There is a brilliant thread over at WestCoastWine.net that is currently running four pages long, and it’s all about Zinfandel! I highly recommend giving it a read … it’s right here.
Archive for June, 2009
The Zinfandel Debate Rageth Onwards!
June 18, 2009Carignane Redux -or- Don’t Blame The Varietal For The Method? -or- Finding Time For An Oft-Maligned Vine
June 16, 2009I’ve been having some very interesting back and forth with Tom Hill lately about Carignane; it’s been on my mind certainly, what with the new 2007 Ridge Vineyards Buchignani Ranch Carignane just released, and Tom seems to be feeling the same way; he’s been posting notes on a few different vintages of late … (can be found here) … and I’ve been doing some “research” as well (it’s never “drinking,” it’s “learning!). Anyhow, I’ve got myself geared up to do a few pieces on this oft-misunderstood varietal, beginning, well, now!
As can be seen from the following quotes, Carignane has it kind of rough sometimes …
–”Carignane mostly produces wines that have high color, acidity, and tannin, without displaying much distinct flavor or personality and with very little appeal. Only a few growers carefully manage vine vigor and limit crop size to produce interesting, distinctive wines from this grape. As with many other varietals, older carignane vines seem to produce wines with generally more character and less brutality.” (from winepros.org)
–”Despite its commercial success, the Carignane is considered a ‘workhorse’ grape rather than a noble variety such as Pinot Noir or Cabernet Sauvignon. Wines made from Carignane can be good but are almost never excellent. As a result, Carignane is slowly diminishing in the number of acres planted to it. As consumers want better quality wines, the Carignane grape is being displaced by other varieties.” (from cellarnotes.net)
–”The Carignane grape suffers from the curse of high yields … These high yields mean that there’s plenty of wine to go around; often more than the market can handle. This lack of interest is exacerbated by the tendency of high-yielding vines to grow poorly concentrated fruit, especially in the absence of devoted efforts at pruning in the vineyard … Certainly, there is fine justification for the efforts, sponsored by the European Union, to pull Carignane vines from vineyards in France in the last decade. The surplus of wine was undeniable. Much of this wine had little to recommend it. But when produced from very old vines that are carefully tended, Carignane can help craft characterful and concentrated wines.” (from wineaccess.com)
But written into these quotes is some cause for hope; in that, running throughout these largely dismissive comments is an important truism; one should not fault the varietal for the method!
Meaning, don’t blame the grape for what the producer did to it. I give you another example; how many times have you heard people say, “I don’t like Chardonnay”? I’ve certainly heard this innumerable times in innumerable tasting rooms. I don’t like Chardonnay?!?! That’s like saying, “I don’t like blue”! Chardonnay is such a versatile varietal, almost a chameleon; how could one possibly claim to globally dislike chardonnay? Answer (more often than not, I wager): they don’t actually dislike it! What they probably, maybe even uniformly, seem to dislike (at least in my experience) are flabby, over-oaked, acid-less, “butter-bombs.” (for lack of a less cliche term …) But is that chardonnay’s fault? No! Again, don’t blame the varietal for the method!
So let’s look a little closer at those quotes above, and isolate a few key lines:
” …a few growers carefully manage vine vigor and limit crop size to produce interesting, distinctive wines from this grape…”
“…in the absence of devoted efforts at pruning in the vineyard…”
“…when produced from very old vines that are carefully tended, Carignane can help craft characterful and concentrated wines…”
In each case here, there is an implied acknowledgment of fault that has to do with methodology, not with the varietal itself. It’s my opinion that every varietal is its own little world; one that imposes its own set of terms and requirements that one can choose to honor or not, and I certainly think it’s incumbent upon a producer to do their best by the varietals they work with.
