Trevallon, 3 Years of Blogging, & Some Strange Descriptors

It’s still really cold, so I’m by the fireplace tonight with Cotes du Rhone and Jacques Pepin and Julia Child on in the background.  This winter has brought some wonderful wines my way - and as I’ve mentioned via Facebook, Twitter, and probably Instagram, I’ve been working (over some time) on a collection of both Domaine Tempier La Tourtine and Domaine de Trevallon, both exquisite producers from Provence.  This past weekend, I got to open a bottle which was a recent find - the 2000 vintage of Trevallon, and I’m happy to report that all of the excitement I felt before opening the bottle was well founded.

I should also mention before getting into the blog post that Champagne Taste turned 3 years old this month!  Thanks for reading my wine ramblings (and also my food ramblings via Champagne Taste’s younger sibling, Here, Taste This!).  It’s been fun sharing my tasting notes and more recently my wine philosophy and thoughts with you.

Anyway, I think that telling you about the experience with Trevallon might help you understand the other thing I’ll touch on - my “strange” wine descriptors.

So about the Trevallon - big reds from Provence (often made from Mourvedre if it’s from Bandol, like Tempier) can be a little too much on the palate if they’re opened too young.  It’s why I like holding the bottles quite some time.  Trevallon is a little different - it’s about 50/50 Cabernet Sauvignon and Syrah. But it needs to be enjoyed once it’s been waiting a little while in the bottle.  So I happened upon some vintage 2000 and bought it, and opened it this past weekend.  It’s still quite a big wine but it’s softened and on the elegant side now - clean and lovely.  It’s still a dark red in the glass but with a brickish rim to show its age a bit, and the aromas and flavors were fascinating - plenty of red fruit (and a touch of dark fruit) including red plum skin and wild berry, autumn baking spices, savory herbs, dried petals, olive, and (drumroll please) pastrami sandwich.  Yes, I said it.  Why pastrami?  Well, it had the ground black pepper notes of the Syrah that you find with pastrami, the seeds in the rye bread with the savory yet somewhat baking spice sort of thing, and the salty almost briny meat.  (I even told my boyfriend as we drank it, it reminds me of pastrami, and fortunately for me, he didn’t tell me I was completely crazy.)  The wine is elegant and soft at this age, with a lovely finish.  It still has a warmth about it, but it’s nicely balanced.  I can honestly say that it pays to be patient with your wines, and the ones that need to age a while - well, let them age as long as they need to.

And now, regarding strange descriptors for wine...apparently I’m a bit notorious with this.  I come up with tasting notes that surprise even industry veterans (perhaps you’ve heard my story about the nosebleeds that plague me, and how I’m sometimes turned off by a Rioja that has too much iron minerality toward its finish because of the sanguine characteristic?) - anyway the Trevallon reminded me a bit of a pastrami sandwich.  It’s ok to let the wines speak to you and remind you of just about anything you’ve smelled or tasted at some point - it’ll help you understand the characteristics of the grapes and the soils and climates.  So whatever you smell or taste, take note of it, no matter now peculiar it may seem.  (And I’m also a believer in assigning personalities to the wines, but that’s another story!)

Hasenpfeffer - re-posted from Here, Taste This!

http://here-taste-this.blogspot.com/2014/01/hasenpfeffer.html

Malbec

I enjoy pouring wine tastings.  Even when I’m pouring somewhere other than my regular Friday gig, if someone asks me something ridiculous or takes a cheap shot at a wine I’m showing for no legitimate reason, or gets drunk at a grand tasting on the 100+ wines being shown, etc. - I still enjoy pouring most tastings.  That’s no secret.

The other thing that’s no secret, particularly to those who know me (and my palate) or who read my blog with some regularity - the other non-secret is that I’m a Sud-Ouest wine devotee.  I love those wines.  They’re so honest and expressive and delicious.

That said, something I noticed, especially when I’m pouring some of my tastings, is this...

If I say Malbec, what’s the first word to come to your head?

Malbec based wine from Cahors, France

If you said Argentina, ok, I understand and to an extent I agree, but being a Francophile and lover of wines from Sud-Ouest, unfortunately you’d probably get a bop on the head from me if you did indeed say Argentina.

Why?

Well, Malbec isn’t originally from Argentina.

Think of it this way.

I live in New York.  Not to brag, but lots of people want to live in New York.  So plenty of people move to New York, from other parts of the United States and other parts of the world.  If someone moves here from elsewhere, do you think that now that he lives in New York, he’s suddenly going to worship the Yankees, automatically know how to fold a slice of pizza correctly, and understand the subway system overnight?  Doubtful.  And for good reason - he’s a transplant.  He’s not a native New Yorker.

