A couple of people thought it cost $22 a bottle, but most wrote down the actual price.

In fact, it was the 2015 Salentein Reserve Chardonnay from Argentina’s Uco Valley, a high-quality region just to the south of Mendoza. It cost me $15 a bottle, and judging by its reception, it seems fairly priced.

WINE #3

Chardonnays from Argentina, New Zealand and California

Our third bottle fared worse, earning only two Likes and a bunch of Mehs. I liked its creamy and citrusy aroma and bright acids, but another taster remarked, “It’s acid that I don’t love.” Another commented that it was “oak city,” and a third complained that its “finish is like a teenage boy” (i.e. too fast). Others approved of its white pepper spice, however. As to its origin, the guesses divided among Argentina and New Zealand, and most people thought it cost between $16 and $18.

In fact, it was the 2015 Domaine Costal Premier Cru Vaillons Chablis, which cost me $32.29 at Binny’s. Yikes! A Premier Cru Chablis comes from one of the region’s best vineyard sites, and it should in theory be better than a standard Chablis. I think this one might need a little more time in the bottle to settle down.

WINE #4

My contribution to the pot-luck dinner accompanying the tasting: tomatoes from our garden with basil and olive oil

People enjoyed this wine much more, with only one person giving it a Meh — everyone else gave it a solid Like. And again, almost everyone assumed it was French. “It’s more expensive and it’s France for sure,” one taster asserted. Only one of us guessed its true country of origin. I certainly liked it, with its citrusy and mineral aroma, bright lemon-orange acids and finish of focused spice. Almost everyone thought it cost $22.

In fact, it was the 2015 Kim Crawford Unoaked Chardonnay from New Zealand’s East Coast, which cost just $16. If you prefer your wines bright, fruity and juicy, this Chardonnay is ideal for you. And considering that most people thought it cost $6 or more than its actual price, it’s a fine value as well.

WINE #5

This wine divided the group more than any other. Reactions ranged from “Dislike from me” to “It was OK” to “I like it!” One taster complained that it was something of an oak bomb, but I found it more balanced. I was one of the three people in the room who actually liked this wine for its creamy/buttery start and cleansing shaft of sharp spice. I wrote “Rich and zesty, but disjointed.” It earned three Love ratings, two Likes, three Mehs and one Dislike, and people priced it anywhere between $15 and $57, with most clustered around $18. Almost everyone thought it came from California or Argentina. Tellingly, the only people who correctly guessed its true country of origin, France, were two of the people who enjoyed it the most.

In fact, it was the wine that should have been the star of the tasting, the 2015 Jean-Paul & Benoît Droin Grand Cru Valmur Chablis (Valmur is one of Chablis’ Grand Cru vineyards). It cost a healthy $57. The problem with this wine, I suspect, is that we drank it far too young. Its components hadn’t yet integrated, and so the oak stuck out like a sore thumb. Give this wine five years in the bottle, and I have no doubt that it will be gorgeous.

WINE #6

Wine #6 was a great big Meh. Only one person rated it as Like. Everyone else rated it as Meh, aside from two Dislikes. I wrote that it was pointy — “maybe too pointy” — and others noted its spicy aroma and general roughness. Even so, people generally guessed that it cost around $15. Only two people guessed its true price.

In fact, this was the 2015 Alamos Chardonnay by Catena from Mendoza, which cost just $8.50. Four people guessed that it came from Argentina, which means either that they’re very good at blind tastings, or that they assume that a cheap-tasting wine is an Argentine wine (only one person guessed France).

WINE #7

I quite liked the balance on this wine, and others complimented it as well, saying, “I don’t want to spit this one out,” and “It’s crisp and well-structured.” Our Master of Wine in the group remarked on its lemony character, exclaiming, “It’s like lemon meringue pie!” But others complained of a “funk aroma” redolent of “dirty feet.” This wine earned one Dislike, one Meh, three Likes and three Loves, making it the second-most popular wine of the tasting, after the William Fevre “Champs Royeaux.” People thought it was expensive, too. One taster thought it cost $18 and another $22, but the rest thought it cost either $32 or $57, and came either from France or (to a lesser extent) the USA.

In fact, this was the 2015 Etienne Boileau Chablis, theoretically a step down in terms of quality from the Premier Cru and two steps down from the Grand Cru. It cost me $19, which is quite a bargain, considering that most of the group thought it cost much more.

WINE #8

And then we came to the real disaster of the tasting, Wine #8. Only one person liked it. The entire rest of the group rated it as Dislike. As people tasted it, I heard things like, “Oh God, it’s horrible,” and “It smells like Mott’s apple juice in a box.” There was a touch of pétillance, which was surely unintentional, and an odd olive brininess. No one thought it came from France — most people assumed it was from Argentina or the U.S., aside from a couple of New Zealand guesses.