When I co-write with other songwriters, or produce albums for other musicians, I often tell them, during the compositional process, something along the lines of, “The song is the boss. It knows what it wants to be. Our job is to listen, and realize.” I think the same can be said for a varietal. It knows what it wants to be, our job is to listen, and realize. If it doesn’t come out right, is it the grape’s fault? No! Or, at least, not necessarily …
So, this is the beginning of my multi-part treatise on Carignane. The point here is that I don’t believe Carignane deserves to be maligned to the extent it often is, and I don’t believe it’s a “lesser” varietal per se; it may be a more demanding varietal, with an admittedly narrower spectrum of potential (hello Pinot Noir!), and I’ll concede it may be an acquired taste for most (hello solo-varietal Cabernet Franc!), but I don’t think it should be written off. And no, I’m not necessarily putting Carignane on the same level as the two afore-mentioned varietals, I’m just interested in giving Carignane a reputational chance …
More soon …
Big In Japan -or- Japanese Food And Red Wine? -or- The Thrill Of Geyserville
June 15, 2009I seem to be spending a lot of time writing over on West Coast Wine Net today, which I’m really enjoying, but I’m trying to remember that I’m supposed to be writing here too! So I’m going to do another cross-post (though I really recommend that you go check out the full thread, it’s one of the most engaging conversations about zin I’ve ever been privy to, and it’s certainly proof positive about the passions this varietal can provoke. You can find the full thread here …)
Anyhow, here’s an excerpt of what I was most recently on about:
On Gravy …
June 15, 2009I just had a quick back-and forth with a commenter to a previous post, and I decided I’d gotten on enough of a roll that I ought to just make a new post. So here it is, with a few additions (the question I’m purporting to answer below is whether I’d been having a bacon, sausage, or chipped beef gravy with my biscuits, as I enjoyed some Ridge 2005 Buchignani Ranch Zinfandel):
Hard to answer specifically, because it was kind of a “complicated” gravy; but it was definitely HIGHLY savory, with much, much umami on offer, so I think bacon is definitely the most relevant descriptor, though the herbs played a particularly important role as well. Especially the sage … Oh, the sage… Anyhow, I think I’ll agree with you here, if one’s choice of gravy is bacon, sausage, or chipped beef to pair with a Ridge zin, I’m definitely going bacon …
Though I will also stand up in defense of the notion that gravy is SO much more than a mere three choices (not that you were suggesting that by any means, I’m just getting on a roll here …); if you look at the historical model for gravy, it’s kind of poor folks food really (pour folks?); cook something, and if there is anything left over (i.e. “drippins”), add it to flour and water, and hello gravy! I made a gravy once after doing a sort of soy-sauce (actually Tamari) based stir-fry thing, using the remaining sauce as the add-in for the flour and water (the sauce was primarily tamarind, toasted sesame oil, rice vinegar, ginger juice, chili flakes, and dried basil, with some residual juice from grilling baby bella mushrooms), and it was delicious! And I have a friend who is particularly fond of lamb gravy, and my Grandmother on my father’s side (rest in peace Grandma!) swore by chicken gravy, and my missus’ father, normally quite a meat-and-potatoes sort of fella, actually quite likes the gravy at Dharma’s, which is a vegetarian restaurant in Capitola!
Mainly, gravy is good. And it’s good with wine. Particularly really good zinfandel. That’s my two cents. And thanks to B. Brannock for getting this all started!
Two Very Important Things I Learned Yesterday, At Lunch And Dinner Respectively
June 15, 20091. 100% bio-degradable picnicware forks melt if you try and eat hot chili with them.
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2. The Ridge Vineyards 2005 Buchignani Ranch Zinfandel pairs extraordinarily well with biscuits and gravy.
I’m just sayin …
My Baby Got Sauce -or – The Thrill Of The Grill -or What Do Grilled Salmon And The Ridge Vineyards Santa Cruz Mountains Estate Chardonnay Have In Common?
June 12, 2009The answer to the last question in the title of this post is “The sauce I made my missus last night.”
Here’s what I made:
First off, a beautiful piece of wild caught Alaskan salmon, skin removed.
Then garlic. I use garlic for EVERYTHING I cook. Olive Oil as well. I’m not interested in where the cuisine originates, or whether garlic is part of the tradition, meaning I don’t care whether it’s Thai, Greek, Southwestern, Traditional Pub English, Indian, Tex-Mex, Japanese, or Ethiopian; if I’m cooking it, it’s going to have garlic and olive oil. So, I dice up two cloves of garlic, not particularly finely, while heating up a skillet glazed with olive oil. After the garlic is diced, and before the skillet and oil are ready, I lick some garlic resonance off my fingers, and allow a rather large slirrup of ’07 Santa Cruz Mountains Estate Chardonnay to tumble water-slide-style down my decidedly dry throat. When the oil is ready, in with the garlic. And because I used my hands to pop the garlic in? More resonance. And more ’07. (From here on out, the wine will be referred to as “the ’07,” because it’s too much typing otherwise!)
