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.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
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.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
A Sense of Place
Last night KT pungled together a delicious dinner of spicy sausages, slivered red peppers, chopped kale and corn penne pasta, all sauteed together in garlic, olive oil and a pinch of red pepper. Yum!
To accompany, I chose a 2004 Breton Bourgueil called "Trinch". The Bretons, Catherine and Pierre, were in Portland at a trade tasting and KT and I were blessed to meet this lovely and very gracious couple. At the time of our meeting, the Breton's were importing through Louis Dressner but now bring their wine in through Kermit Lynch. I asked Kermit about this, when I met him at E&R wines last spring, but he offered little to explain and in the end what does it matter anyway, except to say that both importers represent a guaranteed trek into superb wines.
But back to the wine, Trinch is a word that is supposed to represent in french the sound of two glasses clinking in a toast. I wasn't sure what we would find with the six year old cab franc; in the press you always read about this "early drinking" wine, full of blackberry and mulberry flavors (has anyone really tasted a mulberry?), hints of smoke and spice. What would six years do? Well, I'm happy to report that this was just a gorgeous wine and it tasted EXACTLY like the Chinon area that we remembered from our time there: cedar, violets, beet greens and simply place. This wine spoke directly of where it was from. Not all wines do that, do they? We talked about that, as we drank, how a good rioja - like the 2001 from Lopez de Heredia that we had Sunday night with an incredible spanish lamb stew (let me know if you want the recipe: it is divine) tasted exactly like rioja Spain, how a good cote du rhone tastes exactly like the rhone and on. We've had great wines that you can pin point to a geographical region, but they don't always bring the "place" to bear; I adore good burgundian chardonnay but I'd be hard pressed to say it is from "here" on a map. Perhaps it's the soil in the expression of wine (can this be the elusive and oft cited terroir?). We've had great cab francs from around the wine world but none have tasted liked this from the Loire and the remembrance of our time there is vivid now, a muggy, humid early summer in 2000 and a crisp fall in 2009; the one constant: the place in the wine as it was so delightfully displayed and replayed last night.
To accompany, I chose a 2004 Breton Bourgueil called "Trinch". The Bretons, Catherine and Pierre, were in Portland at a trade tasting and KT and I were blessed to meet this lovely and very gracious couple. At the time of our meeting, the Breton's were importing through Louis Dressner but now bring their wine in through Kermit Lynch. I asked Kermit about this, when I met him at E&R wines last spring, but he offered little to explain and in the end what does it matter anyway, except to say that both importers represent a guaranteed trek into superb wines.
But back to the wine, Trinch is a word that is supposed to represent in french the sound of two glasses clinking in a toast. I wasn't sure what we would find with the six year old cab franc; in the press you always read about this "early drinking" wine, full of blackberry and mulberry flavors (has anyone really tasted a mulberry?), hints of smoke and spice. What would six years do? Well, I'm happy to report that this was just a gorgeous wine and it tasted EXACTLY like the Chinon area that we remembered from our time there: cedar, violets, beet greens and simply place. This wine spoke directly of where it was from. Not all wines do that, do they? We talked about that, as we drank, how a good rioja - like the 2001 from Lopez de Heredia that we had Sunday night with an incredible spanish lamb stew (let me know if you want the recipe: it is divine) tasted exactly like rioja Spain, how a good cote du rhone tastes exactly like the rhone and on. We've had great wines that you can pin point to a geographical region, but they don't always bring the "place" to bear; I adore good burgundian chardonnay but I'd be hard pressed to say it is from "here" on a map. Perhaps it's the soil in the expression of wine (can this be the elusive and oft cited terroir?). We've had great cab francs from around the wine world but none have tasted liked this from the Loire and the remembrance of our time there is vivid now, a muggy, humid early summer in 2000 and a crisp fall in 2009; the one constant: the place in the wine as it was so delightfully displayed and replayed last night.
Monday, November 8, 2010
Adventures in Wally World
Greetings and Welcome to Wine E the Elder.
