There’s something that perplexes me about Pinot. This grape is truly puzzling, creating a product that is recognizable, yet mysterious, subtle, but huge. I know it has been cliché since Sideways to rave about Pinot Noir, but Pinot crafts a wonderful feeling in my stomach and heart when I drink it. I feel like I have really reached a high level with my palate, as this seems like a wine that a beginning wine drinker would shy away from. Its subtleness, hints of fruit, a touch of earth and spice, a delicate floral nose, and light tannins and color generate a complexity that forces the drinker to decipher what is in the glass. At the same time, the lack of dark fruit and baking spices, as well as the color make it simple to pick out in a blind tasting.
Pinot has always been the international third choice behind the big two Bordeauxs, a hidden treasure that Burgundy has nourished, but has found new life in cool climates outside of France. Burgundy’s Pinots Noir, to me, rely a bit too much on the earth. Scents of mushroom, wood, and brettanomyces, make this the epitome of the old world style of wine. This passed me by, as I just couldn’t understand this wine, until I discovered the beautiful Pinots of California. They have found their place from Santa Barbara all the way to Sonoma. The cool climate areas need to be fed by fog, a bit of cool ocean breeze, and well drained soil that creates that struggle that the grape needs to grow. Pinot relies on a long growing season of consistent temperatures. It needs cool, but not cold, mornings, and warm, but not hot, afternoons. It’s a feisty fermenter, not always willing to release its color and tannins, and a true magician is sometimes needed to get it right.
I guess I am being a bit hard on French Pinot. There is one French Pinot region that defies all of the boring, difficult, and complex stereotypes of Pinot Noir. That would be bubbly! There is nothing better than an exciting, fruity, beautiful pink Blanc de Noirs bottle of Champagne. In this form, it resembles the anti-Pinot. The long cool growing season, allows the grapes to slowly ripen here, producing complexity even without prolonged fermentation on the skins. I was at Mumm this weekend in Napa and their Blanc de Noirs brought my group to a high point as we toured the valley this weekend.
California is not the only spot thriving in the US right now. Oregon and Washington have gained strength and are showing their potential to be the future of Pinot. As California heats up, these cool regions have available land and determined winemakers that are gaining international reputation.
Right now I am enjoying a glass of 06 Chalone Pinot ($26), a wine that from the start is what I want. The nose is vibrant, with a round floral nose that is almost soapy, with a bit of pine and oak. Its velvety smooth taste is perfectly balanced with good acidity and low tannins with notes of leather and smoked meat with dried cherries and cranberries. My wife and I both jumped for joy at first taste of this wine, as we were a bit worried that it wouldn’t be as wonderful as the 2005, which had become a staple during family dinners.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Full Circle
Wine started to shape my life in 2003, when I first got my job at Rosenblum Cellars. It began with days stuffed inside of 52’ trailers that had been heated in the trip from Napa, stacked three high with barrels for the upcoming harvest. After unloading truck after truck and prepping, racking, and labeling the barrels, I finally moved into the cellar. Harvest started late, and I spent weeks sanitizing tanks, moving hoses, working on the bottling line, and waiting for the first grapes to arrive. Once they finally did, the next three months flew by watching the sunrise while sorting grapes, and then performing pumpover after pumpover, counting the minutes until the day would end. Nights were lonely and fast paced, and often a night of drinking would end as the next day would begin.
I did start to love wine though, and in the harvest of 03, I was able to taste from fruit, to fermenting juice, to dry wine as it first entered a French barrel. That vintage means a lot to me, it was my first discovery of wine, the first time I was ever part of that magical process that turns fruit into enjoyment. I guess that first year is also a metaphor for my life at Rosenblum, these overripe grapes arriving, needing to be bled, and shaped and transformed into what they could be, sort of an end to one life and the beginning of another.
Today I was able to revisit that first year, and taste through a collection of 18 wines from the 2003 vintage. The labels have long since changed, the alcohol content of our wines has come down, but I still remember Jeff Cohen, the over enthusiastic winemaker, screaming down the dark cellar at 6 am, that he had found the perfect barrel and wine combination. Now I approached these bottles, hoping to extend that metaphor of the young kid coming back for more. Like the wines, I too have come a long way while not really going anywhere, still at Rosenblum, still developing, coming around and hopefully striving to reach my potential. The 03s are there, this is the year for them, five years is the perfect age to drink a perfect Zin or Syrah.
I started tasting and feeling how far my palate had come since I first grabbed a glass after a 12 hour day and thought that it just tasted good. When I tasted the first wine today, the 03 Eagle Point Zin, I felt the age right away. The fruit had faded and left just a bit of dried cherry, the spice from the oak battled with the high acid, the only initial component that had stuck around. As I made my way through the bottles, savoring the amazing ones, and frantically swirling the ones that had that funk that arrives when maybe it had sat in the bottle for one month too long. Beautiful wines still held strong, like the Cullinane Zin, which displayed beautiful oak characteristics of dried coconut, toasty beach wood, and lingering cherry from the grape. The Rockpile Petite Sirah still had that recognizable ripe black fruit, and the spicy and slightly reduced nose. These wines still have character, maybe more to me than to others, the character of Remi the French intern, who didn’t understand English no matter how loud I yelled at him. It was that whole crew, the blend of eight languages, ten countries, a mix of everything that went into that year. Tom, the associate winemaker, felt this too, as we tasted through these wines, I saw the look in his eyes of memories of 03, also his first harvest at Rosenblum.
