May 19, 2006
New York Steak with Stilton and Balsamic Vinegar Reduction:
This month, we have a combined WBW and IMBB entry, whose theme is (naturally) pairing food with wine. I took the easy way out this time, motivated largely by the fact that I had to prepare this meal on a weeknight and so didn't have the time to do anything more elaborate. Even so, I've been meaning to write this entry for a long time, in part due to the urgings of a friend of mine who has always wanted to know how I prepare steaks.
Cooking a good steak is easy. But the difference between a good steak and a great steak is not quite as easily to pin down. I try to make incremental improvements to my procedure when I can, and welcome any suggestions for further improvement.
Personally, I feel that the grill is the best place to cook a steak. Unfortunately, in my current apartment situation, I don't usually have access to one. And I know that in many parts of the world, cooking with a grill is impractical part of the year. Hence, I'll discuss the sear-roast method here.
The General Procedure
Turn on your oven to 450 degrees F. Salt and pepper both sides of your steaks thoroughly. Put the burner on medium-high and let your pan heat up. When it's hot (a few droplets of water sprinkled from your hand should sizzle away rapidly) pour a tablespoon or so of olive oil into the pan and swirl it around. Put the pan back on the burner and wait until the oil starts to smoke.
Put the steaks in the pan. Let them develop a nice sear on the one side, which will probably happen in 2-3 minutes, but be mindful and check regularly until you know your stove and your pan fairly well. The surface of the meat should be a deep brown color, but no charring or burning should have taken place. When you see this, flip the steaks. Put a pat of butter on top of each, and slip them in the oven.
I've heard this called the sear-roast method. If you use just the pan, typically, you flip the steaks and turn the heat down to medium. What this often yeilds is a steak with a strong gradient. Cut down the middle, you'd find gray/brown at the surface gradually turning pink, and then turning dark pink in the center (assuming you've cooked it to medium-rare). The texture is highly varied. A steak cooked properly using the sear-roast method, however, will give you a very thin layer of gray/brown where the sear is, and an even dark pink throughout. I think this is much more professional and much tastier, as you get the entire steak at whatever temperature that you prefer, rather than just the center.
An Entirely Rational Discussion Of Steak Temperature
As far as steak temperature goes: flavor, texture, and tenderness are highly compromised if you cook a steak at anything above medium. Medium rare is, of course, generally considered optimal. Exactly what temperature is that, you may ask? Well, I thought we all agreed on what those terms meant. Then I found a couple of sites like this one who were spreading an entirely different gospel. Apostasy! All I have to say is this: if I'm in a restaurant and I'm paying you $35 for a steak, and I ask for it medium-rare, and you bring me something cooked to 150 degrees Farenheit, I'm sending it back to the kitchen, and spanking your ass on the way out. And not in a fun way.
So who is responsible for this heresy? I hope this doesn't make me sound like a wearer of tinfoil hats, but I think it's the government. No, seriously! A normal list starts with "Rare" and begins Medium-Rare squarely at 130 degrees F. But you'll notice that all these lists omit "Rare" entirely, and start Medium-Rare at 145 degrees, which is quite close to the temperatures at the core of the sun and may reduce your expensive two-inch thick grass-fed dry-aged USDA prime black Angus Porterhouse to a trapezoid of steaming charcoal. Medium Rare indeed! What is this, some sort of culinary newspeak? Clearly these government types are only interested in protecting your body. They care nothing for the safety of your soul, which is obviously in jeopardy if you're eating 150 degree steaks on a regular basis.
(Editors note: it turns out that up until the 1990's, the FDA had the same idea as everyone else regarding what was rare and what was medium. Then they decided to issue new guidelines in an effort to combat food-borne illnesses. Instead of just encouraging everyone to get their meat medium instead of medium-rare, however, they decided to change the scale, confusing everyone for no good reason. Your tax dollars at work!)
How to tell when your steak is done
There are four widely-recommended methods to tell when your steak is done.
- The color test: Cut into one of the steaks and judge by color. Plenty of sites will guide you in this method. The problem with it is that you must cut rather dramatically into the steak, which lets the juices escape. Don't let the juices escape.
- The finger test: This method has you poke the steak with your finger or with some other instrument. With some practice, you can tell whether or not it's done from the springiness of the meat. To give you some assistance, some proponents compare the feel of the steak to the springiness of certain parts of your body, e.g., parts of your arm or your hand. The disadvantage of this method is that it is somewhat inexact. Besides, it takes practice to get the hang of it, and in the meantime you'll be ruining a bunch of steaks.
- The meat thermometer: Clearly the easiest and most exact. The only disadvantage is that you do pierce the meat, so there is some juice loss.
- The USDA method: Use a portable mass spectrometer to confirm that the combustion process has removed all hydrogen and oxygen atoms from the meat, leaving only carbon atoms that can be safely consumed.
Personally, I use the finger method to get a rough idea of how a steak is doing, but a meat thermometer in the final minutes on one of the steaks to get a more exact reading. I'd recommend picking up a simple, instant-read, digital thermometer like this one or this one.
Remember that a piece of meat will continue to cook after it's pulled away from its heat source. Its temperature will continue to rise from 5 to 10 degrees afterward. So the tricky bit is to take it out just before it's done. This is easy enough if you're using the thermometer method, but a bit trickier otherwise.