This my inaugural posting in the new blog begins with our recent trip to Walla Walla, Washington, with Ruth and Steve and their (now our) friends Mark and May. This trip in November has been an annual event for many, many years. What started originally as an exploratory weekend, we soon (we being KT, moi and T&J) were snared into the yearly bacchanalia that surrounds the Cayuse release. Although the Cayuse release has now moved to April, our salmonoid instincts drew us back to the spawning grounds of so many wonderful wines, meals and memories. This trip, sans Cayuse, proved no exception.
The trip over was exceptional for the unusual weather. Most of the way the air was thick with a milky, gossamer haze, often rendering the eerily placid Columbia barely distinguishable from the horizon and above. Paul Simon's Hazy Shades of Winter played constantly in my head. We, of course, stopped in Arlington to pay homage to the Tot, (And the Tot did NOT disappoint!) then it was onward Dionysian Soldier.
Our first stop, once within the wine rich circumference of the WW, was at L'Ecole. I had read that their Apogee blend was again available and I had distant memories of enjoying it. Also, a new blend to me, the Perigee, was being offered; whether it was the clever titles or the 'hope springs eternal' side of me I don't know, but we, despite having previously mediocre at best experiences at L'E, trudged through their line-up of forgettable wines. The P & A are "bordeaux blends", so they say. They can say that because the varietals they use, cab sauvignon/ merlot/ cab franc, are the same as those used in the mother land, but honey, it is a sacrilege to even use the "b" word in the same context. L'Ecole bordeaux blends are to bordeaux what Miracle Whip is to mayo, what Velveeta is to cheese, what Kraft Mac'n'Cheese is to pasta! Needless to say, we did not let the dust settle on our feet as we headed for the exit; not even a Mercy buy in hand. L'Ecole: I finally understand my lesson...we have graduated and won't be back.
On to Long Shadows, then, to sample through current offerings and stuff from their library. It was fun to taste vintages that we have kept underwraps, awaiting the taming of the fruit that only time can bring to these bottles. The Poet's Leap was delightful, as always, and maybe a few bottles came home with us, but we were not enticed to pony up the big bucks that the big reds are going for. The lunacy of paying +$50 for those monsters cannot be sustained, can it? Yeah, it probably can, but for we who enjoy the finesse of barolos, barbarescos, chateauneuf's (for a lot less dough) the day of reckoning arrived. We just said no, Nancy, we just said no.
The journey to town got a lot sweeter, when we stopped off at Bunchgrass. Although the original proprietor, Roger, is not directly involved anymore, the winery has stayed true to his legacy. We tasted a malbec, a couple of syrahs and a cab sauvignon that were just delightful and didn't smack of the jammy, sugery, high alcohol offerings that are ubiquitous in WW land. Okay, maybe one of each came home with us and they were not mercy buys: the mercy will be in the graceful way they someday make their way to our ample table.
Dinner at the downtown Bistro found the six of us full of good cheer; we made a stop on the way at the new-to-us Main Street tasting room of Sinclair. There, we tasted some pretty reds and heard a charming little nineteen year old cutie crooning out some soulful tunes from the forties and fifties. The tasting room was elegant, bedecked in antiques and sculpture and all the atmosphere equalled pricey but not over pricey wines. We snagged a nice bottle of cab sauvignon for the future. At the Bistro the ensuing food and bottles of wine only increased our bon vivant mood and made for a delightful end to our first day trek. Wined and dined, boys and girls, that's the winning hand and we held 'em in spades.
On day two in Wally World, we made some new discoveries and indulged in some old favorites. KT and I began the day at the Reynvaan winery, sampling their early offerings and chatting up some very friendly folks including a geologist of some reknown. The winery sources its grapes from the fabled cobblestone fields near Cayuse's holdings and the wines had some of the same character...oh, and they had some of the same prices! So we limited our indulgence to the two best futures and will be deelighted to pick those up next year. The geologist, by the way, was one who spent the day with the legendary wine writer Alice Feiring this past spring. Alice is a formidable opponent to all wines domestic and a legendary zealot for the difficult to define "natural wine" movement. But she had good things to say about her visit to Cayuse and that's no small compliment. Read it for yourselves: http://www.alicefeiring.com/blog/2010/03/1st-stop-cayuse.html
Mark my words: we got single bottles this time but they will surely follow the Cayuse exclusivity formula and go to the "three bottle minimum" ploy soon. It is a capitalist adventure, after all, and a successful model has been already established.
