The world of wine is mind-bogglingly huge. Stupendously varied and enormous. Let me say it again: there are a shit-ton of different wines out there. It follows that you should not make blanket statements about categories of wine unless you have tasted as widely and deeply as his Lord Parker himself. Thus I prefer to say "I still don't understand region X" or "I'm still searching for an example of varietal X that hits my palate right." In this way I try to keep my mind open to surprises, like the 2000 Guigal La Mouline that changed my mind about Rhones, or the 1996 Taluau St. Nicholas de Bourgueil that first coerced me to love Cab Franc.
There are still lots of wines I haven't formed opinions about, usually because they are way out of my price range. These include Port, Sauternes, Condrieu, Napa Cabs, Burgundies, and formerly Champagne. Of course, when someone else is paying, I can make little forays into these styles, often to the enthusiastic agreement of the rest of the tasting club.
Most recently, we did Champagne. For our lineup, we tasted 6 grower champagnes from The Princeton Corkscrew and one negociant bottling from the other local store, CoolVines. Despite the healthy competitive attitude of the two stores, the people at CoolVines agreed that whatever the Corkscrew's flaws, their Champagnes are superb.
Overall, I thought the champagnes were unoffensive, and just short of pleasant. Most of the blancs skirted dangerously close to oxidative scents (acetaldehyde) with their pear and apple-skin aromas. The acidity levels were high, which on one hand balanced the fruit and residual sugar nicely, but on the other hand, was unpleasantly tart. Champagnes don't undergo malo, so I'm guessing most of the perceived acidity was due to malic acid, rather than the cleaner-tasting tartaric acid. I like strong, clean acidity, not the lingering, puckering, sourness of these Champagnes.
On the nose they were indistinct. Even at room temperature, the noses were subdued and murky. The Billecart-Salmon was the most interesting, with a vanishingly faint scent of cut grass (IBMP is not usually found in chard, pinot, and meunier). A $15 Torrontes or $25 Gewurztraminer would easily blow all of these bubblies to Timbuktu, aromatically speaking. Now consider that these Champagnes were in the $40+ range, and the Billecart-Salmon was $90!!!
I understand paying that sort of price tag for a wine with complexity, history, terroir - a wine that communicates information and has meaning. But these Champagnes are nonvintage blends, too indistinct to communicate even a couple flavors, much less a specific terroir. Delicious? Maybe. But I wouldn't pay that price tag for something that's merely delicious. I'd rather go for Orangina, Stewart's Ginger Beer, and several craft beers I can think of, even at roughly the same price.
Plus I kept choking on the bubbles.
Tasting Notes:
NV Jean Velut Brut Tradition
Pale gold in the glass, this had a tight nose with weak hints of pear, yeast, and grapefruit. In the mouth it was light bodied with a medium-fine mousse, more light yeast, pear, and tart malic acid. Overall lean and acidic. Hints of acetaldehyde on the dregs. (78 pts.)
NV Jean Velut Blanc de Blancs
Pale gold in the glass, the BdB had a slightly fruitier nose than the first wine, with light baguette, overripe apple, pear skins, and ripe pear. Medium-fine mousse. A little richer and rounder on the palate than the Brut Tradition. (79 pts.)
NV Dumont et Fils Brut Nature
Pale gold-amber in the glass, this wine had a nose of yeast, pear, and faint starfruit. In the mouth it sported a fine mousse, with strong malic acid and a lightly honeyed finish. (83-85 pts.)
NV José Michel & Fils Brut Pinot Meunier
Pale gold in the glass, this 100% Pinot Meunier had a nose of plum skins, raspberries, and light yeast. Medium-to-low sugar, rounder and deeper, with decent medium+ acid. (80-83 pts.)
NV Dumont et Fils Rosé
Pale pink-amber in the glass. Nose of light yeast, light apple, raspberries, and plum skins. Noticeable bitterness on the palate with a around medium-light sweetness. Very fine mousse. (82-84 pts.)
