Vinophile

Northern Rhone Syrah Gets in the (Value) Game

2011-02-23T21:18:00.000-08:00

Violets, plums, purple orchids, pepper, jam, prunes, barnyard, rusticity--the range of aromas extractable from Syrah vary according to terroir and vinification. Jam, heft, and spice dominate Australian Shiraz, whereas notes of rusticity, violets, plums, and garrigue dance from the glass of a Northern Rhone red. Both have their place amongst wine writers and drinkers, most of whom align with Old (World) or New.

Count on the wily spirits of viticulturists and winemakers to defy tradition with a new Northern Rhone release. This Syrah prances across the palate like no Frenchie I've ever seen. René-Jean Dard and François Ribo started making wine in the Rhone Valley in 1984, and distinguish their production through the following philosophy: "What we like is natural wine because it’s alive, wine that does not necessarily have to be kept – just drunk and drunk again." They craft wines for immediate enjoyment--save the cellar slots for Dard and Ribo's more tannic, robust neighbors.

A question frequently asked is how to know which wines to lay down and which to consume young. A wine requires three elements--tannins, acid, and flavor--to develop with time. Dard Ribo's C'est le Printemps cuvee is released in the spring, only a few short months post-harvest. While vinification notes were difficult to find, one taste revealed almost as much as a technical sheet. This wine was alive! A subtle spritz on the palate hinted towards carbonic maceration, and the berried and bright aromatics support this deduction. Zero tannins lingered, and the finish seemed noncommital at best. I could imagine chilling it for fifteen minutes on a warm afternoon for a cru Beaujolais-esque take on Rhone Syrah. Dard Ribo, BRAVO! You show Syrah's whimsical side in a cuvee perfect for this young lady.

C'est (en fete) le Printemps! Just in time for Spring.

Does Love Really Conquer All?

2011-01-25T06:35:00.000-08:00

Palates evolve over time. For the majority of the early 21st Century, Americans consumed overblown American Cabernet with the rapacity of new money. Old World wines paled beside New World techniques, and critics' 95+ point scores encouraged their consumption. On the fringe of this fad I existed, drinking Chinon in Winter or Provencal rose in Spring. I knew nothing of cult California wines and cloaked my ignorance in snobbery. While a trip to Napa proved California's stylistic complexity, I still, through the latter decade, chose French anything over Cali juice.

Picture me appreciating California wines eleven years into the 21st Century. One of my favorite domestic producers, Abe Schoener of Scholium Project and Red Hook Winery, produces single-vineyard California wines that defy categorization. Neither Old nor New World, his wines reveal shocking aromatics, flavor profiles, hues, and alcohol levels. Critics loathe or love them with the same polarization that marks the Old and New World debate. Which raises the question: if one must classify to love, is it really love at all?

Crooning Gruner

2010-05-20T17:27:00.000-07:00

It’s the hipster’s sipper, the somm’s selection--a wine savory and spicy, complex and moderately priced: Gruner to those in the know and “GruV” to those too hip to know, Gruner Veltliner is hitting its stride in wine bars and restaurants in the nation’s sharpest, savviest spots. On recent trips to Los Angeles and Miami, skinny-jean clad sommeliers skipped to the table with their favorite Austrian pick, and for good reason. Gruner Veltliner is neither your mom’s Chardonnay nor your aunt’s Sauvignon Blanc: Gruner is the white of wine lovers seeking intense minerality, white spice and herbaceous complexity at an affordable (read sub-thirty) price. So what’s the scoop?

A fan of 80s literature, or literature set in said decade, I’ve discovered that people of the eighties loved neon, cocaine, saccharin music and sweet wine. While German sweeties fetch high prices and high demand, Austrian wines locked into the bulk market thanks to lax legislation and greater supply. To sweeten cheap, thin, diluted whites for the international market, some Austrian vintners used diethylene glycol, commonly found in antifreeze, as an inexpensive sweetener. A scandal obviously ensued and decimated the market for almost twenty years. To rebound from the scandal, Austrian wines became “bone dry” to banish any glycol-sniffing noses from their wines. Austrian wines are now experiencing a comeback, gradual though it may be, and Gruner is leading the way.

Ideal with food as opposed to in a role as aperitif, Gruner Veltliner offers aromatics of white pepper, grass, minerality and citrus pith. Typically high in acidity with vigor on the palate and a bracingly dry finish, these Austrian whites are suited to the surf-and-turf, multi-textured fare of the nation’s hippest chefs. Think outside the culinary box and Gruner should be at the top of your dancing card.

Recommended:
Karl Lagler "Steinborz" Gruner Veltliner, Smaragd 2007
Spicy with undertones of limestone and chalk on the nose, this gruner is more delicate and floral than gruners with additional bottle age. More than an introduction to the varietal, this is a Gruner for dining and palate exploration.

Hirsch "Lamm" Gruner Veltliner 2003
Taste what a little bottle age can do! Powerful and complex on the palate, the nose is deep and earthy with layers of savory notes. Juicy, ripe, and big, white Chateauneuf lovers have found their newest go-to.

He's Kind of a Big Deal

2010-04-28T20:37:00.000-07:00

“Breakfast wine? Absolutely! That’s why God invented Vouvray.” –Pierre Rovani

With a tendency towards self-deprecation and jocular flirtation, Rovani warmed up a crowd of Burgundy lovers during Wednesday’s Remoissenet Wine Dinner at Mattison’s 41. Having tasted Rovani’s wines previously this year, I eagerly signed up for another encounter with this revived Burgundy estate. First, a little history regarding Monsieur Rovani and his presidency over Remoissenet Pere et Fils.

For ten years starting in 1996, Pierre-Antoine Rovani wrote for Robert Parker’s Wine Advocate, covering Burgundy, the Loire, Alsace, Oregon, the Roussillon…pretty much filling in the gaps around Parker’s New World-loving palate. He now holds the title as president of Remoissenet Pere et Fils, an estate and negociant house located in Burgundy’s Beaune. Surely this mind has other projects heating on the stove, but let’s get to the good stuff.

Bourgogne Blanc 2007
80% Puligny-Montrachet, 20% Saint-Veran
I’ve been tasting a significant amount of 2007 Burgundies lately, and notice the challenging climactic conditions took their toll. But according to Rovani, Remoissenet waited and waited to harvest with hopes of an extra ripening boost to counteract the abysmal rain and cold conditions of the summer months. For the money (retails around $20), this is a steal! Notes of limestone and citrus on the nose introduce a palate significant in mouth feel with lingering acidity and minerality.

Puligny-Montrachet 2007
Here the wines get interesting! This has a smokey, limestone quality, integrated acidity and significant heft. The palate is complex with direction.

Meursault-Genevrieres 1er Cru 2007
Initial notes of lime citrus and limestone warm up to reveal tones of orange spice and hints of cedar. The palate offers a substantial oak backbone with high yet beautifully integrated, lingering acidity. With time warming in the glass this opened nicely.

5 Spice Seared Duck Breast

with Cherry Coke Syrup and Gingered Sweet Potatoes

Remoissenet Nuits St Georges 2007

Nuits-St-Georges 2007
Called “four-square rustice and tannic,” Nuits-St-Georges as an appellation has its critics, but Rovani likens Remoissenet’s attempt to a Vosne-Romanee. The nose has elements of rhubarb and cranberry, with a textured palate revealing the wine’s oak regimen. I’m a fan of Nuits-St-Georges due to its rougher nature, but that’s the beauty of Burgundy: you can pick your favorite style.

Clos Vougeot Grand Cru 2007
Burgundy for the American palate, the Clos Vougeout is stunning. The tannins meld into a fleshy palate with blueberry pie and blackberry tones. The big boy of the line-up, this retails around $230.

Just a note for true wine geeks in the bunch (and gossip hounds, too): perform a simple Google search on this personality and you’ll stumble upon old chat rooms and wine blogs announcing Rovani’s departure from the Wine Advocate. Seems like PR has lovers and haters; pick your side, cause I’ve picked mine.

Cheers!

An Unruly Mane

2010-04-19T18:23:00.000-07:00

Gary Pisoni wears his heart on his hair. Untamed, shoulder-length curls rumble with the shake of his head as a visual cue that this man sees no constraints. He loves his wife unabashedly and his wine with equal ardor. He’s a comedian, a family-man, and a rock of humility. His personality takes a room by storm, and at fifty-six and counting he’s not slowing down.

Winemakers are notorious characters. Artists of the vine, the best winemakers are as passionate, inspired, and unpredictable as the most talented painters, sculptors, and musicians. And their wines are as inspirational, complex, and expressive as the best works of art.

Situated in Monterey, California, Pisoni Vineyards grows Chardonnay and Pinot Noir to Burgundian caliber. Some of it is sold, while the remainder goes into his Santa Lucia Highlands Chardonnay, Santa Lucia Highlands Pinot Noir, Gary’s Vineyard Pinot Noir and Estate Pinot Noir. A small amount of Rosé also emerges each vintage, with a percentage of its sales donated to breast cancer research. Our intimate tasting group (management from Polo Grill, Cork, Magnum, Sarasota Vineyards and Euphemia Haye were present) enjoyed the Chardonnay, Rosé, and Santa Lucia Highlands Pinot Noir and Gary’s Vineyard Pinot Noir. The crowd easily designated its favorites: the Chardonnay and Gary’s Vineyard Pinot Noir. Ethereally Burgundian in complexity, spice, balance and finesse, the wines are stunning expressions of California pinot done well. Full tasting notes follow.

Just a note for all you lovers of sustainable/organic/biodynamic blah blah blah. Pisoni follows the lunar calendar (we love it!) in the vineyard, practices sustainable agriculture and a non-interventionist approach in the cellar. Two green thumbs way up, Gary!

Pisoni Santa Lucia Highlands Chardonnay 2008...$42.95
Lemon yellow hue with slight green tinge. Nose of lemon citrus and cedar spice with undertones of warm brioche. Palate is elegant, flavorful and restrained with a gently lingering finish. Truly Burgundian in style. Domaine Romanee-Conti would be proud of the art Pisoni has crafted from their cuttings.

Pisoni “Lucia” Rosé of Pinot Noir 2009...20.95
Bright ruby hue. Nose is slightly restrained with notes of red berries. Palate is medium to medium+ in body with a lengthy finish. Beautifully integrated and balanced. A percentage of this wine’s sales benefits breast cancer research.

Pisoni Santa Lucia Highlands Pinot Noir 2007...$42.95
The Santa Lucia Highlands Pinot Noir is a blend of Pinot Noir juice from Gary’s Vineyard and Pisoni’s vineyard. Elegantly open on the nose with tones of strawberry, blueberry, and raspberry. Round, juicy, and broad on the palate with subtle tannic buttressing. Definitely the fruitier, more broadly-appealing of the two pinots, but not the favorite of our tasting crew.

Pisoni Gary’s Vineyard Pinot Noir 2008...$51.95
Spicy and earthy on the nose with layers of personality both in aromatics and flavors on the palate. Deliciously masculine in style with layers of fruit, minerality, and spice mingling from the nose through the finish. Yummy!!! Please sir, can I have some more?

Sell, baby, sell!

2010-03-29T10:39:00.000-07:00

In the Dining section of this past Wednesday’s NY Times, Eric Asimov posted a list of his favorite wine shops across Manhattan, Brooklyn and Queens, preceded by an article describing the new style of wine bars and retailers popping up across America. Non-intimidating and soulful, akin to the “record shops of yore,” these independent retailers build a dedicated following founded on tolerance, openness for discussion, and accumulated trust. No suits to be found, such spots feature T-shirt-and-jean types ready for some serious discussion on the object of choice. Maybe I’m a lucky girl, or perhaps it’s due to my age (twenty-seven for almost two weeks!!! WOOOOOO HOOOOOO!), but I’ve been blessed with a history of wine stores of exactly this style. So (drumroll please), in chronological order, the awards for best wine stores in Rebecca Robinson’s past go to:

The Elusive Grape, DeLand, FL
Located on the stretch of 17/92 bisecting Stetson University in downtown DeLand, The Elusive Grape opened my senior year of college (purrrrfect timing) and provided all the little touches to make wine approachable and accessible to this doe-eyed curiosa. The owners had a handful of affordable wines open for tasting on weekend nights, and a minimal corkage fee encouraged shoppers to buy, pop and drink in their uber-cozy surroundings. Overstuffed sofas, antique furniture and pillows for lounging made lingering conversation over a bottle of sweet Riesling a Friday-night must.

Alas, The Elusive Grape is terminally elusive since it has closed.

The Wine Warehouse, Sarasota, FL
Tucked around the corner from Philippi Mansion off US41, the Wine Warehouse of 2005-2007 rocked. Literally. Fela Kuti, Coldplay, Radiohead, Coltrane, and Cake filled the air between mountains of wine. The entire team was either young in age or spirit, passionate about wine and even more so about debunking the myth of snobby wine professionals. While a customer and employee of the ole WW, I learned exponentially about wine, and am fairly certain I will never again work with as eclectic, intelligent, and cool group of men again. The team is now dispersed, and the Warehouse just not the same. The fact that it will never be the same, and that we have all gone our separate ways, is what makes the past so beautiful.

