On the recommendation of my friend Jay Miller (not of the Wine Advocate), I picked up a bottle of 2007 Clos Roche Blanche Gamay on the way home from work and constructively arranged for roast chicken for dinner. I must say, well played Mr. Miller. I really enjoyed this bottle, which most likely would have remained overlooked given my dissatisfaction with the 2006. It showed great Gamay character, which is of course a mixed blessing. The fruit lacked a bit of clarity, but it made up for it with a sense of earnestness and purpose. The two things that defined it for me and guaranteed a future purchase were the refreshing acidity and the appealing spiciness to the back half of the wine. I wonder whether the fruit will come into focus more with a little bottle age, especially given the acidity.

This bottle made me think of a broader point with respect to Gamay, especially with respect to Beaujolais (Clos Roche Blanche is from the Loire) and specifically with the perceived character of the grape. As someone asked on the Wine Disorder board, "if Beaujolais has been blessed (or infected) with California weather what is vigneron to do?" My answer is, if the Sun is responsible for the uptick in quality of Gamay in 2005 and 2007 then shine, baby, shine. Vignerons have always struggled either with making sure that their grapes get ripe enough (e.g., Loire) or the converse that their grapes don't get too ripe (e.g., California). My hope is that the winemakers of Beaujolais do not fall into the trap of experimenting with pushing the levels of ripeness that failed miserably for their American Pinot-making counterparts. Hopefully, the vignerons will use the power of Sol for good and not evil. If they can harnesses the ripeness of the fruit while maintaining the acidity and uniqueness of the Gamay profile, then we may see a new era for the variety. Otherwise, we may end up with generic crap, not there has ever been a shortage of that coming out of Beaujolais.

Dinner without Julien Barrot of Domaine de Barroche

A classic bait and switch was in the works. I was stuck in traffic, late to meet up with inveterate Rhone whore Brad Coelho and his pimp Posner. The lights were messed up on Fifth Avenue causing untoward traffic and sending my schemes aglay. Brad called to confirm my attendance and seek my opinion of a 2005 Peter Michael Belle Côte that he was considering, as I quietly cursed my decision to forego the subway. Traffic let up in the 40s as an unbroken string of green lights hastened my trip to MetroCafe. It was a beautiful night for November and I arrived with only a cable-knit sweater over a white shirt and jeans. I thought this outfit to be quite country French and I felt remiss for not picking up a pack of Gauloises on my way. I was only trying to strike the proper mood for dinner with Julien Barrot, one of the brightest young winemakers in the Chateauneuf du Pape.

When I arrived, I found a strikingly good looking crowd. They were most likely there pre-partying because it was pretty early, as Thursday is the new Saturday or so I am told. At the corner of the bar was Posner and Coelho. Posner was wearing a dark suit, which he said was on account of attending a funeral earlier in the day. I thought he might be joking, but he wasn't laughing and I figured it best not to press the matter. Dan is a rather imposing guy and can be irasible if poked with a sharp stick. Brad was dressed in full-on Halloween orange sweater and I was a little surprised he could pull that off. They had ordered the Belle Cote and the barman came over and poured me a glass. "It's next Thursday," Brad says. "Julien's coming next Thursday." Somewhere between Julien's broken English and Brad's broken English, they had miscommunicated (note "jeudi prochain" means next Thursday). We still had reservations and the affable Jim Gallagher was to stand in for Barrot and we had the lovely 2005 Belle Côte before us, so things were still promising. As with many young Peter Michaels it showed a decent amount of oak, although nothing that it wouldn't shed with some bottle age. The fruit was a little plump, but quite pure, and it was scaled appropriately and well-proportioned. A very nice wine.

After draining the Belle Côte and chewing the sediment, we hopped a cab to Tribeca Grill where our reservation awaited. We got in one of those new SUV yellow cabs and Posner imprisoned himself in a front seat that almost accomodated his frame. As we got out on Greenwich St., sarcastically Posner thanked the driver for a comfortable ride. I had brought a 2004 Big Basin Rattlesnake Syrah at Brad's request and we had it tossed into a decanter for future consumption. After much haggling, we decided to start with a 2006 Peay Chardonnay, which we had been discussing earlier in the evening. Vanessa Wong is doing some great things way up in the northern reaches of the Sonoma Coast, harnessing the cool climate fruit in an understated way. This wine showed its youth much differently from the Belle Cote. The nose was delicate and precise with hints of citrus. In the mouth it was somewhat reticent on the fruit side, but the acidity and the minerality on the back end really made for some promise. As it opened up, those elements came together better and made for a pretty complete wine. Although I don't buy them, I can't recommend these wines enough.

Now, Tribeca Grill has an amazing and amazingly priced wine list. We were also in the capable hands of Ryan Mills-Knapp, a wonderful sommelier and a very nice guy. The wine list, poured over by Coelho and Posner, becomes a perfect instrument for their passion for Chateauneuf du Pape. It also becomes the subject of much debate, as wines are suggested and rejected. My suggestion of the 1995 Janasse VV elicited an incredulous look from Brad and a chiding for suggesting that vintage of Janasse, which was junk apparently. Janasse seemed to have struck a chord though and we went ahead and ordered the 2000 Janasse Vieille Vignes. We hit this wine at a very good time and it was in a very good place. It had a classic Chateauneuf profile of dark fruit, garrigue and a hint of pepper. In the mouth it was lovely with great texture and weight, the fruit nicely layered and showing raspberry and fruitcake. As beautifully as it is drinking now it has an atypical amount of acidity for a CdP and ample tannin that suggest better things as this wine unpacks a little more. A real stunner that should be sought out.

We moved next to the 2004 Big Basin Rattlesnake, which was a real disappointment. I had been reluctant to open it given that it was built to age, but could not refuse Brad, who had looked forward to it after all the buzz from California Syrah afficianados. Not a bad wine, it just is not cohesive at this point. The past subtle floral notes had been replaced by ripe and jammy fruit. The former supple palate was just plain muddled. There was nothing Northern Rhonish about this wine at all and it came across as anonymous California wine, as opposed to a child of the promising Santa Cruz Mtns. I still think that this wine will come together and there was nothing absurd or offensive about it. We just caught it in an awkward time.

Our next wine was blind at the behest of Posner. It was not good. The first thing I do when tasting blind is to try to isolate the varietal and the region. I was, frankly, at a loss. I settled on Rhone, but why would Posner be blinding us on a cheap Vacqueyras or an entry level CdP. There had to be a catch, but I wasn't getting it. It was an OK wine. It had a pretty floral side to it, although the fruit didn't really hold my interest. It was medium bodied and well-made, although it lacked any density and struggled to impress me. The wine was revealed to be a 2004 Espectacle del Montsant, which I had never heard of before. I have no idea what would have made Posner pay $180 (his treat) off the list for this uninteresting wine, especially with all the beauties there, except to prove Dr. Jay Miller a charlatan. To paraphrase Brad, we bought it to see what a 99 point Spanish wine tastes like and found it tastes like an 86 point Vacqueyras.

We finished with a couple of wines shared by Ryan, including a 2002 Kunin that had not aged well and some Medeira that probably will. We left and went over to the Brandy Library where I exacted my revenge on those guys by agonizing over my Scotch selection. Cigars were had and the evening advanced on semi-serious conversation. A good night, even without Julien Barrot.

I'm getting notes of manganese...

Wine lovers often find notes of iron or gunmetal in certain types of wines, such as cool-climate Syrah or Bordeaux blends. I doubt any of those flavors are linked to this report in Scientific American on potentially hazardous levels of heavy metals in various wines tested. In the true tradition of Halloween reporting, the article is more alarming than useful as the authors don't name any wines; they only note that the problem exists in over 100 types of wines from a dozen countries. From a personal and more jingoistic point of view, the US wasn't mentioned, so I can rest easily given that my cellar is overwhelmingly populated with the wines of California and I have nary a bottle of wine from the Czech Republic, Greece, Hungary, Jordan, Macedonia, Portugal, Serbia or Slovakia (the wines of Austria, France, Germany and Spain present more of a problem). So, the next time you think that those slow and clumsy movements are the result of too much alcohol intake, be heartened that you may be sober and suffering from manganism.