In fact, this was the 2015 Mer Soleil “Silver” Unoaked Chardonnay from Monterey in California, and it cost $18. Most people assumed it cost $8.50, but I wouldn’t pay even that for this wine. Ugh. Interestingly, Binny’s no longer seems to carry this wine.

CONCLUSION

If this tasting is any indication, the notion that French wines are quality and Argentine wines are not persists unabated. When people liked a wine, they almost always guessed it came from France. Few of us guessed that a high-quality Chardonnay could come from New Zealand. The versatility of Chardonnay is also still a surprise, as evidenced by the number of people guessing that we tasted Sauvignon Blancs. And we learned that whites aren’t necessarily at their best right out of the gate. Some of them, such as the Grand Cru Chablis, clearly need more time in the bottle to settle down.

Others, such as the William Fèvre “Champs Royeaux,” are drinking beautifully right now. That wine is relatively easy to find — I’ve seen it on a number of restaurant wine lists — and it’s an incredible value for the money. Seek it out, along with the delicious Kim Crawford Chardonnay from New Zealand.

You can read a another post about the delights of Chablis here.

St. Clement Vineyards, St. Helena

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.

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.

At a charming little tasting room I recently visited in the Pacific Northwest, I found myself feeling quite irritable, despite the good quality of the wines. To be fair, the woman pouring was new and nervous and just doing her best. But the three sins that she committed during the tasting have been committed time and time again by wine representatives far more experienced than she.

With the annual Wine Bloggers Conference fast approaching, it seemed an opportune moment to describe these three behaviors, since they happen with some regularity at each conference. Wine presenters, I assure you that I’m not the only one irritated by the experiences below.

Most egregious: Feeding me tasting notes

I get it — you’re excited about the wine, and perhaps you even made it. Perhaps you worked really hard to develop its complexity, and it makes sense that after putting all that work into the wine, you want me to appreciate its nuances. Sales representatives, too, doubtless feel motivated to make sure I don’t miss the rich blackberry fruit or the tobacco on the finish or whatever. Or if you’re new to the game, it makes sense that you want to sound like you know what you’re talking about, and that you can pick out gooseberry notes with the best of them.

Don’t do it. Let the wine speak for itself. If, before I’ve tasted the wine, I’m told that it exhibits notes of pears and lime and oak, it’s awfully difficult to get that out of my head and decide for myself what it tastes like. And I really want to decide for myself. I’m happy to discuss what the wine is like after I’ve tasted it and made some notes. In fact, I love doing exactly that. But getting a tasting note in advance of tasting makes my job that much harder.

Yes.

Almost as bad: Talking while I’m tasting.

To be clear, I have no problem with wine presenters talking to other people near me while I’m tasting. Chat away! But please don’t talk to me.

I’ve only been writing this blog since 2011, and I still need to concentrate if I’m going to write anything useful about a wine’s character in my notebook. If you’re trying to give me facts about the vinification or the terroir while the wine is in my mouth (or worse, telling me what it tastes like), you can count on me not retaining a word you say. Sometimes people even ask me questions before I’ve had a chance to spit the wine out, and I’m never sure how they expect me to answer. If I’m going to appreciate the wine and all its flavor nuances, I need to focus on it for a moment.

Spitting brings me to my third wine tasting sin: Providing poorly designed spit buckets.

Those of you fortunate enough to swallow most of the wine that ends up in your mouth may wonder what on earth I’m talking about. When tasting wine, I spit almost all of it out. It sounds disgusting, and perhaps even disrespectful to the wine, and I admit it is a little of the former. But if I visit, say, three wineries in a day, and swallow all those little tastes, I’ll be drunk, and I don’t like that feeling anymore. At the Wine Bloggers Conference, if I swallowed all I tasted over the course of a day, I’d be killed!

No.

Spit buckets are a necessary evil in all tasting rooms and at wine tasting events. Unfortunately, all too often, the spit buckets provided are simply buckets. This is a huge irritation of mine at the Wine Blogger Conference in particular. It doesn’t take long for a bucket to become full enough for it to splash back, however careful the spitter. And it is unquestionably disgusting to be splashed by a spit bucket. A simple, standard bucket is not enough.

On a recent trip to en primeur week in Bordeaux, my American companions and I remarked on the uniformly well-designed and sometimes even attractive spit buckets available at every tasting. Each had a concave top of one sort or another covering the bucket, with one or more small holes leading to the receptacle. Splash-back was never a problem. I even dared to wear a white shirt one day. These buckets need not be expensive, like the barrel-shaped model above. I’ve seen plastic versions that work beautifully.

I have to think that some of you have other wine tasting pet peeves, either as tasters or wine presenters. What behaviors drive you bonkers? Let me know!