Odd Bacchus

While browsing the selection at my favorite neighborhood wine shop, In Fine Spirits, I asked the proprietor my favorite question: “So what do you have that’s new and unusual?” Noticing the bottle of Serbian Prokupac already in my hand, she pointed out a Croatian Syrah, which at $21 was more than I had planned on spending. But how could I resist? A famous and extremely high-quality Rhône variety expressed through the terroir of coastal Croatia was simply too tempting. I paid the $21, and I am very glad I did.

Like all wine-growing countries ruled by communists, Croatia’s vintners were essentially required to focus on quantity rather than quality. Many fascinating indigenous varieties were therefore cast aside in favor of a handful of higher-yielding grapes which produced drinkable but uninteresting wines. Many vineyards in Croatia also suffered during the breakup of Yugoslavia, damaged by shelling, trampling or even being uprooted and replaced by landmines.

In more recent years, as the Croatian economy incorporated more capitalist principles and peace returned to the region, foresighted winemakers began exploring Croatia’s viticultural roots, restoring nearly lost local grape varieties and focusing again on quality instead of simply quantity. Anton and Toni Katunar are two of those foresighted winemakers.

The Katunar family has made wine for centuries, according to its website (translated from the Croatian by Google Translate), albeit as part of a cooperative during the communist years, “the only possible way of doing business.” In the 1990s, the Katunar winery worked hard to modernize and improve, investing in new Slavonian oak casks for aging and changing its sparkling wine production from tank fermentation to bottle fermentation.

Because the Katunar vineyards already had an enviable location on the south end of the island of Krk, just southeast of the Istrian peninsula, these investments have resulted in some very high-quality wines. Certainly the 2010 Katunar “Kurykta Anton” was thoroughly delicious. Referred to as Kurykta Nigra on the Katunar website, this deep magenta-hued wine had an instantly appealing aroma of earth, iron and red fruit. It felt very well-balanced, with a rich texture and luscious red-fruit flavors leavened by deep undertones of earth and a bright zing of acids. I also loved the overtones of violets and the tightly focused metallic finish. The rustic acids helped the wine pair beautifully with some traditional boeuf bourguignon, standing up to the hearty flavors in the dish and clearing the palate for the next bite.

My only problem with this wine was its confusing back label. On the one hand, it clearly states that the wine is 100% Syrah. But above that figure, the description notes that the Kurykta Anton blends “Syrah with Sansigot and Debejan, local varietals found only on the island of Krk.” The idea of trying a wine made in part from Sansigot and Debejan excites the Odd Bacchus in me to no end, but it’s as yet unclear to me if I’ve actually done so.

(You can read more about Sansigot here. Debejan is more mysterious. According to Wikipedia and the Wein-Plus glossary, Debejan is a synonym for Gegić, but I can find precious little about either variety.)

In any case, 100% Syrah or not, if you like hearty Côtes du Rhône wines, you will most definitely like Katunar Kurykta Anton. Full-bodied reds like this are perfect for winter dinners, and the acids in this wine ensure that it will pair with a range of robust stews, roasts and pastas. It’s a bit of a splurge at $21 a bottle, but your investment will be amply rewarded.

It takes a little doing to find local wine in the heart of bourbon country. I’ve been visiting Louisville and the surrounding area annually for the last seven or eight years, and though I’ve toured a number of distilleries, I only just recently tasted my first Kentucky wine. It took a visit to the pretty state capital, Frankfort, to finally find some.

Wineries in Kentucky have a tough uphill battle to fight, and not just because of bourbon’s overwhelming firepower. According to The Oxford Companion to Wine, in Kentucky, “Winter freeze may only be a marginal issue, but the hot, humid summers have so far proved discouraging to efforts with vinifera vines.” Vinifera vines include varieties such as Chardonnay, Sauvignon Blanc, Pinot Noir and Merlot — really any grape of world-class quality, with the exception of Norton and perhaps one or two others. If you can’t successfully grow vinifera varieties, your winery is unlikely to make much of a splash.

Nowadays, it seems some Kentucky wineries have overcome the sultry summers and are indeed growing vinifera grapes of real quality. Capital Cellars, a shop across the street from Kentucky’s old capitol building, stocks an impressive array of local wines, including many made from tried-and-true grape varieties. The service at this shop isn’t great — I had a great deal of trouble getting the attention of the staff, and when I finally did, the first person I spoke with knew next to nothing about Kentucky wine. I was also disappointed to discover that Capital Cellars’ small wine bar served no Kentucky wines by the glass. Nevertheless, I recommend stopping by if you’re in the area, if only to take advantage of the breadth of Capital Cellars’ selection.