Magnum Wine and Tasting, Sarasota, FL
Removed from the retail world for a handful of years due to work travel and professional evolution, a blessing has come along: Heath Cordes opened his new location a few months back and courted me as his go-to wine girl. Spending time at the store fills me with nostalgia; here wine is real, accessible, and fun. Don’t be fooled by his truck-driving, Florida boy persona: Heath knows his stuff and has an incredible palate. Business suits sit beside tattooed bikers at the bar to drink wine or a new Lagunitas beer and laugh for hours. Magnum is its own breed, unlike any other store I’ve encountered; hold on tight and enjoy the ride.

Stretching

2010-03-09T06:12:00.000-08:00

For literary nerds like myself (BA in English Literature with a Pynchonian preference), finding a new book that captures the attention is like a shot of adrenaline. Wake-up. Read. Eat lunch. Read. Return to domicile at end-of-day. Cook. Read. Fall asleep with lights on, candle burning. Read.

The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao by Junot Diaz is my latest boost. Recommended by a friend who was tired of hearing my complaints about my recent failed bindings (“Carl Hiassen is staring at me from my bed stand!”), she told me honestly, forthrightly: "Let it go. Try this!" So I did. And I’m in love.

At this point you may justifiably ask how my literary musings have anything to do with wine. This is a wine blog, after all, and at this point I’ve absorbed about 45...45.5...seconds of your precious computer time that could’ve been spent on Facebook or Twitter. Forgive me.

Finding a new creative love, be it a book or CD or photograph or building, is akin to finding a new French red or white Chateauneuf that invokes the mind, that woos the palate with its complexity, nuance and elegance. Good wines, like good books, inspire conversation and exploration. They encourage reminiscence and feed the mind; the more you explore, the greater you learn. My list of wines falling under such a category rivals that of my favorite books, and I’ll save you from both.

Admittedly, the new book/new wine connection might be a stretch. But hey, flexibility’s a good thing.

Violet Valentines

2010-02-15T13:25:00.000-08:00

It must be the fish in me.

Every year Valentine's Day rolls around and, through piscean self-sabotage or some deep-seated commitment issue, I am inevitably single. Never one to lament my single-lady status, I revel in my independence on this love-laden holiday and thank the powers that be that I am surrounded by amazing friends. And a hearty handful of eligible bachelors eager for bottle-popping fun.

This Valentine's Day was no exception. Decked in black from head to toe, I invited the girls to my new Saturday night gig as Magnum Wine and Spirit's lady-du-vin. On the menu: Domaine de la Pertuisane Vin de Pays des Cotes Catalanes Rouge 2004 ($49.99) and Abiouness Carneros Rose of Pinot Noir 2008 ($21.99).

Domaine de la Pertuisane is an intercontinental collaboration. Winemaker Abe Schoener of Scholium Project (California) and Richard Case of Valandraud (Bordeaux) make magic with Grenache and Carignan from old vines of the French Roussillon. Extremely old vines and shallow, rugged soils provide the raw material for a seductively aromatic, luscious, full-bodied red whose cassis, violet, plum, lavender and thyme aromatics never cease. Deliciously hedonistic, this wine is music in the glass. The price may be a little steep for a little-known French region, but pull the cork and you'll see why it warrants the tag.

While typical tasting order dictates lighter to fuller bodied wines (ie. whites before reds), life tends towards the atypical, and the Abiouness Rose followed Pertuisane. Chilled, refreshing, full bodied yet delicately berried in aromatics, the Abiouness has enough residual sugar for balance and weight, but not enough to seem cloying or sweet. Juicy and flirtatiously pink in the glass, I'd drink this with spicy shrimp kebobs or all by its beautifully-rubied self.

Closing time rolled around and we rolled out. The night had just begun, after all. And it wouldn't be Valentine's Day without a few men in the mix.

Fully Inappropriate

2009-10-02T14:26:00.000-07:00

Shock and horror! Disgrace and shame! Three of Sarasota’s esteemed (ok, maybe that’s a stretch, but I wield the pen on this one!) wine professionals drank Orin Swift’s Saldo out of SOLO cups! Cherry-red in hue, plastic in form, shaped according to the character of Kool-Aid, SOLO cups were our Riedel-O for Zin-ny bliss.

When brunch turns into afternoon football, which blends into sunset and a moon-laden sky—it was one of those Sundays when the conversation is too ebullient, the company too intriguing to leave because the sun says goodnight. Lovers of wine paired with conversation, we shared our first special bottle while rooted to the beach. A quick trip to a personal cellar produced Orin Swift’s Saldo, a California Zinfandel crafted for complexity and spice, character, depth, expression, and nuance.

Heresy! Some may say. To drink fine wine out of base plastic ware is to defile the special character of such esteemed juice! Alternative in approach, young wine professionals like this trio fight the stereotype of wine as high-brow and intimidating. The experience of drinking wine is often full of hmmm-ing and hawww-ing, sniffing and swirling—folderol to the outsider, ritual designed to keep her outside.

What one should always keep in mind is that wine is destined to share. The beauty of that shared experience lies not in the glassware, but in the secrets shared while Orion listens in.

Bitten

2009-02-26T12:35:00.000-08:00

On a scale of one to ten--one being wholly disinterested in the art of food, ten being consumed from action to soul by said craft--I am a four. Four point five on Mondays and Wednesdays ("No Reservations" and "Top Chef" viewings), three point five on Thursdays (left-over scramble nights), and a solid four the rest of my waking and dreaming existence. Developing a foodie character requires research, monetary investment, a support base, and an innate vision of food as nutrient, art, and temptress. Sometimes I feel like I’m blossoming, nearing maybe a six, six point three, until I read an article like Oliver Schwaner-Albright’s “Brooklyn’s New Culinary Movement,” and I deflate like a delicately pricked balloon. I hold nothing against these couch-crashing, scruff-porting artisans who make their own pickles and shape their own knives; said craftsman would flick me aside like a laughable feather floating by. But one thing they, or any other foodie ten, could never dismiss, is that I’ve got it.

The bug--the foodie bug that bit me when I first experienced food as an interaction, a sensory experience between the element, chef, and intended palate. Where I was, who I was with all fades into the background, the only sharp memory being that I viewed food differently from that point forward. A small stack of exquisite meals later, the list of famed restaurants accumulating with time, I happily stand as a four on my fictitious scale, eager to engage all who are willing in talk about meals enjoyed, tastes experienced, recipes failed and markets explored.

Souffle Wishes and Marnier Dreams

2009-02-18T07:20:00.000-08:00

This morning I awoke with ramekins of soufflé dancing above my head. Watching their puffs of flavor flirt above my pillow, my taste buds chased last evening’s encounter with Grand Marnier bliss. The soufflé is a dessert lover’s dream, a visual offering of levity against weight, decadence against heft. All too often, desserts rely upon intensity atop magnitude, resulting in the diner feeling overwhelmed, oversatisfied, overstuffed. Not so with the soufflé. As described by NYTimes writer Amanda Hesser in 2000, “a good soufflé is rich with contradiction…if it is correctly made, spoonfuls of rich, gauzy foam and all of its contradictions will disappear on the palate. Anyone who can create that experience is worthy of praise.” The soufflé’s dominance in the current culinary scene cannot be attributed to its intrinsic qualities alone: yes, it is delicious and yes, it is dramatic; but centuries of chefs have done it. So why now?

Pardon my analysis via the current economic perspective, but the deluge of horrific fiscal vocabulary seeps into my pores because it is, and should be, all-affecting. Ignoring the influence of the economy when analyzing culinary trends would separate the culinary world from reality; while food offers escape, its presentation and experience a show and dance in their own realm, it ties directly to our emotions and daily concerns. Separating the culinary realm from the consumer’s daily travail eliminates the main impetus for the recent dominance of soufflés across the nation’s dessert menus. During times of recession, when lovers of food and wine must also curb their expenses, appreciation turns away from pricey ingredients and towards artistry: stimulation through craftsmanship and artistry warrants the dollar value. The soufflé is the epitomy of talent over ingredients, and when presented with flare, the server breaking its billowing puff to pour grand marnier custard into its feathery midst, the show warrants a standing O.

Pastry Chef Heidi Nelson’s Grand Marnier soufflé recipe:
4 oz. flour
4 oz. butter
2 cups milk
1/2 cup grand marnier
zest of two oranges
1 teaspoon pure orange oil (ie. Boyajian)
7 egg yolks
4 ounces sugar
11 egg whites
1/4 teaspoon cream of tartar
3 tablespoons 10X sugar
8 eight-ounce ramekins
cooking spray
1/2 cup sugar
1 cup Ben and Jerry's vanilla ice cream, melted

1. Make roux. Melt butter in saucepan over medium heat. Add flour and cook for five minutes, stirring every 30 seconds. Remove from heat.
2. In a saucepan, simmer milk over low heat.
3. While milk is simmering, mix yolks with sugar in a stainless steel bowl. Temper mixture by adding one cup of the hot milk, then place yolk mixture back into sauce pan and simmer.
4. Slowly whisk in roux bit-by-bit over low heat to form a thick pastry cream. Don't worry! The lumps will cook out. Remove from heat, and stir in Grand Marnier and orange zest. Add orange oil. Let mixture rest until reaches room temperature.
5. In a clean stainless steel mixing bowl, beat egg whites with cream of tartar and 10X sugar. Mix to stiff peaks (about 4-5 minutes). Fold whipped egg whites together with the Grand Marnier base, slowly and carefully as to not disturb the volume.
6. Prepare souffle ramekins by spraying the entire inside with the pan spray and dust with sugar so that the entire mold, including the edge, is covered with sugar. Fold in souffle mix to about 1/2 inch from the top of the mold. Bake at 380 degrees, 18-20 minutes, or until golden brown on top. A sauce made from Ben and Jerry's ice cream acts as an easy sauce.

Bon Appetit!

An Inauguration Cuvee

2009-01-21T10:49:00.000-08:00

Joan Rivers, take your turn. On the minds of all watching the Obamas and Bidens during post-inauguration lunch was not Who is Michelle wearing? but rather What is she drinking? Sauvignon Blanc or Chardonnay? Perhaps not all are as vine-oriented as myself, or as fashion-obsessed as the Rivers clan, but a conversation regarding the wines cast in the inaugural luncheon was topic for diversion amidst this ceremony-watching duo. Prone to question authority and emboldened by Obama’s call to action, my tube-oggling partner and I analyzed the congressional choices for this monumental meal.

The menu:
Seafood stew of lobster, scallops, shrimp and cod
Duckhorn Sauvignon Blanc 2007

Brace of duck and pheasant served w/ sour cherry chutney and molasses sweet potatoes
Goldeneye Pinot Noir 2005 Anderson Valley, California

Apple cinnamon sponge cake w/ sweet cream glace
Korbel Natural “Special Inauguration Cuvee” California 1.5L

A bi-partisan committee, chaired by California senator Diane Feinstein and including Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi, selected the food and wines from a pre-sorted array. Considering pairing rules, each meal shows educated choices: matching flavor intensity and profiles that result in a food and wine marriage, a waltz of equal forces, neither wine nor food overpowering its partner. And the Korbel? Who can kick out the bubbly with which presidents have toasted for seven inaugurations running? Brava, Pelosi!

For weeks preceding the inauguration, social columnists dissected the most recent presidents, their social lives and willingness to engage with, or desire to separate from, Washington society. Carter? Offensively disengaged. Reagan? Supreme schmoozer. Clinton--a mix of the two. And Bush? Too busy playing cowboy at the ranch. According to Times columnist Julie Bosman, “A new president’s first foray into the social scene in the capital can be heavy with symbolism.” Just as Obama’s entry into Washington’s elite social circuit will prove symbolic, the food and wine selections for the president’s first luncheon are equally meaningful: an embrace of taste, quality and class, with a nod to tradition and a Bond-ian flare.

One Week and Counting

2008-11-20T16:16:00.000-08:00

Thanksgiving is now less than one week away and I, while scouring through favorite cookbooks for the newest recipe to test on my poor family, can only think of how this Thanksgiving, in the year 2008, is a marker year: the first, in fact, that both my brother and I will bring significant others to the dinner table. While I have brought unexpecting boyfriends to holiday gatherings (the sink-or-swim theory proves quite apt for testing new mates) ever since I started dating, my brother is more hesitant--protective, you could say, of his private life from the seemingly unrelated assortment of family, friends, and forelorn Church members adopted during my parents’ holiday gatherings. Sensing the anxiety that manifests itself as chronic heartburn in my brother’s esophagus, I am a full step ahead: Shayna, his girlfriend of now over a year, and my brother Michael will be with me, protected by the warmth of the kitchen, and blissfully preoccupied with chopping, folding, simmering, straining, mashing, whilst the rest of the crew tap dances through the Getting to Know You segment of the afternoon.