This is what wine is all about, these memories, this evolving, developing mix that has taken the combination of grapes, brains, hard work, blood, sweat, and maybe a little bit of luck to end with this vault, this time capsule, of days past, that stays closed until the right tool can pull the cork out and re-release all of those remembrances back into the glass, to be drunk and stored once again.
I did start to love wine though, and in the harvest of 03, I was able to taste from fruit, to fermenting juice, to dry wine as it first entered a French barrel. That vintage means a lot to me, it was my first discovery of wine, the first time I was ever part of that magical process that turns fruit into enjoyment. I guess that first year is also a metaphor for my life at Rosenblum, these overripe grapes arriving, needing to be bled, and shaped and transformed into what they could be, sort of an end to one life and the beginning of another.
Today I was able to revisit that first year, and taste through a collection of 18 wines from the 2003 vintage. The labels have long since changed, the alcohol content of our wines has come down, but I still remember Jeff Cohen, the over enthusiastic winemaker, screaming down the dark cellar at 6 am, that he had found the perfect barrel and wine combination. Now I approached these bottles, hoping to extend that metaphor of the young kid coming back for more. Like the wines, I too have come a long way while not really going anywhere, still at Rosenblum, still developing, coming around and hopefully striving to reach my potential. The 03s are there, this is the year for them, five years is the perfect age to drink a perfect Zin or Syrah.
I started tasting and feeling how far my palate had come since I first grabbed a glass after a 12 hour day and thought that it just tasted good. When I tasted the first wine today, the 03 Eagle Point Zin, I felt the age right away. The fruit had faded and left just a bit of dried cherry, the spice from the oak battled with the high acid, the only initial component that had stuck around. As I made my way through the bottles, savoring the amazing ones, and frantically swirling the ones that had that funk that arrives when maybe it had sat in the bottle for one month too long. Beautiful wines still held strong, like the Cullinane Zin, which displayed beautiful oak characteristics of dried coconut, toasty beach wood, and lingering cherry from the grape. The Rockpile Petite Sirah still had that recognizable ripe black fruit, and the spicy and slightly reduced nose. These wines still have character, maybe more to me than to others, the character of Remi the French intern, who didn’t understand English no matter how loud I yelled at him. It was that whole crew, the blend of eight languages, ten countries, a mix of everything that went into that year. Tom, the associate winemaker, felt this too, as we tasted through these wines, I saw the look in his eyes of memories of 03, also his first harvest at Rosenblum.
This is what wine is all about, these memories, this evolving, developing mix that has taken the combination of grapes, brains, hard work, blood, sweat, and maybe a little bit of luck to end with this vault, this time capsule, of days past, that stays closed until the right tool can pull the cork out and re-release all of those remembrances back into the glass, to be drunk and stored once again.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Iberian and beyond
My favorite part of my tasting group is being able to taste wine that I would not otherwise pick in a restaurant or buy in a store. Part of learning about wine is trying new wines, new varietals, new regions, and that is why establishing a relationship with your wineshop owner is so important. Yesterday, I tried a few mysterious wines from Portugal. Portugal, like Spain, is a country with a long history of winemaking, but is just recently emerging as an international power in the wine world. When people think of Portugal, they think of Port, but there is so much more. The difference between Portugal and other newly “discovered” wine countries is Portugal has kept its traditional blends rather than importing the French noble grapes. Most of the Portuguese wine that I found were blends, which made it difficult to really taste what the each grape brings to the palate, but the blends rounded out the flavors and made the wines more refined. The wines in general had fairly low alcohol, and struck me as food friendly and tasty but not overwhelming.
Portugal is a tiny country, but the wine region seems to encompass varied terroir and brings out the most of the varied climates and soil types. The first wine I discovered from Portugal was a Vinho Verde (Green Wine), which comes from the north. Although most of these blends are red, this was a white. All are slightly fizzy and this is a perfect example of a wine that should be popular in the US. This is a fun and simple wine, with low alcohol, (must be under 11.5%) with a fruity and sweet nose, and priced under $10 makes this accessible and a wonderful companion for an appetizer or an afternoon glass after work.
From the light and fun world of Vinho Verde we moved to the opposite end of the flavor spectrum, an 02 Esporão, from Alantejo that was on one of its last years of drinkability. This inland region in the middle of the country is hot, and this was obvious with the stewed fruit taste that reminded me of Paso Robles fruit. You could the age from the color variation toward the edge of the glass, as it went from deep purple to almost brown. This wine was a mix of the Trincadera, Aragones, and Cabernet Sauvignon, and was jammy and tannic, with spice and clove masking hints of stewed fruits. When I tasted this wine I could imagine a family making this wine in a small lot, following a family tradition and producing this old world style wine.