One of the wines which caught my attention was the NV MillaNova Cabernet Sauvignon Reserve, clearly labeled as “A Kentucky Cabernet Sauvignon.” (I had no interest in buying a wine made from out-of-state fruit.) Set just south of Louisville on 22 acres near Mt. Washington, the winery produces 18 different wines, some of which with dubious names like “Chardonberry.” But there is no denying the high quality of the Cabernet Sauvignon Reserve.

One of my tasting partners for the evening took a sip and remarked, “It’s a lot better than I thought it would be,” and indeed it was. A dark, opaque red, the MillaNova Cabernet had a rich aroma of jammy fruit and chocolate. I was impressed by the clear, bell-like fruit, redolent of plums. Aged in French and American oak for 18 months, the wine felt full-bodied and well-balanced, with big, bold acids, some white-pepper spice and a smoothly tannic finish. I must admit I felt nervous buying a Kentucky Cabernet for $25, but the MillaNova unquestionably lived up to its price tag.

If you find yourself in Kentucky, there’s no need to limit yourself to just the local spirits. As the MillaNova Cabernet Sauvignon Reserve illustrates, the state is capable of producing perfectly delicious wines as well.

I’ve written before about Greek Moschofilero (also spelled Moscophilero), a white wine which I’ve found both exceedingly charming and slightly off-putting. The origins of this pink-skinned grape variety are “as yet obscure,” according to The Oxford Companion to Wine, and goodness knows I love a mysterious grape variety. Moschofilero also happens to usually taste rather floral and fruity, which made it ideal to pour with the season premier of Downton Abbey. Not so much because of the show, but because one of our guests preferred sweeter whites, and because I thought it would pair well with the chicken pot pie in the oven.

Why open a Moschofilero instead of a Riesling or a Gewürztraminer? For shock value, of course, and because you tend to get a lot of bang for your buck. The 2012 Tselepos Moschofilero cost me just $10 at Binny’s, and really, you’ll be hard pressed to find a well-balanced Riesling at that price.

According to the label, this particular Moschofilero is a “Protected Geographical Indication Arcadia,” which basically means the fruit for the wine could come from anywhere in that central Peloponnese province. Arcadia doesn’t qualify as an appellation, however. That distinction belongs to Mantinia, a high-altitude plateau in Arcadia, which produces wines that can command higher prices (see the Tselepos Mantinia, which costs about $5 more at Binny’s than the Tselepos Arcadia).

Beyond that, the wine is a bit of a mystery. The minimalist importer’s website shines little light upon it, and the Tselepos website doesn’t list the Arcadian Moschofilero among its bottlings. But in any case, at $10, this Moschofilero isn’t much of a risk.

A pale, pinkish yellow, this wine had a heady, sweet aroma of ripe apples, jasmine and incense. It tasted drier than I thought it would, with a bit of a prickly texture, flavors of apples and flowers, and some exotic spice underneath. The fruit was a bit flabby, to be sure, but the wine pulled together some with the pot pie. I wished it had more of a backbone, but hey, for $10, it’s quite an interesting and flavorful wine.

Would I buy it again? I would probably go for the more expensive Mantinia version if I could find it, or if I did want to only spend $10, I would buy the Kyklos Moschofilero instead.

There were many things I looked forward to when I recently journeyed to Colorado, but I must admit local wine was not one of them. I didn’t even bother to check my reference books before I left to see if anything might be happening in Colorado in terms of wine, because my goals were more about hiking, fresh air and steaks from unusual animals like elk and buffalo.

Had I cracked open my Oxford Companion to Wine — always a good idea before heading off on a trip to pretty much anywhere — I would have discovered that “Colorado’s increasing vineyard area (nearly 1,000 acres) and growing number of wineries (over 50) are beginning to provide wines of quality to its major tourist market as well as Denver…”

I suppose after my experiences in Arizona and New Mexico, finding “wines of quality” in Colorado should have been no surprise. However, The Oxford Companion goes on to say that Colorado’s “dry conditions allow healthy vinifera production but varieties have yet to produce characterful wines despite a usefully hot growing season.” Which isn’t especially encouraging, despite the Companion‘s seemingly contradictory listing of grape varieties which “have all produced wines of interest” in Colorado.

I checked my other resources to see if they agreed with this mixed assessment of the state of Colorado wine. The World Atlas of Wine mentions Colorado only on a map indicating the acreage under cultivation and the number of wineries. Nor does the ever-comprehensive Sotheby’s Wine Encyclopedia have much to add. It simply notes that “The growing season in most of Colorado is too short to permit grape-growing,” and that there is nevertheless an AVA called Grand Valley, located just west of the city of Grand Junction in the western part of the state.