Cornered in the kitchen on Thanksgiving Day is a welcome predicament: wineglass in hand, surrounded by other foodies eager to share their newest recipes, I am utterly relaxed and eager for an afternoon of gluttonous food and wine delight. Jotted on my mother’s stationary, our Thanksgiving menu, with its eclectic assortment of dishes, might to others seem inharmonious, disjointed, yet to the family members willing to take an honest look, this diverse menu is a perfect representation of the Robinson-Hartman crew. While everyone in the family has Thanksgiving off from work, I, the wine professional of the group, receive no such reprieve. Our menu, with its idiosyncracies intermingled with tradition, may be too outlandish to inspire you, dear reader; but the wines--the wines--are a hit for any Thanksgiving feast.

A Welcoming Gift
Bellinis
Ginger and Clove Infused Vanilla-Vodka Martinis

Appetizers and Aperitifs
Spicy Lentil Dip with toasted pita triangles
Baked Brie with preserves

A professional’s (certified, in fact!) pairing suggestion:
Don David Torrontes 2006—peach, apricot, and white flower aromas, medium in body with balanced acidity and enough weight to counter both appetizers. Vibrant enough up front to please a crowd but not as overwhelming as New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc. My new go-to white wine at an incredible price.
Icardi Barbera d'Asti 2006--Scents of strawberries, raspberries, and red cherries compose this vibrant, totally unoaked red. Perfect as an aperitif or paired with lighter fare, and at a price to stock my wine cabinet for future gatherings.

The Feast
Mashed Root Vegetables
Sweet Potato Gratin with Ginger and Orange Zest
Cranberry Gelatin Salad served over greens
Roast Turkey
Wild Mushroom and Sherry Stuffing

Wines to pair: Boekenhoutskloof Syrah 2004—Tucked into swaddling laundry as padding during the trip back from South Africa, this bottle traversed the Atlantic, escaped through Customs, and sat ever-so-temptingly until now to be enjoyed amongst the closest of family and friends. No need for a tasting note here, as this bottle’s sentimental significance trumps all the spices, dark fruits and cedar notes it exhibits.

Circular Treats
Pecan Pie
Pumpkin Pie
Apple and Quince Crisp with Rum Raisins

Wines to pair: Poet’s Leap Columbia Valley Riesling 2006—Blossoming honeysuckle, stone fruits, honeycomb and preserves waft from the glass of this off-dry Riesling, providing enough lift and verve to accompany Thanksgiving’s concluding treats.

The Gmail Connection

2008-10-14T08:22:00.000-07:00

The daily, Monday thru Friday life of a wine specialist oscillates between computer isolation and demanding social petting; mix in a recent acquisition of PR responsibilities and I am affectionately teased for being inseparable from my better half--"attached at the hip"--"one with" my Macintosh. Beauty of this highly alienating relationship is my love affair with Gmail, the only e-mail serve that keeps me more organized than possible as my to-do list grows nervelessly longer. Flicker of relief, my friend David, working his skin to a grape-y hue in beloved France, instant messaged me via Gmail the other day, and subsequently transported me to a brief reminiscence worthy of retelling.

A year ago to date I was in France: the same village, actually, the same winery where David now toils. If only I dressed androginously (which I don't), you could crop David's head shot into all my photos and, voila!, one year later. Vendage or "vintage," by personal definition, is three months of physical labor that challenge all established notions of sleep deprivation: the type of labor that exacerbates a person to the point where she is her flaws, and heightens the annoying characteristics of others to a reeling volume impossible to ignore. In general terms, a life-changing experience for anyone up to the physical and mental challenge.

The 2007 vintage was my second to work, having returned from my first in South Africa three months prior. Concentrated into six to seven weeks of intensive work, the passion, excitement, and welcome sleeplessness of the first few weeks dies off and, suddenly, forcefully, the exhaustion sets in; weight loss reaches a blatant unhealthiness, and drinking for mental escape amps into full gear. Living in a foreign culture, even my language as a blanket torn from me, the loneliness seeped into my bones and escaped in phone conversations broken by heaves of tears.

I suppose I thought it was just me, until I read David's saturated text: felt the emotions flood uncontrollably back as if I were still sitting in the winery office, staring out the window and begging for the dream to end.

NYC: Part Two

2008-09-10T10:22:00.000-07:00

While I know this is a difficult concept to grasp, this whole wine thing is serious stuff; the Advanced Certificate Immersion Course of the WSET (Wine and Spirits Education Trust), while hosted by a city deserving my full hedonistic attention, allowed for minimal. The Saturday nights prior to and post-exam offered me two evenings of metropolitan relaxation with two best friends. Ambassadors of New York, my tour guides escorted me on a duo of evenings that showcased what the city does best: experimentation and escape.

Saturday, August 23rd: 11pm. Milk and Honey, Manhattan's Lower East Side. Hotspot. Speakeasy. Surreptitious rendezvous point for those in-the-know. Emblem of the newest and perhaps oldest drinking establishment to captivate the New York scene. Martinis in coup glasses, bartenders dapperly attired in era-apt suspenders, and candlelight providing the only glow--all was reminiscent and nostalgic, but not wistfully so. Just enough to transport away, but not back. Judging by the line of twenty and thirty-somethings calmly biding their wait outside the unmarked corner, the modern speakeasy taps into a craving for another time, any other time than the one we plod through daily.

Saturday, August 30th: 9pm. Balthazar Restaurant, Soho. From the brass embellishments to Parisian beats and Chinon rosé by the glass, Balthazar seeps you in French decadence. Grilled octopus with chickpeas, lemon and cumin turned into the second course, a warm goat cheese and caramelized onion tart accompanied by lightly dressed greens. My light-as-air feeling of post-exam relief melded with the energy that drives Balthazar: the culinary perfection of crafting more than a menu, more than a setting or a winelist. For two hours, Balthazar asks nothing other than that you forget everything on the outside to enjoy the glow and pulse of a bustling Parisian brasserie.

Pick you reason. Entrepreneurs who provide a sense of place or time other than the present thrive in the current American mindset.
Take me to another place.
Take me to another land.
Make me forget all that hurts me.
Let me understand your plans.
(Arrested Development--"Tennessee" 1992)

ACWS

2008-09-05T12:00:00.001-07:00

The International Wine Center, 350 7th Avenue, Suite 1201, New York City. Occupant of the twelfth floor of one high-rise office building surrounded by the typical accoutrements of a busy Chelsea thoroughfare: skinny-jeaned FIT students hustling alongside suit-and-tie business types in a culture somewhat comparable to a never-ending Pride parade. Centered in the neighborhood termed "a melting pot of cultures" (wikipedia.org), the International Wine Center's physical location symbolizes the role of wine as international common denominator. Professional studies and a highly anticipated exam brought me to Chelsea and plunged me into a week of sniff, taste, spit, limestone, chalk, clay, single-cordon training, bush training...excessively heady stuff that only unabashedly nerdy winos love. Smacked around for a week by intensive classes and the New York City Subway, I emerged from 350 7th Avenue Saturday, August 30th with a dangerously high concentration of caffeine pumping through my system and an acronym for the communes of Bordeaux singing through my head. A headful of bliss, in other words, that I can't wait to resume.

Speed dial number two connected directly to whom other than my mom. "I'm pretty sure I passed," I offer. Pause of surprise from one mother accustomed to her Phi Beta Kappa, Magna Cum Laude, Sorority Leader daughter calling with decidedly more confident results. Passed? Longer pause.

The Advanced Certificate of the Wine and Spirits Education Trust is far from the ultimate smackdown of wine exams, but it's the first taste of education torture you experience with the oldest, most established wine and spirits education organization in the world. I won't know for another couple of months whether my next step is to retake the exam, or whether I can proceed in the long march towards a Diploma in Wine and Spirits. I left 350 7th. Avenue Saturday afternoon exhilarated, sapped, and inspired.

Ready or not....

Spoiled

2008-08-06T11:49:00.000-07:00

After an unusually long day of tastings (yes, I do have the hardest job in the world), event planning, inventory review and data entry, six p.m. found me barefoot and lounging indelicately next to my comparably relaxed roommate. Both prepped for a cocktail of choice, she opted for gin, add two olives, and I walked straight to the wine cabinet. Eyes flicking across bottle tops, my brain clicked through each bottling: Freemark Abbey Cabernet--flavorfully delicious. a classic Napa favorite. Excellent for heavy fare, but a little overwhelming for girly conversation. Phillip Togni Cabernet Sauvignon 2005--oops. collectable treasure from adored Napa trip. cellaring for a decade plus. let's slide this one back. Silverado Merlot 2003--now here's an option. medium in body. excellent oak integration. will carry over beautifully to my spaghetti sauce/squash dinner. purrfect.

Prancing back into the kitchen, bottle in hand, I eagerly pop open chosen red, grab a wine glass, sniff and oh no. OH NOOOO. It's corked. Wet dog, wet newspaper, dank cellars, moldy corners rush through my nostrils. I retreat, look away, look back at my ruby-hued nectar thinking maybe I was mis... take another whiff and oh no. no mistake here. she's a goner. Post angry "why me? this wine is corked!" dance, my eyes light up as I recall--another bottle! Another bottle of the exact same wine, same vintage, maybe the gods don't hate me after all! and I'm prancing back to the wine cabinet, grabbing my second bottle of Silverado's 2003 Merlot, another wine glass, and gleaming with wine education in my eyes. You, roomie, are going to learn about cork taint.

Pouring a tasting amount of each bottling into separate glasses, I take a quick smell from the new bottle, detect no cork taint, and approach chosen gin drinker. Waving off her helpless protests ("Oh Rebecca, I'll never be able to tell," "I don't drink enough wine to smell anything unusual," "Are you serious?"), I place the two glasses front and center. "Smell each one intently," I suggest. "Really get your nose in there! Don't be shy!" And she gets it. She senses the damp flatness that hinders any usual tones of ripe berries or spice; she notices a lush, fruit driven complexity in one and the unmistakable soggy cardboard aroma of the other.

Known in scientific lingo as TCA or 2, 4, 6-trichloroanisole, cork taint often stems from bacteria-ridden cork, but may also creep into a wine as early as when it is in the winery; TCA can infect a wine from bacteria-ridden barrels, drain pipes, hoses, or even surrounding wooden structures. In the most extreme cases, "entire cellars have to be rebuilt in order to extinguish all potential systemic TCA culprits" (wikipedia.org). Caused by a chemical reaction between chlorophenol compounds (don't ask me. Ask wikipedia!) and airborne fungi, TCA affects approximately 7% of all wines. Cheap cork is especially susceptible, causing larger, value-priced productions to seek alternative closure methods (enter the screw cap, plastic cork, glass stopper, etc.).

The cork v. synthetic closure debate is extensive, and considering my chemistry verbiage of the preceding paragraph, too much technical info for this blog. Key points to remember regarding cork taint: approximately one bottle in each case of wine you bring home may be a victim of cork taint. Simply return the bottle, corked, to your retailer and walk out with a new bottle of wine ready for your enjoyment. And no, corked wine does not make good sangria.

Eating Without Conviction

2008-07-31T07:33:00.000-07:00

Passionately, fervidly, flippantly--I follow actors like I love on wine critics. From Stephen Tanzer to Eric Asimov to Neil Martin, from Philip Seymour Hoffman to Daniel Day-Lewis to my current flame Javier Bardem, I fall, submerge, return to the surface and grab a new attraction/distraction. My romance with Bardem started with No Country For Old Men, the Coen Brothers Academy Award winning film that shook theaters last year. A strange impetus, you say, for a budding crush: morbid, not romantic, dark and disturbing. Perhaps I see too much good, I overlook the reality of a person, but something within Bardem clicked in me; the power of a skilled actor or visual artist grabs my shoulders and shakes me alive, rattling the blur from eyes dulled by daily tedium to remind me of the power of expression across multiple senses. In Before Night Falls (2000) and The Sea Inside (2004), Bardem flips back and forth between Spanish and English like a man seeking the ultimate expression in whatever language he must choose--like an artist who has realized that speech is both a gift and a hindrance. We could not survive or connect without language, but its power of expression doesn't touch the power of combining two or three varieties.

In his NYTimes wine blog "The Pour," Eric Asimov quoted from one of his latest literary favorites "The Terra Cotta Dog" by Montalbano. The excerpt goes like this:

The scent of fried mullet coming from the restaurant won the duel. He ate a special appetizer of shellfish, then had them bring him two sea perches so fresh they seemed to be still swimming in the sea.
“You’re eating without conviction, Inspector.’’
“It’s true. The fact is, I’ve got something on my mind.’’
“The mind should be forgotten when the Lord in His grace puts such perches in front of you,’’ Calogero said solemnly, walking away.

Eating without conviction is like drinking without tasting, living without introspection--you get the idea. Drinking wine from one country, one region, one varietal is effectively closing your mind, refusing to learn, shielding your eyes from the vastness of a star-drenched sky. Excuse the romance of my expression, but I'm watching Bardem, after all; my eyes and ears are filled with the romance of English, Spanish and French dancing in the awkwardly exhilarating embrace of a first waltz. Significant to realize that I, a dreamer by nature and artist by dream, find wine interesting, stimulating enough to keep me captive day in, day through, day out. Wine to the disinterested is merely booze; wine to the traveler, to the lover, is another language ripe for his exploration.