NV Billecart-Salmon Brut Rosé
Very pale pink-orange (salmon-colored?) in the glass. Nose of light yeast, pinot funk, and cut grass. Incredibly bubbly mousse, with ripe pear flavors and medium sweetness. Nice and tasty. (86-88 pts.)
NV Delavenne Pere et Fils Brut Rosé
Medium-to-light pink in the glass, this rose had the strongest yeast on the nose of any of the wines. Sweet, round, creamy, and delicious in the mouth, with distinct brioche flavors. (84-86 pts.)
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Friday, February 27, 2009
I still don't like Champagne
Monday, January 26, 2009
Sean Thackrey 'Pleiades' XV
"These are extraordinarily pure, natural expressions of winemaking... primitive in the best sense of the word."
-Robert M. Parker, Jr.*
"Why would you want to drink a wine that, if it were a person, you would be bored of talking to?"
-Sean Thackrey
In the wine world, tasting is believing. It seems like every winemaker has a captivating fairy tale to tell, something that sets them apart, makes them special. While a good story can differentiate your product and boost sales, it unfortunately can't make good wine. That test lies in the bottle. Yet despite the many vintners who talk big but don't deliver, there are still names whose wines captivate and enthrall those in the know. Boncompagni Ludovisi, Abe Schoener, and of course, Sean Thackrey. If Petrus, Screaming Eagle, and DRC represent the pinnacle of their respective styles, Ludovisi, Schoener, and Thackrey represent styles unto themselves, art rather than craft, fascination over typicity, creativity over elegance.
If I gush excessively, I am not alone.
In Robert Parker, Eric Asimov, and Alder Yarrow, these wines have an audience of the highest caliber. To judge by the prices they don't appear the most sought after wines in the world, but money is not the only barrier that counts. Ludovisi's wines are available at just one store in the US; you must buy them as a mixed case, and you must be "judged worthy" by the distributor. Schoener's wines are made in minuscule quantities, and most are snapped up by the mailing list. Thackrey's high-end wines (between $100 and $200) are also small-production (in the hundreds of cases) and are so difficult to find that he created a database on his site devoted to tracking down bottles. However Thackrey does produce a relatively inexpensive wine called Pleiades, an "everything-but-the-kitchen-sink" melange of different vintages, numbered by release rather than year. I came across a lone bottle of the XV at the Corkscrew, and promptly snapped it up - I have never seen another Thackrey bottle, in any store, since.
Who is Sean Thackrey? Art-dealer-turned master vigneron. Medieval tinkerer. Craftsman from Shakespeare's time. Curator and transcriber of ancient viticultural texts. In writing this I tried to sum up the man, and realized that as much as we wine drinkers like to categorize and package, it's really all a crutch for dealing with complexity.
Sean Thackrey is a man worth knowing, whose wine is worth drinking.
His online library of wine-related texts (from which he gleans unconventional inspiration), spans 7 languages and reaches back to the 14th century. He includes the following introduction:There are many purposes in reading. One is, to get to the point. Such readers should flee this site as fast as their mice will carry them.
Such words might be equally well applied to his wine. He aims for interest, pleasure, personality. "I don't drink Napa Cabs anymore-" explained Thackrey in an interview, " They're too damn polite for me." The wine I drank was certainly not polite. Nor was it dull or elegant. It held my interest and brought pleasure and evolving complexity until its last drop, which is as much as I've ever had from a bottle of wine.
Tasting note:
Sean Thackrey Pleiades XV
Medium garnet in the glass, the wine immediately blooms into a trio of eucalyptol, Brettanomyces, and dark fruits. Underneath these primary tones lie an ever-shifting accompaniment that suggests tiramisu, charcoal, tar, manure, damp wood, blackcurrant, orange spice, herbs, roasted lamb, and grilled carrots. The bouquet seems to change constantly - hence my verbose attempt to describe my many impressions. In the mouth it is weighty, medium-bodied, with fresh acidity and the slightest touch of silky tannins. There is a touch of sugar on the mid-palate which is my only structural complaint. The gorgeous finish lasts 80 seconds.