Malbec is not Argentinean.  I repeat - Malbec is not Argentinean.  He’s French.  And I’m not just saying that because I have a special devotion to French wine.  The truth is, Malbec is French.  He’s as French as the Eiffel Tower, Cassoulet, and Louis Vuitton.

I pour a Cahors at lots of wine tastings.  People in attendance look at the label and see Malbec clearly printed on the label.  As I go through my spiel, I mention that it’s a Malbec FROM FRANCE.  And people look at me and say, “Malbec from France?  Are you sure it’s not from Argentina?  Because Malbec is from Argentina, and I’ve never heard of a Malbec from France.”

Ok, for starters, I represent this portfolio, so yes, I know this wine, and yes, I’m sure it’s from France.  And another thing - you’re wrong.  Malbec isn’t from Argentina.  It’s from France.  It just happens to grow well in Argentina and the winemakers in places like Mendoza have been quite successful in producing Malbec based wines.  But Argentinean Malbec isn’t quite the same as the original French Malbec.  It doesn’t have the same characteristics.

And that makes sense.  A person from Boston moves to New York.  He eventually learns to fold the pizza correctly, bagels become his regular breakfast, and Chinese food becomes his midnight snack.  He learns when to take the 123 and when to take the NQR.  He learns never to go to Times Square on New Year’s Eve.  And he embraces Billy Joel.  But in all likelihood, however, he never learns to love the Yankees or any of our other teams.  It’s because he’s technically Bostonian.  But he sure can thrive and become quite successful after his move to New York.  And aside from his accent and his Red Sox hat, he appears like a New Yorker.

Malbec is from France.  Whether his origins are northern Burgundy, Bordeaux, or Cahors (in Sud-Ouest) is somewhat disputed, but he’s definitely from France.  Some time later, probably around the mid-1800s, Malbec arrived in Argentina.  Over time, winemakers discovered the potential for success in Argentinean wine regions, and Malbec from Argentina has become very popular, while French Malbec has diminished in popularity.

Malbec from Argentina is round and rich and luscious with characteristics of stewed blueberry, dark chocolate, and purple blossoms.  Malbec from France (oftentimes Cahors but sometimes Bordeaux or Loire) is drier and shows characteristics of more tart fruit, leather, and savory herbs.

My point is, Argentinean Malbec has its own unique style, but it’s not the original Malbec.  So it’s completely ok if you had never tasted a French Malbec until you had it at one of my tastings.  Just trust me when I tell you that French Malbec is the original Malbec.  And Malbec from Argentina, I agree, can be absolutely wonderful.  But try to remember who Malbec really is, and that, much like many other grapes grown around the world - well, he’s actually from France.

New Year’s Eve 2013-2014

My mood, for some reason, definitely calls for some of my favorite French songs today - and right now it’s a duet by Francoise Hardy and Etienne Daho, and I could listen to this song over and over (in fact, sometimes I do).  It’s something I love listening to when times are good.

I’m so glad the holiday season is over at last and it’s time to return to normalcy - eating healthier, more time for exercise, working on some of my wine resolutions (that’s probably going to get some coverage this year, because I chose some good ones - I’ll tell you about them), and just getting back on track.  Christmas can be wonderful but most of us I’m sure can agree that it can be a stressful and insanely busy time of year.  I’ve got some really fun wine events to look forward to in the near future which I’ll tell you all about when I attend them.