The wine of the night was a $10 06 Quinta de Bons-Ventos from Estremadura, on the coast, north of Lisbon. The maritime climate here brings hot days and cool nights, and produces the most wine of any region. This wine was fun and easy to drink, with a taste of kettle corn, chocolate, raspberry, and vanilla. What was really amazing about this wine was that we could not put the bottle down. We sat and chatted with this bottle and drank the whole thing before we got up to leave. It seemed to settle us, to create a dialogue about the wine and about our day, and about what we’ve learned in our wine course so far. We felt almost revitalized by this wine, like we had recovered from a hard day with a glass of this deep purple wine.
During the tasting I asked my manager if she would order a Portuguese wine at a restaurant and she admitted that she wouldn’t, due to the fact that she wouldn’t know what she was getting. Now, this is open to her, and hopefully she will next time. In my last entry, I discussed the idea of servers knowing about the wine served in their establishment, and it may be up to them to recommend a wine that would otherwise scare someone off. Look next time though, what’s on the list other than French or California wine, and ask for a taste. Many times, you can get a small taste to help sway you, and this way you won’t be disappointed if you buy a glass or a bottle. Either way, I think that Portugal is a region that needs to emerge. Maybe it will just take one article in The New York Times or a great score in Wine Spectator to arouse interest, but go get a bottle at you wine shop for under $10 and enjoy, you won’t be disappointed.
Portugal is a tiny country, but the wine region seems to encompass varied terroir and brings out the most of the varied climates and soil types. The first wine I discovered from Portugal was a Vinho Verde (Green Wine), which comes from the north. Although most of these blends are red, this was a white. All are slightly fizzy and this is a perfect example of a wine that should be popular in the US. This is a fun and simple wine, with low alcohol, (must be under 11.5%) with a fruity and sweet nose, and priced under $10 makes this accessible and a wonderful companion for an appetizer or an afternoon glass after work.
From the light and fun world of Vinho Verde we moved to the opposite end of the flavor spectrum, an 02 Esporão, from Alantejo that was on one of its last years of drinkability. This inland region in the middle of the country is hot, and this was obvious with the stewed fruit taste that reminded me of Paso Robles fruit. You could the age from the color variation toward the edge of the glass, as it went from deep purple to almost brown. This wine was a mix of the Trincadera, Aragones, and Cabernet Sauvignon, and was jammy and tannic, with spice and clove masking hints of stewed fruits. When I tasted this wine I could imagine a family making this wine in a small lot, following a family tradition and producing this old world style wine.
The wine of the night was a $10 06 Quinta de Bons-Ventos from Estremadura, on the coast, north of Lisbon. The maritime climate here brings hot days and cool nights, and produces the most wine of any region. This wine was fun and easy to drink, with a taste of kettle corn, chocolate, raspberry, and vanilla. What was really amazing about this wine was that we could not put the bottle down. We sat and chatted with this bottle and drank the whole thing before we got up to leave. It seemed to settle us, to create a dialogue about the wine and about our day, and about what we’ve learned in our wine course so far. We felt almost revitalized by this wine, like we had recovered from a hard day with a glass of this deep purple wine.
During the tasting I asked my manager if she would order a Portuguese wine at a restaurant and she admitted that she wouldn’t, due to the fact that she wouldn’t know what she was getting. Now, this is open to her, and hopefully she will next time. In my last entry, I discussed the idea of servers knowing about the wine served in their establishment, and it may be up to them to recommend a wine that would otherwise scare someone off. Look next time though, what’s on the list other than French or California wine, and ask for a taste. Many times, you can get a small taste to help sway you, and this way you won’t be disappointed if you buy a glass or a bottle. Either way, I think that Portugal is a region that needs to emerge. Maybe it will just take one article in The New York Times or a great score in Wine Spectator to arouse interest, but go get a bottle at you wine shop for under $10 and enjoy, you won’t be disappointed.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Bar Hopping
It seems that a new wine bar is opening on every corner. It’s a good business idea, a bar without the need for a hard liquor license, a clientele that won’t be too overwhelming, a chance for a wine lover to share their passion, and a way to cater to the growing wine crowd. Wine has evolved from originally being a drink for the masses to a treat for the elite, and has now spread itself out with the variety of low priced, high quality wine, and fun varietals and classic blends that appeal to every budget and every palate. Wine is now within reach of everyone, limited only to willingness and desire. I’ll be honest, I don’t frequent too many wine bars, as I have been put off by the ones in my area. There has to be some elements that create a great wine bar atmosphere, separating it from the high class lounges and the dive bars and finding an equilibrium that is right for drinking wine.