Certain aromatic elements remind me of the 2000 Guigal Cote-Rotie La Mouline though this doesn't have the La Mou's elegance or balance. The syrupy flavors and oak influence remind me a little of Gerard Perse's 2005 Clos L'Eglise (Cotes de Castillon). This wine keeps evolving in the glass - as the Brett blows off, other flavors rise to prominence in turn. 95 points. $35.
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Addendum: Chow.com recently uploaded an interview with Sean Thackrey.
*Parker's Wine Buyer's Guide No. 7
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Wednesday, January 21, 2009
A Year in Wine Numbers
I owe my parents a lot. And I don't just mean four years of college and 18 years of room and board (plus an extra 9 months' rent, according to my mom). From my dad I inherited an engineering bent, entrepreneurial spirit, and a high sensitivity to acetaldehyde and methoxy-pyrazines. From my mom I inherited musical sense and a love of numbers, metrics, data, whatever you want to call it - I'm a statistics junkie.
When it comes to wine statistics, CellarTracker is a gold mine. There's a huge amount of data (69,000 users as of 2008), and behind CT's butt-ugly interface hides an excellent tasting note organization system which I have personally taken advantage of ... 430 times to date. After about 15 months of wine tasting, I decided to satisfy my statistical curiosity.
Before I get into the numbers, I should acknowledge that CT scores suffer from several sources of noise, including but not limited to:
My personal scoring system can be described as follows:
Here's a graph of my score distribution compared to CT's. I'm happy to note that my scores follow an approximate Gaussian distribution that is more centered than the CT distribution. The sparseness of the bars in the low end is probably an artifact of how I score - there's just less resolution between terrible and not-so-terrible wines than there is between excellent, complex wines. Plus who wants to agonize over 63 points vs. 64 points? I tend to just round to the nearest 5 or 10. NOTE: The bars at 49 points represent non-scored wines, including flawed bottles.
Next I looked at the geographical spread of my tasting notes. Because of wine's intimate connection with terroir and culture, I love to imagine that each bottle takes me on a brief trip to its birthplace. Walking through a wine store is like browsing a global travel catalogue. When it comes to countries, France and the US dominate. The only reason Italy follows is because I tasted over 60 Italian wines in just a few hours at a trade tasting last September..png)
Looking closer at the region level, it appears that California dominates. However this is largely a side effect of my job last summer working in various vineyards. Most of my tasting has centered around various French regions, resulting in a rather crowded "Other" category..png)
Finally I decided to look at the different varietals I've tried. California was the first region to exalt the varietal, labeling even blended wines by grape (15% other varietals are allowed). When it comes to blends, varietal character is difficult to discern, though not impossible. There are thousands of varietals out there, though only a handful produce great wines. There's even a 100 Varietal Club, for people who have tasted 100 different varietals and want a silly plaque on their wall. As of my last count, I've tasted 93 varietals, just short of the 100. Given some of the terrible non-vinifera strains and obscure French cultivars I've tried, I'm not too keen on tasting more obscure varietals, even for a pretty plaque.
Finally I looked up my top 5 wines so far. They represent three different countries and all come from different appellations. Each one was a surprise and a revelation - a profound learning experience:
1. Sean Thackrey "Pleiades" XV old vines (Bolinas, CA) - A wonderfully complex, delicious blend from a visionary winemaker (95 points)
2. '96 Taluau Vieilles Vignes (St.-Nicholas de Bourgueil) - A stunning wine from left field - aged cabernet france, in all its stewed bell pepper and cassis glory (95 points)
3. '00 Guigal Cote-Rotie "La Mouline" - Aged over 30 months in new oak, yet its delicate body doesn't show it. Tiramisu, blackberry, and bacon (94 points)
4. '05 Melis (Priorat, Spain) - Pure fruit wrapped in astounding layers of oak treatment, producing caramel, roasted nuts, and coffee (93 points)
5. '98 Chateau Kirwan (Margaux) - My first aged Bordeaux - not something I'll likely forget anytime soon (93 points)
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Sunday, December 21, 2008
'93 Dom. Tempier (Bandol)
"It's actually illegal to talk about Bandol without mentioning Domaine Tempier"Family owned since 1834, Tempier has always produced good wine, winning gold medals as early as 1885. However it was Lucien Peyraud who, from 1943 to 1980, established Tempier as a leader in Bandol. The influential importer Kermit Lynch championed these wines, and now they are increasingly well-known amongst wine lovers as serious, complex, Mourvedre-dominated bottlings.