Anyway, the New Year’s resolutions pertaining to wine are these:
(1) I’m going to invest plenty of time into exploring German wines.  I’ve been enjoying good quality German wines for the past couple of years now, but as more are becoming available and I’ve been liking them more and more, I’ve decided it would be a good idea to learn as much about them as I can.  They’re just so pure and expressive and delicious and fascinating to me, I can’t help but want to make them a bigger part of my wine racks (which are almost exclusively French at this point, and some Italian, and not much else).
(2) I need to spend some more time on Tuscany.  I’m always having fun learning more about wines form Sicily, Sardegna, Campagna, Basilicata, Puglia, and of course Piemonte, and lately it feels like I spend almost no time on Tuscany.  Strange?  Yes.
(3) I’m currently searching for good quality Rioja, but there’s a catch - I tend to get nosebleeds very often and always have.  And I don’t care much for big, huge, bold wines.  So I need really well balanced Rioja that shows more soil type in its mineral notes other than just iron overload.  When I get to the finish of a taste of Rioja and only sense the iron, it tastes an awful lot like a bloody nose.
(4) Champagne is expensive.  It’s really good and I love snooping around for grower Champagnes, but right now I’m curious to hunt down some fun Cremant from all around France that doesn’t cost an arm and a leg and still shows really well and varies tremendously based on grape and region.  Who wouldn’t love fun, good quality, inexpensive bubbles from France, anyway?
(5) I will freely admit that in terms of wine (and in terms of other things too), I’m a europhile.  I love the Old World way of doing things, especially wine - I have a special devotion to South West France, as you already know by now I’m sure, and I drink mostly French wines.  I also drink plenty of Italian wine, I’ve been spending more time on Germany and Austria, and occasionally Spanish, Portuguese, and when I can find some, Croatian.  And now I think it’s time I spend a little more energy on finding some great American wines from small producers.  I don’t want that overextracted, concentrated, big stuff at 14.9% alcohol - no, not that.  I’m talking about expressive, terroir driven American wines.  I told a friend recently that my concern with many American wines (aside from price and in many cases quality) is actually that when I talk to someone in the American wine industry, the winery brags about who its winemaker is.  In a place such as Burgundy (just an example), the domaine would rather brag about which vineyard they sourced their grapes from.  That’s because you should be able to identify the wine by its grape and region, its own identity, and not the identity of its winemaker.  At least that’s the way I see it.  So I’d like to find more than just a few American wines whose producers embrace the terroir/grape type/identity of the wine, and allow the wine to tell its own story.

Enough about resolutions.  How about - what did we drink on New Year’s Eve?  (And I’d love to hear what you drank too!)

The 1999 Salon Le Mesnil was lovely.  It was my first experience with Salon actually.  I’ve eyed bottles of it year in and year out in Champagne sections of good wine shops, but it was finally time.  The soft golden hue of the wine and the beautiful bubbles were so perfect.  The aromas and flavors differed from each other - the aromas reflected an almost honeyed and toasted characteristic, some mature floral notes and a touch of Madagascar vanilla, and caramelized apple.  On the palate, it was more zesty and lively, while still majestic and slightly reserved.  It was the kind of Champagne that you need to allow to approach you on its own terms, in subtle layers of aroma and flavor and texture, and reflect on it throughout the experience, lest you forget the subtleties as each stage and layer of the Champagne comes and goes.

The 2007 Roederer Rose was great - it’s a bright salmon pink color and bursts in the glass.  It’s energetic and electric in its personality, with plenty of acidity that certainly woke my palate up late in the evening (check out the blurry photo and you’ll have a better idea of how much fun I had) - and a bright and fun Champagne like this is a great pairing with - go figure - the New Year’s Honeymooners Marathon.  Yes.  Anyway, there’s plenty of white citrus and lemon, tart red berry, barely ripened strawberry, and some green apple in the nose and palate with this Champagne, it’s mouthwatering, and it’s just a fun yet sophisticated bubbly wine from a very dependable producer.  What’s not to love?

Cheers to 2014 and all the fun wines it brings!

Christmas 2013

Raise your hand if you love Steely Dan.  Now raise your glass if you love Steely Dan while sipping good Pinot Noir.  There’s something about the smoothness with a slight edge and complexity of the music of Steely Dan that I believe pairs perfectly with the similar characteristics of good Pinot Noir.

That’s not what this blog post is about, but since I’m listening to Steely Dan and it makes my mouth water for Pinot Noir (I’m thinking Cotes de Nuits), I couldn’t help but pose the question.

What I want to tell you about in what’s probably my last wine blog post of 2013 is what I drank on Christmas.  Everything showed really well so that’s a good start.

Christmas Eve in our house is the Feast of the Seven Fishes (and after counting, it looks like we got it up to around 9 or 10 or perhaps even more) - anyway I chose some really fun things from the stash.  I started with a sparkling wine - a sparkling Mauzac from Gaillac, to be more specific, made in the Methode Ancestrale (which is generally used only in places like Gaillac and Limoux, and is worth checking out).  Gaillac is a place in Sud-Ouest that makes some of the more expressive reds I’ve tasted from Sud-Ouest, with such minerality even on the least expensive of them, that I’m impressed each time.  Well, this one was a dry sparkling blanc.  It had some apple notes with a hint of rose water, licorice, and tiny bubbles.  Sounds like a fun start to Christmas Eve?  It was.

Next up with all the shellfish dishes were two interesting whites.  Going back to Sud-Ouest, I chose a Jurancon Sec that had a lovely pale yellow-golden color to it, and it was on the aromatic side, which I had sort of expected, and showed characteristics of lemon curd, apple, and an almost perfumed sensation toward the end.  The grapes were Petit Manseng, Gros Manseng, and something I was less familiar with, called Camaralet (which is used in Jurancon sometimes).  The other white I selected (because it wouldn’t be Christmas Eve without something Italian in my glass) was a bianco di Toscana made up of 50/50 Semillon and Trebbiano.  Go figure.  And I’m sure you can guess that one was aromatic too, with a tangerine peel note up front, and some orchard fruit characteristics, some soft spice and floral notes, and a slightly richer texture than the Jurancon.  Great pairing with shellfish, calamari, and some of the funkier fish in the frutti di mare.