The first thing that I notice when I walk in is the ambiance. Who greets me? Am I being sized up to determine if I am in for a taste of a few glasses? How is the music? Can I talk with my friends or will I be screaming across the table to have a conversation. Wine is conversation inducing, a group goes to a wine bar because they want to taste wine, talk about it and life, and relax. I also want to be able to sit comfortably, find that spot between post-modern and cozy and stick with it. When I sit down how do I feel? Is the crowd having a good time, does the staff look happy, can I see a few bottles around me that get me thirsty?
After settling in, I hope I can see a menu. I rarely have an interest in purchasing a bottle at a wine bar. If I wanted to drink a bottle of wine and listen to music I would stay home. Instead, I want to be able to taste, drink a few glasses, and spend responsibly. I don’t want to pay $7 for a one ounce taste when I can get a glass of good wine for the same price down the street. I want to see flights, $12-15 for three or four small glasses, with a theme. I want a few aromatics, wines from a specific region, a country, a varietal, or a surprise; go out on a limb, how about four varietals that the owner thinks I’ve never tasted before. A wine bar should be an adventure, there should be a wine that knocks me off of my chair and forces me to buy a glass.
The wine list should also have a great selection. Wines should represent every taste, and stay consistent with the general idea of the bar. Right now I am tasting through Iberia and Italy, and I want to taste Italian wines other than Chianti and Sangiovese, and Spanish wines that aren’t Tempranillo. I want to know that the owner looked hard to make his list, that this is a creation, a work of art, a gift to his/her patrons.
That leaves the service. I am a stickler for good service, and if I am going to spend my hard earn money, and tip well, then I need to be happy with the server. Ask a question, a small test, get an opinion, do they know the answer, do they even care? Did the owner hire them for their wine knowledge or because they were the first interview through the door? Wine is a constant discussion, and when the glass is put on the table, the server should tell you something about what’s in it. The owner or manager should hopefully be strolling through the maze of well dressed clientele and crowded tables and be eager to hear opinions about the wine, both positive and negative. This should also be their opportunity to sell, if you don’t like this Pinot then they have an Oregon Pinot that will blow your mind. They should know every single one of their wines and have the perfect antidote to any complaint.
The bill should not be deadly. Remember that a bar is probably nearby and I could have sipped on Tanqueray and Tonics all night and left with a healthy buzz and moderately full wallet. Most people don’t want to spend too much of their hard earned dough at a wine bar, they save that for dinner at a fine restaurant or a weekend in Vegas. A wine bar should provide an alternative nightlife solution for thirsty and eager wine lovers and leave them satisfied and wanting to learn and taste more. Take note wine bar owners, this is what I want, and I’m coming to find it.
Any suggestion, what’s your favorite?
The first thing that I notice when I walk in is the ambiance. Who greets me? Am I being sized up to determine if I am in for a taste of a few glasses? How is the music? Can I talk with my friends or will I be screaming across the table to have a conversation. Wine is conversation inducing, a group goes to a wine bar because they want to taste wine, talk about it and life, and relax. I also want to be able to sit comfortably, find that spot between post-modern and cozy and stick with it. When I sit down how do I feel? Is the crowd having a good time, does the staff look happy, can I see a few bottles around me that get me thirsty?
After settling in, I hope I can see a menu. I rarely have an interest in purchasing a bottle at a wine bar. If I wanted to drink a bottle of wine and listen to music I would stay home. Instead, I want to be able to taste, drink a few glasses, and spend responsibly. I don’t want to pay $7 for a one ounce taste when I can get a glass of good wine for the same price down the street. I want to see flights, $12-15 for three or four small glasses, with a theme. I want a few aromatics, wines from a specific region, a country, a varietal, or a surprise; go out on a limb, how about four varietals that the owner thinks I’ve never tasted before. A wine bar should be an adventure, there should be a wine that knocks me off of my chair and forces me to buy a glass.
The wine list should also have a great selection. Wines should represent every taste, and stay consistent with the general idea of the bar. Right now I am tasting through Iberia and Italy, and I want to taste Italian wines other than Chianti and Sangiovese, and Spanish wines that aren’t Tempranillo. I want to know that the owner looked hard to make his list, that this is a creation, a work of art, a gift to his/her patrons.
That leaves the service. I am a stickler for good service, and if I am going to spend my hard earn money, and tip well, then I need to be happy with the server. Ask a question, a small test, get an opinion, do they know the answer, do they even care? Did the owner hire them for their wine knowledge or because they were the first interview through the door? Wine is a constant discussion, and when the glass is put on the table, the server should tell you something about what’s in it. The owner or manager should hopefully be strolling through the maze of well dressed clientele and crowded tables and be eager to hear opinions about the wine, both positive and negative. This should also be their opportunity to sell, if you don’t like this Pinot then they have an Oregon Pinot that will blow your mind. They should know every single one of their wines and have the perfect antidote to any complaint.
