As I stand on the precipice of this next decade, I've decided to make a run at writing about my 60 favorite wines. (KT was quick to point out that often it's the one I'm holding at the moment.) It was my intent to start on the actual day of my birth, but tonight this plan was pre-empted by a 1996 Cahors.
I spent the better part of Sunday cooking up a cassoulet. I've always wanted to make one and this recipe seemed achievable, even for a middlin' cook like me. Although the end result would not be featured on the cover of any fine dining rags, it is a country stew, after all, and in that regard the results were a stunning success.
What to drink? I initially planned to open a CdP that I picked up at a very reasonable price from Vinopolis, but glanced briefly at the "What to Eat with What you Drink" book and "they" suggested that Cahors was the quintessential match. OMG were they right! We had the "old" cahors in the basement (I believe it was the Clos de Coutale from Kermit Lynch) and this seemed like the perfect time to give it air.
Absolument! It was spectacular. The wine married with the food so well that I didn't think to "analyze" it. It just went down seamlessly with the cassoulet and describing it would be like trying to pick out one of the spices that melted into this wonderful recipe. I know that I tasted fruits - dark, perhaps cranberry - and herbs - exotic, subtle and perhaps asian - and maybe some resinous wood, but on the whole the wine and food were an inseparable experience and amongst the finest combinations that this mouth has tasted.
A few years back, we were at a wine tasting at the old Noble Rot. Cahor was featured in the lineup and the person leading the tasting said that cahors was best drunk young and not built for aging. We happened to bring a ten year old cahors along for the fun of seeing how it matched against the class offerings. It literally stole the show. Here again tonight, and a little bit older, the proof in the glass is that you can never tell too much about wine. It surprises and it pleases me to no end that the FIRST of my 60 favorite wines is Cahors: a simple country wine that carries the elegance of the french countryside and its people. Especially memorable because we gazed at the devil on the bridge in 1998, my first trip to France. Let the tastings begin!
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Monday, October 31, 2011
The Simple Things
For the past little bit, we've been having simple wines, that is wines without pretense, under $15 or so, without "pedigree". And they have been almost unbearably delicious and utterly surprising.
With all their goodness, they have also brought specks of introspection. Take last night, for instance. I was recently inventorying the cellar and discovered two bottles of 2005 beaujolais. Nothing special about the producer; no big hype in the bottle or vintage; just 'blue collar' wine. And....it was spectacular. Not in a big showy way, just in the perfect way that a wine can bring the essence of the good moments of life to the fore. The wine married with our simple eclectic meal of leftovers as if it was cast to be in service to the meal. The fruit light and vibrant and happy to be at the table. And I wanted so badly for someone else to "get it", to see that what we held in our hands was the best that life can reasonably offer. But, alas, it was not to be and it leaves me sad but at the same time I have to say that I felt it and why isn't that enough? Why do I feel that I need someone else to share in my joy for it to feel validated? Is it not enough that I felt it?
I wanted to merge with this wine; I wanted to bathe in it and be one with its joyous, generous presence and maybe that's what I was hoping for with someone else. When you feel something that intimately, does it necessitate sharing to be real? I don't know but try as I might to be above it, I'm just left feeling lonely. Looking around for someone to recognize this rare slice of life exposed, unplugged. Is there any possibility that the vintner knew how good this would be? Could it be that someone could foresee this time, this place, this experience of unfettered joy? God, I hope so. I'd like to believe that this is not an accident but a divine plan to make my life soar and dip with each sip. I would drink this wine everyday forever and never grow weary of its simple elegance.
Can you feel it? Reminds me of a Don McLean song: do you remember who we are? can you still feel it? Find me, please, I will stream this wine on your soft skin and sip it, lick it, nuzzle it until we fall exhausted in reverie, bliss. No questions asked; no critique; just simple joy. Can this be so much to ask?
sigh.......
With all their goodness, they have also brought specks of introspection. Take last night, for instance. I was recently inventorying the cellar and discovered two bottles of 2005 beaujolais. Nothing special about the producer; no big hype in the bottle or vintage; just 'blue collar' wine. And....it was spectacular. Not in a big showy way, just in the perfect way that a wine can bring the essence of the good moments of life to the fore. The wine married with our simple eclectic meal of leftovers as if it was cast to be in service to the meal. The fruit light and vibrant and happy to be at the table. And I wanted so badly for someone else to "get it", to see that what we held in our hands was the best that life can reasonably offer. But, alas, it was not to be and it leaves me sad but at the same time I have to say that I felt it and why isn't that enough? Why do I feel that I need someone else to share in my joy for it to feel validated? Is it not enough that I felt it?