La Cosa Nostra

2008-07-24T13:18:00.000-07:00

La Cosa Nostra, The Honoured Society, Mafiosi--images of the Sicilian mafia dominate my perception of this staunchly independent region of Italy. Geographically isolated and historically separatist both politically and culturally, the island of Sicily is known for its striking beauty, cultural pride, and mafia prowess. "Goodfellas," "The Godfather I, II and III," "Reservoir Dogs," "The Sopranos"--I love it all, eat it up with my mafia-loving spoon. Crime, romance, power, passion--Sicily's mafia-drenched isle is the perfect setting for delicious wine. And as evidenced by the parade of wine representatives toting cooled bags of Sicilian whites and reds, Sicily is producing some pretty stellar juice.

Remarkable for its physical size, Sicily produces half the entire country's wine production; while quantity used to trump quality, Sicily's winemakers are quickly changing this notion by integrating more modern winemaking and viticultural techniques. Enter Sergio Ardito: export manager for Firriato winery, crisply tailored Italian, wearer of fashionable spectacles and porter of an utterly adorable yet horribly distracting Italian accent. His bag of tricks included two whites and five reds, the reds clearly standing apart from the whites in quality and complexity, a pattern I noticed throughout my tastings. My favorite wines centered around Sicily's most renowned grape Nero d'Avola, an indigenous varietal producing wines comparable to New World shiraz in their spice, medium weight and dark fruit expression. My Firriato favorites:

Firriato Ribeca 2004...$55.95
A blend of Nero d'Avola and Perricone, another varietal indigenous to Sicily, the Ribeca exudes finesse and elegance, light-to-medium body with soft fruit aromas and beautifully integrated tannins. Bonus points for the name.

Firriato Harmonium 2004...$55.95
One-hundred percent Nero d'Avola, the Harmonium spends ten months in both French and American oak. Cassis, blackberry and blueberry greet the nose and bathe the palate. The mid-palate on this wine is incredibly expressive, and Firriato's deft handling of oak is again visible in its softly tannic finish. Appropriately titled, beautifully cohesive, and classy.

Firriato also makes more value-priced wines, yet spend a little more and the quality leaps to a completely different level. Drinking beautifully now, Firriato's higher tiered wines will age another seven to ten years in the bottle.

Located at the polar opposite side of the philosophical spectrum from Firriato's more artisanal production, La Planeta winery produces millions of bottles annually in four main regions spread across the island. I tasted two of La Planeta's wines, the "La Segreta" White and Red, both priced at $13.95. The white was too golden in hue, alluding to oxidation in its color and off-aromatics. Not recommended. The red, however, a blend of Nero d'Avola, Syrah, Merlot and a touch of Cabernet Franc, was delicious for the price. Herbaceous with a hint of rusticity on the nose (a virtual hat-tipping to the Syrah), clean and brisk through the palate and light-to-medium bodied, this is an incredible value.

Je Ne Sais Quoi

2008-07-16T12:20:00.000-07:00

"Jean-Louis Claude, have I ever told you I adore your mustache, its delicately upturned ends and thoroughly French connotation?"
(thickly swarthy French accent) Why, little American Rebecca, I never knew. (twitch twitch of the mustache) But now my heart is weighing upon me, so I must ask. Why did you leave me alone on the 14th, isolated from your mustache-adoring love with only the comfort of Paris' s televised fireworks to sooth my sorrows?
"The 14th! Oh no! How could I forget? Bastille Day: anniversary of the storming of the Bastille, start of the republic, tumbling of the monarchy, symbol of the success of a people's revolution! Can I make it up to you? To France?"
Well (twitch twitch), I suppose so. Drink this Bordeaux with me, little American, and you may have a chance with France. Your chances with me, however, are fini.

This Monday passed with no pomp, no circumstance in my personal calendar. Coffee, breakfast, work, gym, movie, Anthony Bourdain--non-eventful and routine, the type of Monday I have perfected for post-weekend recovery, but not the Monday deserved on Bastille Day. So, it's time to pay my dues and drink French wine, hold a French wine tasting (shameless plug for The Bottle Shop's French Tasting Friday, July 25th), check in on my fete-loving friends in Bordeaux, and read the latest Sarkozy gossip.

While I spent only three months living and working in the south of France, French culture lingers in my habits, my ears, my thoughts and friendships. A perfect example: I eat with two hands, fork and knife poised above the plate; Why do I do this? Am I ready to duel? It is strange, foreign behavior, and I have been back in the States for months now.

I blast French pop music and attempt to sing along, not noticing how the other driver idling at the stoplight is staring, mouth agape and guffaw prepped, at my bizarre display. Bread rolls seem lonely: fleshy crests of yeast and flour separated from a beloved brie and forced to socialize with butter. I cannot shake these idiosyncrasies, behavioral patterns that will surely alienate all first dates unless he, of course, suffers from a similar cultural confusion.

There is a reason Americans have adopted the French phrase je ne sais quoi: a linguistic paradox literally translated as "I don't know what" but implying that which is indescribable, a feeling, an energy that is untouchable, allusive, unable to be put into words. Something about the French way of life and interaction is unshakeable, in part by nature and in part by my unwillingness to shake it. Keeping my French-inspired idiosyncrasies wrapped tightly about my shoulders, tonight I'll open a new Pouilly-Fuisse with wine-loving friends, converse in my native tongue, and marvel at that certain je ne sais quoi that makes home, regardless of how long I've been away, completely me.

Summer Lovin'

2008-07-09T18:31:00.000-07:00

Funny how brainstorming about summer wines runs above my internal soundtrack of John Travolta and Oliva Newton-John gleefully bopping about youthful summer romance. Summer lovin', had me a blast...happened so fast. Maybe the similarity between Alsatian whites and the pitter patter of high school love is a bit of a stretch, but if your resident oenophile isn't over-the-top in love with wine, who is?

Forgive me for a little personal revelation, but I spent a deliciously indulgent Sunday afternoon this past weekend that combined two of my loves: Florida's subaquatic world and barbecuing. After flitting in and out of the water, and working up quite the appetite, it was barbecue time; enter platters of burgers, marinated veggies, chipotle coleslaw (courtesy of my Louisiana-trained palate), and a chilled array of whites and rosés. To start: Duval-Leroy rosé: one-hundred percent pinot noir, softly floral on the nose, delicately bubbly with a gentle nuttiness and lingering finish. Definitely not the textbook pairing for cheese burgers, but textbooks are for the traditional--not girls who love to grill.

Courtesy of uberman/grill master Bobby Flay, rose sangria followed. The key to excellent sangria is quality brandy and triple sec, fruit forward wines low in tannins, and extended refrigeration for optimal flavor melding. In choosing the wines, I blended two bottles, a dry Washington State Riesling and Spanish rosé; both wines contained a small amount of residual sugar, low tannins, and bright, refreshing aromatics--key ingredients for authentic Sangria. Just like when cooking with wine, when creating delicious sangria, choose wines you would gladly drink on their own. This is not the time finally to rid yourself of those half-empty bottles lurking in the back of your fridge; your guests will not appreciate your thriftiness, and the dead zone at the back of your refrigerator will soon include a half-empty pitcher of unappetizing sangria.

Hurricanes are churning, Sarasota's median age is shockingly low for the moment, and barbecues abound. While my chance for a high school summer fling ended years ago, my fling with the SRQ is in full tilt. Olivia, bring it on.

Rose sangria:
1 bottle dry rose wine
1 cup orange juice
1/4 cup brandy
1/4 cup triple sec
1/4 cup simple sugar
orange, lemon, lime, apple, and grapefruit slices

Hook & Ladder

2008-07-01T19:12:00.001-07:00

Stepping into the dimly lit interior of Fleming's Steakhouse halted me, the screaming sunshine of Florida's early evening slowly relinquishing its grasp as I fumbled around bar stools, squinting, blinking, straining for recognition. Finally through the haze I deciphered Mister Michael De Loach, host for the evening's wine dinner and Marketing and Sales director of Hook and Ladder Winery. Invited as an impromptu guest for the evening, I had the honor of conversing with De Loach throughout the event, getting to know this man who, considering his humility and grounded self-perception, would surely groan at my use of the word "honor". My work introduces me to winemakers constantly, yet my fondest interactions are with those individuals who leap from the conversational bounds of vinification, educational history, blah wine blah, to reveal a hint of their true person. Don't get me wrong: I'll talk the wine talk for hours; but for one of countless to make an imprint, I need to feel something more, something human, something that attests to a spirit that seeks beyond the impersonal nature of professional interaction.

Two cocktails in after a day of schmoozing, De Loach was tangibly tired; wine questions caused his eyes to glaze over, mind click onto autopilot. Steering the conversation towards music, family, his San Francisco upbringing surged something else, the deeper nerve of a wine professional who loves wine but whose passions expand beyond. I feel a certain kinship towards this man: I love wine, talking about my vintage experiences and the hottest names, but this love is a fraction, the thirty percent wedge of my pie graph.

De Loach hovered beside each table, talking, listening, revealing his personality and passion for life to each person present. By nature, Michael De Loach embodies the intimacy and personal attention the winery puts in bottle, an intimacy that differentiates Hook & Ladder from gross co-ops and wine negociants. The Hook & Ladder wines shined, flavor profiles delicately complimenting their chosen accompaniments. The wines, of course, were impressive: equally impressive as De Loach's transparency, an honesty of self that turns wine into so much more.

"A Few Too Many:"

2008-06-19T07:52:00.000-07:00

title of Joan Acocella's short piece in The New Yorker and wine-related reading suggested by NYTimes critic Eric Asimov. Esteemed wine expert and successful writer, you too have experienced the hell of a hangover, the utter wretchedness, self-loathing, wish-I-could-dip-my-eyeballs-in-water misery that spurs religious revivals across the Breadbasket, or at least amongst the pure-livered? Acocella's narrative is an encouraged side note to Asimov's "A Beaujolais Makers Pain," an article detailing the non-alcohol induced misery experienced by French winemakers post-AOC (Appellation d'Origine Controlee) death match. Access the article in its entirety ("A Beaujolais Makers Pain") to read about the largely inhibiting side of France's wine regulatory system.

Detailing my personal experiences with one of France's AOC committees was an option for this week's blog; breaking from harvest work this past October to taste the best of the AOC approved wines (approximately forty) from France's Southern Languedoc left me running, hurtling to the car and closest pub for a palate-cleansing beer. AOC committees throughout France outline a wine's climactic/geographical requirements, varietal composition, ageing minimum, and general quality level. Lacking the AOC designation declassifies a wine to Vin de Pays (literally a "wine of the country") status; winemakers rebelling against the legislative stricture of AOC approval challenge with growing frequency whether or not this status should be viewed as substandard, or if in fact VDP is the true marker of excellence. After tasting through a selection from the Vin de Pays d'Oc wineries (the same geographic region as the Languedoc AOC), I heartily agree that the government strictures are damning to the region's success. I could continue but, really--reminiscing on the best, most welcomed hangover experienced in my mere twenty-five years is much more interesting.

Twenty-two years of age, stock girl at one of Sarasota's larger wine retailers, and blossoming wine connoisseur, I arrived at Bob's (in name I shall protect him) residence ravishingly hungry. And thirsty, as always. Incredibly savvy, wine aficionado, art lover, literatus and talented chef, he opened the door with champagne-filled flute in hand--Krug 1990, since you asked. Invited for an evening with five intimate friends, two of whom would be departing shortly thereafter for education at New York's Culinary Institute of America, I expected gastronomic extravagance; gastronomic extravagance lasting six courses and nine hours, I did not.

Foie gras flown in from New York, vegetable terrine, salt baked red snapper, potatoes dauphinoise and watch-Julia Childs-swoon vegetables inspired all. But the wine, the wine! A 1988 Gaja Sperss decanted, opened by teens of years in the bottle preceded a 1983 Bordeaux, also decanted for hours to separate sediment from subtle refinement and elegance. The cheese course paired with an '85 Sauternes attempted a conclusion that none at the table wished; eighty-year-old Madeira paired with dessert and post-dessert conversation followed as the ultimate conclusion. Ageing such remarkable wines provides tranquility of time: space in the time continuum for once separate elements to merge and intertwine, previously disparate items on a checklist to marry into an inseparable sensory experience. My white flag is flying: wine terminology and evaluative discourse flit from my realm of conciousness as I float into a featherbed of sensory bliss. Hedonism fulfilled and over-saturated, the long-reaching fingers of my evening of decadence wrapped tightly around my brain the following workday, refusing to loosen their grip until sleep's final reprieve. But Bacchus, regardless the pain your revelry tolls, I am your girl.