The bill should not be deadly. Remember that a bar is probably nearby and I could have sipped on Tanqueray and Tonics all night and left with a healthy buzz and moderately full wallet. Most people don’t want to spend too much of their hard earned dough at a wine bar, they save that for dinner at a fine restaurant or a weekend in Vegas. A wine bar should provide an alternative nightlife solution for thirsty and eager wine lovers and leave them satisfied and wanting to learn and taste more. Take note wine bar owners, this is what I want, and I’m coming to find it.
Any suggestion, what’s your favorite?
Monday, September 1, 2008
Harvest time
The time of year has arrived that we all wait for in the wine industry. The machinery is ready, the production team is determined to put the hours in, the plan that will be very loosely followed has been hatched, and hundreds and hundreds of bins have been washed and prepped. There is no more waiting, harvest is here. The heat of the last week and a half has pushed the sugar levels way up and the narrow window between ripe and overripe is open. The battle of will that the farmers must fight, risking their harvest for one more day of sun, the clash for complexity, the point just before the grapes start to raisin is what they wait for. Then, when the time is right, the grapes are picked by scores of men cutting through the narrow vines and racing up and down the rows, battling the heat, the bees, the black widows and time to get those grapes out of the field before the midday sun is overhead.
Then after a short ride, the grapes arrive in Alameda. The facility here is equipped to handle what arrives. The correct tank must be chosen, too big and you risking the next lot of grapes that needs that size, too small and hours of sanitation and pumping will be wasted. The grapes are sweeter than any table grape when they are sitting in the bins, which are sized to hold the maximum amount of grapes without them being crushed under their own weight and beginning to ferment while in the bin. The Contra Costa country fruit arrives first, as those hot days and old vines receive no help from the oppressive heat. I got the call from the Planchon family last week. Gertie Planchon sounded nervous as she rambled on at 6:45 am about the upcoming weekend temperatures and the need to get the fruit out before 105 degree days returned. The fruit arrived in normal fashion, some bunches looking beautiful, small dark Zinfandel grapes, some berries just starting to shrivel from the heat. Other bunches looked like they had not received the best protection from the sun, and they are raisined and will have to be sacrificed. The Planchon vineyard epitomizes the struggle that produces the best grapes, as the dry farmed old vines have held firm in the sand of Brentwood for 80 years, reaching deep into the ground to find the water that runs 10 feet below the surface, not phased by the suburban sprawl that has encircled the vineyard.
After the journey from vine to tank, the grapes need a bit of a vacation. They have been run through the stemmer/ crusher and they now sit in a chilled tank, the cold temperature allowing the grapes to relax and the skins to release their color during the maceration period. The temperature, sugar content, acid level, and any additions are taken frequently throughout the day. Generally, the sugar level divided by two will be the resulting alcohol content (28 brix will result in 14% alcohol if fermented dry). Also, if there is too much sugar, fermentation can stall, so water addition may be necessary to jumpstart the process. Yeast, enzymes, and nutrients are added, to assist with the fermentation process, the color extraction, and to protect against bacteria. Some grapes are crushed into bins, where they can be cared for more closely, temperature controlled by periods in the cold room (drive in refrigerator) and afternoons outside in the sun. All of the must (the fermenting mix of juice and berries) has to be cared for constantly, and there are crews working around the clock to be sure that everything is completed before the next shift arrives. One thing that is in constant need it to keep moist the grape skins and seeds that rise to the top. They do this in the tanks with pumpovers, pumping the juice from the valve at the bottom of the tank by hose to the top of the tank where they spray the cap and pull all of the color out of the skins. For the grapes in the bins, punchdowns are performed, where grapes are pushed down with long metal poles with plates on the bottom, pushing the skins to the bottom of the bin.
This is where we are now, now comes more patience. The winemakers now must decide when the tank fermentation is done, when the wine needs to be pressed, and when to fill the barrels, which have been streaming in over that past few months. That process will arrive shortly, when the smell of French oak and young wine fill the cellar halls, and the hustle and stress of the harvest reaches its peak.
Then after a short ride, the grapes arrive in Alameda. The facility here is equipped to handle what arrives. The correct tank must be chosen, too big and you risking the next lot of grapes that needs that size, too small and hours of sanitation and pumping will be wasted. The grapes are sweeter than any table grape when they are sitting in the bins, which are sized to hold the maximum amount of grapes without them being crushed under their own weight and beginning to ferment while in the bin. The Contra Costa country fruit arrives first, as those hot days and old vines receive no help from the oppressive heat. I got the call from the Planchon family last week. Gertie Planchon sounded nervous as she rambled on at 6:45 am about the upcoming weekend temperatures and the need to get the fruit out before 105 degree days returned. The fruit arrived in normal fashion, some bunches looking beautiful, small dark Zinfandel grapes, some berries just starting to shrivel from the heat. Other bunches looked like they had not received the best protection from the sun, and they are raisined and will have to be sacrificed. The Planchon vineyard epitomizes the struggle that produces the best grapes, as the dry farmed old vines have held firm in the sand of Brentwood for 80 years, reaching deep into the ground to find the water that runs 10 feet below the surface, not phased by the suburban sprawl that has encircled the vineyard.
