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.

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.

Thoughts on the 1992 Vintage in Napa

I recently read someone describe the 1992 vintage was a great vintage in Napa. To the extent that it was, I don't think the wines are holding up well now and I generally try to stay away from them. The wines seem to have some nice aromatics, but they really don't deliver consistently through the wine. I described the 1992 Joseph Phelps Insignia as the little engine that couldn't. I felt the same way about this wine from dinner the other night. Better to stick with the 1991 vintage, which has held up quite well.

1992 Mayacamas Vineyards Cabernet Sauvignon - Napa Valley
While this wine certainly had some highlights, it showed fairly incomplete. The nose was intoxicating mature Cab with earth and truffles accenting the briary red fruit that speaks Mayacamas. The transition to the mouth started well enough with savory black cherry on a nice acidic structure. However, the wine seemed to give up about halfway through as it becomes muddled and then clips off hard. Nice entry...it becomes confused...then disappears. It was if it didn't have the strength to carry the burden of being a great wine. It didn't fall off really as the evening wore on, but it never got better either. In some respects this what I expect from the '92 vintage at this stage unfortunately.

Some Quick Thoughts on Alcohol and California Wines

Can California wines be balanced? My friend Vinotas posits that in order to have balanced wines, vines need to be stressed and the conditions to stress the vines are not present in California. His argument is more nuanced than that I urge everyone to read his two part series on why we sells French wine.  I'm going to try to refute some of what he says, however.

Balanced wines are harmonious unto themselves and better complement a meal, which is a huge plus. Vinotas asks "how can you eat anything with an oaky, sweet CA Cabernet that's 15-17%/volume?" Fair enough, but let's dig in a bit there. It's unlikely that he has ever had a non-fortified wine that is 17% alcohol. I've only had one California wine that was that high, a Zinfandel, and it wasn't very good. Notwithstanding the lack of 17% wines, Eurocentric drinkers will often cite them as evidence of the lack of balance. I see that as a red herring. Let's work our way down. The only wines that are 16% that I own are Zinfandels and they are generally not as serious wines, meant to drink over the near term and have massive walls of fruit to hide the alcohol. Can you drink them with food? Sure, if you like ribs or chili (and who doesn't). The argument in favor of California wines gets far more complicated once you hit 15% APV. That is especially true for California Pinot Noir. To the extent there was a trend towards over-sized Pinot, I think that pendulum has begun to swing in the opposite direction with even people like Brian Loring admitting that his wines were insipid. It is easier to defend Cabernet where the alcohol may be hidden by fruit and tannin. 

Again, it is a question of balance with the balance being between the fruit and the structure (tannin and acidity). The more alcohol, the more fruit and tannin needed for cover, which makes it harder to keep them in balance. That does not mean it is impossible, only difficult, and there are any number of winemakers that get it right.

Very Old Cabs

My Cabernet group (CLONYC-Cabernet Lovers of NYC) had dinner last night at Zoe in SoHo. The theme of 1970s Cabs came together when Greg Dal Piaz and Steve Eisenhauer hatched the idea of opening some pristine mags of 1970s Cabernet that Greg had secured. They enlisted planner extraordinaire, Mike Pobega, to secure arrange the particulars.  When you are opening wines this old, there are always going to be hits and misses, but the highs were extremely high here, with the two Mayacamas showing magnificently, and the misses were nothing if not educational.

First up were a vertical of Martinis that Greg donated to the group. Greg brought these museum pieces that he had acquired off the sweat of his brow and the change in his pocket. With crumbly corks and just decent fills, it appeared we were in store for a real crap shoot. That's pretty much what we got to with a pretty decent range of quality. The general consensus was in favor of the '76, although both Greg and Greg T. preferred the '75. I didn't get that at all, but different strokes, especially when it comes to older wines.

• 1974 Louis M. Martini Special Selection - Sadly, this tasted a bit past its prime. It started out a bit reductive and rubbery, but that cleared leaving an interesting savory nose of cassis and dried leaves. It seemed slightly madierized on the palate, with the one distinctive characteristic being a persistently long finish of amaretto. Blind, I would have said this was an extremely old Nebbiolo, as it didn't have much Cabernet character left. The ripe rabbit that has been passed by the tortoises of the less famous vintages.
• 1975 Louis M. Martini Special Selection - I know Greg liked this one, but I found it rather disappointing. I never got passed the grassiness and rubber ball smell and the palate was a touch sour with really tired fruit. If there was more fruit, perhaps the dill wouldn't have bothered me as much as it did. Ultimately, whatever balance this wine once had has been lost to the ether.
• 1976 Louis M. Martini Special Selection - Here is a wine I can get behind, although it was more pleasant than earth-shattering (which is fine). The funky, reductiveness that it had at first receded and gave way to dusty blackcurrants and earthy mushrooms. It had a gentle body and decent palate presence, although it lacked a certain amount of intensity that would elevate it to oustanding. As it is, it was very good, but I'd certainly drink these up if you have any.

