June 26, 2007

Dining in France: A Sweet and Sour Experience

PROVENCE, France -- As an unapologetic Francophile, I do not engage in France-bashing.  But their unique combination of arrogance and stubbornness -- especially when you least expect it -- can be infuriating even to me.  Thankfully, sweet experiences usually outweigh the sour ones.
 
First, the sour: Dinner at, of all places, Jacques Maximin 'Table d'Amis,' a Michelin 2-star restaurant just outside Vence, where I have enjoyed a fabulous meal in the past.  While the menu is creative (although the execution this time was spotty) the wine list appeared to be an afterthought judging by the pathetically narrow choices, with only two or three producers for each region.

I selected a 2004 St. Aubin 1er Cru from Lopé Cholet ($106 at current exchange rates), a producer who has had a mediocre reputation in the past, but whose wines I have not tasted in some time.  The waiter brought a 2004 St. Aubin village wine.  At first, I thought it was a simple mistake.  But he insisted it was the wine I had ordered even after I pointed out it was not the premier cru listed on the wine list.

He persisted and enlisted the aid of 'The Madame,' who also haughtily insisted it was the wine I had selected from the list.  She went on to say it was the St. Aubin they always had, which may have been true.  It just wasn't what was advertised.  And I wasn't prepared to spend $100 dollars for a minor village wine from an untested producer. In the end, we opted for a 2005 Olivier Leflaive Pernand Vergelesses ($75).

They are either trying a 'bait and switch' on unsuspecting customers by substituting a village wine for a premier cru or are just plain ignorant about wine.  I don't know which is worse, but don't count me among their 'amis' any longer.  

The following night sitting under the Provençal blue sky in Avignon at a table at Le Moutardier, an unpretentious restaurant on the Place du Palais directly across from the Palais des Papes, erased any animosity towards the French.  The Michelin recommended it (no stars) and commented that it had many wines by the glass, so despite its apparent tourist trap location, I booked a table. 

Lovely food (a filet of beef topped by a perfectly cooked slice of warm foie gras) was overshadowed by an exceptional wine list and enthusiastic service.  I inquired whether the 1999 Ferraton Hermitage Blanc 'Les Miaux' ($19 for a 5 oz glass, $64 a bottle) had been opened that day.  The waiter said that he did not know, but would be happy to open a new bottle in any case.

He did and the wine was superb.  But this being the heart of the southern Rhone, I selected a bottle of 1990 Châteauneuf du Pape, Château La Nerthe ($78) for the beef.  It showed the versatility of wines from Châteauneuf du Pape.  You can enjoy them young for their vibrant spicy character, or age them to reveal glorious suave complexity. 

It was a tough choice because there were a host of tempting Châteauneufs on the list: 1995 Beaurenard ($65), 1999 and 2000 La Nerthe ($69 and $63, respectively), as well as some terrific examples from neighboring villages, a 1995 and 1998 Cairanne Cuvee Antique from the excellent producer, Cave de Cairanne ($54 and $52, respectively).  

Count me an 'amis' of Le Moutardier.  I'm returning tonight for the magret de canard and the 1995 La Nerthe.

June 23, 2007

Dr. Apstein Turns Up His Nose at Roses of Provence!

NICE, France -- I am about to commit wine writing heresy.  Except for rosé Champagne, I am not a fan of rosé.  I am not referring only to slightly sweet 'blush' wine or white zinfandel, but also to dry rosé.  Clearly I am in the minority because there's a massive amount of rosé consumed around here and, if one is to believe other writers, dry rosé is gaining in popularity in the US as well.

Since I love wine and can often find redeeming character in those with even the lowliest pedigree, it's unusual for me to dismiss an entire category.  But, with some exceptions, Tavel and Lirac spring to mind, rosés are, in a word, innocuous. 

The innocuous nature of rosé may come from the saignée method by which many of them are made.  In this technique, the winemaker 'bleeds' or removes the lightly colored juice early during fermentation of red wine to concentrate the flavor of the remaining juice.  Never willing to discard anything, winemakers bottle and sell it as rosé.  It's hard to expect much from a wine whose sole purpose in production was to be removed to enhance the character of another wine.