From Reynvaan, KT and I went to see our good buds at Gifford Hirlinger aka "the potato house". Great wines, great people and maybe a few bottles found their way into our car. Such yummy juice at such reasonable - for Walla Walla - prices. We were there when they first opened and owner Melissa was about 180 months pregnant; she's been scarce since, raising her and Mike's two kids but they are old enough now so she could come to the tasting room. How nice are these people, Mike and Melissa? When we maybe purchased a few bottles, Melissa forgot to charge us non-tax rates. We had mentioned that we were heading to Trust after her place and she called us there to tell us that she had overcharged us and if we came back by, she would compensate us with another bottle of wine! Ah, the antidote to all the commercialism that speckles these vineyards.
For a luncheon rendevous, we headed to Abeja to join our new crew. Interestingly, the scene at Abeja was considerably more subdued this year. The economy? The absence of Cayuse crowd? Don't know but it was different. Their wines, of course, were great but we were not inclinded to take any home.
From Abeja we went to the forgettable but delightfully named winery: Tranche. And there, we made our first and only Mercy buy: a pinot gris that has a wee bit too much residual sugar. Tranche is apparently affiliated with the uber hip and pricey Corliss winery and has some work to do to make a niche in the coveted wine world of WW. I wrote it off but KT wants to come back and see if it can grow into its pedigree.
Final night was dinner at the Whoopemup Cafe. More good food and good wine and we closed this visit out in style. Sunday night, back in the comfort of our lair, we followed tradition by having a french white wine with a simple but delicious meal. And, as in years past, we were amazed at how much more enjoyable the simple wines of Europe are, than any we tasted in Washington. Simple, elegant finesse and made for food. It's like we've been eating deep fried foods for days and then, at last, sit down to a fresh crisp green salad. Really, it's that different. So, in the end, we decided, that Walla Walla wine touring is always about the experience and seldom about the wines. And as long as the experience delights, as did this one, we will continue to brave the big "bad" world of big "bad" red wines.
This my inaugural posting in the new blog begins with our recent trip to Walla Walla, Washington, with Ruth and Steve and their (now our) friends Mark and May. This trip in November has been an annual event for many, many years. What started originally as an exploratory weekend, we soon (we being KT, moi and T&J) were snared into the yearly bacchanalia that surrounds the Cayuse release. Although the Cayuse release has now moved to April, our salmonoid instincts drew us back to the spawning grounds of so many wonderful wines, meals and memories. This trip, sans Cayuse, proved no exception.
The trip over was exceptional for the unusual weather. Most of the way the air was thick with a milky, gossamer haze, often rendering the eerily placid Columbia barely distinguishable from the horizon and above. Paul Simon's Hazy Shades of Winter played constantly in my head. We, of course, stopped in Arlington to pay homage to the Tot, (And the Tot did NOT disappoint!) then it was onward Dionysian Soldier.
Our first stop, once within the wine rich circumference of the WW, was at L'Ecole. I had read that their Apogee blend was again available and I had distant memories of enjoying it. Also, a new blend to me, the Perigee, was being offered; whether it was the clever titles or the 'hope springs eternal' side of me I don't know, but we, despite having previously mediocre at best experiences at L'E, trudged through their line-up of forgettable wines. The P & A are "bordeaux blends", so they say. They can say that because the varietals they use, cab sauvignon/ merlot/ cab franc, are the same as those used in the mother land, but honey, it is a sacrilege to even use the "b" word in the same context. L'Ecole bordeaux blends are to bordeaux what Miracle Whip is to mayo, what Velveeta is to cheese, what Kraft Mac'n'Cheese is to pasta! Needless to say, we did not let the dust settle on our feet as we headed for the exit; not even a Mercy buy in hand. L'Ecole: I finally understand my lesson...we have graduated and won't be back.
On to Long Shadows, then, to sample through current offerings and stuff from their library. It was fun to taste vintages that we have kept underwraps, awaiting the taming of the fruit that only time can bring to these bottles. The Poet's Leap was delightful, as always, and maybe a few bottles came home with us, but we were not enticed to pony up the big bucks that the big reds are going for. The lunacy of paying +$50 for those monsters cannot be sustained, can it? Yeah, it probably can, but for we who enjoy the finesse of barolos, barbarescos, chateauneuf's (for a lot less dough) the day of reckoning arrived. We just said no, Nancy, we just said no.