All wine critics offer their "tips" to avoiding the inevitable: drink plenty of water throughout the event and eat, a lot (Asimov); "never finish the flute" (Neil Martin of Parker's "the wine journal"); match glasses of wine with glasses of water (Jancis Robinson). Shared tips are the nod of understanding amongst Bacchus's suitors, the unspoken desire to risk a hangover again for one more evening of unparalleled sensory pleasure, and that beautiful moment when an acquaintance becomes a friend.

Rice Never Tasted So Good

2008-06-12T19:35:00.000-07:00

Thursday afternoon and my screensaver is distracting me, taunting me from behind the still "Untitled," untouched page of my weekly blog. My eyes look away, clicking through the pages of the internet hoping for some sort of inspiration and suddenly, the heavens open, a beam of light bursts through the ceiling, and local wine rep Michael Green turns the corner--ah, fate, what a messenger you have chosen--with a chilled flight of sakes in tow.

Not purposefully bringing the sakes for me, these demi-bouteilles of Eastern nectar were organized for Jaden Hair: food writer, blogger, sex-pot chef, and esteemed critic worthy of a private tasting of "the Napa Cabernets of sake." Tough choice. Stare pitifully at my beach scene screensaver or join in the fun.

So the tasting went like this: a brief tutellage, outlining the fermentation process (heady, but fascinating!) and the different types and grades of sake, accompanied by a line-up or "flight" of six different sakes. Falling somewhere between beer and wine, sake is the product of a dual fermentation, the rice breaking down from a starch into a sugar, the sugar fermenting into alcohol, and both occurring simultaneously thanks to the sprinkling of a magic dust we sake connoisseurs (yes, I'm presumptuous) like to call "Koji mold." Quality depends on the water source and the percentage by which the grain has been milled prior to fermentation (Ginjo--40% exterior milled, Daiginjo--60% milled). Filtering usually follows, unless the end product is cloudily delicious, technically termed a "Nigori."

Out of the six sakes tasted, I picked two favorites:
Takasago Ginja Shizuku Daiginjo--
The first sake sampled and, upon tasting through the line-up, the finest and most complex of the group. A filtered daiginjo, this crystal clear sake offers a nose of banana liqueur, white flowers and starfruit with a beautifully coating, unctuous palate and integrated alcohol. Plus, it's filtered in an igloo.

"Heaven's Door" Ginjo --
Not as refined as a Daiginjo, the "Heaven's Door" Ginjo sake comes from a certified organic prefixture (comparable to a French AOC or California Appellation). A slightly grainier texture on the palate follows a nose of purple orchids, the finish expressing a subtle nuttiness on the very back of the palate.

The future of the sake market is in flux, younger Japanese generations preferring wine and cocktails over their elders' vino, and American markets on the outskirts of appreciating sake's nuances, styles, and pairing abilities. Matching sake with sushi or general Asian cuisine is easy, but rules, particularly with wine, are out-of-fashion. Pair sake with cheese plates, prosciutto-wrapped figs, or (my personal favorite) fresh oysters; and leave the sake bombs to your frat boy cousin.

Who is Rudolf Steiner?

2008-06-04T16:50:00.000-07:00

I realize I have become quite an easy sell when the first thing that slides out of a wine rep's mouth is: "this wine comes from an all organic, biodynamic, sustainably farmed vineyard." Not much of a poker face, I respond with whoops, hollaring, cheering, and rapt attention. The growing success of the biodynamic movement in the wine industry speaks to me, a reader/writer/oenophile maturing into the business world yet clinging to a hope of ethical business practice and the power of purchasing goods that benefit the earth. Foolish perhaps, definitely naive and blissfully optimistic, I support the biodynamic movement ethically and professionally, and am not alone on this wagon. So what is biodynamics? Why are suit-sporting business types flinging the word around in a sales pitch like the latest Robert Parker scores? And how are wineries, distributors, and consumers reaping the benefits?

Biodynamics receives skepticism often based on incomprehension and expressed through the mockery that any philosophical movement experiences due to its other-worldly, non-sensory basis. For decades, winemakers practicing biodynamics purposefully omitted their status from public knowledge, knowing the overall perception of biodynamic advocates was one of hippies smoking weed in the vineyards, talking to the stars, feeling the heartbeat of the soil--all grossly diminutive portrayals traditionalists cast upon non-traditionalists in an industrial world. Time buttressed the movement in the wine industry as tangible proof emerged from biodynamic application: disease-ridden vineyards became healthy, self-sustaining ecosystems, the quality of the fruit undeniably superior to that of traditional farming.

When I first started learning about biodynamics and wine, I thought it was a new movement, akin to the "green" movement, another way of reducing our carbon footprint. "Rudolf Steiner, Anthroposophy, Goethe, Nieztsche, Waldorf education"--rudimentary conversation regarding biodynamics left me dumbfounded, linguistically put in place as a talker, not a walker. Clueless. So I picked up a biography on Steiner and realized I was more than a century behind, and needed to study up.

Twentieth-century philosopher Rudolf Steiner founded biodynamic agriculture as a response to a request in 1924 from a group of farmers concerned about the future of agriculture. Steiner embarked upon a lecture series detailing the tenants of what would become known as biodynamic agriculture: individualization of the farm (bringing no or few outside materials onto the farm), timing activities such as planting and harvesting according to the movements of the moon and planets, composting and relying upon "farm organism" (manure and animal feed) for nutrients, and an absolute aversion to the use of artificial fertilizers and pesticides.

Biodynamics is the stuff of Ph.D. studies and life devotion, a dizzyingly heady philosophy that has found its way into the modern wine industry and onto shelf-talkers and bottle labels. Difficult to explain in a blog but easy to describe as an experience, perhaps I'll put it this way: the soil in a traditionally farmed vineyard doesn't breathe, it doesn't give beneath each footfall because its life has been fertilized away. Biodynamic vineyards are a mess with life.

For you visual learners out there:
Traditionally-farmed vineyard.

Biodynamically-farmed vineyard.

Where's the Value?

2008-05-29T13:49:00.001-07:00

If only my checkbook had a belt, or perhaps a lock box with a code that changes constantly, without my knowing. Either way, I, like everyone else working in the United States, in Sarasota, during the summer, am pinching quarters, pennies, dimes, my Sacajewea dollar coins, even the odd euro cent collecting time in my purse. Must I foresake my social life for nights spent wine-less, alone, with my NetFlix trio? More creative than bound to spend my weekends indoors, I have enlisted the help of my trusted local wine gurus in collecting several affordable bottlings that heartily received my purchase as approval.

Throughout the next week, cases of wine retailing under $10 will arrive into The Bottle Shop shelves as a purposeful response to the current state of our economy. How wineries achieve incredibly low pricing deserves an insider's explanation. Options include:
- bulk purchasing from independent growers rather than using only estate-grown fruit
- no sorting tables, no hand crates, just massive truck loads of 25+ ton bins
- alternative methods for oak-ageing (think staves in tanks or even adding powdered oak as opposed to ageing the wine in barrel)
- all stainless steel maturation
- innoculation (adding yeast versus waiting for native, organic fermentation to commence)
- rapid fermentation (six days versus three weeks)
- screw tops as opposed to cork (thirty Euro cent per cork for good cork)

Quality in the bottle relies heavily upon quality fruit in the vineyards, as the winemaker cannot depend on high-toast oak or heavy-handed winemaking to mask underripe or thin flavors. My picks follow:

Domaine du Tariquet Sauvignon 2006...$9.95
Importer Robert Kacher chose an excellent Sauvignon Blanc from Gascogne, France in this inexpensive bottling. Clean and zesty on the palate with subtle citrus aromatics and balanced acidity, this wine is quaffably pleasant with beautiful vigor.

Porcupine Ridge Sauvignon Blanc 2007...$8.95
From winemaking team Marc Kent and Rudiger Gretschel in Franschhoek, South Africa, the Porcupine Ridge series emphasizes clean, vibrant fruit expression at an incredible price. The Sauvignon Blanc is the first of the 2007 Porcupine wines to appear on the market. Gretschel adds a small amount of Semillon to the final blend for a slightly softer mid-palate, and allows the fruit's natural acidity to add brightness to the finish.

Pacific Rim Chenin Blanc 2006...$9.95
A nose full of peaches, apricots and nectarines is echoed by a surprisingly flavorful, round mid-palate with good lift on the finish. Excellent for the price, and more reminiscent of French Vouvray than Cali Chenin. A varietal definitely worth summer exploration.

Rare Bird Pinot Noir 2005...$9.95
Pinot lovers rejoice in this find. French pinot noir with soft raspberry and toasty notes on the palate. Medium in body with a pleasantly lasting finish, this gives all domestic pinot noirs at the same price serious competition.

Two Tone Cabernet Sauvignon 2005...$9.95
This Napa Valley Cabernet emphasizes ripe, fresh fruit flavors on the palate with little oak ageing to preserve varietal expression. Deliciously refreshing and youthful for a Napa Cab in a style that befits the price point.

Colosi Rosso 2005...$9.95
This Sicilian red received plenty of accolades from Robert Parker's latest review, and rightfully so. Full in body with a generous core of fruit, purity, and length, this wine should be at least twice the price. Predominantly Nero d'Avola, a grape native to Sicily that imparts a distinctly earthy, rustic expression reminiscent of old-world Syrah or Mourvedre.

ZA = Zud Afrique

2008-05-22T11:31:00.000-07:00

May 5th, May 6th, May 7th--one year, one year and a day, one year and two days since I returned from the big "ZA." Daily articles on the NY Times's front page shout "South Africans Take Out Rage on Immigrants," "Anti-Immigrant Mob Kills 2 at Hostel," "Army to Help End South Africa Violence." I just finished South African writer J. M. Coetzee's Disgrace, a novel haunting in its descriptive power, its brutally honest depictions of the violence that scorches South Africa's landscape. I can't seem to escape South Africa; one year, sixteen days and three hours later, I marvel at how protected I was by my gender and color, how fortunate and guilty, how unworthy and lucky I feel at the same time.

I lived in Franschhoek, South Africa for three months. Working in the Porcupine Ridge wine cellar Monday through Sunday twelve hours daily or more, I shoveled beside, pumped-over with, climbed atop tanks and manhandled pipes alongside other white, privileged, protected whites. "Coloured" laborers and tribal blacks were like furniture, always nearby and nameless. Glimpses of their reality wafted in intermittently: police arrived at the cellar again looking for Peter, power outtages triggered riots in the black neighborhoods over the weekend, Friedel got into a fight on Saturday, rumored to have been stabbed, will be back at work tomorrow.

Amazing how the whiteness of my skin blinded me for three months, how only now, months and thousands of miles removed I realize how segregation seeps effortlessly into your days and nights. The international wine community eagerly promotes South Africa's growth and improvement post-apartheid: internationally recognized and recently (1980s) introduced varietals like Chardonnay and Sauvignon Blanc thrive in South Africa's climate. Travel writer Bonnie Tsui described the route from Cape Town to Franschhoek in typically idyllic terminology: "the city quickly gave way to verdant farmlands and flowering lavender fields, all framed by jagged mountain peaks...meandering roads got us to Franschhoek." How easily she omitted the rest: the shanty towns where rape is commonplace, overlooked, where water is an anomaly, walls constructed from corrugated metal, roofs from plastic tarps, obliterating drunkenness the norm.

Making wine for the first time was exhilarating; South Africa is intimidatingly raw and harshly beautiful, its social climate terrifyingly unstable, a rumbling beneath the surface that the wealthy dismiss. Daily the trembling grows, the impoverished becoming less tolerant as the government's promises remain unfulfilled, and the wealthy and educated grow ever more out-of-reach. The future of the country's wine industry is promising, wineries such as Boekenhoutskloof, Iona, Vergelegen, and Chamonix incorporating international techniques, varietals, and perspectives that produce wines impressive in style, flavor, and quality. Currently the two exist independently, tenuously separated, as the wine industry plays its role as capitalist and profiteer.

A Few Firsts

2008-05-15T15:15:00.000-07:00

Hidden in the personal life of any wine aficionado is an equaled love for cuisine. Be it cooking or solely consuming, winos are gastronomic hedonists, and I am no exception. Cooking in, eating out--I relish them both. A new restaurant opens in the area and I swoop in; a new recipe falls under my fingers and I craft an excuse for a dinner party. While I love trying the newest hot spot, my piscean personality craves the intimacy of cooking for a close group of friends. Attempted recipe for this past week: Parmesan Corn Risotto Cakes with sauteed zucchini, from quite possibly my favorite cookbook of all time: Rebar Modernfood Cookbook. Only Canadians could come up with such creative recipes.

An evening of firsts: the first time I have ever made stock from scratch. Wow. Onions, garlic, fresh corn kobs (no kernels), fresh thyme and oregano, black peppercorns, coarse salt. The entire time I'm thinking, wine wine wine. What do I choose?

Second first: first time I have ever made risotto. Eek. Visions of overcooked, chewy rice circa elementary school Church dinners stare at me from the stove. The recipe calls for one cup of white wine, and is notably the first liquid added to the sauteeing risotto. Pressure is on. Beckoning from my refrigerator door, Hippolyte Reverdy's 2006 Sancerre is perfect for the dish; beautifully fragrant with herbaceous, grassy aromas that mimic the herbs seasoning the stock, not overly acidic and more suited to cooking than a Marlborough passion fruit shower. Proving to be an excellent choice, I am confident. And getting very hot standing over the stove. In Florida. In May.