It's easy to see rosé's appeal during the summer -- it's cool and refreshing.  But, on the down side, they frequently fail to stand up to the robust garlic-herb-olive flavors in Mediterranean food.

My summer substitute for rosé is a chilled -- not ice-cold -- red wine.  Not any red will work because chilling brings out astringency in the tannins.  But there are plenty of low tannin red wines suitable for chilling that also balance the forceful flavors of the region's food.

You can start with the red wines of Provence, such Château Minuty (even I admit they also make a lovely rosé, full of character) or others labeled Côtes de Provence.  Many of the red wines from Bandol take a chill nicely. Perhaps not the top labels, which have substantial tannins when young, but many of the less prestigious names are fine for the ice bucket.

Other parts of France, such as Beaujolais, and Italy's Piedmont -- think Barbera or Dolcetto -- produce low tannin wines suitable for 45 minutes in the refrigerator before serving.   

Perhaps my colleagues here at WRO, Paul and Marguerite, who routinely perform thoughtful evaluations of food and wine pairings, would like to put my theory to the test in one of their future columns.  But since I know them to be fans of rosé, I suggest they use black glasses to obscure the color of the wine.

June 20, 2007

Critics Challenge: Champagne Charles Heidsieck Impresses Again

A few observations from the 2007 Critics Challenge, while they're still fresh in my mind.

Champagne Charles Heidsieck has become a force to be reckoned with. This house's multi-vintage Brut Reserve was among the finest Champagnes I tasted at the recent Concours Mondial, but its performance across the board at the Critics Challenge was nothing short of stunning, with five significant awards from its five wines entered.

Three Charles Heidsieck bubblies -- the 1995 Blanc des Millenaires, the 1995 Vintage Champagne, and the 1985 Champagne Charlie -- took Platinum awards, and two -- the 1999 Rose and the multi-vintage Brut Reserve -- captured Golds.

I felt compelled to give this brilliant Champagne house the Director's Award as top European winery in a tie with the Cockburn's Port house, which submited the Best of Show Dessert wine. 

Best Sparkling, however, went to Piper-Heidsieck's multi-vintage tetes de cuvee, Cuvee Rare. This was another of the top Champagnes that I tasted at the Concours Mondial, proving that these wines are not only exceptional but consistent.

My Director's Award for top importer went to San Francisco's Old Bridge Cellars, which brings in the first-rate d'Aarenberg wines from South Australia. D'Arenberg was named Winery of the Year for the Southern Hemisphere after taking nine awards in this year's Challenge.

The top U.S. wineries, each with a slew of awards, were Missouri's St. James Winery for the Eastern U.S. and Mendocino County's Navarro Vineyards for the Western U.S.

All of the results can be found at the Critics Challenge website.

June 13, 2007

Give This Baby a Medal for Real!

I love tasting 'blind' not because I worry about showing coarse bias for or against wines, but because I worry about the subtle psychological phenomenon of 'auto-suggestion,' by which one is influenced by one's own--often unconscious--preconceptions.  However, I can't always taste blind, for the simple reason that I don't always have someone around to 'shuffle the deck,' as it were, by obscuring bottles or scrambling glasses.

I didn't taste Santa Rita's "Medalla Real" Cabernet Sauvignon 2004 wine blind, and as a result, I sensed my own hesitation when scoring it:  Can a $19 wine really be this good, even if it comes from Chile's Maipo Valley, one of the world's prime Cab sources?  Do I really want to drop 92 points on a wine at this price point, at the risk of being thought a soft touch?

So, just to be sure, I stuck it in the refrigerator (more on this below) to look at it again on the following evening.  And the wine looked even better on the second night than it did when first opened.

It looked pretty damned good on the first night, and that is saying something, since that happened to be a birthday of mine with a zero in the second digit.  I mention this only because, given the occasion, I naturally dug something special out of my cellar, namely, 1982 Gruaud Larose.  Which rocked.  I tasted this Medalla Real after checking out the Gruaud, and was amazed to find some hints of commonality:  light cedar notes, subtle graphite tinges, a mineral edge, and a vaguely earthy backnote.