After the journey from vine to tank, the grapes need a bit of a vacation. They have been run through the stemmer/ crusher and they now sit in a chilled tank, the cold temperature allowing the grapes to relax and the skins to release their color during the maceration period. The temperature, sugar content, acid level, and any additions are taken frequently throughout the day. Generally, the sugar level divided by two will be the resulting alcohol content (28 brix will result in 14% alcohol if fermented dry). Also, if there is too much sugar, fermentation can stall, so water addition may be necessary to jumpstart the process. Yeast, enzymes, and nutrients are added, to assist with the fermentation process, the color extraction, and to protect against bacteria. Some grapes are crushed into bins, where they can be cared for more closely, temperature controlled by periods in the cold room (drive in refrigerator) and afternoons outside in the sun. All of the must (the fermenting mix of juice and berries) has to be cared for constantly, and there are crews working around the clock to be sure that everything is completed before the next shift arrives. One thing that is in constant need it to keep moist the grape skins and seeds that rise to the top. They do this in the tanks with pumpovers, pumping the juice from the valve at the bottom of the tank by hose to the top of the tank where they spray the cap and pull all of the color out of the skins. For the grapes in the bins, punchdowns are performed, where grapes are pushed down with long metal poles with plates on the bottom, pushing the skins to the bottom of the bin.
This is where we are now, now comes more patience. The winemakers now must decide when the tank fermentation is done, when the wine needs to be pressed, and when to fill the barrels, which have been streaming in over that past few months. That process will arrive shortly, when the smell of French oak and young wine fill the cellar halls, and the hustle and stress of the harvest reaches its peak.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Learning and Tasting
These last two days I have been up in Napa, taking a two day wine course put on by Diageo. It’s an exciting time to be in wine country, as fruit is just beginning to be picked and there is a palatable enthusiasm in the air-conditioned halls of the DC&E headquarters. I learned a lot over these last two days, as this course was more advanced and more thoroughly engaging than the last class I took. There were two intriguing tastings, one at the end of day 1 and one at the start (9am) of day 2. The first was white wines, with all the common players, and it was blind, meaning we had to identify the wines by tasting through and finding well-known varietal characteristics. I was proud of myself, because I nailed all six, where just a few months ago I only got two out of six in the same style of tasting. The first and easiest was the Chardonnay, look for yeast and a golden color, symbolic of sur-lees aging in Oak. Check! Then I went to the Alsacian wines, Riesling and Gewurztraminer. I knew the Gewurzt right away, it’s all in the Lychee nut smell and the spicy taste, that’s a dead give-away. The other sweet smelling wine with honey and high acid had to be the Riesling. The Sauvignon blanc was next, just pick out cat pee (it’s not as bad as it sounds) and bell pepper (known as “Vegetal” in the wine snob world). I was a ringer when it came to the Viognier, because it was a Rosenblum 07 Kathy’s Cuvee, and I know that taste at first sip. Lastly came the Pinot Gris, which had to be the Pinot Gris, because… it was the only one left! I will spare the details of the red tasting because I didn’t do as well, all I can say is that I need to trust my gut instinct more, because once I start second-guessing myself, I start to miss them.
On the first day we also did a component analysis, testing the scent and taste of sugar, acid, oak, and tannin in water at various levels. This was very interesting because often the taste of the wine masks the true makeup and makes it difficult to really decipher what is what. The most intriguing aspect of this to me was that sugar, acid, and tannin have no scent. A wine may smell sweet but you do not smell sweetness, and a wine may smell acidy, but they really have no scent. Instead your palate is sending a signal to your brain telling it that the honey smell on a Reisling, or the tannic notes on a Petite Sirah mean that the wine will have those components, but often a sweet smelling wine is actually bone dry. Later in this lesson we discussed why we smell what we smell in wine. Take a pineapple for example. When you smell a pineapple, it smells… like a pineapple. No breakthrough there. But why does it smell like that? It’s because it contains ethyl butyrate, which smells like pineapple. Finished wine imparts tiny bits of these chemicals and grapes, and grapes are the only fruit that can achieve this complexity, add oak and fermentation and the possibilities are endless. So when your friend (or my brother in this case) tells me I sound like an ass because I say I smell coffee beans and dark chocolate in a Syrah, I can look at him and tell him that it’s because those chemicals are actually in the wine, then he can laugh at me! To help with this we were given a lazy susan with wine glasses full of typical scents, lemon and lime, honey, marmalade, apples, etc for white wine and plum, coffee, mushrooms, tobacco, etc for red wines.