The California Pinot Blues

Those who know me know that I drink a lot of domestic Pinot and some don't even hold it against me. Like everyone else, my tastes have evolved and, while most of my fairly extensive California PN collection is wine made in a more refined style (such as Littorai or Williams-Selyem), I still have some pre-Enlightenment bottles laying around. I would never serve these to my friends (at least not the ones I like) and thus they become unholy experiments on me (and sometimes my wife if I've feeling in a particularly malevolent mood). A solitary Dr. Jeckyll alone in his laboratory if you will. So, it was with great trepidation that I opened a 2003 ROAR Garys' Vineyard that somehow remained in my collection. I'm not sure when or why I bought this, but apparently I drank through a couple of bottles a few years ago. Out of a sense of optimism or horror I had left one bottle until now.

Whatever charm it may have had has been lost on this train wreck of a wine. The fruit has settled somewhat from its youth only proving that it once masked the prominent alcohol that it now sweats like a hobo at the bus station. If you told me that this "Pinot Noir" was fortified, I would have only asked how much. On the bright side, the fruit is muddled and there isn't a hint of acidity or, if there is any acidity, it is crushed under the unrelenting heal of the fruit and alcohol. The finish was shrill and charmless. Other than that, it wasn't that bad. I saved some for the next day, which was a useless experiment and goes to prove the old saying that when you find yourself in a hole stop digging. So, down the drain it went.

Wine Violence-A Poem by Ben Sherwin

Should a wine jump from the glass
as I've seen in people's notes?
Should it punch you in the nose
or grab you by the throat?

Is it safe to drink a wine
that makes you shake and stammer?
Will it leap out from your Riedel
and hit you like a hammer?

Don't get me wrong dear reader,
I don't want a wine that's silent.
I just wonder why so many notes
are so unbelievably violent!

Truth in Labeling

In one of the most bizarre wine-related publicity stunts I have seen, the BBC reported that winemakers of the Languedoc have called their wine Vin de Merde (loosely translated, crap wine). Remarkably, whereas most wines from that region languish on shelves, apparently, VdM has sold out its initial run. One further irony is that a French magazine once had to defend itself from a libel suit for calling Beaujolais vin de merde.

The Languedoc itself is an interesting region. Created in 1985, one would think that it could have created its own image of itself rather than be forced into the tiered systems of other regions. The niche they seemed to carve out though was largely for crap wines. The quality has increased with some small serious producers, but the region goes underappreciated because of the difficulty of sorting the wheat from the chaff. Further, the best producers don't represent much in the way of value vis-a-vis other up-and-coming regions, such as the Loire. As concisely put by Jamie Goode, "The Languedoc seems to have come of age. No longer is it a sea of cheap wine with just a handful of quality producers. It’s now a slightly smaller sea of cheap wine but with dozens of serious, ambitious producers." Not bad wines, just not that compelling. Anything I'm missing?

First Customer at UWS Shake Shack? Me!

I was dropping my girls off for a playdate at their friends' house, when I noticed an unusual amount of activity at the new Shake Shack on W77th St. It wasn't supposed to open until tomorrow, but I figured I'd check the door. A tall, young man in a black Shake Shack T-shirt and a green apron came to the door and told me they would, in fact, be opening today at 11:00. I checked my watch. I had 15 minutes to drop the kids off and get back to be the first on line. "Let's pick it up, girls!" I said, hustling them across the street against the light. Multi-tasking, I left a message at home for my wife to meet me at the corner of 77th and Columbus. After ditching the kids, I sped back to the shop, hoping that no one had taken my place at the head of the line. I turned the corner with some trepidation and was relieved to find a door without customers in front of it. I was to be the first. For those of you not from NY or following the NY food scene, the opening of Danny Meyer's new burger joint on the Upper West Side was as greatly anticipated as anything I've seen in my dozen or so years living up here. There are few things for which New Yorkers will wait on line. We NYers are always looking for efficiency, shaving valuable seconds off what could be sucks on our time in a finite life. If you want to see frustration to the point of murderous rage, drop a New Yorker in the Heartland and put him behind an old lady writing a check at the local grocery. So, when you see a hundred yard line of people snaking around Gramercy Park, you know it must be somewhere special.

The burger and fries were perfect. The shake was thick and sweet. Here was comfort food at its finest. David Swinghamer, the President of Danny Meyer's Union Sq. Hospitality Group, which included some of our favorite restaurants, came over and congratulated me as I savored a double cheeseburger. I gave him my chit, the first of its kind at the restaurant. I hope that it is one of many. As we left, I wished them luck. The Upper West Side, for so long a foodie pariah, is getting into the game.

A High Tide Raises All Boats

So, we were having roast chicken for dinner. I was crossing West St., cell phone pressed to my ear, and got the news. That sounded fine, but I didn't feel like opening anything too good with it. Fortunately, Chambers St. Wines is on my way to the subway and I ducked in for something new. I asked for something new (as aforementioned) and was walked to the back of the reopened store and presented with a Bourgogne rouge. I don't typically buy plain old Bourgogne, given the amount of good Premier Cru (and even Village) wines readily available. I figured though that 2005 Burgundy was deep enough to support the entry level, so, on recommendation, I grabbed a 2005 Prudhon Les Charmeaux. It was good, pretty simple really, but the fruit was nice and pure with an interesting fennel component. A touch stemmy, but ripe stems, with no astringency or green elements, and the food-craving, juicy acidity finished it off well. Still, I was a little put out that this wine was $19. A wine like this shouldn't be that expensive, but then I tried to think of a better bottle of Pinot Noir for under $20 and was fairly stumped. I guess this is what it costs nowadays and, it being an honest wine, I can't really complain...oh, and it went beautifully with the roast chicken.

Angry Cabbies

As I shuffled down the stairs, I could hear the train pulling away. I rounded the corner and could see through the bars the W train pulling away. Great, I thought, pacing in the heat of the underground. It had poured earlier in the day, so you would have thought the humidity would be out of the air, but not down there. With my iPod out of juice, there was nothing to do but people watch the old fashion way. Other than a man who appeared to be wearing capris pants and an obese gentleman whose belt was pulled up on his belly with only a tenuous connection to his pants, these people seemed pretty run of the mill. An announcement came from the ubiquitous subway voice that an uptown train was two stations away at Rector Street. Five minutes later, an R trained bent around the curved track at the City Hall station. The air conditioning was a welcome respite and I wondered how people survived less than a generation ago without working temperature control in the subway. I got off at Prince and hustled up the stairs. Even with the delay, I wasn't too late and, for the early hour of the dinner, felt that I was close enough time-wise.

Walking into Zoe, I notice to my right a table covered in Bordeaux stems, a harbinger of good things. I met Mike, Steve and Kevin at the bar and was introduced to Sherri as well. At the corner of the bar, there was an older couple who seemed bemused by our impending festivities. A number of bottles were already lined up on the bar and I added my '04 Schrader RBS to the litany. We decided to sit down and, as we did, Sherri's husband David showed up. So, we were all assembled. The group was supposed to be larger, but last minute cancellations had us at 6, which was fine by me. Mike had organized this tasting group regularly for about 2 1/2 years, but signs of strain had begun to show. People's tastes had diverged, as had their expectations. I got the sense that this might be it and that that would be OK. We were going out with a bang with the wines of one of our favorite winemakers, Thomas Brown.

The first wine of the night was a 2007 barrel sample of Steve's nascent project, tentatively called Congruence. He was toying with the idea of using his name instead. "You're going to call your wine Steve?" I asked trying to push his buttons. "That's a cool name for a wine. Give me some Steve." He was slightly amused. Kevin more so. The wine itself was excellent. I was somewhat relieved as I like Steve, but would have been brutal if called upon to be. The thing that struck me most initially was the absence of obtrusive oak. The nose was pretty and floral and really needed coaxing. Mike insisted there must be some Petit Verdot in there and I agreed given the elevated aromatics, but Steve assured us it was all Cabernet, primarily from Coombsville fruit. The wine was elegantly styled with sweet fruit and a hint of herbs. Structurally, it was sound with great acidity, although I would have preferred a little more tannic backbone to it. Clearly, Steve has fashioned a wine that reflects his palate and his passion for Cabernet. I've always been reluctant to turn a hobby into a profession, as it leaves you without leisure, but I hope he succeeds. He is certainly off to a great start.