As the fish dishes got heavier in texture and flavor (fried cod and flounder, followed by linguine with a marinara sauce and shrimp and scungilli), the two reds were the 2004 Gruaud Larose Saint-Julien and the 2006 Ridge Lytton Springs (Zinfandel with Petite Sirah and Carignan).  I’m always surprised when I hear a wine lover insist that 2004 Bordeaux wasn’t so great.  Nonsense.  I love the way they’ve been showing the past year or two, particularly those from the better chateaux.  And after my experience with that standout bottle of Gruaud Larose at my 1983 birthday dinner party, I had high hopes for this 2004.  And it met my expectations, and then some.  (Suffice it to say that the Gruaud Larose was the rock star of the two day Christmas celebration.  And no, I’m not surprised.)  Oh, and both reds were carefully decanted - the Ridge, it turns out, needed it much more than the Bordeaux did.  So the final wine of the night was the 2006 Ridge, and it was very good.  I was really unsure which should be opened first and after guessing Bordeaux followed by Zinfandel, I ran the idea by two other wine pros, and the consensus was a toss-up, with Bordeaux being before Zinfandel.  Good thing I did that, because after tasting both, it wasn’t actually a toss-up after all.  The Lytton Springs was still a big wine with lots of texture and mostly dark fruit notes and dark spice and pepper, as opposed to the red plum, wild berry, rare meat, and white pepper and herb notes of the Bordeaux.  Anyway both reds showed very nicely.

Dessert was fun (I’ll do a quick post on the food blog about struffoli) and with the struffoli there were loads of Christmas cookies.  Out came my homemade limoncello.

Christmas Day is less about food for us that Christmas Eve, and we’re sort of still full when it’s time for dinner of Christmas Day.  So with the wines, I decided to keep it fairly simple.  With leftover baked clams from the night before, I popped open a bottle of Macon-Villages, which was so refreshing and perfect with shellfish, with characteristics of lemon, green apple, barely ripened peach, a touch of pineapple, and stony white mineral, and perhaps a tiny hint of baking spice.  And with lasagne, I chose the 2010 Stag’s Leap Napa Artemis.  I do love the 2010 vintage from Napa (which I decided after first tasting the 2010 Duckhorn), and the Artemis was lovely as always, with cassis, plum, raspberry, bramble, vanilla, clove, and graphite characteristics - so refined and expressive, yet so delightfully satisfying - my kind of California wine, as opposed to some of those enormous fruit bombs laced with excessive vanilla oak, that they seem to get in their own way, let alone the way of the food on the plate.  No, Artemis is exactly what I love to see in a properly executed California Cabernet priced around $65 USD.  Artemis is more than capable of expressing its own identity and that’s as it should be.

So that’s what we did on Christmas (ending with a delicious apple pie made by my sister).  Please check out my post on struffoli (Italian honey balls) on my food blog, and I’ll see you in the New Year with some notes on Champagne!

For the Love of All Things Good...

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all of my online friends and blog readers!  I’ll be back again to give you an update on how my selections show on Christmas Eve (Feast of the Seven Fishes) and Christmas Day, and again to tell you all about our Champagnes on New Year’s Eve.  But I wanted to say something to you before you set that Christmas dinner table and before you touch your corkscrew.

Please, for the love of all things good, drink well this Christmas and New Year.

Why?

Because you deserve it.  So do your guests.  Yes, I said it.  You deserve it, and so do your guests.

How do I know?  Because you’re here reading my blog, aren’t you?  Which means you have at least some curiosity about good wines, otherwise you wouldn’t bother sharing your wine thoughts and tasting notes with other people.  You wouldn’t bother reading other people’s observations about wines. Right?

I thought so.

And you probably want to know what makes me think that your guests also deserve to drink good wine.  Well, this is how I know.  If you’re opting to spend time with them over Christmas and ring in the New Year with them, then they must be as awesome as you are.  (And if you don’t like them, why do you spend time with them?  Give your time to those you truly love, and those who truly love you.  And if they don’t know how much you love them, you need to tell them, and you need to show them.  But that’s another topic altogether.)