My favorite exercise during the two-day course was the blending seminar. They poured glasses of all five of the classic Bordeaux varietals, two clones of Cabernet Sauvignon (clone 4 and clone 6 from BV for those keeping score), Cabernet Franc, Merlot, Petite Verdot, and Malbec. We then used pipettes and beakers to blend distinct proportions of each varietal, attempting to achieve a balanced blend, with good acid, nice mid-palate, round lush tannins, deep color, and a great taste. Each of these wines adds something, Cabernet Sauvignon is the classic chocolate, cherry, deep base. Cab Franc is softer than Cab with some of the same characteristics, and along with Merlot it takes the bite off of the Cab, where Petite Verdot and Malbec are used sparingly to add a bit of length and personality to the wine. This is truly where winemaking becomes and art, and in the business it’s not just finding what you like, but understanding what your customers expect and desire from your wine.
All in all this class was wonderful and I learned a lot. The final test was a blind eight wine tasting of four different varietals side by side. My small group managed to nail all of the varietals, then we had to establish where they came from, using the characteristics of climate and terroir, and then try to name the exact winery they came from, although we knew that they were all in the Diageo Portfolio from California. Amazingly, we were able to name six of the eight wineries and where they were from, and don’t worry, I got the glass of Rosenblum Paso Robles Appellation Series Zinfandel correct, as well as the other Zin! I was proud of myself for getting these right and seeing how far I have come in my wine knowledge. My group winning this contest and walking out with a Magnum of 2004 BV Georges Latour Private Reserve was just the icing on the cake! I hope to continue to take these classes and continue my studies as the progress I have made is just the beginning of what I hope to learn.
On the first day we also did a component analysis, testing the scent and taste of sugar, acid, oak, and tannin in water at various levels. This was very interesting because often the taste of the wine masks the true makeup and makes it difficult to really decipher what is what. The most intriguing aspect of this to me was that sugar, acid, and tannin have no scent. A wine may smell sweet but you do not smell sweetness, and a wine may smell acidy, but they really have no scent. Instead your palate is sending a signal to your brain telling it that the honey smell on a Reisling, or the tannic notes on a Petite Sirah mean that the wine will have those components, but often a sweet smelling wine is actually bone dry. Later in this lesson we discussed why we smell what we smell in wine. Take a pineapple for example. When you smell a pineapple, it smells… like a pineapple. No breakthrough there. But why does it smell like that? It’s because it contains ethyl butyrate, which smells like pineapple. Finished wine imparts tiny bits of these chemicals and grapes, and grapes are the only fruit that can achieve this complexity, add oak and fermentation and the possibilities are endless. So when your friend (or my brother in this case) tells me I sound like an ass because I say I smell coffee beans and dark chocolate in a Syrah, I can look at him and tell him that it’s because those chemicals are actually in the wine, then he can laugh at me! To help with this we were given a lazy susan with wine glasses full of typical scents, lemon and lime, honey, marmalade, apples, etc for white wine and plum, coffee, mushrooms, tobacco, etc for red wines.
My favorite exercise during the two-day course was the blending seminar. They poured glasses of all five of the classic Bordeaux varietals, two clones of Cabernet Sauvignon (clone 4 and clone 6 from BV for those keeping score), Cabernet Franc, Merlot, Petite Verdot, and Malbec. We then used pipettes and beakers to blend distinct proportions of each varietal, attempting to achieve a balanced blend, with good acid, nice mid-palate, round lush tannins, deep color, and a great taste. Each of these wines adds something, Cabernet Sauvignon is the classic chocolate, cherry, deep base. Cab Franc is softer than Cab with some of the same characteristics, and along with Merlot it takes the bite off of the Cab, where Petite Verdot and Malbec are used sparingly to add a bit of length and personality to the wine. This is truly where winemaking becomes and art, and in the business it’s not just finding what you like, but understanding what your customers expect and desire from your wine.
All in all this class was wonderful and I learned a lot. The final test was a blind eight wine tasting of four different varietals side by side. My small group managed to nail all of the varietals, then we had to establish where they came from, using the characteristics of climate and terroir, and then try to name the exact winery they came from, although we knew that they were all in the Diageo Portfolio from California. Amazingly, we were able to name six of the eight wineries and where they were from, and don’t worry, I got the glass of Rosenblum Paso Robles Appellation Series Zinfandel correct, as well as the other Zin! I was proud of myself for getting these right and seeing how far I have come in my wine knowledge. My group winning this contest and walking out with a Magnum of 2004 BV Georges Latour Private Reserve was just the icing on the cake! I hope to continue to take these classes and continue my studies as the progress I have made is just the beginning of what I hope to learn.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Label me satisfied
I guess I should first apologize for not writing, I have been caught up with the Olympics and really have been focusing too much time on that. Wine, to me, is one of those things that is mood dependant, meaning if I don’t really feeling like drinking, well, I’m not going to. Writing about wine is almost the same, perhaps just writing in general, if I don’t feel like writing I’m not going to.