When the garlic has softened, but not yet browned, it comes out with the oil, and into a large measuring cup. Next, traditionally spicy Dijon mustard. A big dollop. Now, I know this is probably sacrilegious (I donormally believe that one has to be careful having wine with vinegar-based dishes and sauces), but I LOVE good spicy mustard and white wine together. So, since I have the mustard open, I spread some on a flax-seed & honey wheat cracker, take a big bite and … Yes. More ’07. Ah, I love this combination! The intensity of the mustard somehow subjugates some of both the oak and fruit notes, and accordingly allows for all the yeast, mineral, and citrus components to come front & center. Delicious. But back to the sauce. Into the oil, garlic, and mustard goes dry vermouth next. Just a splash. And then some of the ’07. Ok, maybe a little bit more than some. One for the sauce, one for the chef. I whip the sauce vigorously with a fork until it starts to become every-so-slightly creamy in texture, an emulsification if you will.
Back to the cutting board then, for some organic grape tomatoes. About 10 or so, quartered into small pieces. These go into the sauce next, then some capers. Ummmm, capers. Delicious, delightful, compressed little balls of salt magic. Wondrous, wondrous capers. I toast the caper! With the ’07 … Than a little gentle stirring, enough to integrate the new components, but not so much that their structural integrity is damaged. Now for the herbs; first, a heaping amount of dried organic tarragon, and then a couple liberal pinches of herbed salt; herbs de provence specifically. Oops, a little bit of salt stuck to my fingers! Taste … sip. After testing the sauce, Amy decides it needs slightly more mustard. A second dollop. And another flax cracker for me!
With the sauce now ready, I lay the salmon out in a shallow pie dish, and pour the sauce over it. I flip the fish a couple times to get it fully covered, and then let it rest there, being infused with magic-ness. On goes the panini griller, mid-low temperature. When it’s ready, I hold the salmon up, letting the sauce run off and back into the dish. The salmon goes onto the grill, and the top goes down. Halfway through I turn the fish, so as to get that archetypal cross-hatch of seared mustard/tarragon/vermouth/’07 goodness.
It’s ready in just a few minutes; you have to watch salmon on the griller. If you wait even a second too long, the fish gets tough in texture. Amy is my barometer at this point, with a disclaimer; if she thinks it has another minute or two, it’s usually actually ready! Out comes the salmon, and on to a plate. Then I pour the sauce over. I’m on the edge of spiritual gourmand ecstasy, plunged to my metaphorical knees in subjugation to the life-giving aromas filling the room; a mendicant at the altar of culinary holiness; a supplicant before the eternal odors of life, love, and happiness; humble parishioner at the church of the esculent.
I fill Amy’s glass with the ’07, marvel at the glistening limpidty as it catches the fading rays of the Capitola sun, and think briefly to myself, “I love to feed my woman.” We toast.
The Big Sleep -or- The 1977 Monte Bello Arises -or- Fly On The Wall To A Dispatch From The Wine Front
June 12, 2009This post is essentially a “guest” post, meaning it features a wonderful write-up on a tasting that included the 1977 Ridge Vineyards Monte Bello, composed by one Michael Walbrecht; I have included his write-up below, as well as two photos that Michael very kindly sent along (one of the ’77 in the glass, and one of Robert Bettis, another attendee of the tasting, and also a member of our ATP Wine Program!) . Thank you Michael, for sharing your experience with us!