I’m blessed.  I have a wonderful family.  I have some awesome friends.  And I have a very special guy in my life.  Those are just a few of the reasons why I believe I’m blessed, but for purposes of this blog post, I’ll focus on those reasons.  And those are the people I love sharing wine with.  It’s partly because some of the people closest to me are either in the wine industry too, or they’re just so used to being around me and sharing cool wines with me, that we have that in common.

Anyway, I’ve picked some really fabulous things to share with them.  I’ll tell you more about what I’ve picked when I write my blog posts after Christmas and after New Year’s Eve.  For now, I want to focus on you and your selections for this special time of the year.

What I suggest is that you pick a few dependable wines that you know already and wouldn’t want to celebrate without them.  It’s one less thing to worry about at an already stressful time (a good idea if you’re working with some challenging recipes and flavors).  I also suggest you pick a few really fun, off-beat wines because the best way to experience wine is to share them with others, and what better conversation topic (especially among wine enthusiasts) is there than wines that provide an interesting learning experience (and trust me, it’s a lot safer than many other topics) - what’s more fun than wine, really?  And then I also suggest you splurge just a little - spend on a few great bottles.  Just a few.  Because it’s a special time, and you deserve something special.  Do it for you.  And do it for the people you love the most.  The memory of what you enjoyed that night will last you all through the year, until next Christmas and New Year.

A few suggestions, if I may.

For my fellow Italians - well, I’m fortunate that my Italian-American family is not the kind that despises all things French.  I come across a lot of Italian-Americans who claim they just don’t like French wine, French food, or anything French really.  Nonsense.  I repeat, NONSENSE.  If you don’t like French people, that’s just flat out narrow minded to begin with.  (I’ve gotten to know a lot of French people since I’ve been working with wine - they’re really wonderful people.  And they make amazing wine.)  Fortunately for me, my Italian-American family has what appears to be an infinite amount of patience and curiosity with my little (read: major) obsession with off-beat French wines.  So I get to bring out lots of French wine, but I also remember to bring out many other things too.  (For the record, so far I’ve chosen wines from France, Italy, Germany, Austria, and the United States for dinners and gifts for Christmas.)  So, for my fellow Italians - please, for the love of all things good, do not bring out the straw basket.  There are plenty of incredibly good Italian wines to enjoy with dinner.  For the curious type, go with Sicily or Campagna.  They’re not just delicious; they also pair well with lots of foods, and they tend to show characteristics that other wines don’t, including expressive minerality and sometimes cool floral notes.  For the elegant type, how about some aged wines from Piemonte, like a great Barolo or Barbaresco, or some Gavi with your Seven Fishes, Dolcetto and Barbera with your macaroni dishes, and if you love bubbles, go for a good quality Moscato to start off the evening.  If you and your guests prefer something a little safer, go with some Tuscan selections - Chianti is safe and very food friendly, but if you want to rock the dinner party for real, go with Super Tuscans (Bordeaux type blends made by some very talented Italian winemakers) and Brunello.  Wow.  And for the lovers of luxury, Amarone is your wine.

If you, on the other hand, love French wine, then the sky is the limit in terms of good French wine.  For the love of all things good, please try to stay away from just the safer stuff.  And yes, we know you love to strut your stuff (I do too), but don’t just bring out the names that everyone will know.  Sure, some splurge wines of the most luxurious nature will be great over the holiday.  But anyone with a good Christmas bonus can do that.  Put down your issue of Wine Spectator, and leave Robert Parker out of this.  Where’s your sense of adventure?  Here it is.  Burgundy lovers, look to Cotes Chalonnaise for great quality at very good prices.  Bordeaux people, how about Fronsac and Pessac-Leognan?  And go south too - an aged Bandol or Saint-Joseph can be quite mind blowing.  Want something big and bold - how about Cahors?  Need a lighter alternative - look to the reds of Loire.  And speaking of Loire, don’t just go to Sancerre.  Everyone knows Sancerre.  Please, for the love of all things good, find yourself Muscadet, or even more exciting, Menetou-Salon.  And don’t forget some fun Cremant!  (And on New Year’s Eve, maybe consider Grower Champagne and small production sparkling wines?)  See what I mean about French wine?  The possibilities are endless.

And what about those of you who love (and whose guests love) the fruitier wines?  Germany.  And for the love of all things good, don’t keep on going for that same blue magnum of the same old thing.  You know what I’m referencing.  Find bottles labeled Kabinett, Auslese, Spatlese, and the like.  If you’re not sure what’s on the label, ask your favorite wine shopkeeper.  They’ll be able to help you out.  (And if they can’t figure out the label either, find a new favorite wine shopkeeper.)  German wines are often a great value for some of the purest, most delicious wines.  And not just sweet wines, either.  In fact, while we’re at it, not just Riesling.  But I, for one, love opening a dinner with a German Riesling.  The fruitiness is fun and delicious, and the bright acidity toward the end primes my palate for more wine and more food.