Formed into cakes the size of smooshed baseballs, the risotto is creamy, rich, cheesy, and destined for frying, and requires a bright white wine with enough palate width, weight, and acidity to counter its richness. One option is to pair the cakes with the same wine used during cooking, which is always a sensory pleasure; the Reverdy Sancerre could be perfect but lacks the sharp acidity this dish warrants and, let's be honest, I need more than a half-full bottle.

Enter my dinner guest and a chilled bottle of white wine: La Caplana Gavi di Gavi 2006. Curious, I cannot wait to see how this Italian offering pairs up against my risotto cakes. Produced from the Cortese grape in the Piedmont region of Italy, Gavi is the name of the town at the center of the production zone. Floral with soft fruit aromas and a gentle citrus note, the wine is more aromatic than I expected. The palate offers the width and moderate weight the risotto cakes needed, and the acidity, while not as high as this dish could have used, provides enough lift to cut through the cake's heft. Deliciously oozy on the interior with a slight sharpness from the parmesan and crunchy exterior, the cakes are fantastic. And the wine an excellent partner.

Final first: my first Gavi di Gavi. Sure, it's not age-worthy Chateauneuf-du-Pape Blanc or premier cru Burgundy, but for summer sipping and risotto cakes, it's a perfect fit. Excellent on its own, and always affordably priced, Gavis are a realm of Italian whites that deserve attention. Pinot Grigio fans should take a risk, wine snobs a dose of humility.

Just a Little Crush

2008-05-08T12:42:00.000-07:00

So my wine-guy crush has shifted. Shocking, I know. While Stephen Tanzer and his infamous mustache forever retain a piece of my wine-soaked heart, our romance is taking a secondary role, shifting from all-absorbing heartthrob to nostalgic sweetheart. Who, you ask, could possibly steal my attentions from my handlebar-ed hero? Chief wine critic for the New York Times, nephew of late author Isaac Asimov, and wine writer since 1999, Eric Asimov has stolen the spotlight. Poor guy. Little does he know I not only admire his writing style and heartily wish to steal his job, but I also respect his frank and, most importantly, unintimidating approach to the latest wine trends and stories. Inspiring article of late: this Wednesday's The Pour--"Wine's Pleasures: Are They all in Your Head?"

Addressing the upcoming publication of food writer Robin Goldstein's book The Wine Trials, Asimov summarizes the book's analysis of wine enjoyment when connected specifically to price. Newsweek magazine published an article loudly generalizing the book's findings, pointing to a blind tasting in which a $10 bottle of Washington state sparkling outscored Dom Perignon as evidence that wine drinkers are swayed by marketing and branding rather than sensory enjoyment. While the book portrays wine consumers as "dupes and twits, subject to the manipulation of marketers, critics and charlatan producers," Asimov provides a more empathetic analysis, introducing the valid point that many consumers are fearful of wine purchasing: afraid of enjoying a wine that is considered a "bulk" or cheap wine, and scared of not swooning over the more expensive offering.

Rather than further picking apart who liked what and why, Asimov gets it; he sees the ridiculous nature of overlooking the most important point of the study: the enjoyment of wine. Sure, analyzing why human beings prefer certain wines over others is interesting, particularly when involving money, marketing, and psychology. No one denies the social pressure surrounding wine tasting--swirling, sniffing, gurgling, spitting, pondering, pontificating--all intimidating for the average consumer while normal for the connoisseur. Yet in the grand scheme of pleasure for both novices and professionals, all this parading is completely inconsequential. Surpassing methodical analysis and returning to the subjective, Asimov claims that enjoyment of a wine is not based upon synapse surges or bottle prices, but rather the physical and social environment in which the wine is consumed: "The mood and the food and the context really matters.... It's the neglected pairing."

Rosé wines are my summer time favorite, in part for their variability in food pairing, but more so for their flirtatious, uber-feminine color, their inherent youth and freshness, their delicacy and aromatic nuances. Pair these beguiling wines with light seafood dishes and male friends unintimidated by pink. Decant a Napa 2002 high end Cabernet with fellow wine lovers for the ultimate appreciation. Pop the Washington State bubbly with brunch and save the Dom for fellow oenophiles. My recommendations are cheeky, of course, but also genuine. Sure, I live and breathe wine, I study and deconstruct it; but in the grand scheme of things, it's just wine. Enjoy it.

Pinot on Parade

2008-04-30T09:11:00.000-07:00

A pescetarian by practice and red wine lover of late, I lean heavily towards pinot noirs when dining, their lighter weight and delicate aromatics ideal for seafood. Enjoying an evening at one of Sarasota's fine dining establishments, I opted for the 2005 vintage of a quite reputable Willamette Valley pinot producer. Cooler climate. Not too expensive but by no means cheap. Wine Spectator favorite. Perfect. And the ideal companion for chosen whitefish.

Pity my naiveté. What presented itself in the glass was rich in hue, more syrah-rouge than ruby pinot. Aromatics offered deep blackberry and soft oak, the anticipated wafts of fresh strawberries or raspberries oddly absent. Medium in body, soft in tannin and lushly round on the palate, this pinot was on parade, prancing around as a fruit forward Shiraz and mocking professed pinot aficionado. Immediately I envisioned the winemaker heatedly pumping over pinot's delicate skins for maximum color and tannin extraction, every day the wine deepening in color and dark fruit flavors while simultaneously losing its delicacy. Too big for the fish, my pairing was a mess, the wine better suited for schnitzel than sole.

Googling the winery's website the following morning, the blooming quote at the site's introduction spurred a guffaw: "Archery Summit has established itself as the Rolls-Royce of Oregon Pinot Noir." What a perfect comparison! Oversized luxury sedan, emblem of conspicuous consumption, mobile visual of gout equated to over-extracted, overripe Pinot Noir. Perhaps I am being too critical. Perhaps Archery Summit is merely a victim--victim of our overheating climate and victim of a Pinot-crazed public that really likes Shiraz.

Scanning the pinots I have chosen for the store's shelves, I find solace in Burgundy. Just the other evening I enjoyed a glass of Joseph Drouhin's new entry-level Burgundy "Vero". Finesse. Delicacy. Fresh berry aromatics with a hint of vegetation. Lighter in body and refreshingly energetic, this is pinot noir.

Scandalo!

2008-04-23T10:22:00.000-07:00

For the past three weeks, wine bloggers and writers have spread the wildfire controversy unfurling within the Consorzio di Vino Brunello di Montalcino, a voluntary association of Brunello producers committed to fostering the prestige of this internationally recognized wine. Stating, "Italians are masters at damaging their own interests," Montalcino's mayor wryly referred to the mafia-esque nature of the emerging Brunello scandal. Reports vary in credibility and extravagance, initial accusations pointing to impermissable varietals (Cabernet and Merlot) being blended into 2003 Brunello bottlings, these thousands of bottles apprehended and the winemakers indicted. Passion for their heritage and tradition has incited producers' combatant claims, accusers crying that "truckloads of cheap grapes had been trucked in from Mafia-controlled vineyards in the south" (New York Times).

Analyzing the (translated) facts from the Italian on-line news engine laRepubblica provides more clarity:

"The case: 'doctored Brunello,' seizures at five wineries... Brunello cut with other grapes, regulations for Italy's most famous wine broken by combining other grape varieties with Sangiovese in the bottle. Prosecutors in Siena investigate top Montalcino producers for fraud. Treasury and Labor Departments have already seized vineyards, cellars, and bottles.

The hypothesis is that those producers used between 10 - 20% of grapes other than Sangiovese in their Brunello. According to appellation
regulations, the wine must be made from 100% Brunello grapes. They are suspected of using different grapes -- Merlot, Cabernet Sauvignon, Petit Verdot -- and sacrificing hectares historically used for the cultivation of Brunello.

Investigators believe that the operation began in 2003.... The intention was perhaps that of producing a softer wine, more appealing to certain palates, like American palates" (Michele Bocci).

Italian police seized bottles of the 2003 vintage from such high end producers as Castelgiocondo (owned by Marchesi de' Frescobaldi), Pian delle Vigne (Antinori), Catello Banfi and Argiano, and also blocked all subsequent vintages in barrel or cellaring in bottle. These accusations could feasibly decimate four years of production for some of Brunello's most prestigious producers.

Wine regulatory groups such as the Consorzio del Vino Brunello di Montalcino and the Appellation d'Origine Controlée (AOC) in France assure consumers that the higher bottle price ($80 and upwards) for Brunellos or premier crus and first growths is warranted, that vineyard quality and artistry drive prices rather than marketing or scientific manipulation in the cellar. At the mercy of the American palate, and particularly the power of high ratings in affecting sales, producers may have added a little Merlot here, a little Cab there, and maybe a pinch of Petit Verdot to soften tannins, broaden the mid-palate, and get a slightly higher score from Parker's publications.

While only a handful of producers' 2003 bottlings have been restrained, the question remains as to the long-standing impact this scandal will have on the town of Montalcino, the prestige of Brunello and its most renowned producers. Vinifera Imports representative Robert Horvath stands by his company's committment to high end, yet smaller, Brunello producers, those winemakers still unscathed by the current investigations. The importer carefully selects producers who emphasize the philosophy and tradition of Italian accountability particularly in making world class wine. Perhaps their commitment to passé ethical business will pay off in the end.

Winos Are Philanthropists, Too

2008-04-15T16:04:00.000-07:00

April twenty-fourth through the twenty-seventh, suit and converse devotees, savvy businessmen and overgrown hippees, farmers and scientists descend upon Sarasota for the annual Florida Winefest and Auction, the variety of personalities present embodying the diversity of the current wine industry. From locally-owned Flowers Vineyard & Winery to Jess Jackson's KJ Empire, the most detached and intimate of Sarasota will be present for this four-day burst of wine, local cuisine, edification and consumption, each moment benefiting area charities.

While philanthropic wine festivals abound in American culture, the state of Florida offering eighteen on its own; Sarasota's four day fundraiser raised over 6.1 million dollars for local non-profit organizations, a sum ranking it as "one of the top charity wine events of its kind in the southeast U.S." From $15 per person Sip & Shop tickets to the $300 a head WineFEST FEVER dinner dance, this winefest caters to Sarasota's economic polarities, allowing all involved to feel their donation, regardless the size, matters.

Although many of the events are closed to the general public or sold out through pre-sale tickets, two of my favorite opportunities are both worth the price tag and open concerning availability. The Grand Brunch and Charity Auction Saturday, April 26 features a two hour Grand Tasting, providing reserve bottlings and back vintages (free candy for oenophiles), and a live auction hosted by David Elswood, Associate Director and auctioneer for Christie's-London. Of course $175 per person is not a trifling sum, but considering the wines available for tasting, the Ritz-concocted brunch and the items open for bidding, the fee is appropriate. And hey! it's all tax deductible, and thus a completely rational expenditure of one's funds.

The most leisurely and accessible event of the Winefest falls on Sunday the 27th; the Sip & Shop around St. Armand's Circle is definitely the most relaxed and laid back venue of the festival, offering quantity perhaps over quality, yet again at an appropriate price. Lacking the prestige of the wines tasted during the Grand Tasting, these wines will however be extremely accessible locally, the Sip & Shop becoming the ideal opportunity to find an enjoyable, and obtainable, wine for home.

You're Making Me Blush

2008-04-09T19:06:00.000-07:00

Real men drink rosé. Feminine in hue, flirtaciously aromatic, light in body and ideally suited for lighter fare, rosé wines require confidence of wine knowledge and a palate receptive to delicacies of the vine. Designed for early consumption, these pink or "blush"-colored wines have been growing steadily in popularity, wine aficionados enamored by a rosé's food compatability, delicate complexity and bright flavor profiles. The best of both worlds, my favorite rosés combine gentle, bright fruit aromatics with surprising weight, vibrant acidity and a mid-palate of depth hinting at the red wine it may have been and the white wine it surpassed.

Pink power stems partly from the recent marketing push for rosés, wineries such as Champagne powerhouse Moet et Chandon focusing specifically on the fashion industry to propel rosés into the hands of the wealthy. Hosting the Moet Rose Lounge in New York's Bryant Park each year during fashion week deliberately ties the youth and affluence of fashion to rose-hued bubbles. New York Times Fashion writers Julia Chaplin and Sia Michel, in an article titled "The Summer Drink to Be Seen With," stated: "among a certain group of global style setters ordering rosé is a sign of being in the know. Dropping the name of a Provencal rosé...can be code for having recently frolicked in St.-Tropez or Cap d'Antibes." Not merely successful in the trend-setter's life, rosé wines are ideal in the kitchen, their subtle tannins, bright acidity, and varying levels of dryness excellent for food pairing.