The next bottle was wrapped in aluminum foil. A wine served blind with the only the caveat that it was made by Thomas. I turned to Kevin, who brought the wine, and said, "Is this a trick because Thomas didn't make the Double Diamond." He was mum and I was confused. It was expressive on the nose with a dusty cassis that should have led me to Sonoma, but it didn't. Clearly, Cabernet from the notes of cassis and the hint of eucalyptus, it had some good fruit but was hopelessly muddled in the middle. Plenty of tannin, but they don't seem to be framing the fruit and gave the finish a bit of astringency. It was an OK wine, but at $50 a pop I wouldn't be recommending the 2004 Double Diamond Mayacamas Range.

Having gone through the preliminaries, we moved on to the first two vintages of Maybach. I have had the 2004 Maybach several times, from barrel to bottle. In the past, it has shown a lot of promise, but has been marred by some obvious oak that obscures the fruit. I am happy to report that the oak has receded to the background (although not completely), leaving the sweet black cherry fruit to speak for itself. While it was showing better than it ever has, it still is remarkably young and remains a bit obvious lacking a bit of breadth. Much more concentrated with additional depth was the 2005 Maybach. It shared the black cherry profile, but added some licorice and tended more to the blacker side of the spectrum. It was creamier in the mouth and, like its older brother at this stage, wore its oak on its sleeve. I think I was alone thinking that this would be the better wine, although I admit the 2004 was the better wine today. Others at the table liked these better than I did and they were certainly well-made and flashed some serious muscle. I'm glad to own these, but I was a little surprised that everyone was so gaga over them.

On the other hand, I have no trouble building up enthusiasm for Schrader. We were fortunate to be doing a fairly complete horizontal of the 2004 vintage (all but the mag). All of the Schraders are made from To Kalon fruit and, although I've had each of these wines, I was anxious to seem them side-by-side to see the distinctions. The 2004 Schrader Beckstoffer To Kalon was the tightest of the three, as it had seen the least time in the decanter. It showed deep and dark cassis with smoke and cedar on the nose. It had great density and substance in the mouth, but showed a slight sharpness on the finish. I didn't notice this last point at first. The 2004 Schrader CCS initially seemed to be the same wine as the regular BTK, so I had one of my tablemates take them and give them back to me blind. There was striking similarity on the nose, but I felt that the CCS (once revealed) seemed creamier on the palate and showed its alcohol a little more. The 2004 Schrader RBS was wholly different. The other two were great Cabs, they really were, but they were intellectual in their presentation and, therefore, opened themselves to the academic dissection I engaged in above. The RBS had the wow factor that elicited a more emotional reaction and so insulated itself from such small bore analysis. The fruit smelled of raspberry coulis with an interesting herbal component. It was full in the mouth and long on the finish, blah, blah, blah. What it did though, on the nose and on the palate, was pop. The flavors were broad and vivid.

On the other hand, I question why there needed to be three different bottlings of these wines. All were excellent and in the top flight of California Cabernet, generally and for the 2004 vintage. At the same time, they were more a variation on a theme and I wonder if there are reasons, other than marketing, as to why there is intended to be a distinction, especially with respect to the CCS and the regular BTK. That said, I think these wines were underrated by the table, especially as compared to the Maybachs.

We finished with two wines that are of lesser quality. The 2005 Outpost True is a very nice wine. It has brambly black fruit speaking to its Howell Mountain roots. While its no Dunn, it expresses the expected tannic bite of the site. This wine is still pretty young and there is no shortage of vanilla charged oak. I liked the 2003 Rivers-Marie Cabernet better. Not a great wine, but an excellent expression of California Cabernet at the price point. It showed dark back fruit, sweet tannin and more than enough vanillin.

We stumbled out into the Soho night. I love New York after the rain. The City shimmers with light and feels swept clean and full of opportunity. I hailed one last cab and headed home.

Lipstick on a Pig

Chateau Greysac is not a good wine. At its best, its a mediocre early drinker that doesn't live up to the "superior" quality implied by the Cru Bourgeois Supérieur classification of its label. Greysac is both ubiquitous in US market and cheap and, therefore, leads generations of young wine drinkers to think of Bordeaux as lean, fruitless and without charm. What if, however, you let this sad excuse for a wine alone for 25 years? Would it get better? Is age a palliative for an insipid wine?

It is with those thoughts in mind that I approached a 1983 Greysac. How does one end up with a 1983 Greysac? Aren't they supposed to have been imbibed within 5 years? I'm glad I asked these rhetorical questions. I picked up this bottle incidentally as a paired ugly stepsister to the wine I really sought at auction, an '81 Haut-Bailly. The 2 bottle lot being less than what I would have paid for the Haut-Bailly itself (Véronique Sanders, the lovely general manager of H-B, had wistfully remarked to me that the '81 was not the type of wine that would be made today), so I thought of the Greysac as a free bottle of wine.

I knew I had to open this bottle, this succubus, eventually and, rather than inflict it on my friends, I decided to try it at home. Alissa had suggested we make lamb and I love Bordeaux with lamb. It seemed as good a time as any. With great trepidation, I removed the foil. Under the capsule, the cork had a think layer of muck on top. I'd opened enough beautiful bottles with worse and the cork came out very well, albeit completely soaked through, so I still held out hope. I poured two glasses and the color was disappointingly light, not a good sign. I tasted a sip and looked left and looked right. I put down my glass and walked away. Many wines need air to right themselves. I went back to it after a little while and the color had darkened. The nose had picked up some mushroom and some licorice, nice additions. It was still lean and charmless in the mouth though. I needed a second opinion. Alissa took a sip, paused, paused, and then scrunched up her nose, rendering an opinion. "I know, I know," I said and went to the cellar to pull out a 2004 Rivers-Marie Cabernet Sauvignon. As we ate our lamb, I looked over at Alissa and asked, "Better?" She nodded with a smile.

NYers Drink Xpensive Wines

This night had a good feel to it from the start. Work was no impediment to timing, I caught the subway quickly and I was walking across Madison Park on a beautiful night. The Summer has gotten later and later in New York City, sometimes carrying with it the humidity of August. Not this night. The air was crisp and clean and I was heading to a restaurant on top of its game to drink some of the finest wines that Bordeaux has to offer. Eleven Madison Park is tucked into the corner of a beautiful art deco building just off the park. A heavy revolving door gives way to impressively high ceilings that give a sense of openness that is harbinger of the friendly service. The clean lines of the décor were to match the modernity and purity of the food to which we then looked forward. We arrived in waves and the credenza behind our central table started filling up with wonderful bottles of wine. The last to arrive was Steve Elzer, a real life Xpensive Wino and our guest of honor.


We settled in with an aperitif from Mâconnais, the soft underbelly of Burgundy, a 2003 Guffens-Heynen Mâcon-Pierreclos. It was a pleasant enough wine with a generous nose of white peach, popcorn, a touch of lemon and a bunch of smoky oak. It was soft and a bit unfocused in the mouth with lots of fruit on some decent lemony acidity. The vintage showed in that it had more body than a typical Mâconnais and I couldn't decide whether I liked that aspect or not. Certainly an attractive wine for the price, but nothing to get too excited about. The 2000 Raveneau Butteaux, on the other hand, was a wine to get excited about and we moved onto that after giving up on a tragically corked 1993 Tattinger CdC Rose. The Raveneau was all white flowers; the floral aromatics were so relaxed and relaxing. There was also some lemon and Leo, with his sommelier's nose, picked up some Chamomile tea as it expanded. It was surprisingly subdued on the palate and seemed very tightly wound around itself. I had a hard time getting a sense of the fruit. Nonetheless, it had clean lines from a defining acidity and an appealing minerality. We debated a bit where this one was going to go in the future and I'm erring on the side of age. In stark contrast was the effusive and friendly 2003 Jadot Charlemagne (not Corton). Frokic and Jadot have become synonymous in my mind and Leo delivered again with an excellent wine. While the Raveneau drew you in, this wine came out to meet you with ripe apples and a rack of spice, primarily cinnamon, but let's not debate spices amongst friends. In the mouth, it was a real feat of engineering. The acidity couldn't hold the ripeness of the fruit and, instead, the focus is created by lack of malo, which provides a natural boundary for the wine. Not that it lack acidity, it doesn't, but the malo helps keep the focus and tension of the wine. A heavy maceration creates great weight in the mouth to finish the structural integrity. Add in the gravelly minerality and this wine adds up to a winner.

