Archive for the ‘Wine Tasting’ Category
Monday, July 19th, 2010
 My friend Bob Ecker is, among other things, the wine writer for H Monthly Magazine, and his most recent article (to be published shortly) was on what, in his opinion, were the best available Chardonnay’s out there. The article, fittingly enough, is entitled “Killer California Chardonnays”.
Bob got deluged with over a 100 bottles of Chardonnay in response to his request for samples. I got to taste maybe a tenth of these wines along with him and a few other friends totally at random. And I must say that I was more impressed with the quality of the wines than I have ever been with Chard.
I don’t grow or make Chardonnay, so my take on this subject is purely as a consumer. And I would certainly say I’m not, as a general rule, Chard’s biggest fan. But, by and large, these wines were lovely, a pleasure to taste and drink.
When I say I’m not Chard’s biggest fan, it’s not because I dislike the grape. Quite the contrary, I think the grape an excellent one. Rather, I have disliked how it’s usually been made.
To my palate, a wine, particularly a white wine, should, first and foremost, be an expression of the fruit of the grape. The wine should also pack a decent punch of acidity, which makes it refreshing and emphasizes the fruit as well. Oak should be something that frames the fruit flavors of the wine, not the main character.
Most Chards stereotypically have been diametrically opposed to this paradigm of winemaking. They have suffered from some or all of the following: overly soft (lacking acidity), big buttery flavors, and, most of all, Oak, Oak, and more OAK.I’ve always thought of it as a freak wine, since it is so manufactured and so different than the way nearly all other wines are made.
This group of Chardonnays certainly defied the stereotypical chardonnay. Most were relatively high in acidity (as they should be), making them much better food wines and presaging a longer life span. None were overtly buttery. And, most important, while oak was definitely in evidence, in none of the wines did the oak overwhelm the fruit.
I’m doubt that what I tasted is truly representative of the entirety of the Chardonnay market, but that I would go through 10-12 Chardonnays, at random, and find none of them worthy of bitter criticism bespeaks a major change in the way Chardonnay is being made. What’s happened?
I would think part of it has to be picking somewhat earlier, to maintain acidity. I also assume at least some (though not all) of the blends have higher proportions that haven’t gone through malolactic fermentation, a process that turns the more acidic malic acid into the less tart lactic acid. In some cases, I would have to believe the wines are entirely non-malolactic fermented. Since the buttery characteristic in Chardonnay is the result of a definite winemaking decision, these wines evidence that winemakers have definitely throttled back on this aspect of Chardonnay making. Oak, likewise, is also a winemaking decision, and the fact that none of the wines was oak dominated bespeaks volumes about the restraint that at least some winemakers are using when making their Chards.
While I can’t believe that the stereotypical Chardonnay (soft, buttery, oak dominated) is a thing of the past, the fact that there’s now a definite trend in the opposite direction has to be a good thing for Chardonnay. I can only hope that this counter-trend represents the mainstream of Chardonnay’s future.
Posted in Wine Tasting, Winemaking | 2 Comments »
Monday, July 12th, 2010
For anyone in the wine business involved with selling Merlot, what I’m about to say is old news. Merlot burst on the scene as a Cab alternative—similar in many ways but more fruit forward and less tannic. It was often vinified to emphasize the soft, fruit-forward aspects that the wine was capable of. As such, it was the perfect wine for the non-connoisseur, someone who was looking to step into reds from the familiar White Zin.
It’s success was astounding. From nowhere, it became one of the best selling varieties. People couldn’t get enough of it, and wineries couldn’t produce too much of it.
As demand exceeded supply, everyone jumped into the Merlot Gold Rush. It got planted everywhere, no matter now appropriate, or inappropriate, the site. It got made into an innocuous plonk wine most of the time, bereft of any true character. But that was all ok, since the consumer would buy it.
As with all to many bubbles, the bust followed the boom. In Merlot’s case, the fierce expansion in its volume led to a decline in quality. Merlot’s case wasn’t helped along by the movie Sideways, where Miles, a wine dilettante, refuses to drink Merlot. Instead, he insists on Pinot Noir. And here we go again.
Merlot, like any grape, has its requirements to produce a quality product. But what is true of Merlot is doubly true of Pinot Noir. If Pinot is capable of producing some of the world’s great wines, it is equally capable of producing some of the worst. I’ve always wanted to produce a really good Pinot Noir, but just can’t in my area (I have tried).
But, as with Merlot, Pinot Noir is now being planted everywhere. Where cool weather and restricted yields are the starting point for quality Pinot Noir, it is being planted in areas with too much heat, and cropped at levels that allow a low-priced product to reach the store shelves, but not one that in any way resembles a true, quality, Pinot Noir.
As much as I like Pinot Noir, I have to admit that buying one is a little like buying a lottery ticket. When you hit, you hit big, getting a wine to remember. But most of the time, the lottery ticket, and the Pinot, doesn’t hit. The lottery ticket finds its way into the trash. The Pinot miss gets drunk up, but with little pleasure, since it’s probably a thin, vapid caricature of the real thing. Sometimes, instead, it’s an overripe Cab wannabe, which to my mind is even worse, as it doesn’t even resemble what a true Pinot should be.