Emerging from a long slumbering sleep – The 1977 Ridge Monte Bello
There is only a handful of California wineries that have been producing long enough and with high enough quality to have a 1977 vintage wine that remains drinkable, and not something more appropriate as dressing on tonight’s dinner salad. Most of these are the stalwarts of the U.S. wine industry: Diamond Creek, Caymus, Ch. Montelena, Silver Oak, Phelps, Mayacamas, and Ridge, to name a few from the select list. Furthermore, the chances that a bottle of 1977 is still drinking beautifullyfrom any of these titans of wine are somewhere between you purchasing a time-share condo in Pyongyang and Giada De Laurentiis cooking up some mushroom risotto at your house this evening. When you consider that the 1977 vintage is not a “classic” vintage for California Cabernet, plus throw in the vagaries of storage conditions, cork integrity, and 32 years of age, you find yourself left with only a remote chance of enjoying the bottle beyond being able to brag to your friends that you “tried it.”
Enter the annual Kahn tasting in La Canada-Flintridge, California. A wine event held each spring that concentrates on classic California reds. The line-up never disappoints, and this year included Caymus, Insignia, La Jota, Silver Oak, and Heitz, to name just a few. The two oldest of the group were a 1974 Silver Oak North Coast and a 1977 Ridge Monte Bello, both rare in their own right.
The ’74 Silver Oak, from a cellar in Seattle, Washington, was still drinking nicely, but had lost some of its vigor after 35 years. I have to hand it to Justin Meyer (God rest his soul), as the wine still had great tannins and structure, a beautifully aged appearance, and exhibited tobacco on the nose and dark notes of leather and bramble for at least two hours. A wonderful wine. It was a great contrast to the younger 1986 Silver Oak that was also on the bill that evening.
The ’77 Monte Bello, which came from a cellar in Walnut Creek, had been under the control of the owner’s family and stored in a climate-controlled space since its release in 1979. The fill on the bottle was good, and the cork was compressed and hardened, but was only saturated a portion of the way up. There was a relatively modest amount of sediment in the bottle, which we took as a good omen.
Most impressively, the color was still deep, dark purple with just a bit of brick along the edge – it could have passed for a wine one-half its age. Upon gentle decanting, the nose and flavors were closed up, which was unexpected. We erroneously believed that the Monte Bello would be ready to drink as soon as it hit the air, and drop off rather precipitously inside the first hour. Instead, it took at least an hour for it to open up, and was really hitting its stride after two hours, and remained approachable at four hours. If the nose of the ’74 Silver Oak was tobacco, the nose of the ’77 Monte Bello was a Montecristo cigar straight from Fidel’s pocket. Although the fruit was undoubtedly showing some age, it presented beautifully with dark cassis and berry flavors, along with deep spice, leather, and a bit of oak. The dark flavors elicited a “Nectar of the Devil” summation of the wine. In the off chance you have any ’77 in the cellar, the wine is clearly ready to drink, although will probably remain solid for a few more years.
Michael Walbrecht, June 9, 2009
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- The ’77 Monte Bello In The Glass
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- Robert Bettis, ATP Member & Tasting Attendee
Li-Po and T’ao Ch’ien: Chinese Wine Poetry
June 11, 2009There are few poets or poetic traditions that can evoke the magic of wine in more poignant and elegant fashion the the great poets of the early Chinese tradition. Some 1200 years ago, some of the most beautiful poems I have ever had the joy, honor, and pleasure of reading were written, and Li-Po is perhaps the greatest Chinese poet of them all. I love his writing for so many things, certainly one of which is his love of wine, and his uncanny ability to weave it into the stunning context of his otherworldly wisdom and insight. Never has wine seemed so mystical, so perfect, so holy, so infused with pathos, so real, than in the following:
“Drinking Alone Beneath The Moon”
Among the blossoms, a single jar of wine.
No one else here, I ladle it out myself.
Raising my cup, I toast the bright moon,
and facing my shadow makes friends three,
though moon has never understood wine,
and shadow only trails along behind me.
Kindred a moment with moon and shadow,
I’ve found a joy that must infuse spring:
I sing, and moon rocks back and forth;
I dance, and shadow tumbles into pieces.
Sober, we’re together and happy. Drunk,
we scatter away into our own directions:
intimates forever, we’ll wander carefree
and meet again in Milky Way distances.