With the preliminaries out of the way, we moved West and a touch South to the main attraction, Bordeaux. We began with a trio of Ducru-Beaucaillou. The reputation of Ducru has gone up and down partially because of serious taint problems in their older wines and partially because the wines are so ungenerous in their youth that critics may mark them down for their rank austerity. That makes for some wonderful bargains for backfilling older vintages as the wines come out of their tannic shell and show a generosity of spirit that the younger wines lack. Their reputation seems properly restored, but values abound for this classy Second. As for the wines, Gary began hedging the performance of the 1966 early on, correctly noting that it can be a crap shoot with older bottles. He needn't have bothered. The 1966 Ducru was a magnificent wine. Poor Neal Martin, he would have enjoyed this immensely. I am younger than this wine, yet I could not match its vigor. I can match its charm, but I am in fact very charming. The aromas were textbook St.-Julien with smoky cassis, wet earth and spice expanding to reveal leather, cigar box, graphite and a hint of mushroom. I know there are those that decry "I spy" descriptors, but this a wine that wants its story told. The tannins were resolved, but there was still enough extract to lend some heft to the mouthfeel. The finish was long and lingering as it drifted on some welcome acidity. A surprise and a great experience. In contrast, the 1983 Ducru was a mess from the start. This wine was not supposed to taste this way and the volatile nature of it really destroyed all of the charm and most of the Ducru character. Tinny tomato eventually gave way to some smoky cassis and licorice, but by that point who cared. The finish was like Hobbes' life of man in the state of nature, nasty, brutish and short. I initially thought the 1996 Ducru was flawed as well, but notes of creamed corn quickly blew off and revealed layers of black currant, smoke and spice. The wine had similar damp earth characteristics to the 1966, although it lacked much of the nuance. It is not hard to imagine, however, this wine evolving into a wine much like it's older relative; there is clearly a family resemblance. While an admirable wine, I would say the elements of the wine still outweigh the sum. It started a bit angular and coltish at first, but righted itself admirably, smoothing out considerable with air. I would sit on these for a good 10 years as the fruit and structure can support it and time will ameliorate any disharmony that can be found in this youthful state.

We interrupt this Bordeaux tasting for a bottle of 1996 Harlan Estate. We will return to your regularly scheduled Bordeaux tasting shortly. I expected the best California Cabernet I had ever had and, while I'm not sure it passed that low bar, it was a truly profound and compelling wine. I always rail against the comparison of Napa to Bordeaux and the description of something in California as a First Growth, but I get it here. A wine of incredible concentration and precision, this wine is only beginning to unpack. The nose is a touch primary with onrushing sweet black fruit, vanillin and spice later sharing space with some tobacco, cedar and herbs. It enters the mouth seamlessly and the flavors intensify. This wine possesses great tannic structure to balance the great mass of sweet fruit and a wonderful acidity that drives the length of this wine. That always gets me, when the finish of a wine is not purely fruit driven, but ushered by acidity. It needs time, but ultimately may prove to be perfect. Now back to your regularly scheduled Bordeaux tasting.

Onward and back in time to 1982 and 1990. Those two vintages have produced some of the finest and most complete wines that I have ever tasted and drive my love of Bordeaux. Our first foray was with the 1982 Léoville Barton, a powerful, manly wine. This wine is such the personification of Claret, you can almost smell the tweed suit. I love these old school Clarets and this one had all the hallmarks with the reserved, but attractive, fruit standing aside for mature nuance of gun metal, bloody game, cedar and licorice. It is burly in the mouth with great weight and grip and the fruit fleshes out a bit, showing sweeter and more concentrated. The finish is sneaky long and runs along like the hum of a machine. We married this wine with its opposite, the gorgeous, sexy 1982 L'Evangile. The nose is generous with seductive black fruit sharing the stage with exotic spice, cedar and licorice. Silky, silky, silky with amazing concentration, this wine could be in the dictionary picture for Pomerol. On an evening of phenomenal wines, this stood out as a star and was my wine of the night. Next, we moved to the 1990 Cos d'Estournel, which was excellent, but suffered for its flight. Where as the 1982 Léoville Barton was a staid and stately wine, I found the Cos to be a bit standoffish and aloof. The black fruit was a touch of sweaty in an interesting Merlot sort of way and the nose had some really nice mature elements of wet earth, leather and tea. The wine is absolutely massive in the mouth with lots of fruit and tannin. My reaction to this wine is somewhat similar to the 1990 Léoville Barton, which is showing as a massive wall of wine right now, but should become a beautiful Claret in the style of the nicely realized 1982. I feel like I'm picking faults with this excellent wine simply because it wasn't as generous as the others, but do not forget the word excellent nor the word patience. In the other corner, a wine that requires no patience is the 1990 Lynch Bages, a bottle that fights well above its Fifth Growth weight class. I long ago fell in love with this wine and it turned out to be a first love for Ben Goldberg and Steve as well. It is one of the friendliest wines I've ever met. It is the Labrador retriever, it is the friend that lets you crash at his place, it is the girlfriend that tells you to go to Vegas with your buddies and means it. From a wine perspective, the thing I love about it is how it pops. I could go through the deep cassis, the dollop of vanilla, the extravagant weight in the mouth, the lush rich waves of dark fruit mingling with tobacco, earth and spice, if you'd like. Instead, I say enjoy. This wine wasn't the most profound wine of the night, but its impossible not to be seduced. Clearly, Brad fell in love as this was his wine of the night.

While we pondered this last wonderful flight, our glasses were pushed deeper to the middle of the table and three more were placed in front of us for some wines of lesser maturity if equal pedigree. What would an evening of Bordeaux be without a little infanticide? For example, I've already drunk through my stash of 1998 La Mission Haut-Brion, so I was glad that the other Ben brought one around. Massive, primary and a touch linear at this stage, it has a ton of personality and personality goes a long way. A modern and lush LMHB, it still retains classic Graves elements of charred wood and tar. It has amazing heft without any flabbiness. Lots of structure for sure, but this wine is about opulent fruit today and greatness tomorrow. I've had this wine several times and it has been a consistent performer. It was less sexy though than the 1999 Palmer. I'm really coming around on Palmer, a wine that I had written off as not to my taste. The last several Palmers I've had have been excellent and this was no exception. The nose was a heady blend of kirsch and chocolate with notes of licorice and herbs. It was very soft and surprisingly showy on the palate with opulent dark fruit. The second half of this wine was pretty fruit driven and I was a little surprised that there wasn't more tannin to frame the fruit. It wasn't flabby by any means, but I wonder where its going to go. I like it where it is though. I like as well the extremely youthful 2000 La Conseillante, the drinking of which was like interviewing a college kid for an intern job and trying to figure out whether they'd be an asset a few years from now. It was true Pomerol and very La Conseillante with pure dark raspberries, cocoa, licorice and spice. It had an appealing gentleness to it given its youth and prodigious structure. I thought I owned this wine and was very disappointed to find that I don't. This will be a star.

We finished the evening with a 1999 Rieussec. It has an appealing character of poached apples and spice, yet lacks the acidity to pull off its size. It starts wonderfully, but turns ponderous as there is no acid to cleanse the slate. Not a bad wine with some sharp cheese. I'd stay away from anything sweet though.