Hanging with hipsters and an off-the-beaten-path crowd?  Hunt down some fascinating wines from Austria.  They’re not cheap, but they’re worth it, because they’re not like anything else.  You can find some really fun Rieslings from Austria, and Gruner Veltliner is one of the most food friendly whites out there, especially if you’re going with lighter dishes and chilled foods.  (And for vegetarian fare, you cannot go wrong with Gruner.  Its typical notes of celery and white pepper are a match made in heaven with vegetable-based dishes.)  But Austrian wines also love to be matched with cheeses and cold meats.  And for reds, on the heavier side you can go with a Blaufrankisch, and for something a bit lighter and fruitier, try a Zweigelt.  And if you’re a total geek like me, it’s worth looking for a good quality Sankt Laurent.  I promise you, Austrian wines are among the most fascinating, so for the love of all things good, pop open a Sekt and do your homework.

One of my favorite Christmas movies is “It’s a Wonderful Life.”  One of the lines is spoken by Nick, the bartender.  He tells George and Clarence that he serves drinks for men who want to get drunk fast.  Do you want to get drunk fast?  Well, let’s not go quite that far, but if you want the ultimate party wines at good prices (and some with insanely high alcohol levels), then you, my friend, need a little Spanish wine at your party.  I’m sure you know all about Rioja.  Did you know that Rioja Crianza often comes in at under $20, and packs quite a punch?  And if you want to try something really cool, try a Priorat - they’re (in my opinion) among the most expressive of all Spanish wines.  Want to bring out the big impressive wines?  Find some great wines of Ribera del Duero.  And if you need some whites, Albarino and Godello are perfect.  Bubbles?  Cava is your wine.  One of the great things about Spanish wine is that you don’t have to spend much, they’re fairly easy to find, and they are the ultimate party wine.  But for the love of all things good, don’t overdo it, because it’s really easy to overdo it quite quickly on Spanish wine (it’s happened to me, trust me) - and please behave responsibly by the end of the evening.

Other great values can be found in wines from South America (in particular Argentina and Chile), Australia, New Zealand, and some of my favorite value wines are from Portugal.

I hope you didn’t think I forget the United States.  That would never happen.  If you’re serving hearty meat dishes, Napa and Sonoma are for you.  But while you may want to go with some of your safer picks that you’re used to, in order to avoid conflicting flavors and stress, you may also want to find some other cool American wines.  For the love of all things good, please don’t just find something local and drink it just because it’s local.  If you want some local wines, find the best ones!  After all, if you’ve got guests from out of town, you want your hometown to shine and make you proud.  (Insert shout out to my favorite New York producers.)  Find the best local wines.  And if you and your crowd have an elegant style palate, Oregon Pinot Noir and Cabernet, Merlot, and Syrah from Washington might be a fun thing to bring to your table.

So you see, the possibilities are endless.  All you need to remember is that you ought to be drinking good wines over Christmas and New Year’s Eve, because you and your guests deserve it.  Have a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year, drink something(s) FABULOUS, keep it interesting, and I’d love to hear all about the wines that grace your tables this season!

Cheers,
Jac

My 1983-Themed 30th Birthday

Anyone who knows me even fairly well has probably already come to the conclusion that I have a morbid (and probably unreasonable) fear of aging.  I’m not sure why I have this fear, but it’s been going on for some time now.  It’s as if I can’t bear the thought of time passing as quickly as it does, and I can’t even think about what marks the passage of time leaves on me, both physically and mentally.  It was as if I wanted to freeze time, for some reason.  I beam each time I’m asked for my ID before being served or sold wine, and this year I was asked once if I was playing hooky from the local high school, and (being a regular Sunday churchgoer), one morning this past year I walked into church and a lady instructed me to go sit at the front of the church “with the other confirmation candidates” - imagine how happy I was!

1983 Dom Perignon

Well, the inevitable happened this past week - I turned 30.  It’s something I was dreading, both the actual thing of leaving my 20s and also the idea of admitting that I’m 30 now, and the idea of others finding out.  Don’t ask me why it became such an obsession of mine, because I can’t find a completely logical reason for it, but I literally waited up as the clock struck midnight and I turned 30, as if I expected to turn into a pumpkin or something like that, or perhaps the governor would come through and issue a pardon, allowing me to remain at 29 indefinitely.  Whatever the case may be, I had no choice but to turn 30.

In the lead-up to that day, I decided I’d have a small birthday party for myself - with wines all from the 1983 vintage.  Imagine that - well, yes, it was kind of expensive, but it was completely worth it.