-Gary V., WLTV
I was fortunate enough to drink this wine at a friend's dinner, paired superbly with roast beef, Yorkshire pudding, and roasted brussel sprouts.
1993 Domaine Tempier Bandol
Light-to-medium red in the glass, with significant sediment, this wine had a somewhat tired nose that nevertheless offered up hints of leather, milk chocolate, meat, earth, and slight brettanomyces presence. After an hour or so in the decanter a whiff of dried currant emerged, but there was also some green stemminess, fertilizer, and subtle oxidative presence. In the mouth it was mellow, flavorful, and satiny. Medium body, excellent acidity integrated with savoriness, very soft, barely perceptible tannins. It was neither rustic nor noble, neither humble nor elegant. I found it both interesting and delicious. I won't score it due to the clear oxidative presence, but I enjoyed this wine very much.
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Thursday, December 18, 2008
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Domaine La Barroche
Winemakers are thoughtful people. Dealing with fickle weather patterns, temperamental fermentation, and the vagaries of bottle aging seems to preclude the damning judgments, prejudices, and generalizations that pervade the rest of the wine world. I was reminded of this by the stark contrast between two recent tastings .
The first was led by a Rutgers professor, also a certified wine judge. Alarm bells went off as he pronounced "I have a 3000-bottle cellar. I never drink Burgundy before 8 years, Bordeaux before 10." He singled me out a couple times for the glass I brought - a stemless Riedel - saying it was "the most ridiculous thing ever made - if I could, I'd break every glass in existence... Not one self-respecting wine professional would ever go near that glass." When asked about Parker's influence, he gave a ludicrous caricature of a man who "prefers the fruit bomb to the balanced wine, 100% of the time." "Believe me," he said, "I've tasted with the man - I know." It was possibly the most pedantic and condescending speech I'd heard since I was in diapers... but enough about that.
The bitter taste left in my mouth by said "professor" was washed neatly away the very next day at a tasting of Domaine La Barroche. Occupying a hilltop spot in Chateauneuf-du-Pape, bordering parcels owned by Chateau Rayas, Domaine La Barroche produces some of the most exquisite, complex, and powerful wines in the Southern Rhone Valley.
I found the winemaker to be a terrific combination of humility and ambition. His respect for tradition is matched by a burning desire to make better and better wines. And yet when he succeeds, he gives most of the credit to terroir. When only 23, Julien Barrot took over Domaine La Barroche, including vineyards which had been farmed by his family in unbroken succession over three centuries. Now 28, he remembers vividly pruning the vines as a child - reluctantly at first, then with growing interest.
The wines that inspire him, apart from the other great Chateauneuf-du-Pape's, are Northern Rhones and the great Burgundies. With his high pyrazine* sensitivity, he often finds Bordeaux wines too green for his taste. In just five or so vintages, he has already produced wines that rival the nearby Chateau Rayas. Truly a rising star of Chateauneuf-du-Pape!
TASTING NOTES:
Dom. La Barroche Chateauneuf-du-Pape Reserve 2005
Medium ruby in the glass, the Reserve has a beautiful nose of cherry liqueur with a hint of earth and spice. In the mouth it is lusciously medium bodied, with med+ alcohol, medium acid, hints of spice, pepper, wood, and satiny tannins. Finishes with lingering grace. 88-90 points. $45.