Anniversary Dinner

The Upper West Side of Manhattan was once a fine food wasteland (TS Eliot would probably call it Unreal City). The tide has turned in recent years, with new destination restaurants such as Bar Boulud and Telepan, much to my gustatory relief. I was further buoyed by Frank Bruni's review of Dovetail, the new UWS restaurant from chef John Fraser (last seen going through the revolving door that is Compass). Not that I really needed an excuse to try it, but I figured that it would be a nice place for my wife and I to celebrate our anniversary. We were not disappointed. I'm happy to report that the food was uniformily excellent with flavors that really popped. They even threw in an extra sweetbreads when I couldn't decide between that and the tuna tartare. More importantly for wine lovers, corkage is only $20 (2 bottles max) and the list is very well balanced and fairly priced. I talked a little with the somm/wine director and she indicated her dedication to lesser known wines (she hopes to boost her Loire selection soon), as well as well known staples.

I decided to lug along a bottle of Selosse Brut Initiale to the restaurant, as I had just acquired some and was anxious to taste it. My only previous Selosse was the Rosé, a wine that made Michel swoon. Upon the advice of several Board members, I chose not to decant it (as was suggested on the label-in French by the way) and then got cold feet and had them decant it at the table. What a wonderful wine. It had such remarkably clean lines; I kept waiting for some sharp edge of something (sweetness, astringency), but nothing was out of place. Still pretty young, it nevertheless showed great balance and had a nice cut to it. The fruit was quite pure and the flavors nicely delineated with a touch of yeastiness on the nose that I enjoyed. It lacked some of the nuanced breadth of vintage Champagne, but this was certainly one of the best NV's that I've tried.

The wine list was excellent with some real gems, so I decided to go a bit upscale with a 2004 Phelps Insignia. I really like Insignia and loved it when it was below $100. From the first whiff, it showed a clear Insignia profile with densely packed dark fruit, smoke and baking spice. The oak is a little overwhelming at this point (with my wife asking whether she tasted butter), but it became less prevalent with air and I suspect that it will integrate with time, as it has with other vintages. It showed lush and soft in the mouth with lots of silky tannins and good acidity keeping a rein on the ample fruit. The fruit comes across as a touch monolithic, although I suspect it will unspool nicely with some age. The finish is clean, long and mostly fruit driven. The 2004 isn't a blockbuster like the '97 and '02 or a structural marvel like the '95 and '01, but it probably sneaks in just behind those, ahead of the likes of the '96 and the '94. Cellar for future enjoyment once it calms down.

Ssam I Am-A poem (with a nod to Theodor Geisel)

Bo Ssam
Ssam I Am.

That big Bo Ssam,
that big Bo Ssam.
Who doesn't like roasted pork (or ham)?


I do not like that big Bo Ssam.
I would rather eat a tin of Spam.
Would you like it with Sine Qua Non?
No, I do not drink that stuff, mon.
Wait I didn't know you were Jamaican.
No, I'm not. I was only faking.

Would you eat it with A. de Mello?
He's brought SQN, what a nice fellow.
Would you eat it with Michel A b o o d?
He's brought a yummy Moutard, dude.
Would you eat with Jorge Henriquez?
He's bringing old Riesling (or so he says).
Would you eat it with our friend Izzy?
His '85 Charlie has us in a tizzy.

I will not eat your big Bo Ssam.
I will not eat one little gram.

Try this '00 A Cappella, it is surely good
and it even goes real well with this food.
It's concentrated and extracted for sure, yes,
but this wine is certainly no alcoholic mess.
It shows the pretty Shea fruit quite well
which you can see from the first smell.
It has no lack of acidic nerve
and the fruit is bright with lots of verve.
It opened up to show some nice depth to it.
(A wine that Levenberg might not even spit.)

I will not eat your big Bo Ssam.
Frankly, I don't give a damn.

What about the Heidsieck Charlie '85?
It's vaguely mature and really alive.
You would like the green apples and yeast
and the appealing nuttiness last but not least.
The middle I must admit was a little fat,
but I would not not drink it for that!
It's holding up well by any measure
and should give you years of drinking pleasure.
It was really refreshing should you have a dram
with your heaping big plate of delicious Bo Ssam.

I will not eat your big Bo Ssam.
Of that quite certain I am.

Here is a wine I should have offered first!
Here is a Williams-Selyem from the vineyard of Hirsch!
The vintage is nineteen hundred ninety and nine
and that silky Pinot Noir sure tastes fine.
Great structure and sappiness that I must ask you
is not Hirsch Vineyard comparable to Grand Cru?
Supple black cherry fruit and a hint of spice
and a line of acidity carries the fruit nice.
It would go well with duck or lamb
or with a big heaping plate of delicious Bo Ssam.

I will not eat your big Bo Ssam.
Now I ask you politely to scram!

You don't want these? Well, I have a fix.
How about a Riesling from 1976?
The Dr. Bürklin-Wolf Wachenheimer Gerümpel Riesling Auslese
Is easier to drink than it is to say, sir.
With petrol on the nose and juicy fruit
it showed a great minerality to boot.
It was relaxed and mature, no danger of morbidity,
although it lacked some cutting acidity.
It would be good for any guy or ma'am
to drink this with their delicious Bo Ssam.

I will not eat your big Bo Ssam.
I have a feeling this is some kind of scam.

If you don't like those, this would be swell,
a 1990 Savennieres from Domaine du Closel.
I admit there was a little oxidation on the nose
although I would happily drink much more of those.
The 2006 Naucratis from Scholium was also a trip.
I guessed Sauv Blanc from the very first sip.
There may have been some Roussanne in there too,
but Abe won't say and I won't ask-would you?
The Moutard Grand Cuvee was appealing to me
and it was quite complex for the simple NV.
Any of these would work in a jam
when deciding what to eat with delicious Bo Ssam.

Fine, you win, although it may be a scam,
I will try some of your plate of Bo Ssam.
Say, this is amazing stuff!
Of it I simply can't eat enough.
So I will eat it with deMello and Abood
and to not include Izzy would surely be rude
and I will eat it with Jorge and Patty
and the other two women whose names now escape me
I DO SO LIKE DELICIOUS BO SSAM
Thank you, thank you, Ssam I Am.

Recommended: 2005 Château de Gaudou Cahors Cuvée Tradition

I'd like to recommend a wine that is imported by a friend of mine, the 2005 Château de Gaudou Cahors Cuvée Tradition. Cahors is an AOC in the South West of France and it is fairly unique in that it relies primarily on the Malbec grape, which tends to be a blending grape elsewhere. The Gaudou is 80% Malbec, 15% Merlot (used to soften the harder, more tannic Malbec), 5% Tannat (which provides some additional structure). Malbec also goes by the names Auxerrois or Côt in France and loyal readers will remember I've previously recommended a Côt from the Loire. The bottle was a gift of Zach Ross and, for his generosity, I am grateful.

I enjoyed this wine quite a bit. It is firmly rooted in the earth. The fruit is as black as the color of the wine with an appealing spiciness, along with wet earth and a slight steeliness. The tannins are ample and drying, although it smoothed out considerably after sitting in the fridge for a couple of days. It is an honest, fairly straight forward wine that begs for food and should be consumed as an every day drinker. It brings me back to the heady times of dining outdoors on simple fair with local wines in the South of France. A welcome antidote to amped up Argentine Malbecs.

Trevor in Paris-An imagined evening with real tasting notes

So, I was having a rough morning. As I opened my eyes, I noticed the unexpected sight of a small bird on a tree branch above my head and it took me a second to orient myself. "I'm in the park near the Louvre," I reminded myself after that moment of confusion. Still laying back, I felt the slats of the bench against my back and admired the deep blue of the morning sky over the Jardin des Tuileries. My joints were achy and stiff in the way they do whenever you sleep outside. On the other hand, my head felt clear and that was a situation I needed to remedy.