On the actual day of my birthday, my boyfriend instructed me to close my eyes and put out my hands - and much to my surprise, he placed a box in them - with a bottle of 1983 Dom Perignon in it!  (I hadn’t purchased any 1983 Champagne for the party so that was exciting!)  While the wine was a little bit tired and showing its age, it was such an awesome thing and worth experiencing.  (And the box and bottle are beautiful!)

And then over the weekend it was time for the party - it was a small gathering, but if it had been lots of guests, there never would have been enough of those bottles to go around.

1983 - the lineup from start to finish

I did some serious homework and preparation while getting ready for the party - I wanted to choose only bottles from reputable places and from regions that were particularly good in 1983.  I chose a Mosel, an Alsatian white, 3 Bordeaux reds, a Chateauneuf-du-Pape, an Amarone, a Sauternes, and a Port.  (And, truth be told, I was a nervous wreck right before opening the bottles, for fear of at least one of them not showing well - lucky for me, they were all amazing.)  I decanted each of the reds (and used a candle under each of them - which I highly recommend doing if you’re decanting, especially with older bottles - you don’t want to be drinking sediment!), and just getting the corks out was scary enough - the only two that came out effortlessly were the Trimbach Clos Ste Hune and Beaucastel.

I chose the German Riesling to start - the Bollig-Lehnert Piesporter Goldtropfchen Riesling Auslese from Mosel-Saar-Ruwer (and there was something cool about the label at the top of the bottle telling me it was a product of West Germany - I had forgotten there was still a Cold War on when I was born!) - and it was lovely.  Clean and still fairly light in color, with lots of orchard fruit that was only just barely beginning to appear like dry fruit, and plenty of acidity, the wine was still showing beautifully and it was a perfect start to the evening.  It was paired with Comte cheese and prosciutto di Parma.  The subtle nuttiness and mild nature of the cheese and the salty yet complex prosciutto were a wonderful match for the fruit and clean feel of the Riesling.

Lobster Salad

The next Riesling was something I was extremely excited about - the Trimbach Clos Ste Hune Vendange Tardive from Alsace - the heralded wine from a heralded vintage in the region was all I read about in the immediate lead-up to the dinner party.  And as hard as it was to believe, the wine was even better than I had anticipated it would be - still really holding up well, in fact I think it’s got more time - still plenty of fruit, mostly orchard and some tropical with a bit of candied citrus, with floral notes, stony mineral, and just a hint of petrol toward the back - and a light golden color - it was wonderful and showed plenty of acidity.  It was a perfect pairing with my appetizer creation - a lobster salad of fresh chilled lobster with a bit of chopped celery and a touch of shallot, on a bed of Boston lettuce and frisee, and a dressing/marinade of fresh lemon juice, olive oil, kosher salt, black pepper, dill, parsley, and tarragon.

Next up were the 3 Bordeaux - the braised lamb shanks were taking a while longer than expected to cook once they were in the oven (in fact I usually cook them for just over 2 hours, but this time it took almost 3 hours) - the lamb shanks were braised and then cooked in Pinot Noir and beef broth with kosher salt, black pepper, fresh garlic, rosemary, parsley, and a bit of lemon, and they were absolutely delicious.  But since they were taking a while, I started decanting the Bordeaux, and we sipped.  First was a Pomerol, the Chateau la Croix de Gay - and being a Right Bank Bordeaux, it’s mostly Merlot with some Cabernet Sauvignon and Cabernet Franc.  And I felt a little more confident after smelling and tasting that red and observing it in the decanter and then in the glass, that 1983 reds could hold up as well as their white counterparts.  All 3 Bordeaux still had a bright red rim with a dark core - I thought there’d be more brick on the rim.  Honestly, it didn’t appear as a 30 year old wine at all.  Smooth, elegant, and releasing aromas of barely cooked meat and plum flesh with some dried floral notes and a bit of tobacco, it was clean, pure, and delicious.

Braised Lamb Shank

Soon, we were on to the next Bordeaux, which was truly amazing as it released a beautiful bouquet as it went from bottle to decanter (I kept bringing the decanter close to me to keep on loving the aromas) - darker than the Pomerol in color, the first of the 2 Cabernet-based reds from Saint-Julien, the Gruaud-Larose was practically bursting with characteristics of both red and dark fruit (more dark than red though), savory herbs, dark chocolate, tobacco, and cedar, and a dark cool mineral toward the finish (and something about it that was reminiscent of men’s cologne) - and a lovely balance.  This one really left an impression - I loved it.  And I can assure you that if I drank a bottle of that very wine from that vintage every night, I’d still never tire of it and never stop appreciating it.