Which leads me to the question: Is Pinot Noir going to take a fall the way Merlot has? It seems like it has to. After all, how much mileage can you get out of Miles, who, after all, didn’t know what he was talking about. And as with any consumer frenzy, can it withstand the oceans of plonk Pinot Noir that now fills the marketplace? After all, it seems even the most Pinot oriented of consumers will eventually catch on the fact that most of the wines simply aren’t very good. Certainly, if there’s a really good low price point Pinot out there, I haven’t found it.
Of course, Pinot will always have its place. It makes too good of a wine. But unlike many wines that can be produced well at reasonable price levels, I don’t think that will ever be true of Pinot Noir. It will in all likelihood settle into a niche at the higher end of the wine price spectrum, where those producers that can make a truly outstanding wine will continue to succeed while what is becoming a gigantic Pinot Noir market will come crashing down.
Posted in Viticulture, Wine Tasting | 16 Comments »
Monday, July 5th, 2010
I read with interest a recent installment of Vinography, “Why Does American Rosé Suck?” What struck me most about the article wasn’t really what it had to say (I’ll summarize that in a moment), but that Yarrow’s likes and dislikes when it comes to Rosé are really very much his own, and very different than mine.
In Yarrow’s view, rosé should be very light in color, tending to the copper. “Great rosé is light and lithe, and dances on the palate with bright acidity. It is crisp and bright with faint floral and fruit flavors twined with rivers of wet stone and maybe fresh herbs. Hints of orange peel or hibiscus, strawberry and watermelon are all welcome.”
By contrast, “Bad” rosé, which includes 95% of the rosé made in this country, is overly fruity yet with a bitter aftertaste. It tastes of cherry and cranberry and cough syrup, and in some cases, it’s actually sweet.” According to Yarrow, this describes most American rosés.
I make a rosé under our Red Côte label that, I have to think, would fall squarely in Yarrow’s “bad rosé” category. Obviously, I don’t intend to make bad wine; I just have a very different idea of what constitutes a good rosé than does Yarrow. Our rosé does have cherry and cranberry on the palate, is strongly colored (for a rosé) and is sweet, though only slightly so. I would guess it’s redeeming characteristic, if there is one for Yarrow, is that it is very high in acidity.
Being a big believer in the subjective school of wine appreciation, I don’t really have a quarrel with Yarrow over what he likes; after all, he’s entitled to like whatever appeals to him, just as I am equally entitled to dislike it, and instead like something entirely different.
I have found a few rosés that fit Yarrow’s “good rosé” category that I’ve liked, but, frankly, only a few. I find most of what Yarrow would consider a good rosé to be fruit challenged, overly tart, and, generally, having very little going on. In fact, when I made our rosé, I intentionally shied away from the more austere classic style, and looked more to a German Kabinett as a model—the sweetness and acidity balancing each other, and both bringing out the fruit in the wine.
What’s most unsettling to me, however, is the idea that there’s one style of rosé (or any other wine for that matter) that constitutes the “good”, and other styles constitute the “bad”. Taking rosé as an example, there are obviously millions of people in this world who like the type of rosé Yarrow does. But that doesn’t mean they must therefore dislike other styles of rosé that would fall in Yarrow’s “bad” category. The two different styles of rosé are really two very different wines that almost by accident both fall within the category “rosé”. Any particular person can like one, or the other, or both, or neither.
But where I most am at odds with Yarrow isn’t in what he likes, but his criticism of what he doesn’t like as “bad”, even though it’s obvious many like it. While there is such a thing as bad winemaking, that concept should be reserved for the flawed wine. A wine that simply isn’t your cup of tea isn’t a bad wine—it’s just a wine you don’t happen to like. And if you don’t like it, you don’t have to drink it–but others who do like that wine just as much as Yarrow likes his style of rosé have every right to consume it without being accused of liking bad wine.
Posted in Wine Tasting | 8 Comments »
Friday, July 2nd, 2010
Heimoff further opines that the impetus behind vintners pursuing the obscure varieties is to carve out a marketing niche for themselves, something that’s impossible in the common varieties such as Cabernet Sauvignon. I think there’s some truth to this, although I’ll wait and see whether our Montepulciano is successful in this regard. I’m not so sure that you aren’t better off, financially, producing the zillionth Cabernet Sauvignon out there, because, at the least, you know there are people who will buy Cabernet Sauvignon. Are there people who will buy Montepulciano? I’m sure hoping there are.
But when you come out with a wine, you can’t just be thinking about the ultimate consumer. In getting your product to the consumer, you need to first of all get a distributor to buy into your vision for Montepulciano, and then a retailer who has to buy in as well. If you can get that far, you get to the shelf, but you still haven’t made a sale. Hopefully, the local wine store salespeople or restaurant sommelier will hand sell the wine, since I doubt there will be very many people wandering into a store asking for a good Montepulciano. Assuming you can get to the market, Heimoff is right, however, that you’re not going to be going head to head with a crowd of other Montepulcianos. Only time will tell how the marketing side works itself out.