I grabbed a hot dog from a local vendor and sat by the duck pond waiting for Sam and Frank to find me. In the days before cell phones, people just found each other. They'd find me or at least Frank would. Good old Frank. Either way, I wasn't going back to the hotel until Sam calmed down and there was no telling when that would be. Fights between brothers and sisters are decades in the making and rarely does the actual tinder have anything to do with the conflagration. Such was the case here.

The hot dog was a great call. It tasted terrible, but it went down well and evened out my stomach. My head was still clear though and that was a mistake. The other mistake I made that morning was letting a young Gypsy get within 5 feet of me. He was reasonably well dressed and I didn't sense the scam I was about to have perpetrated on me. As he approached, the back of my neck started tingling as I sensed trouble. This feeling was confirmed when he threw a ring at me, a tactic which I couldn't get a handle on until he was bumping into me to retreive it. He quickly hustled away as I checked for my wallet and passport, both of which were gone. A moment of adrenaline fueled panic abated as I realized that Sam had them both. Suddenly, rage grew in me as I realized Sam did not have my cell phone, which was now no longer in my pocket. I chased the guy down and yelled at him, but I knew it was too late. It was like arguing with the TV after a bad call and I quickly gave up. So, I decided to sit down and wait to be found.

The dawn turned into morning and the tourists, fat Germans and Americans with baseball caps and fannypacks, started to appear along the pond. Some kids with backpacks stopped to talk, but I waived them off, pretending I didn't speak English. The day was about to get better though. Frank and Sam found me and Frank announced he had a free lunch at Taillevent, and by free, Frank meant “I paid for the meal in advance and can’t get the money back.” Since it was free we decided we couldn’t miss.

We trudged along the Jardin des Tuilleries, past the giant mausoleum-like Musée de l’Orangerie, past the Place de la Concorde and down the Champs-Elysées. We lingered along the way, stopping for a coffee and cocktail at a couple of the open air cafes to people watch. These people were so boring and I started to crave some Salon. It was about time to head to our free lunch, our being Sam's and mine, and we swung along Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré window shopping, until we cut through some narrow streets to Taillevent.

We sat down and, since it was free, I order the 1982 Salon. This soft and elegant Champagne showed quite nice and very soft and feminine. The Chardonnay really stood out, which surprised me since I am generally not a fan of Chard-based Champagne. I was starting to feel better with the Salon lightening my head a bit. Since he was buying, we turned the wine list over to Frank. He saw a bottle of 1928 Haut Brion and, since he has had it three times this year and the last Magnum was corked, he wanted to give it anther go since this restaurant had it since release. Sadly, the fill was too low so the sommelier offered us the 1918 at a discount. It started out with very old aromatics, but after about 15 minutes the wine began to take on more feminine characteristics and blossomed with soft elegance. The smoothness of the wine was unreal like nothing I have ever experienced before. After about thirty minutes the wine began to open. For a wine made during the end of WWI, this was amazing. We finished with a 1947 Sauterne about which I have little recollection.

We lingered for a while until it was made clear that we were probably a little loud for the late lunch crowd. We were pleasantly inebriated, but still in need of further cocktails. The lack of further bottles had made my head very clear all of the sudden and some more Champagne was in order. The sommelier suggested a restaurant called La Tour d’Argent. I knew it. Just off Île Saint Louis, it was a bit touristy but had a good wine list. Agreed, we grabbed a cab and started to harangue the driver over his route and eventually ended up at the Quai de la Tournelle a few Euro lighter.

We discovered 1976 Krug while at the bar and attempted to order it. The bartender, a tall, gaunt man with traditional Gallic features and a decided lack of English fluency, impressed dinner upon us. Between our broken French and his three words of English, we decided to take the path of least resistance and order a late lunch cum early dinner. We were lead upstairs with our Krug to a plausible table and Frank commandeered the wine list again. He tried to order the 1945 Romanée-Conti, but was told it was not for sale. Frank was fairly incredulous, which the sommelier took for enthusiasm. Apparently, the somm had drunk a bottle a few years before and said it was “goooood…ehh good, ehh.” I'm still not sure it he was rubbing it in or trying to ingratiate himself to Frank. Either way, we decided to pop a 1978 Vogüé Musigny and 1993 Roumier Armouruses. I was in too good a mood to remember much about these wines other than they were immensely enjoyable.

After dinner, we stumbled out in the cool Paris night, arm in arm in the shadow of the great Notre Dame. The night was still young and adventure lay ahead.

Subjectivity vs. Objectivity in Analyzing Wines-Part II

Loyal readers will know that I've posted in the past on whether one wine can be deemed better than another on an absolute basis. We can certainly disagree with what we like better subjectively, but not to hold that one wine can be "better" than another is ludicrous in my opinion. This notion was put to the test in a thread recently on the eRobertParker bulletin board when someone challenged the collected geeks to defend Lafite against Boone's Farms (see my analysis here).

There are normative criteria by which we judge anything, be it art, wine, literature, etc. Some may weight the factors differently, but the whole exercise of talking about wines assumes some common touch points. If one wine cannot acheive what the other does in terms of those factors on which we judge a wine, then it technically can't be "better." Maybe better for the subjective tastes of the individual drinker, but a not fair summary of the common criteria. Whether one person likes Boone's Farms better doesn't negate either that it is "better" to them or that society as a whole does not regard it as "better." It is not for someone to argue that Lafite is better than Boone's Farm, as anyone remotely knowledgable about wine would concede that it is (even if they don't prefer it). It is for the outlier, the person that thinks the opposite, to challenge the societal norms and explain why they are right. For example, abstract expressionism challenged tradition forms of art. It went from not appreciated by the mainstream to a hierarchy of artists. Those artist join the pantheon of great artists and then it becomes about preference. Nobody, however, can make a viable claim that Red Skelton's clowns compare to Picasso's unless we throw out all normative criteria on which we judge art. Obviously, those most fluent in the accepted criteria can better judge, but they certainly don't have a monopoly on determining "what is art."

What about the fact that different groups may value different criteria differently? If all you prize is beat (or lyrics), then maybe Tupac is better than Mozart (or maybe Bach is better than Mozart). So, what we are discussing here is clearly group dependent. Notwithstanding that, music has other elements that anyone else that studies it with any seriousness considers to be an integral element, even when it is absent. Sometimes the absense of an element emphasizes something intellectual, such as a Phillip Glass work. There is the point though, right? The overlay of the intellectual over the subject taste elevates it. We value in wine not just the physical taste, but the trigger of intellectual cues. Those cues aren't necessary to the enjoyment of a thing, although all of us here regard them as a sine qua non for our personal enjoyment. Why? Because knowledge is power and provides context and links us to a broader wine-loving community. Whatever visceral pleasure I get from wine is enhanced by my knowledge of it. Fights within the knowledgable subgroup as to the subtleties of the normative criteria do not mean they don't exist. In fact, the deviation is small and is preference based, partially as you say, on biology. For example the level of acceptable of sweetness in fruit is a subject of great debate, but it is an exceptionally small part of the overall picture. If we agree on 90% of the factors, does the remaining 10% negate the whole and make everything subjective? The subjective part is small and only within a defined universe for people like us.

Blogging from CA Wine Country

We're just finishing up our long weekend out to Napa/Sonoma. We stayed at the Gaige House, a luxurious boutique hotel nestled off Arnold Drive in Glen Ellen. It was a fantastic time and I look forward to writing up the experiences over the coming days. We have reached the stage where we don't go to wineries any more and really don't have much interest in finding new wines. So, check back often to read of barrel tasting with my boy Juan Mercado in the caves of Chateau Boswell together with Josh Peeples and a bunch of Miami Cubans (the people, not the cigars), shooting pool and watching the Derby over some beers at Ana's, a backyard dinner with the Browns and the Smiths in Calistoga where we do birth year Italian wines (1969), '70 Burgs and a '76 Bosconia, and a crazy dinner at the Bevans (is there any other kind?) where we drink through a mess of wines with the afore-mentioned Miami Cubans (with some cigars this time).