I wanted to merge with this wine; I wanted to bathe in it and be one with its joyous, generous presence and maybe that's what I was hoping for with someone else. When you feel something that intimately, does it necessitate sharing to be real? I don't know but try as I might to be above it, I'm just left feeling lonely. Looking around for someone to recognize this rare slice of life exposed, unplugged. Is there any possibility that the vintner knew how good this would be? Could it be that someone could foresee this time, this place, this experience of unfettered joy? God, I hope so. I'd like to believe that this is not an accident but a divine plan to make my life soar and dip with each sip. I would drink this wine everyday forever and never grow weary of its simple elegance.
Can you feel it? Reminds me of a Don McLean song: do you remember who we are? can you still feel it? Find me, please, I will stream this wine on your soft skin and sip it, lick it, nuzzle it until we fall exhausted in reverie, bliss. No questions asked; no critique; just simple joy. Can this be so much to ask?
sigh.......
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
The Wines They Are a Changin'
Tonight, sitting to the last of summer fare, I decided to revisit a wine that I bought by the case a year or so ago. It's a village level wine, a 2005 Domaine du Prieure Bourgogne that I picked up from Vino. Bought it by the case, to watch it evolve through time.
The first bottles, enjoyed in 2009 and 10, reflected a kind of bitter cherry, acidic wine. Good but not exceptional. That seemed appropos since I paid about $10 a bottle for it and expected little else.
Tonight, however, the wine is showing a much brighter face. Tonight this wine personifies the expression "soft mouthfeel", as it literally feels like silk. The body is the definition of soft. The nose is not dissimilar to previous tastings: iron, blood, cherry. But it's in the mouth and on the palate that things have appreciably changed. The cherries have become brighter, more fruitful; not in a fruit forward new world way but in a settled defining way. Still bitter fruit but more of a true cherry flavor. Iron and blood still have a home here, but in more of a contextual way than in a dominant fashion like initial tastings.
The wine is very clear and taking on some brickish color; still some lingering tannins so I know we have a little while longer to enjoy the remaining few bottles. Paired splendidly with a steak, corn and potato salad; all in all a delightful somewhat picnic like wine.
The first bottles, enjoyed in 2009 and 10, reflected a kind of bitter cherry, acidic wine. Good but not exceptional. That seemed appropos since I paid about $10 a bottle for it and expected little else.
Tonight, however, the wine is showing a much brighter face. Tonight this wine personifies the expression "soft mouthfeel", as it literally feels like silk. The body is the definition of soft. The nose is not dissimilar to previous tastings: iron, blood, cherry. But it's in the mouth and on the palate that things have appreciably changed. The cherries have become brighter, more fruitful; not in a fruit forward new world way but in a settled defining way. Still bitter fruit but more of a true cherry flavor. Iron and blood still have a home here, but in more of a contextual way than in a dominant fashion like initial tastings.
The wine is very clear and taking on some brickish color; still some lingering tannins so I know we have a little while longer to enjoy the remaining few bottles. Paired splendidly with a steak, corn and potato salad; all in all a delightful somewhat picnic like wine.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Preaster and Beyond
Since Saturday, the wine opportunities have been uncommonly good. This has been in large part due to KT's request to have grilled lamb chops for "preaster" (so dubbed because the day before was so glorious - as only a 70 degree spring day in Oregon can be - and the actual easter day was bound and determined to be damp, bleak and like the rest of Oregon spring weather).
Lamb for me is like being given the keys to the wine cellar and told: "Go on. Pick one of those wines that you covet that soars in the presence of this meat that the gods and goddesses designed for wine." Sooooo many choices! Red for sure. But which red? One of the bordeauxs tucked away for a special meal? One of the old LdH's waiting patiently to take my breath way? Finally, we decided on a CdP because the lamb was accompanied by an excellent olive salsa. So a 1998 Domaine Lucien Barrot et fils to the table.
The Cdp was superb, but not at all what we expected nor what was best with this meal. In a very peculiar way, this wine was sweet and fruity - not in the "new world" way - and lacking the acidity that the olives required. Oh, make no mistake about it, we finished it off with relish but it was the magical pairing wine that I had craved.....and then.....
Leftovers! Last night I rewarmed some leftover chops and a smattering of chive, tarragon potatoes. To accompany, I selected a mystery wine: a red from the Bellet aoc. Bellet aoc? Yes, this wine we picked up from one of the Noble Rot classes of yore and neither KT nor I could recall it. But let me tell you, this wine from the area around Nice was THE wine for the lamb! It was a 2001 and still had lovely mediterranean style: rustic, herbal, suntanned and grisled but so approachable and lovely going down. The wine was polished without being principled, wild without being untamed; just on the money for this meat and meal. It was like Bandol but Bandol after it has aged a generation or two. Only bottle we have but we WILL find more.