The journey to town got a lot sweeter, when we stopped off at Bunchgrass. Although the original proprietor, Roger, is not directly involved anymore, the winery has stayed true to his legacy. We tasted a malbec, a couple of syrahs and a cab sauvignon that were just delightful and didn't smack of the jammy, sugery, high alcohol offerings that are ubiquitous in WW land. Okay, maybe one of each came home with us and they were not mercy buys: the mercy will be in the graceful way they someday make their way to our ample table.
Dinner at the downtown Bistro found the six of us full of good cheer; we made a stop on the way at the new-to-us Main Street tasting room of Sinclair. There, we tasted some pretty reds and heard a charming little nineteen year old cutie crooning out some soulful tunes from the forties and fifties. The tasting room was elegant, bedecked in antiques and sculpture and all the atmosphere equalled pricey but not over pricey wines. We snagged a nice bottle of cab sauvignon for the future. At the Bistro the ensuing food and bottles of wine only increased our bon vivant mood and made for a delightful end to our first day trek. Wined and dined, boys and girls, that's the winning hand and we held 'em in spades.
On day two in Wally World, we made some new discoveries and indulged in some old favorites. KT and I began the day at the Reynvaan winery, sampling their early offerings and chatting up some very friendly folks including a geologist of some reknown. The winery sources its grapes from the fabled cobblestone fields near Cayuse's holdings and the wines had some of the same character...oh, and they had some of the same prices! So we limited our indulgence to the two best futures and will be deelighted to pick those up next year. The geologist, by the way, was one who spent the day with the legendary wine writer Alice Feiring this past spring. Alice is a formidable opponent to all wines domestic and a legendary zealot for the difficult to define "natural wine" movement. But she had good things to say about her visit to Cayuse and that's no small compliment. Read it for yourselves: http://www.alicefeiring.com/blog/2010/03/1st-stop-cayuse.html
Mark my words: we got single bottles this time but they will surely follow the Cayuse exclusivity formula and go to the "three bottle minimum" ploy soon. It is a capitalist adventure, after all, and a successful model has been already established.
From Reynvaan, KT and I went to see our good buds at Gifford Hirlinger aka "the potato house". Great wines, great people and maybe a few bottles found their way into our car. Such yummy juice at such reasonable - for Walla Walla - prices. We were there when they first opened and owner Melissa was about 180 months pregnant; she's been scarce since, raising her and Mike's two kids but they are old enough now so she could come to the tasting room. How nice are these people, Mike and Melissa? When we maybe purchased a few bottles, Melissa forgot to charge us non-tax rates. We had mentioned that we were heading to Trust after her place and she called us there to tell us that she had overcharged us and if we came back by, she would compensate us with another bottle of wine! Ah, the antidote to all the commercialism that speckles these vineyards.
For a luncheon rendevous, we headed to Abeja to join our new crew. Interestingly, the scene at Abeja was considerably more subdued this year. The economy? The absence of Cayuse crowd? Don't know but it was different. Their wines, of course, were great but we were not inclinded to take any home.
From Abeja we went to the forgettable but delightfully named winery: Tranche. And there, we made our first and only Mercy buy: a pinot gris that has a wee bit too much residual sugar. Tranche is apparently affiliated with the uber hip and pricey Corliss winery and has some work to do to make a niche in the coveted wine world of WW. I wrote it off but KT wants to come back and see if it can grow into its pedigree.
Final night was dinner at the Whoopemup Cafe. More good food and good wine and we closed this visit out in style. Sunday night, back in the comfort of our lair, we followed tradition by having a french white wine with a simple but delicious meal. And, as in years past, we were amazed at how much more enjoyable the simple wines of Europe are, than any we tasted in Washington. Simple, elegant finesse and made for food. It's like we've been eating deep fried foods for days and then, at last, sit down to a fresh crisp green salad. Really, it's that different. So, in the end, we decided, that Walla Walla wine touring is always about the experience and seldom about the wines. And as long as the experience delights, as did this one, we will continue to brave the big "bad" world of big "bad" red wines.
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