Easy Buy: Clos Roche Blanche

Keeping an open mind is often hard to do for wine lovers. Impressions become hardened, be it those that assume all California wine is over-ripe, oaky monsters or that all red wine from the Loire is insipid. That latter opinion had been mine for a while, but like most uninformed opinions it was based on erroneous assumptions. The fact is that, no matter what region you are talking about, you have to kiss a lot of frogs to find your prince. Well, my prince has come in the form of Clos Roche Blanche. Completely guilt free wines, this producer was making wines organically before it was all the rage to do so and vinification is in a decidedly non-interventionist way. These wines deliver wonderful purity of fruit and food-friendly acidity at affordable prices (all under $20); what's not to like?

• 2005 Cuvée Côt - Great pure, plummy dark fruit excellently framed. Some licorice and white pepper add to the complexity to the nose. Great minerality. Still pretty dusty from the tannin even with a decant, but it showed impeccable balance and control for a wine this inexpensive. This is how Malbec should be done.
  
• 2006 Cuvée Côt - But for the fact that this is not the '05, I would have been pretty excited about this wine.    Very good purity of fruit and some nice complexity, but I found it a bit hard and rustic. It still had the great minerality I've come to find in Clos Roche Blanc and good balance. This may blossom with a little more bottle time. In any event, it certainly makes a nice everyday, food friendly wine.
  
• 2006 Sauvignon No. 2 - A lovely, delicate expression of Sauvignon Blanc with a floral citrusy nose. It has an herbal quality of the Loire, although not the grassiness of Sancerre. With clean lines and great acidity, you forgive the lack of truly interesting fruit. I'd be shocked if this saw anything but stainless steel. A perfect wine to cook with and drink at the same time.
  
• 2006 Sauvignon No. 5 - More interesting aromatically than the No. 2, the No. 5 is not quite as focused and clean cut. That said, I loved the juicy tropical fruit it showed which seemed reminiscent of a good California Sauvignon Blanc, but with more minerality and acidity. Of the two Sauvignons it is the more creamy and full in the mouth leading me to believe this has seen some oak.
  
• 2006 Cabernet - I liked this OK, but it was probably my least favorite of the stable. Primarily Cabernet Franc with some interplanted Cabernet Sauvignon, it is fairly typical Loire. It had nice floral aromatics with a pleasant herbal quality over dark berries and pronounced earth and leather notes. It was much less interesting on the palate with mouth-drying, rustic tannins adding some mouthfeel to an otherwise thin wine. It did show nice minerality and a surprising grapefruit-like acidity. Ultimately though, it lacked the charm of the Côt or the '05 Cabernet.
  

Clos des Papes Vertical - 1969-2005

There is no better way to assess a domaine than to do an extended vertical. I was one of nine hardy souls that gathered at Tribeca Grill (which has an amazing Rhone list) to sample a dozen vintages of Paul Avril's Clos des Papes.  One of the consistent stars of Châteauneuf-du-Pape, the 2005 was memorialized by Wine Spectator as their 2007 Wine of the Year, the wines of Clos des Papes are traditionally Grenache dominated (around 65%, vintage depending) and the character of that variety is evident across vintages. I wouldn't say there is a "house style," but there was an amazing consistancy across vintages that show the quality of the terroir.  The showing reenforced my views of Clos des Papes and proved out my thought that these wines are best left alone for at least 10 years.

We had the best intention of dumping the underperformers, but those were somewhat lacking (which had a somewhat deleterious effect). Most of the bottles were drained to the dregs. I've not listed the 1993 and 1997 which were corked.

• 1998 Clos des Papes Blanc - An interesting wine. The nose was somewhat delicate which belied the fullness it was to show in the mouth. Underlying the ample fruit was a lemony acidity and an impressive minerality that made me think of peach pits. Surprisingly, there was also a popcorn-like note that made me and others think of white Burgundy. Thank goodness this wasn't blind or we'd look pretty foolish.
  
• 1969 Clos des Papes - A stunning wine. The nose was ethereal and full of mature nuance of wild mushrooms, truffles and herbs overlying a bed of raspberries. The palate was exceptionally delicate with earthy wild raspberries framed on the entry and finish by garrigue. The finish also showed a touch of spiciness. With no noticable tannin, the fruit lulled quietly along on string of acidity. While others remarked that the finish was short, I could not disagree more. I found a sneaky persistance to the wine that I believe owed a debt to the acidic structure. The thing I loved about this wine was the quiet self-assurance it showed. Whereas many of the later wines shouted to you, this one made you lean in to hear a whisper.
  
• 1989 Clos des Papes - This wine is built to age and gave the impression of a much younger wine in both its vigor and how primary the fruit showed. The nose was a kirsch bomb with kirsch-y kirsch and some kirsch. The fruit was exceptionally pure and was not completely without secondary nuance, however, with notes mushrooms, black tea and touch of truffle. The palate was even more kirsch and black pepper. Whatever reservations I have about the showing of this wine are assuaged by the amount of tannin and the great underlying acidity. This wine has made it almost 20 years and it will probably be another 10 before it blossoms, which is amazing for a Grenache based wine.
  
• 1994 Clos des Papes - A workhorse of a wine that is probably drinking as well right now as it ever will. It started out feral and funky, sauvage, with raspberries, blood and tar, as if a horse had run for miles only to be run over on a stretch of newly paved highway. On the palate it was thick and sappy, the herbal raspberry character over a current of acidity. Without food, it was a little sharp and it evened out nicely with charcuterie. Still, I didn't sense that this had the stuff to be a great wine.
  
• 1995 Clos des Papes - I had figured this would have opened up some over the years, but it remains tight and unrelenting. On the nose there is an appealing earthy raspberry character and some spiciness. It is was quite ungenerous on the palate, which is a shame because you could sense the great purity to the fruit. Nice architecture, but structure for structure's sake. Some wines are just hard wines.
  
• 1998 Clos des Papes - An absolutely stellar showing for this wine. It was quintissential CdP with a heady mix of sweet red fruit, garrigue and licorice. Notes of bloody beef and tar also made an appearance. The palate presence on this was just astounding with raspberries, herbs and a slight spiciness carried through the finish by a tart acidity. The tannins were present but not obtrusive and added to the mouthfeel rather than obscure the fruit. It also possessed an appreciable earthy minerality that should come more to the fore with age. Really one of the few wines of the evening where the breadth matched the exceptional depth and the length. Easily wine of the night for me and the favorite of the majority of the group.
  
• 1999 Clos des Papes - We were lucky enough to drink this out of magnum, so we were able to go back and get a second impression. At first, it was fairly charmless. Some kirsch, some vanilla, a bit of garrigue, but not much there. In the mouth in was a bit thin and diluted with a short finish. When we went back to it later, while it was still firm and buttoned down, it started to show a more elegant side. It was still more structure than anything else, but it came across as classy and old-school instead of stiff. Perhaps the .750s would show a little flashier, but I suspect that these will take time.
  
• 2000 Clos des Papes - A very good wine that will require a measure of patience. The nose of sweet red fruit is a mit obscured by a distracting dollop of vanilla. Once that integrates it will be able to express better some of the bloody beef and garrigue characterisics underlying. Fairly big, but not outsized, in the mouth, there seemed to be a little less in the way of tannin and acidity, but certainly was enough to carry the fruit. It was a little less evolved than the '98, but was still fairly open and friendly. That said, just because you can drink it doesn't mean you should and allowing time for the pieces to knit together is a must for this wine. It shows great promise.
  
• 2001 Clos des Papes - A great marriage of power and elegance. It is still unspooling and requires some patience, but it's all in there. The nose is classic CdP with raspberries, herbs and a little gaminess. It was fairly nimble in the mouth with good ripeness unlinerlined by refreshing acidity. The tannins are a bit obtrusive and left it feeling a bit thin on the midpalate, but it fleshed out as the evening wore on and should come around with bottle age. Whatever urge you have to open this one, resist because there appears to be a lot of subtlety here that needs substantial time to emerge. It is certainly built to last.
  