Dom. La Barroche Signature 2006
Medium red in the glass, the Signature has a light but breath-stoppingly gorgeous nose of red cherries, faint liquorice, blackberry, and tobacco. Unfortunately I think this bottle was a tiny bit oxidized. In the mouth it was very light, med- body, med+ alcohol, med- acid, reminiscent of an '04 Rayas Pignan I had at Clo. Silky tannins led to a long finish with faint pepper and roasted papad, again similar to the Rayas Pignan, but with more fruit. This wasn't a favorite of my companions, but I liked it. I won't rate it due to the slight oxidation. $59
Dom. La Barroche Fiancée 2006
Dark purple in the glass, the Fiancée initially had an amazing nose of cured meats and dark berries, that eventually seemed over-the hill. Not oxidized, just like it had been left out overnight but hadn't started to turn to acetaldehyde yet. In the mouth it was full-bodied and fleshy with beautiful fruit, medium acid and medium tannins. Something really smelled off about the nose, though, so I won't rate it. $70
Note:
*IBMP (2-isobutyl-3-methoxypyrazine) is a compound associated with green grass/bell pepper aromas in sauvignon blanc and Bordeaux varietals. Some tasters' thresholds are on the order of 15 parts per trillion.
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Friday, November 21, 2008
I am a strange, strange human being
It's been a year and 3 months since I started my wine journey, and sometimes I feel like I haven't gone anywhere. In fact I haven't gone anywhere - I'm still at school, living in a dorm room down the hall from where I lived last year. But whenever I meet someone new and taste wine, or talk about wine, I am reminded that I'm actually a subtly different species. How have I changed?
1. I smell everything. I can be distracted by familiar scents as easily as if a friend called my name. I have identified the principle ingredients in an Odwalla shake by smell alone. There are at least 2 classmates of mine who I can smell as soon as they enter a room.
2. I drink whites at room temperature. People always question this, and I try not to preach that everyone should, but after I tried it once I was hooked. Hey, I had a middle school teacher who microwaved his coke. Now that was weird.
3. I spit out of habit. If you get between me and the spit bucket, I will shamelessly lean in front of you and let loose. If there's a decently shaped bucket, or even better, a garbage can available, I will spit from a comfortable distance of 3-4 feet. Don't give me that look. My aim is perfect.
4. I'm noisy when I drink liquids. Water, milk, coffee, tea, juice - I'll swirl, sniff, slurp, swish, and aerate all of them. So sue me. I like to actually taste what I'm drinking.
5. I'm shy when it comes to talking about wine with new people. Until I establish that someone is open-minded about wine, I keep the conversation superficial. I learned this the hard way when I found myself on the receiving end of a cartoonish anti-Parker tirade.
6. I have a low acetaldehyde threshold, which means I'm every wine bar and tasting room's nightmare. At first I told people, but then they stopped believing me, or rather, my nose. Now I just keep it to myself and don't rate the wine.
7. Anytime I hear the words "Yellow Tail" I involuntarily go through a rapid cycle of emotions. First disdain. Then guilt at feeling disdain. Then appreciation of the sugar-acid balance they've achieve. Then annoyance that American's are such suckers for high sugar and high acidity (Coke anyone?). Then disinterest at the industrial nature of the wine. Then guilt...
8. I have a corkscrew with me at all times. Wing-style corkscrews give me indigestion on sight.
9. I bring my own glasses. Go ahead, look at me funny. I can smell my wine and you can't. When people ask me whether the shape of the glass matters, I fight the urge to look at them incredulously. Even two identical glasses will smell different, depending on who's holding them and a hundred other variables.
10. I don't take notes on everything I taste anymore. Something changed in my gut when I broke 365 CellarTracker notes in under a year. I no longer had the patience to try to learn from wines that didn't excite me. When the best wine I'd ever tasted was a $19 McLaren Vale Shiraz, I payed attention to everything, even wines I didn't like at all. Now when I taste a generic wine that isn't delicious or at least interesting, I forget about it immediately. A wise man once said: Life is too short to drink bad wine.
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