But I think the greater motivation for vintners isn’t the marketing angle, but simply the desire to expand the wine world’s horizons. Producing another Cabernet Sauvignon, no matter how good it is, isn’t really changing things one iota. I would like to think that when it’s all said and done, I brought something new and different to Winedom. I can do that with Montepulciano. I can’t do that with Cab.
I do take exception to Heimoff’s comment that many of these obscure varieties are doomed to fail simply because they aren’t very good. I think many of the varieties that are obscure are obscure only because they hail from the back roads of the wine world. Historically, the wine world’s Main Street is located in England, and England has sourced its wines historically from France. Does that mean that French wines are better than those from Italy, Spain, Portugal, etc.? I personally don’t believe that for a second. But it does mean that the French varieties are the familiar, what we expect when we taste a wine. The obscure varieties aren’t inferior, just different, and don’t come with the comfort of a familiar old shoe the way Cab does.
I also don’t totally agree with the observation that it will take a long time to learn how to grow and vinify these obscure varieties here. While some varieties are pretty finicky (e.g., Pinot Noir) and take lots of learning, many other varieties don’t take a lot of getting used to. Obviously, every vintage you can learn something new, or try something different. But that doesn’t’ mean that many years of trial and error are necessary for every variety. Montepulciano, for one, hasn’t presented any overwhelming difficulties even though I’ve been playing around with it for only a few years.
I think in the end, many of these obscure varieties will succeed. After all, the varieties that we think of as common were all obscure at one time. I think I it will take some time, though, more because of the consumer resistance than because of the inherent problems in making top-flight wines from these varietals.
Posted in Harvest, Viticulture, Wine Sales and Pricing, Wine Tasting | No Comments »
Monday, June 21st, 2010
We all know what the cult winery is. It’s usually located in Napa Valley, and produces a Cabernet Sauvignon, usually one with too much oak and not enough acid. But the wine itself isn’t the telltale point, as many other wines are Cabernet Sauvignon from Napa Valley with too much oak. The main thing is the feeding frenzy that manages to be created around these wines. That these wines are often derivative is almost beside the point.
Somehow, for me, the cult winery manages to exemplify all that is worst about the wine world. Instead of being a beverage, an extremely fine beverage to be sure, wine is transformed into something it is not, and never should be—an icon. And, as an icon, it becomes something to be venerated rather than simply enjoyed.
Maybe it’s just envy on my part, not being a cult wine. But to be a cult wine is to be the same old same old. It involves parlaying a vineyard, usually located in the prime of Napa valley, and processing what is, no doubt, high quality fruit under the aegis of some celebrity winemaker. Often, though certainly not always, the main contribution of the owner of the enterprise is a lot of bucks, with little real knowledge of how the product is made. And the end result is one that, while it can’t be criticized for being inferior (at least most of the time), is one that is remarkably like the output of other cult wineries.
If you’re lucky enough to produce such a wine, and garner a high enough score from the Spectator or Advocate, you may very possibly be at the center of the mass hysteria that characterizes cult wines. And that, namely mass hysteria, is at stage center of the cult wine. Each cult wine is its own private bubble, only these bubbles often don’t pop, or at least not too quickly.
Once cult status is obtained, it must be protected. At this point, the high rating originally obtained should not be risked with renewed competition, competition in which some other, unknown, wine may show itself superior. Particularly since wine rating is pretty arbitrary, the arbitrarily high score one year can easily yield itself to the arbitrarily low score a year later, to the detriment of the cult brand.
But whoever garners the cult laurels of today is really beside the point. Wine shouldn’t be about the one in a thousand winery that succeeds in achieving cult status. Wine should be about the simple pleasure of enjoyment surrounded by good food and good friends. All too often, the cult wine experience is one where everyone must ooh and aah over the wine, whether you personally like it or not, or else risk being branded unknowledgeable concerning the finer points of wine appreciation. It is the brave taster who would utter his belief that the wine is nothing out of the ordinary (as in most cases it will be).
The cult wine also feeds into the cult of Cabernet Sauvignon. This is a fine grape, to be sure. But it’s not the only fine grape, the cult wine buzz notwithstanding. But other equally fine grapes rarely if ever seem to achieve cult status, no matter how wonderful a wine they may make. This results in the denigration of all non-Cabernet Sauvignon wines, if only by way of exclusion from entry into cult status.
And, finally, let me return to the subject of originality in winemaking, something that cult wines eschew in favor of producing the same sort of Cabernet Sauvignon that other cult wineries produce. Wouldn’t ones legacy be of greater worth by doing something (new variety, new style, new anything) that hasn’t been done before, than redoing what other cult wineries have done in the past, and will do again in the future?
Posted in Wine Tasting, Winemaking | 8 Comments »
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