• 2003 Clos des Papes - Looks like we got one of the good bottles of the '03. It really is a whale of a wine with tons going on. Kirsch, kirsch and more kirsch on the nose mix with a tasteful melange of asian spices, vanilla and tar. I'm a bit of a sucker for cardamum in wine, but the combination of the spice and vanilla got me thinking about oak and I really didn't want to go there. It had wonderful presence on the palate, being weighty but not heavy, with dark raspberry framed by silky tannins and a lemony acidity. It is of monumental size and is really exciting to drink, but it isn't quite at rest right now and all the pieces don't completely make sense in the context of the wine. The '05 seemed a touch more precise. Let it sit a while and cross your fingers you didn't get a bad batch.
  
• 2004 Clos des Papes - I was a bit surprised about this bottle, which I expected to show better. It had ample ripeness with sweet black fruit and Christmas spice, but it seemed too advanced for a 4 year old wine. It wasn't falling apart or anything, but it seemed a bit too precocious, too showy. Ali noted, "It's good tonight!" which left unspoken that it didn't really hold much interest beyond a one nighter. A look-at-me wine that I just didn't get, but I don't think anyone didn't enjoy it. A bit of a guilty pleasure.
  
• 2005 Clos des Papes - I felt this wine was slightly more compelling that '03. It had the quintissential Grenache character of sweet kirsch and herbs on the nose. It was showing a bit too much vanillin of its youth, but there was also some great secondary characteristics peeking out, such as licorice. The palate was pretty tannic and tightly wound, but the fruit was so pure and it was underlined by a nice acidity. It's a powerful, structured wine that didn't feel tricked out. Have some patience though; this is not as wide open as some other '05s I've had.
  

The Battle for Wine Hearts and Minds

For those French speakers out there, there is an interview of Robert Parker in today's Le Figaro. Not a lot on news in it (big shocker-'07 compares most directly to '97 or '99 vintages in BDX!), but I thought there was an interesting bit at the end. When asked about the dominant style of today, he dismissed the question (he basically calls the "international style" a media creation) and chose to highlight the efforts of young and new winemakers in the south of France, as well as Italy and Spain, working with indiginous cépages that in the past have been ignored or farmed off to cooperatives. In another place, he cites the move in Spain from a cooperative mindset to an artisinal one as the great improvement there. He also said that it was a myth that consumers love oaky wines (wood can mask the nuance of fruit in the name of rounding off the wine and adding flavors like espresso or spice).

I think that one of the reasons for this myth is the fact that I have been highly criticized for liking strong wines, very oaky and extracted. All that is far from the reality. It suffices to read my newsletter or my books to convince oneself. It's the same thing for the consumer. Consumers seek a pure wine, with character and this will always be the case. [my translation]

I had to double check that I wasn't reading an interview with Keith Levenberg. Not everyone is convinced though. As my friend Steve Eisenhauer noted, "I take what he says in his reviews much more seriously than what he says in an interview and there is a significant divergence between the two." In other words, notwithstanding his protestations, Parker rewards wines other than those he said are good for the industry in the Le Figaro article.

Still, I wonder if we can move past the old arguments. For those unaware, there has been a Balkanization of the wine world between what is regarded as the "Parkerization" of winemaking vs. "traditional" winemaking. The fight has gotten rather ugly recently with both side hunkering down and resorting to juvenile behavior (for example, Mark Squires prohibits mention of the anti-Parker gadfly Alice Fiering). Notwithstanding the vitriol, there is much common ground and the differences have narrowed, although no one seems to want to admit it. Change is afoot and the examples are many: the pendulum seems to have swung back to some degree on alcohol and ripeness in California; there is a revolution of artisinal producers in well-priced regions like the Loire; the concentration of corporate ownership in Champagne is causing people to seek out grower Champagne; and the list goes on and on. In some ways, the rocky dollar and pound and the spiraling increase in prices of the vins de garde is driving people to look elsewhere and that elsewhere is artisinal producers that are more in touch with the land (be it biodynamic, organic or good sense). That certainly has been the case for me, where my purchases of '05 BDX and California Cabernet has left me returning to my roots of searching for inexpensive wines from lesser know regions. I've discovered wonderful wines from Touraine, Beaujolais, Austria, among others that I wasn't even looking for a year ago. You should have seen Lyle Fass' face when I came in asking for Chinon. There have been misses for sure, but I finally enjoy the hunt again after cringing through recent high priced purchases.

Bob has been pretty consistent with trumpeting diversity as a great thing for the global wine market, but that has been fairly well drowned out by the din of the old arguments on style. Clearly uniformity, to the extent it existed or was regarded as a goal, is now fairly consistently seen as a negative and stylistic differences are being prized more greatly. I think everyone should be happy with that. Perhaps those here that feel they need to defend Bob so vehemently can prize the diversity of opinion when it trends away from wines of amplitude and those that constantly take pot-shots can accept his place in the world while they try to establish theirs...or perhaps people will continue to argue over the same old things.

My New Career-Pouring the '06 R-M Pinots

I had the pleasure to quit my day job for an evening and pour Rivers-Marie Pinot Noir for Thomas Brown at the Maybach event in New York last night. While I had not previously considered a job as a professional wine pourer, I think that I have the skills and the drive necessary to reach the top of that avocation. Most people that pour wines have to also work in the cellars, cleaning, disinfecting, getting their hands dirty. They call them cellar rats, honestly, enough said. I, meanwhile, stay above the fray imparting wisdom as if on high. It is not an easy job, mind you. I had to listen to myself say the same thing over and over again for almost 2 hours. Anyone that has spent an evening with me can attest to how tedious that can be. Yet, I persevered my own pedantic ramblings on vineyard sites and pH to enjoy the interplay with the hoi polloi. After all, I feel like I owe it to them, poor souls that they are. They need my cool reassurance and guiding hand extended to pour the next glass and describe to them what they were tasting. How would they know otherwise? Would they know sassafras if it hit them over the head? I think not. So, I was forced to drink with them. I do acknowledge a certain lack of professionalism in that act, however, I felt that my flock needed a shepherd. I debased myself, yes, but on their behalf, wretched as they were, devoid of wine knowledge. What else could I do? I felt that I owed it to them and, I think, they left a little better for it.

• 2006 Rivers-Marie Pinot Noir Sonoma Coast - Sonoma Coast - While this may be the entry level Pinot for R-M, it does not compromise stylistically. It is admirably structured without being angular and compares favorably to the wonderful '04 SC, although I didn't think it is as delicate. The fruit is a mixture of restrained red and purple fruit with some zingy cranberry as well. The fruit shows nice purity and is underined by a sharp acidity. Great restraint and percision. The temptation is going to be to open this early while you wait for the single vineyard bottlings, but that would be a mistake. This should unwind nicely over the next couple of years.
• 2006 Rivers-Marie Pinot Noir Summa Vineyard - Sonoma Coast - A beautiful wine representing the promise of the true Sonoma Coast; it was poised and elegant and you had the feeling it was exactly the type of wine that the grapes wanted it to be. The nose showed delicate and floral with red cherries, citrus and sassafras. The fruit is sweet and red in the mouth with silky tannins and a cross-current of acidity. There is some earthiness lingering in the background and I would expect that as this develops it will gain some foresty nuances that SC Pinots can provide. More than once it was described as Burgundian, but I think people were referring to the impeccable balance, as this wine is all California. This wine is going to require patience, but with pure fruit, tannic structure and high natural acidity, I expect that such forbearance will be amply rewarded.
• 2006 Rivers-Marie Pinot Noir Willow Creek Vineyard - Sonoma Coast - A nice addition to the R-M stable. The nose was floral and tended to the darker side of red. The palate was a bit weightier than I expected given the delicacy of the aromatics and trended darker still. Very well built structurally, the fruit, while expressive, seemed to lack a bit of complexity, perhaps due to the relative youth of the vines. Nonetheless, it seems very easy-going and self-assured; there are no angles, yet it does not feel excessively polished either. Of all the wines, I think that this is the one I would drink first (the acidity seemed tucked in a bit better), although I'd be sure to keep one or two around for the long haul.

Take my word though, these wines should not be opened any time in the next couple of years. Decanting is not a proxy for bottle age and these are built to last. Patience, grasshopper!