We bought a lovely assorted case of roses from North Berkeley, all from Italy, and they have been outstanding. When in doubt, rose is always there. Maybe Joni Mitchell fooled us: her For the Roses album may have been For the Roses (insert the appropriate accent mark please). An excellent rose is certainly up to the pairing with her lyrically smokey voice, sweet seductive and never cloying. Did you notice me Joni? That night at McCabe's guitar shop, when you sat behind me and "we" joined fifty other people listening to Jackson Browne spin his gorgeous, soulful web? I made every excuse to turn and quickly glimpse you, when what I wanted to do was to stare, unabashed at a woman that I have always thought amongst the most beautiful of all time. (Insert the appropriate swoon mark please). For the Roses, then, liquid or otherwise. I toast you and the air that we shared.
Lamb for me is like being given the keys to the wine cellar and told: "Go on. Pick one of those wines that you covet that soars in the presence of this meat that the gods and goddesses designed for wine." Sooooo many choices! Red for sure. But which red? One of the bordeauxs tucked away for a special meal? One of the old LdH's waiting patiently to take my breath way? Finally, we decided on a CdP because the lamb was accompanied by an excellent olive salsa. So a 1998 Domaine Lucien Barrot et fils to the table.
The Cdp was superb, but not at all what we expected nor what was best with this meal. In a very peculiar way, this wine was sweet and fruity - not in the "new world" way - and lacking the acidity that the olives required. Oh, make no mistake about it, we finished it off with relish but it was the magical pairing wine that I had craved.....and then.....
Leftovers! Last night I rewarmed some leftover chops and a smattering of chive, tarragon potatoes. To accompany, I selected a mystery wine: a red from the Bellet aoc. Bellet aoc? Yes, this wine we picked up from one of the Noble Rot classes of yore and neither KT nor I could recall it. But let me tell you, this wine from the area around Nice was THE wine for the lamb! It was a 2001 and still had lovely mediterranean style: rustic, herbal, suntanned and grisled but so approachable and lovely going down. The wine was polished without being principled, wild without being untamed; just on the money for this meat and meal. It was like Bandol but Bandol after it has aged a generation or two. Only bottle we have but we WILL find more.
We bought a lovely assorted case of roses from North Berkeley, all from Italy, and they have been outstanding. When in doubt, rose is always there. Maybe Joni Mitchell fooled us: her For the Roses album may have been For the Roses (insert the appropriate accent mark please). An excellent rose is certainly up to the pairing with her lyrically smokey voice, sweet seductive and never cloying. Did you notice me Joni? That night at McCabe's guitar shop, when you sat behind me and "we" joined fifty other people listening to Jackson Browne spin his gorgeous, soulful web? I made every excuse to turn and quickly glimpse you, when what I wanted to do was to stare, unabashed at a woman that I have always thought amongst the most beautiful of all time. (Insert the appropriate swoon mark please). For the Roses, then, liquid or otherwise. I toast you and the air that we shared.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
The Note
There once was a note, pure and easy
Playing so free, like a breathe rippling by
The note is eternal, I hear it, it sees me
Forever we blend as forever we die
What is it about Lopez de Heredia wines that play that note for me? Their timeless ethereal quality is so lyrical and seductive. My last wish wines. Lately a fixation with Vina Tondonia: last week the 1991; last night the 2000. How can aged white wine soar to such gossamer heights? Salty caramels, cleaved by an acidity that is precise yet can't be defined or measured. Contemplative and discrete, like the interview that I saw of Maria LdH on the dreadful WLTV...rambunctious but not in a fidgety sort of way, more like a free soul that can't be bridled. I hung on her every word and wished the host to be struck dumb so that she could talk more. She moved me the way her wines move me...is she the terroir? The terroir of infatuation for me, indeed. Forever we blend as forever we die. RIP.
Playing so free, like a breathe rippling by
The note is eternal, I hear it, it sees me
Forever we blend as forever we die
What is it about Lopez de Heredia wines that play that note for me? Their timeless ethereal quality is so lyrical and seductive. My last wish wines. Lately a fixation with Vina Tondonia: last week the 1991; last night the 2000. How can aged white wine soar to such gossamer heights? Salty caramels, cleaved by an acidity that is precise yet can't be defined or measured. Contemplative and discrete, like the interview that I saw of Maria LdH on the dreadful WLTV...rambunctious but not in a fidgety sort of way, more like a free soul that can't be bridled. I hung on her every word and wished the host to be struck dumb so that she could talk more. She moved me the way her wines move me...is she the terroir? The terroir of infatuation for me, indeed. Forever we blend as forever we die. RIP.
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