This particular translation is by a gentleman named David Hinton, who is, for my money, absolutely and unqualifiedly the most brilliant translator of ancient Chinese poetry into English working today, or ever. The art and craft of translation is a vexing one, and there are traditionally thought to be two schools existing on two ends of a spectrum: on one end is the idea that one translates for accuracy, to the letter, regardless of how the poem may read in English. The goal is to get the poem right linguistically. On the other end is the idea that you translate not the letter of the poem, but the spirit. The idea is to get the poem right conceptually. Given how different are the English and the Chinese languages, this conundrum of how to translate is all the more front and center, and it’s all the more difficult to reconcile the two sides.
There was a great wave of translation of both Chinese and Japanese poetry in this country starting in the late 40s through the 60s; it seemed essentially to accompany the rise of The Beat Generation, and their slow morphing into what later became The Hippies; the counter-culture through this period became fascinated with, for lack of a better term, “The East”; Zen Buddhism, Meditation, Yoga, etc., and poetry came along as an integral part of the experience. To my mind, the most notable translators of this era were Gary Snyder (whose translations of Han-Shan’s “Cold Mountain Poems” pretty much remain the gold standard), Kenneth Rexroth, and Robert Bly, among others. In varying ways, all three of these translators were essentially “spirit” translators. Alternatively, academia was the realm of the “literalists,” Burton Watson probably being the most influential.
David Hinton for me does the seemingly implausible; he perfectly constructs a balance between the two schools, managing to maintain what might be said to be the awkward structures and ungainly phrasings of the original Chinese, yet manages to extract exquisite English poems from this source material. Put another way, they may be in English, and read beautifully as such, but they still feel Chinese. Reading them, they unfold unlike any other translations I’ve ever read; I think he’s done an extraordinary job, and accordingly, given us all an extraordinary gift from an extraordinary time.
I’ll leave you with one other example, a beautiful poem by T’ao Ch’ien called “Drinking Wine,” as translated by David Hinton:
“Drinking Wine”
I live here in a village house without
all that racket horses and carts stir up,
and you wonder how that could ever be.
Wherever the mind dwells apart is itself
a distant place. Picking chrysanthemums
at my east fence, I see South Mountain
far off: air lovely at dusk, birds in flight
returning home. All this means something,
something absolute: whenever I start
to explain it, I forget words altogether.
Mist In The Morning …
June 11, 2009Mist in the morning,
The hues of The Hill;
Who ever heard
Of a cold summer chill?
What a morning we’re having up here at Monte Bello! Completely socked in with fog, misty wet drizzles, it’s just stunning! So I took pictures. Please see below (in one of them, if you look close, you can see a hummingbird in mid-flight!), and please click on the image to see full-size:
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- The Knoll
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- Hummingbird
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- Picnic Table
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- Beware of Rattlesnakes
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- Fence Line
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- Vines
Jimsomare “Virtual Vertical”: It’s Time To Set The Day!
June 8, 2009Ok, we’ve definitely assembled a great group of tasters for our Jimsomare “Virtual Vertical,” now it’s time to set a day. I’ve had one person specifically suggest one so far, so I’ll start there; how does everyone feel about July5th? I don’t want to set a specific time, because if everyone participates who has expressed interest, we’ll have tasters from the East Coast, from Japan, and from Australia! And of course the time changes would then be problematic. So, we’re just going to set the day. July 5th anyone?
Here’s a couple other symbolic ideas:
–Since the 2007 vintage of Jimsomare has 14.7 alcohol, we could taste on 7.14? (July 14th)
–Since the acreage at Jimsomare is 6.25 acres, we could taste on 6.25? (June 25th)
–Since there were only 17 barrels produced of the 2007 Jimsomare, we could taste on the 17th of any month?
–Since Robert Parker once wrote, “One of the greatest old Zinfandels I ever tasted was the 1970 Jimsomare,” and since the 1970 Jimsomare was bottle in ’73, we could taste on 7.3? (July 3rd)
Ok tasters, pick a date, any date, I’m getting thirsty!
And if you don’t remember the original invitation and description of the Jimsomare “Virtual Vertical”, or if you’re still on the fence about deciding to participate, here is the original post:
http://blog.ridgewine.com/2009/05/14/the-ensnare-of-jimsomare-a-vertical-proposition/