Two main methods exist for creating rosé wines and, without boring you poor reader with French terminology and scientific garble, I will describe said processes with this concise explanation: making rosé requires separation of the skins from the juice after a brief (twelve to thirty-six hours) maceration period. The winemaker may either (a) remove the skins from the juice and discard of the skins or (b) remove juice from the skins and move the separated juice into tank. The former is more purposeful, the latter an additional bonus for making a more concentrated red wine (greater juice to skin ratio) with a little rosé on the side.

A couple rosés for you to try:

Mulderbosch Rosé 2007...$11.95
Made from 100% Cabernet Sauvignon, this South African rosé has subtle berried aromatics along with excellent weight and structure for a rosé. Great acidity and a wide mid-palate make this wine an excellent choice for salmon dishes and sunsets.

Turkey Flat Rosé 2006...$20.95
This Aussie Grenache, Shiraz, Cabernet and Dolcetto blend boasts aromatics of strawberries and raspberries, medium body and the slightest amount of residual sugar for balance. Delicious with spiced barbecue, roasted chicken or spicy vegetarian fare.

Personality Plus

2008-04-01T13:15:00.000-07:00

Robert Parker--The Wine Advocate; Stephen Tanzer--International Wine Cellar; Allen Meadows--Burghound.com; Jancis Robinson--The Purple Pages: names that wine aficionados immediately recognize for their influence over the wine market, and for their ability to crush a wine's success or sell it out for decades. Drawing harsh criticism for their marked influence over consumption patterns, these wine writers symbolize the consumer's search for the best: the best vintage, the best value, the best Burgundy, the biggest failure, the hottest winemaker, the biggest scandal. Skeptical of their palates, Americans rely upon established wine critics to buffer the unforgiveable embarrassment of liking a poorly rated wine, of purchasing an expensive wine that is a marketing success and palatable failure, of wasting dollars on wines they would rather consume as vinegar. Liking a wine that Parker considers exceptional is proof, isn't it, that your palate is evolved?

Faced with an inumberable source of wines from throughout the world, the average consumer desperately seeks guidance, and the established grading system utilized by most wine publications provides this guideline for purchasing. Based upon a 100-point scale, wines winning 85-90 points fall under the "Best Value" category, and those 90+ wines range from excellent to exceptional. While there are exceptions to this numerical dependence (Jancis Robinson, Decanter Magazine), these exceptions are also the less widespread.

Those who know me are fully aware of my bias towards Stephen Tanzer, due mostly to his fabulous mustache, but more seriously based upon his more evaluative, rather than judgmental, approach. Wines dramatically different in style, one displaying overripe fruit, 15.5% alcohol, and excessive extraction, may receive 90 points alongside a soft-spoken, understated Rhone red. Excellence, independent of style or origin, is the marker for success. As a relative newcomer to the wine world, I peruse Tanzer's online articles daily, curious as to what new wine he found for me to try. While I depend upon his suggestion for tempting wines, I do not mimic his tasting notes; building my own palate, I often marvel at the difference in what he detailed and I sensed, but I never second guess my palate. Tanzer is my training wheels: even though I could judge for myself, I am not quite ready to venture out on my own.

One wine critic who recently appeared on my radar is quickly winning my admiration. Conceptually, rhetorically, visually, systematically he challenges the tradition, the stoicism and propriety of wine tasting. The antithesis of haughtiness and wine snobbery, Gary Vaynerchuk of winelibrarytv.com symbolizes the newest generation of wine aficionados: consumers in their twenties and thirties who embrace the culture of wine in non-traditional circumstances--half-bottles and burgers, roses for barbecuing and cavas at brunch. This new generation is plunging into the wine world, seeking wines at a price point fitting their youthful job positions. Posting daily wine shows on winelibrarytv.com, Vaynerchuk roars with energy, personality, a brash yet educated approach to wine, and terminology ("sniffy sniff time") that mocks the ridiculous decorum of wine tasting.

A rebel attracting thousands of viewers internationally, Vaynerchuk insists that the viewer trust his/her palate and ignore the dictates of Parker, Tanzer, Meadows, and even himself. Building the confidence of his followers, Vaynerchuk is a blessing on the wine industry in that he encourages independent thought, subjectivity, education and hearty enjoyment of the evolving culture of wine. Described as "often irreverent" and unconventional, he is exactly what the wine world needs.

1 E = 1.5727 USD

2008-03-26T06:16:00.000-07:00

Ah, the Euro. Economic stronghold and battering ram to European tourism and wine exporting, the Euro's unabating strength has visibly affected the current wine industry, causing prices of highly anticipated 2005 French and Italian reds to climb from a reasonable stretch to the layman's unattainable. Rather than rejecting European wines due to their sticker scandals, wine experts recommend a little more research, a revision of earlier hallmark vintages, and a mental willingness to step beyond the established.

Wine's international popularity is growing not only in the American marketplace, but also in new consumer markets such as India and Hong Kong, where European demand pushes prices ever higher. According to Stephen Tanzer's Market Monitor, the new markets of India have recently developed a thirst for Champagne, making it more expensive than ever. Seeking out lesser known, smaller houses and older vintages hiding in the racks of your retailer offers collectible quality at a palatable price. Far from unattainable, Champagne's 1996 and 1995 bottlings are still available, champagne powerhouse Krug releasing its 99+ point 1996 vintage this past fall.

Still dissuaded by the minimum $25 price tag accompanying the most basic champagnes? Experiment with French generic sparkling wine, coined as "cremant" or "blanquette," Spanish "cavas," Italian "prosecco" or, of course, domestic sparkling wine. By supporting domestic sparkling producers, such as Schramsberg or Mumm Napa, you enjoy quality product crafted in the traditional method along with the moderate pricing of a domestic wine.

Quickly becoming another dominant force in the wine-buying market, Hong Kong is dramatically altering the dynamics of purchasing amongst Euro-focused palates. Wine writer Jancis Robinson describes the Hong Kong market as "exploding, evolving, being battled down and sprouting back up again. It will be big, it will be dynamic, but what it truly will be...is something we won't know for a while to come." Rising 61.8 percent from 1994-2000 (compared to 6.5 percent globally), Chinese wine consumption has exploded, the higher income earners drinking wine in "luxurious settings of consumption and expenditure," known in plebeian terms as bars and casinos.

Combining exceptional vintage pricing with the rising Euro creates a market of unaffordability, wines about which collector's and aficionados dream but which only wine novices with exterior funds can afford to purchase. Thus, we lovers of the vine must search, seek out those producers who may be lesser known but whose quality surmounts marketing and cult reliance.

To change trained biases requires diligence, or deliberate tasting when concerning wine. New quality wine regions must emerge from the ignominy of bulk wine production, such as New Zealand experienced, and out of which the French Languedoc currently crawls. Robert Parker recently devoted an entire article urging wine consumers to reconsider this area: "[It is] time for consumers to rediscover the region's constantly-growing number of exceptional values across a wide range of prices."

Listed below are wines that are appropriately priced concerning their vintage, producer, and region, and are examples of finding quality amidst the digits:

Philippe Faury Condrieu 2005...$41.95
Recently acquiring the last full case of this Rhone Viognier from the local distributor, the 2006 Condrieu (and its higher price) will shortly be its replacement. Aromas of honeysuckle, white flowers, subtle honeycomb and caramelized pear greet the nose, a wide, full mid-palate following with lift on the finish. Beautiful, and with the staying power for which 2005 is known.

Bertrand Ambroise Nuits-St-Georges 2005...$47.95
I first read about Bertrand Ambroise though a special Internet offer focusing on one of the best, but smaller, producers of Burgundy. Owning forty-two acres of prime Pinot Noir property surrounding Nuits-St-Georges, Ambroise creates premier cru wines of concentration, flavor, depth and lasting duration. His standard AOC pinot noir is beautifully priced, but this deal will not last. Get it while you can!

Guigal Gigondas 2001...$29.95
I tasted this wine recently and was amazed at its integration and flavor. Three years of bottle age have bestowed roundness, smooth tannins, and long flavors into this Rhone beauty. An excellent example of wine's growth and expansion in bottle.

Domaine Gayda Chemin de Moscou 2005...$27.95
Amongst massive co-operatives in the heart of the French Languedoc, this small production focuses on Loire Valley varietals and, after only its second vintage, garners the acclaim of the Wine Spectator, Jancis Robinson, and British writer Oz Clarke. Rustic aromatics, a suave midpalate and dusty but integrated tannins show in this full-bodied, rather "new world" approach from a young Frenchman. Incredible deal.

No Longer a Napa Novice

2008-03-07T19:53:00.000-08:00

Poised in an intimate tasting room overlooking Silverado's Stags' Leap vineyards, winemaker Jonathan Emmerich openly stated, "I think people have become jilted by Napa." Ironic considering the intimacy of my experience in Napa, this single statement encapsulated my preconceived notion of a region described as overcrowded, overbuilt, too "Disney," too impersonal. Picturing trams as carriers to grossly oversized wineries, label-bearing polo shirts as tour guides through the cellars, my opinion post wine-week dares Napa haters to deride this region that provides the intimacy so many claim it lacks.

Highway Twenty-Nine traverses the county and, being the region's major artery, clogs heavily from the afternoon until early evening; running its parallel, The Silverado Trail races through the mountain's shadow and accesses wineries located above the valley floor. Bombarbed by Twenty-Nine's endless string of wineries oozing olive and cheese sales, manicured perfection and brand recognition, the average Napa goer sees little else. Claiming this physical bombardment is all Napa offers is irresponsible, and a passive interaction at best. Poised for impersonality, Napa can offer it, if that is all one wishes to see.

Visiting an average of two wineries a day, I prepped my schedule for relaxed interaction, tranquility a key component in experiencing a more personal side of the region. My favorites easily distinguished themselves due to wine quality, tasting experience, intimacy and presentation. Rather than list them in numerical order, I am fighting the current numerical dependency practiced by the wine industry, and listing in alphabetical order, as all four were excellent and too different to place on the same numerical scale.

CAYMUS
A member of an eight person tasting group, I sat opposite the "man in charge," or at least the gentleman chosen to direct this specific afternoon tasting. Constantly deflecting questions by explaining that he honestly knew nothing, was told very little regarding the wines' vinification, vineyard lot selection, and specific varietal composition, our tasting guide offered just enough information to satisfy the quietest minds. The wines were stunning, the stars of the line-up being the 2005 Cabernet Sauvignon and Special Selection Cabernet 2004. Caymus' Cabernets are richly concentrated with remarkable staying power, deliciously long tannins and fruit. Wonderfully drinking now, and worthy of years in your cellar.

CONSTANT
Greeting me in a 1970 Swiss Army vehicle, ideal for the terrain of his high altitude vineyards and telling of his taste for the whimsical and classic, Mr. Constant and Floosie provided the most exciting and unique winery tour I have ever enjoyed. After ammassing his financial background in the radio business, Constant purchased the winery in 1995, vineyards of Cabernet Sauvignon, Syrah, and Cabernet Franc planted on forty acres of the highest portion of Diamond Mountain, buttress of the Northwest side of Napa Valley. The property itself is stunning, minimalist architecture highlighting rather than decorating the awe-inspiring surroundings. Mr. Constant is shockingly humble considering the caliber of his wines, reds rich in complexity, ageing ability, flavor profiles and terroir expression. Producing only three wines, one of which is available in the state of Florida, Constant strives for pure quality, and doesn't mind a little profit as well. After tasting his 2004 Cabernet Sauvignon, Cabernet Franc, and Syrah bottlings, my favorite clearly delineated itself. Constant's Syrah is unctuously rustic in aromatics reminiscent of top end Cote-Rotie. Tannins that wrap smoothly around the mouth, a flavorful mid-palate and deliciously long, full finish make me weep for future Florida distribution. Only available through the winery, the Syrah will remain a sensory memory, and his Cabernet Sauvignon my Napa Cab of choice by far. Priced at $88.95, Constant's Napa Cabernet could easily sell for twice as much.

SILVERADO
Meeting winemaker Jonathan Emmerich first through our winemaker dinner, I was eager to visit his winery, to see how high quality Napa Cabernet is produced in such a large quantity (approximately 1300 tons each year). Emmerich's cellar is immaculate and massive, a machine of efficiency and precision. Despite the size of the production, he maintains an intimate approach to his wines, emphasizing the importance of constantly being observant and understanding the soil in each vineyard. True characteristic of a wine lover turned winemaker, Emmerich appreciates the work of his peers, both locally and internationally, using the wines of Piedmont and Sicily as examples for the aims he carries for Silverado's future. To create "a sense of place" is the all-encompassing goal. Expressing terroir through a 1300 ton production is quite a task, but Emmerich has decades of experience, an impressive cellar staff, and the uncontainable passion to bottle such a goal.

The tasting Jonathan organized was fascinating; treated to a line-up of Silverado's current wines, two back vintages (1997 and 1999) and an unreleased 2005 SOLO Cabernet, I loved smelling the growth of his wines, tasting the complexity deepen across multiple levels. With each year in bottle the nose blossoms, lengthening in dimensionality as youthful fruits yield to savory aromas and tannins widely soften. Established since 1981, Silverado still introduces fresh ideas, experimentation, and creativity into its winemaking.