To be sure, there were about a dozen other notes that the Gruaud Larose brought to the table that the Santa Rita couldn't muster, but I won't belabor this with a comprehensive rundown.  On the other hand, the Santa Rita had a lot of punchy, dark berry fruit that the Bordeaux couldn't match, and which may actually be more appealing to those who aren't accustomed to the vaguely musty charms of 25 year-old wines.

The upshot of all this is clear:  Santa Rita's Medalla Real is, in its top vintages, a spectacular over-achiever and a remarkable value, and this rendition surely fits that bill.  With a core of blackberry and black cherry fruit that is fully ripe but still bright and not at all chunky and sweet (as is distressingly true of many reds from over the mountains in Argentina), this is a winner even before you get to the accent notes of tobacco leaf, cedar, spices, and graphite.

A last word on the fridge:  For overnight storage purposes, only a few brands of heavier-than-air preservative sprays can match the prophylactic powers of a refrigerator in warding off the degrading effects of oxygen on an opened bottle.  Even if you use such sprays, the fridge will work in tandem with them as a supplementary preservative, so remember to pitch that red into the icebox at the end of the evening--however counter-intuitive that may seem.

Moreover, with summer getting in gear here in the northern hemisphere, it is time to chill your reds before enjoying them.  Anything that isn't straight out of my cellar gets a good 20 minutes in the fridge before tasting this time of year.  This is extremely important.  Reds at 72 degrees Fahrenheit are really too warm, and won't have the freshness and focus they'll show if cooled down a bit.  And if your red is poured at 78 degrees (not an uncommon room temperature in summer weather), you are committing vinous malpractice.

June 6, 2007

Scary Days in South Australia

George Taylor, vineyard manager for Foster's Wine Estates' Barossa properties insisted I put on protective paper booties before venturing into the famed Kalimna Homestead Block 42 vineyard, home to Penfolds' prized Cabernet Sauvignon vines.  These aren't just any vines.  They are likely the oldest Cabernet Sauvignon vines in the world, planted in 1888 to1890 by the Fowler family when they purchased the Kalimna Homestead property.  Some of the fruit from these vines went into the early vintages of Grange, before it became 100% Shiraz, and it still goes into Penfolds Bin 707 Cabernet Sauvignon.

So why the paper protective gear?  I had been visiting Coldstream Hills in Victoria near where phylloxera had just been discovered about 6 months earlier. Having been told I would be in a 'phylloxera exclusion zone' in Victoria, I was cautioned to wear shoes there that I would not wear in South Australia.  Even though I wore different shoes, the protective booties were just one more layer of 'protocols' that Fosters--and others--have put in place to try to prevent the spread of the disease into South Australia, a state that has never had phylloxera.

Whether the protocols will work is anyone's guess.  What's certain is that sales of boots have sky-rocketed.  Vineyard workers in Victoria can't wear the same boots to walk in two different vineyards, so workers need several pairs each.  Tractors and other equipment must be quarantined and steam cleaned after going into vineyards before being allowed into neighboring ones.  No grapes--only wine--can be transported from one state to another.

Wineries are planning ahead.  Although South Australia dodged the bullet when phylloxera infected neighboring Victoria in the late 19th century, the industry is very different now.  One hundred years ago, there was no mechanization and little mobility from one area to another.  Now, with corporate ownership of vineyards throughout Australia, workers and equipment routinely shuttle from one area to another.  Some winemakers, who preferred to remain anonymous, think it's only a matter of time before phylloxera hits South Australia.  Sue Hodder, winemaker at Wynns Coonawarra Estate, doesn't think it's inevitable, but notes nevertheless that since 2001 all their new planting have been on phylloxera resistant rootstock.

Even if phylloxera spreads, its effects won't be felt for years.  A much more immediate threat is the continuation of the severe drought conditions in South Australia.  'This is the driest it's ever been,' according to Peter Gago, Penfolds chief winemaker.  'We had to irrigate vines at Magill Estate this year just to keep them alive.'  The drought, combined with a severe frost in October 2006 means the total crop in Australia will likely be done to levels not seen for 5 years.