Next up was 4.5 liters of outstanding Cabernet Sauvignon in the form of the magnums that were the original subject of this dinner.  These wines were all in absolutely pristine condition, having been culled from a cellar by Greg when he worked at Astor.  The wines never saw shelf time in a store and were kept in a temperature and humidity controlled environment. The performance of these wines really speak to the storage element to the tasting of wine, with the Martinis as a counterpoint. The corks were fantastic, the fills unbelievable and the wines were...

• 1973 Mayacamas Vineyards - What a wine, what a wine. Dark and lovely, it was magic from the second it was in the glass. The nose was a gentle dusty cassis intermingled with dill (I'd expect this saw a fair bit of American oak in its day). It continued to evolve in the glass and gained complexity with cigar ash and earth. It had a certain tranquility in the mouth, not that it lacked vivacity, but in a way that showed great self-assurance and restraint. It was an effortless wine in the mouth, with smoky dark fruit that was reminiscent of mature Graves, but with a sweetness to the fruit that was quite California. Here was a wine truly in balance with each element clean and precise. A truly classic Claret and a revelation.
  
• 1975 Mayacamas Vineyards - This wine started slowly and built to an amazing crescendo. Unmistakably California Cabernet, it displayed brawny and brambly mountain fruit with a youthful vibrancy that belied its age. It evolved beautifully in the glass, picking up charcoal, mint and earth, without fading one iota. The dark profile of the fruit carries through to the palate where it showed great breadth and power. There is still a fair amount of tannin to resolve, but it surrounds and elevates the sweet California fruit rather than obscuring it. Impeccable balance and precision carry through to a long and tasty finish. A remarkable wine that should continue to evolve.
  
• 1977 Heitz Cellars Bella Oaks - I thought this was going to continue the streak of great mature CA Cabs, but after a brief promise it faded. The nose initially showed dark plum mixed with cocoa powder and leather, but dipped a bit picking up some soy notes and generally becoming more reticent on the fruit side. It didn't have much intensity or weight in the mouth, although it was not at all unpleasant. It just seemed to struggle a bit to keep up with the 2 wines next to it. Still, it was clearly well crafted, even if a bit tired.
  

Analyzing Napa Cabernet

I started a discussion over on the Parker Board yesterday, which I figured I'd link to here. My point is that people are quick to judge California wines in their youth in a way that we are trained not to do with Bordeaux. We had a '98 La Mission Haut Brion at the Pratt's lunch and people judged it for what it would become. Much younger California Cabs were judged for what they are now. I'm not sure this is fair to the wines. Yes, they are monolithic and rambunctious, but is that any different from many young Bordeaux, even traditionally styled ones. What was the gorgeous and massive 1986 Margaux like at release? I would guess pretty damned big and I'm sure someone can tell me for certain. Bordeaux is Bordeaux and Napa is Napa in a whole lot of different ways and I love that dichotomy. Still, to the extent that we try to look at wine objectively in terms of our intellectual analysis, should we not be consistent?

There's some interesting replies over there.  Check it out.

Ruminations on the 1988 Dunn Howell Mountain

Why do we anthropomorphize wine? Wine can not literally be like a woman or a car or any of the myriad other descriptors wine geeks use everyday. So what is the point? It is because you can't really share a taste, a smell or a tactile sensation with someone without creating an analogy to a shared experience. What raspberry means to you as opposed to me is likely quite different. Is it wild raspberries? Is it the frozen kind? You see what I mean. That brings me to the 1988 Dunn Howell Mountain Cabernet and my late grandfather.

My grandfather, my father's father, although a college graduate, worked as a foreman, a carpenter, a laborer, among other jobs. He rode the rails out West during the Depression and built PT boats during World War II. He grew up poor, which taught him to save any money that came his way; he died with rather impressive personal wealth like a squirrel that was saving for the next Ice Age. He was a smart man, but not an intellectual man. He taught me that any job worth doing is only worth doing right. He was a hard man, as you can imagine, and physically one of the strongest men I have come across. Not in a hulking sort of way, mind you, but sinewy and lanky. He went to the gym every day well into his 80's and took pride in showing up the younger men in the weight room. But, he got old (as men do) and he developed heart disease and he was almost mystified that his prodigious strength was abandoning him. The last time I saw him, as I was explaining to him why he couldn't do all the things he had once done, he took me to his basement and explained to me that his basement was once unfinished and that he had sheetrocked the ceiling...by himself. It remains achingly heartbreaking. I am glad for that though, to know him like that, to see the vulnerability of age mixed with the reminiscence of the power of youth.

I was thinking about him when I was trying to describe the 1988 Dunn Howell Mountain Cabernet that we enjoyed on New Year's Eve. It was a wine that was a shadow of a different age when it was most likely massive and backward, imbued with raw power. I didn't know it then and can only go by accounts of others, as I had heard stories of my grandfather. Aromatically, it was interesting and complex showing some dusty cassis and herbs, as well as a bit of fennel. Savory and soft in the mouth, it showed good focus and finesse without any true elegance. Not lithe like a dancer, but more like lean, muscular, slightly withered older man. A hint of a once more powerful self. It had a nice earthiness to it, but it finished with a slight astringency that was distracting without ruining the overall impression. Like my grandfather...