PHILIP TOGNI
I entered Philip Togni's property blind and expecting to be impressed, my appointment organized by the local Stacole distributor. Emerging from being hopelessly lost on top of the mountain, I found the unmarked gate, padlock, and my heightened curiosity. Togni's wife greeted me with suspicion and a fire of questions: Do you sell our wine? Do you know our history? Do you know what Robert Parker thinks of our wines? Do you know WHO Robert Parker IS? After starting off with such an introduction, she gradually warmed to me and turned the inquisition into a conversation about her husband, his philosophy towards winemaking, and the wines. Graduate of the University of Bordeaux and also student of the University of Montpellier, Togni embodies classic Bordeaux winemaking. The entire cellar is on one plane: no barrels stacked, as such a small production demands precision and attention to detail. Togni racks the wines off four times a year to let the wines breathe and also to remove lees, imparting an incredibly clean, pure taste into his Cabernets. No extended macerations, no lees stirring, innoculations and sulphur, Togni is classic in the traditional sense. His 2004 Cabernet Sauvignon is clean and lengthy, the flavors mutliplying across the palate with a finish that lingers indefinitely. These wines are not jammy but rather refined, complex and concentrated, lengthy and balanced. We tasted a 2000 bottling that had been open for a week, and I was blown away. This man is an artist of perfection.

Yes, Napa Valley can be overwhelmingly crowded and tourist ridden, but the original passion that drove its wineries into success still thrives. Best advice I received: Don't overbook your schedule. Visit one winery in the morning and one in the afternoon. Leave time to get distracted in the vineyards, to allow conversations to lengthen and tours meander off the standard route. Visit one of Thomas Keller's brainchilds and get drinks at another. Don't be afraid to spit.

And a picture from my favorite tour off the wine route:

Now that's a bean.

California or Bust!

2008-02-26T14:50:00.000-08:00

Camera loaded, hideously comfortable walking shoes in tow, and palate prepped, I am off to California wine country. Fortunate to have traveled and worked in the winelands of South Africa and France, I am a novice when confronted by the geography of California's wine regions. When meeting with wine representatives, I silently nod agreement as they hurl California names at me, preferring to remain silent rather than disrupt their rhetorical flow. Noting a gap in their informational reel, I insert, "You know I've never been to Napa." Open mouths. Large gasps of air. Knowing glances and an immediate simplification of vocabulary imply, enough gallavanting across the globe. Now is the time to study up and drink in America's largest producing wine region and the fourth largest in the world.

Wine production started in California in 1769 with vineyards of Mexican varietals introduced by Franciscan missionary Father Junipero Serra. The first European wine vines were imported in 1833 by Jean-Louis Vignes, a man obviously destined for wine success. From the fifties onward, wine production churned, each decade witnessing the introduction of such keystone figures as Gundlach Bundschu, Buena Vista Winery and Charles Krug. As phylloxera devastated European vineyards in the 1870s, America's wine production flourished, its rootstock naturally resistant to the root louse consuming centuries of vineyards across the ocean.

Leveling the playing field for the international wine industry, Prohibition was America's disease, decimating production levels by ninety-four percent and reducing the number of wineries from 2500 to less than 100. Juice grape varieties replaced wine variety vineyards, creating a surplus of low-quality grapes that dominated until the early 1970s. Not only did Prohibition drastically affect the quality growth of the American wine industry, but it created a shift in consumer attitude towards the consumption of alcohol, its purpose and effects.

Fighting against their established reputation as jug-quality wines, California wineries finally garnered the accolades warranted during "the Great Vinous Smackdown" (Mike Steinberger), a 1976 French blind tasting pitting California's Chardonnays and reds against some of France's best. Affronted by the triumph of California wines in each category, the French blamed all in reach, claiming their wines were shown too young or from poor vintages, sadly clinging to history rather than seeing the future of the wine industry change. Europe's halo popped, quality wine could be made anywhere the climate and terroir deemed worthy.

More than willing to judge for myself, I am off for a seven-day stroll through Napa's vineyards. History and modernity, organics and biodynamics, illegal migrant workers and European importees, the California wine industry provides more than I can possibly picture.

The Island Way

2008-02-20T08:54:00.000-08:00

Passion fruit. Grapefruit. Guava. Lime and lemon zest. Undertones of granite and limestone. Bright acidity lifting a rather complex palate. Vibrancy and energy in the finish. Screams for fresh oysters.

Yes. New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc is "on fire!" according to Stephen Tanzer's wineaccess.com. Wine writers reverting to such clichés symbolizes the power of this wine trend, capable of crumbling the most prosaic of writers into awed sportscasters. Just starting to produce wine in the 1970s due to previous legal, political, and social restraints, New Zealand wine production is startlingly new considering its recent international success. Published praise specifically for New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc started in the 1990s, Britain's Oz Clarke calling it "arguably the best in the world;" Mark Oldman explained this new Sauvignon Blanc beautifully, stating "New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc is like a child who inherits the best of both parents -- exotic aromas found in certain Sauvignon Blancs from the New World and the pungency and limy acidity of an Old World Sauvignon Blanc like Sancerre from the Loire Valley." Garnering critical praise throughout the world, New Zealand's Sauvignon Blanc producers revel in this success, wineries such as Cloudy Bay Vineyards reaching "cult wine" status for their bold Sauvignon Blancs.

Analyzing the climate and soil types of New Zealand's wine regions, the production of quality cool climate varietals like Sauvignon Blanc, Pinot Noir and Chardonnay is obvious. Maritime influences moderate the seasons, creating cooler summers and milder winters with consistently cool nights, allowing for long ripening time and heightened acidity levels. The main wine growing regions are on free draining alluvial valleys, imparting marked minerality and flavor concentration into the wines. Unleashed from the colonial dominance of a protein driven agriculture, what was once "marginal pasture" became ideal terrain for quality wine production.

In a blind tasting of fifteen sauvignon blancs from both Old and New World wine regions, small producer St. Lukes of Marlborough ranked in the top five, amongst Didier Dageuneau's "Silex" and three established Sancerres. Cloudy Bay in eighth place and Cakebread in twelfth, the placement of two New Zealand productions in the top ten is remarkable, proving their ability to impress when juxtaposed against the oldest wine producers of the world. Considering that Dageuneau's sauvignon blancs, and their prices, are breathtaking, New Zealand's twenty to twenty-five dollar offerings are a clear bargain.

Focusing on New Zealand sauvignon blancs is not mind blowing, I admit. Yet perhaps a nudge outside the Villa Maria or Cloudy Bay box is helpful. A couple options to consider:

Whitehaven Sauvignon Blanc Marlborough 2006...$14.95 -- Priced for everyday drinking, this beauty bursts in typical New Zealand fruit and vigor. Bright acidity lifts the finish, creating a wine crying for rich seafood dishes and creamy goats cheese.

Jackson Estate Sauvignon Blanc 2005...$18.95 -- Intense flavors of tangerine and dusty stone dominate, the initial grapefruit quality gaining through the mid-palate and mingling with tones of grass and jasmine.

Conduct your own blind tasting by pitting a beloved Sancerre or Cali Sauv Blanc against new Kiwi beauties. Who knew paper bagging booze would become socially acceptable?

Riddle Me This

2008-02-11T11:17:00.000-08:00

Hours I spend, spinning their ends, watching the sediments slide. Years it will take before their necks break, and bubbles dance before eyes. Who am I?

A "riddler" or bottle spinner, Champagne begin-ner, of sorts. Easily replaced by the lower expense and impersonal rapidity of mechanized riddlers, or "gyropalettes," human riddlers are now employed only by the Prestige Cuvees of Champagne, houses dedicated to the artistry of their product.

Riddling or "remuage" is one of the many stages in true champagne's creation, an extensive process developed in Champagne, France but also executed by other high end sparkling wine productions throughout the world. Two main methods exist for converting still wine into sparkles: the Metodo Italiano, or Charmat process--injecting carbon dioxide into holding tanks of still wine (think Proseccos from Italy, Cavas from Spain)--and the labor intensive "methode champenoise," in which a secondary fermentation in bottle induces the wine's sparkle.

Champagne begins as a simple still wine, be it white or rosé, valued more for its acidity than breadth of palate or aromatics. Bottled with a small amount of sugar and yeast, impetuses for a secondary fermentation, the wines undergo this secondary ferment in bottle, the yeast feeding off its sacchrine partner to convert sugar into alcohol with a side of carbon dioxide. Left for a year and a half to six years or more for ageing "sur lie," the bottles rest at a forty-five degree angle, gravity softly pulling the dead yeast cells into the bottle's neck.

Rotating each bottle slightly before returning it with a tap into its slot, the riddler works his/her way down the countless row of bottles, adjusting the angle of the specialized racks or "pupitres" so eventually, each bottle rests neck down, the sediment collected for removal in the bottle's neck. Dipping the necks into a freezing solution turns the sediment and a minute amount of wine into ice, which is removed and replaced with "liqueur de expedition," base wine blended with a hint of sugar. The amount of sugar added depends on the house style, but typically aims to harmonize rather than sweeten.

Regarding the price tag of Champagne's premium bottlings, money-conscious buyers must wonder if a single sparkler is worth such grandeur. To experience true champagne is to indulge in gratification beyond mere consumption; to produce artisanal champagne is to commit to delicate craftmanship rather than larger financial margins.

A few of my favorite artists and their works include:
* Champagne Gosset's Grand Rose--Berried aromatics and subtle notes of yeast and florals introduce the consumer to flavors echoed on the palate. Beautifully balanced, this rose is lively and spirited, not heavy or overwhelming like other premium roses.
* Krug Grand Cuvee NV--The complexity and depth of this non-vintage bottling is astounding. Soft notes of pear float atop deeper scents of yeast and almonds, the energy on the palate created by bubbles of quality and finesse.
* Louis Roederer's Cristal 1999--Before I tasted this champagne, I was convinced Cristal's success was marketing based; the beauty of this champagne mocked my initial naivete. Aromatics of multiple dimensions, floral to yeasty, subtly fruity to minerally, dance like no other champagne I have experienced.

Treat yourself to an artisanal experience.

Valentine's Libations, Champagne Style

2008-02-04T13:10:00.000-08:00

Rose-hued chocolate boxes and overstuffed teddy bears grow terrifyingly present in my everyday activities as if, no matter how hard I try, I cannot avoid Valentine's Day kitzsch. No, I am not the rain on the Valentine's love parade, but I am, I guess, old fashioned; a deliciously special bottle of champagne and an elaborately long dinner that delights the palate over and over, building temporal memories over sensory pleasures--this is my ideal romantic evening, be it the fourteenth of February or the middle of June.

Cork's Krug Vertical Tasting Dinner incited my curiosity concerning the history of Champagne and the indelible grandeur surrounding Champagne's big hitters. And yet, Krug is considered a new kid on the block, "middle-aged to young" in Champagne terms. Established in 1843 by German immigrant Johann-Joseph Krug, Champagne Krug fleshed out into its signature style in the 1920s under the toutelage of Jean Sedoux and Paul Krug II. Henri Krug received the reigns in 1962 and, with winemaker Eric Lebel, controls all winemaking decisions.

Control passed from one generation to the next, the patriarchal dominance is obvious; Krug parallels this reliance on genetic consistency in its oenological adherence to tradition. All Krug's wines undergo primary fermentation in small 205 litre oak barrels, and each cru is vinified separately, undergoing no malolactic fermentation to maintain its distinct "raciness." Reserve wines, or aged still wines blended into each non-vintage bottling, adjust each blending to reiterate the high quality on which Krug prides itself. After a minimum of six years on the lees, the wines are disgorged unless a "collection" wine, which may age from fifteen to twenty years.

Garnering hundreds of dollars per bottle, spilt as an offering in rap videos and sprayed over race car drivers during their moment of victory, champagne is synonymous with luxurious revelry, wealth and sensory decadence. Prior to the invention of champagne, still wines from the Champagne region in France were used by kings as gifts to visiting monarchs, and by the seventeenth century European countries used said still wines for celebration. While sparkling wine actually originated in the southwest of France in 1535, the still wines of Champagne started sparkling around 1700 thanks to English scientist Christopher Merret's scientific explorations. Thus the methode champenoise was born, and Champagne's rooted connotation with elegance transferred to the new vinification process converting still white wines into bubbles of class.

While Gosset claims the title of oldest champagne house, its founding in 1584 reveals its initial production was solely still wines, and thus its claims tenuously founded. Sweeping in for the title, Ruinart, founded in 1725, combats Gosset's bravado by stating it, in fact, was the first producer of champagne in the region. Now over one hundred champagne houses and 15,000 smaller vignerons, or wine producers, battle for prestige and notoriety in this geographic region adored throughout the world.

Overwhelmed by the enormous variety of different champagnes, a true wine aficionado must not be daunted by the array of choices, but all the more so determined to sample this libation that kings deign worthy as gifts and America's pop elite adopt as liquid bling.