The final Bordeaux, which was the first red to really pair with the lamb shanks (and potatoes, portobello mushrooms, green beans, and corn) - was the Leoville-Las Cases.  Elegant, to say the least, and much like the other 2, not at all weary or showing much age.  The color was beautiful, again the bright red rim and dark core, with notes of subtle dark fruit and some red fruit, dried petals, subtle tobacco leaves, and mineral toward the end.  Lovely.

One of the major rock stars of the evening was next - the Beaucastel Chateauneuf-du-Pape (Southern Rhone of course) - made up of all 13 permitted grapes from the region, mainly Grenache and Mourvedre.  And much like the Trimbach, the cork came out with such ease that I was already feeling relieved before it even went into the decanter.  The color was gorgeous and becoming lighter and clearer, and the characteristics were of mellow fruit, flower petals, and an almost sweet aroma that I didn’t expect at all, and not much of the intense earthiness that it may have shown at one point in its life - on that particular evening, everything was in perfect balance, the wine was complex but subtle and mature, and it felt almost as if, had it been opened a day earlier or a day later, it might not have shown so perfectly.  I was thrilled.

Sauternes

The final red was the Bertani Amarone - a big wine with a big presence - very dark in the glass, almost dense with raisinated dark fruit characteristics and a simultaneous warmth and boldness, everything about it was dark, red, and luscious.  That was a perfect end to the reds and an ideal transition from a hearty lamb dish to the after-dinner cheese course.  And again, I was incredibly relieved at just how well another big red was showing.  How, I wondered, did I get so lucky?  Well, when I think of the people who made my 30th birthday special for me, and some of the things and events and people that have graced my 30 years of life, I suppose I really am quite lucky and the wines were just a bonus that served as a reminder of my good fortune.  I need to remember this more often.

Anyway, I do love some funky cheeses after dinner, so with the cheese platter consisting of Epoisses, Saint-Agur, and 5 year aged Gouda, the Sauternes was the Premier Cru Classe Chateau Lafaurie-Peyraguey.  I’m already a Sauternes lover and always have been, especially when they’re already aged a bit, but the oldest I’ve had so far was about 15 years old.  30 year old Sauternes from a great producer?  Liquid gold.  A gorgeous deep honey color in the glass, the wine showed characteristics of dried apricots, wildflower honey, candied orange peel, and an almost indescribable aura of warmth and sophistication - and it was a perfect match with the cheeses (especially the Saint-Agur, which is one of my favorite bleu style cheeses).  Just incredible.

The final wine was the Taylor Fladgate, which I chose as my representative of a great vintage for Port.  And I’m glad I did, because it was amazing (and still was last night, because I had a bit left in the bottle and was able to revisit the Port experience all over again) - barely brickish with an almost pink/purple undertone in the bright redness in the glass, it’s rich and wonderful, with an amazing blend of aromas and flavors of dark fruit, dried fig, brulee, and a warm earthy sort of finish.  That was paired with the birthday cake, which was made by my sister - one of my favorite desserts growing up - Sachertorte - an Austrian chocolate cake with apricot filling and a dark chocolate and coffee icing - delicious cake, delicious Port, perfect pairing!

Sachertorte

So there it was - after all the excitement and planning, my 1983-themed wine dinner/birthday party happened and it was perfect - I would not have changed anything.  A few moments of an emotional rush for me (particularly when I opened the Clos Ste Hune, for some reason), the process of decanting the reds over a candle and wondering what would happen next, if they’d all be ok - everything was perfect.  I could not have asked for a better evening.

What did I learn?  Well, I learned that I’m even better at decanting than I thought I was, and I learned that there’s not much to be afraid of when removing old corks from bottles - it’s just a matter of being careful and still confident.  I also learned just how well a 30 year old wine from a very good vintage will show if stored properly over the years.  I also learned that 30 isn’t so bad.  The wines held up.  I held up.  A few grey hairs here and there isn’t the end of the world.  And as I explained regarding what to expect from the wines - and used my 1 year old nephew (who was present at the party and was a perfect little gentleman!) as an example - most evenings, we drink very young wine - around the age of my nephew.  This time, we were drinking wines as old as I am.  What we want to see is graceful aging.  We don’t want to see a juvenile wine if it’s 30 years old, just as we don’t want to see a 30 year old human being behaving as a 1 year old human being.  But if some of the luscious fruit and big, round presence that we’re used to just isn’t showing, that doesn’t mean the wine has gone bad.  It just aged gracefully, as these bottles did, and it’s something I hope I can continue to do.  And maybe eventually I’ll stop fearing the aging process so much, after witnessing just how well the wines handled 30 years of age.

There’s a lot to learn from wine.