Last week, I was thinking a lot about labeling. A lot of thought goes into a label on a wine bottle, and I know that most people in the wine industry spend a lot of time studying them. First of all is the general information. Of course you have the brand and the name of the wine, weather the name is indicative of the varietal or origin, that’s another story. You can find the alcohol content, the sulfite and health warning, and the content of the bottle. Look at the labels in your local wine shop, what do you find? I see varietals being identified from New World wine countries, like the U.S., Argentina, Australia, and others. But just because a varietal is listed does not mean that is the only one. All countries have strict laws, but many times they are broken down even more than that. For example in California, if a single varietal is listed, at least 75% of that wine must come from that grape (85% in the E.U), and if two or more varietals are listed, 100% of the wine and appellation must be from that grape.
What else is listed? Look for the year. It might not be there, because it’s not required. Most wineries will put the vintage, and in the US, 95% of the grapes must be from that year to have the name on the label. But there are some that don’t… like for sparkling wine. Many houses create vertical blends (from different years, as opposed to horizontal blends which are the same wine from different vineyards) to create the Cuvee (Cuvee is not the same as cuvee), and these Chateaus will blend past vintages to create their house taste.
What else do you have? You might see “Old Vines”, “Reserve”, “Special Selection”, or something like that. This means nothing, meaning they have no legal definition, take these terms as marketing terms and nothing more, they are more or less dependant on the reputation of the winery.
One of my favorite spots on the bottle is where is says, ”Mis en Bouteille au Chateau”, or “Produced and bottled at the winery”. If the American label says “Estate Bottled” then 100% must be from the vineyard. This is one of those historical terms that was created to prevent fraud. If wine went from barrel to bottle at the Chateau, then the winery’s reputation was at stake, therefore that label made the bottler more trustworthy. Before, wine was transported by barrel to the port, then bottled by a suspect exporter, and a bit of prune juice or worse may have been added to your Lafitte Rothschild!
So there is all of this “Stuff” on the label, but what about the label itself. I am a big fan of the traditional label, the white on the dark glass, the narrow letters perfectly centered in black or red. The other end of the spectrum is a bottle like the Paco y Lola Albarino from Spain, who decided that this easy drinking white wine needed a bit more fun. They put white polka dots on the label and black ones on the cork.
I think that many times the bottle that the wine is in is initially more important than the wine itself. I always look at a bottle before I buy it, I study the specifics, feel the weight of the glass, examine the foily, and decide whether it is worth the buy. Marketing is so important in wine, to catch the eye, to lure the buyer to take the bait. Once the bait is taken though, it is the wine’s job to bring the fish back for another.
Last week, I was thinking a lot about labeling. A lot of thought goes into a label on a wine bottle, and I know that most people in the wine industry spend a lot of time studying them. First of all is the general information. Of course you have the brand and the name of the wine, weather the name is indicative of the varietal or origin, that’s another story. You can find the alcohol content, the sulfite and health warning, and the content of the bottle. Look at the labels in your local wine shop, what do you find? I see varietals being identified from New World wine countries, like the U.S., Argentina, Australia, and others. But just because a varietal is listed does not mean that is the only one. All countries have strict laws, but many times they are broken down even more than that. For example in California, if a single varietal is listed, at least 75% of that wine must come from that grape (85% in the E.U), and if two or more varietals are listed, 100% of the wine and appellation must be from that grape.
What else is listed? Look for the year. It might not be there, because it’s not required. Most wineries will put the vintage, and in the US, 95% of the grapes must be from that year to have the name on the label. But there are some that don’t… like for sparkling wine. Many houses create vertical blends (from different years, as opposed to horizontal blends which are the same wine from different vineyards) to create the Cuvee (Cuvee is not the same as cuvee), and these Chateaus will blend past vintages to create their house taste.
What else do you have? You might see “Old Vines”, “Reserve”, “Special Selection”, or something like that. This means nothing, meaning they have no legal definition, take these terms as marketing terms and nothing more, they are more or less dependant on the reputation of the winery.
One of my favorite spots on the bottle is where is says, ”Mis en Bouteille au Chateau”, or “Produced and bottled at the winery”. If the American label says “Estate Bottled” then 100% must be from the vineyard. This is one of those historical terms that was created to prevent fraud. If wine went from barrel to bottle at the Chateau, then the winery’s reputation was at stake, therefore that label made the bottler more trustworthy. Before, wine was transported by barrel to the port, then bottled by a suspect exporter, and a bit of prune juice or worse may have been added to your Lafitte Rothschild!
So there is all of this “Stuff” on the label, but what about the label itself. I am a big fan of the traditional label, the white on the dark glass, the narrow letters perfectly centered in black or red. The other end of the spectrum is a bottle like the Paco y Lola Albarino from Spain, who decided that this easy drinking white wine needed a bit more fun. They put white polka dots on the label and black ones on the cork.
I think that many times the bottle that the wine is in is initially more important than the wine itself. I always look at a bottle before I buy it, I study the specifics, feel the weight of the glass, examine the foily, and decide whether it is worth the buy. Marketing is so important in wine, to catch the eye, to lure the buyer to take the bait. Once the bait is taken though, it is the wine’s job to bring the fish back for another.
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