I felt too anxious to reach the mountains to linger in the Grand Valley AVA touring wineries, but I did finally encounter some Colorado wine quite by chance at a resort west of Telluride called Dunton Hot Springs. The property owns a winery called Sutcliffe Vineyards, which has either 22 or 36 acres of organically farmed vineyards, depending on which page of its website you believe, located near Cortez, Colorado, in the Four Corners region (far to the south of the Grand Valley AVA). You can see a map of the location here, along with a hand-drawn map of the vineyards themselves.

According to the “rants” page of the Sutcliffe website, owner John Sutcliffe didn’t originally intend to start a winery. The gentleman who designed his house recommended planting vineyards around it, which he did. The vineyards bore fruit, Sutcliffe decided to vinify it, and Sutcliffe Vineyards grew from there.

What luck that Sutcliffe’s designer recommended planting those grapes. The Sutcliffe wines I tried were quite good, and in some cases quite memorable: Before dinner, a fellow guest planning on proposing to his girlfriend that evening opened some very fine reserve bottles, and he poured tastes for the rest of us at the bar. Here’s a list of what I tried:

2011 Sutcliffe Pinot Gris: The fruit for this wine actually comes from Carneros, an AVA just south of Sonoma in California, making the Pinot Gris the least interesting to me of the bunch. It had a fresh, green aroma undergirded by dried herbs, and a flavor profile of lush fruit contrasted with focused, almost prickly acids. Well-made, but I’m not sure why you would spend $25 on it, especially considering the origin of the fruit.

2012 Sutcliffe Sauvignon Blanc: This Sauvignon Blanc had real character, with a nose of moist, funky grass and flavors that moved from musky to sweet to chalky to tart. It paired well with a bright salad of local greens. $25.

2011 Sutcliffe Riesling: If you avoid Rieslings because you think they’re too sweet, this is the Riesling for you. It had a limey aroma, citrusy fruit on the palate and a dry finish. There was little if any sweetness at all, but I found it refreshing, and the acids would surely work well with food. $25.

2011 Sutcliffe Cinsault: Cinsault comes originally from France’s Languedoc region in the far southwest. It may seem odd to find a grape from southern France in Colorado, but as The Oxford Companion notes, Cinsault “has good drought resistance,” making it a likely candidate for Colorado’s generally dry climate. The last few Cinsaults I’ve tried haven’t thrilled me, and this was alas no exception. I smelled a lot of black pepper on the nose, and the red-fruit flavor became overwhelmed by black pepper notes. It felt unbalanced, this wine, though it mellowed a bit when paired with some scallops in curry sauce. $27.

2009 Sutcliffe Petit Verdot: This variety comes from France’s famed Bordeaux region, also in the southwest section of the country. It’s most often seen in blends, but Petit Verdot varietals make increasingly common appearances, which is no bad thing. This version had a pronounced vanilla note in the aroma, along with some creamy red fruit. It tasted wonderfully rich and tannic, and my goodness, for just three more dollars a bottle, I would much rather drink this than the Cinsault. $30.

2009 Sutcliffe Field Blend: Most blends occur in the winery, with a winemaker choosing so much of this and so much of that. A field blend occurs in the vineyard, blending whatever grape varieties happen to be growing together. This wine “gives the true taste of McElmo Canyon,” according to the Sutcliffe website. I loved its rich, dark-fruit aroma, and there again was that rich, creamy fruit on the palate. It had elegantly soft tannins and a dry finish, and it became even bigger and richer when paired with some “truffle tremor” cheese. $35.

2009 Sutcliffe Trawsfynydd: Named for a village in Wales — perhaps the ancestral home of the Sutcliffes? — this blend incorporates every Bordeaux variety except Malbec, according to the Sutcliffe website. The evening was wearing on, which means my notes became more melodramatic. This wine smelled “dark and mysterious,” I wrote, and there again was that signature dark, creamy fruit. Well-balanced, very controlled, and certainly worth its $38 price tag.

NV Sutcliffe Doce Pecado Port: “Doce Pecado” translates as “Twelve Sins,” according to Google Translate, and it did indeed feel a little decadent to drink this port-style fortified wine. It tasted rich but not heavy, with underlying tones of wood and something savory. A fine match for some cherry pie with cinnamon and ginger. $25 for a half-bottle.

It’s difficult to generalize about all of Colorado based just on Sutcliffe’s bottlings, but clearly these wines show that Colorado has the potential to make some very tasty wines indeed. The state has a long way to go before it becomes known for its wine, but with Sutcliffe, it’s off to an excellent start.