Balsamic Vinegar Sauce:
1 cup balsamic vinegar
1 frond rosemary, intact
2 tbsp brown sugar
1/3 cup beef or veal stock
1 tbsp butter
1 tsp salt
Freshly ground pepper
Put the vinegar, stock, and the rosemary in a small pot over medium heat until it begins to steam. Adjust the temperature so that it continues to steam, but not boil excessively. Let it reduce by half. Add the brown sugar and the salt and stir until they dissolve completely. Let the mix continue to reduce slowly until it begins to thicken; there should be less than 1/4 c of liquid left; perhaps as little as 1/8 c. Remove the rosemary frond and pepper to taste. Remove from the heat.
When you're ready to serve, bring the sauce back up to temperature. Break the butter up into 4-6 pieces and whisk them into the sauce. Serve immediately.
The reduction takes some time, so don't leave this until the very end. I usually try to have the reduction complete before I put the steaks on. Then, while the steaks are resting, I whisk in the butter.
Though extremely simple to make, this sauce is, I think, very delicious and quite professional in appearance. When done right, it's full-bodied and velvety, but neither vinegary nor overly sweet. It pairs well with intensely flavored meats such as lamb and venison, but I've had similar sauces at restaurants on more delicately flavored meats such as rabbit and chicken (links?), so don't be afraid to try that as well. I even use a variation of this sauce as a dressing for certain kinds of salads (e.g. here, under "Baked Goat Cheese Salad").
Other tips:
- Don't smother the steak in this (or any) sauce. A good steak is its own reward, and if it isn't, buy a different cut or from a different store. This sauce is intended to be dripped in small portions alongside the steak, and it should be thick enough that it doesn't just spread over the whole plate.
- After removing the steaks from the pan to let them rest, pour out any fat that remains in the pan. Put the pan back on the heat on top of the stove, and use a bit of white wine, red wine, or balsamic vinegar to degrease the pan, scraping up any bits left on the pan. After this reduces to a teaspoon or so of liquid, pour it into the sauce.
- After letting the steaks rest, whisk any juices that have escaped the steak into the sauce just before you whisk the butter in.
- Several useful variations: instead of stock, use pureed fruit or unsweetened fruit juice. I've used blueberries, blackberries, and even fresh strawberries in this role. If you use pureed fruit (as opposed to juice), the sauce won't appear quite as professional, but it will be fruitier. If you use juice, consider putting in a handful of the corresponding fresh fruit towards the end of the reduction phase.
And the wine is...
The featured wine for the evening is the 1999 Louis-Laval Cabernet Sauvignon. We have a special relationship to this wine, as Louis-Laval was the winery that Rebecca and I worked at for a few weeks while we were in Australia, before going to graduate school.
The pairing, of course, is a no-brainer to some degree (Cabernet with steak! Who'd have thought!), but there's more here than meets the eye. There's something about the dusty backpalate on our favorite Hunter Valley reds that marries particularly well with the sear on a good steak. In addition, the prominent acids we expected from this wine would mean, we hoped, that it would fare well against the sauce.
Just smelling this wine takes me back to Australia. Although we only had one bottle of it while we were there, to some degree it's reminiscent of our favorite Hunter Valley reds. It smells like tart fruit with a hint of anise, like a cherry-tarragon sauce I used to make. The acids give it a nice round swell at the beginning, and balances the cherry reduction flavor that makes up much of the wine's fruit. Towards the end we find the anise, leather, and finally, that dusty finish that reminds me of the dirt road that winds down alongside the vineyard from the top of the hill, past the winery buildings, and to Roy's house. Cheers!
May 19, 2006 in blog_events, main_dishes, recipes, sauces, wine | Permalink | Comments (5) | TrackBack
December 10, 2005
Deevine Holiday
'Tis the season for holiday debauchery. Between the two of us, we have at least four bacchanals we've pledged to attend. The first of the season was a very pleasant event at Dee Vine Wines on Pier 19. I've talked up Dee Vine before, most recently in a tale which described my conversion to sometime white wine drinker. Dee Vine's tastings are fantastic, and if you live in San Francisco or are BART or train commutable to it, you should definitely get on the mailing list so you can find out when they hold them.
This time around, besides the usual mind-boggling array of German whites, we were greeted with several select reds, a giant bottle of Champagne, two huge wheels of cheese (a Humboldt Fog and a blue of some sort), dried fruits, oysters, small sadwiches, and six or seven different kinds of desserts. On top of that, there were caterers wandering around with finger foods to sample.
Some notes on the ratings: my rating scale makes no pretense at being scientific. Here's how I think of them -- at least at this moment:
- One Star: Two Buck Chuck.
- Two Stars: I would deeply regret it if I bought this wine. I might not finish it.
- Three Stars: I'd be ambivalent if I bought this wine, though I'd probably finish it.
- Three and a half stars: I'd be happy with my purchase.
- Four stars: I'd seek this wine out for repeated purchases. If inexpensive, I might buy in bulk.
- Four and a half stars: This wine puts me in a special place.
- Five stars: I'll remember tasting this wine for a long time.
So don't take them too seriously. Mostly they are present to guide future purchases. If a wine rates below 3 stars I don't usually record anything except that fact; hence the dominance of 3-4.5 star ratings on this list.
HIGHLIGHTS:
NV Cancave Grand Cru (Jeroboam) -- $125
This wine has started to shed its attractive but ultimately shallow youthful characteristics to reveal some of its deeper, more evolved nature. With women, this happens around age 30, but wine often matures faster. (This non-vintage release is composed of 1990, 1991, and 1992 vintage wines, for instance.) You can never be sure what you're going to find when the true self begins to out. Though appealing in youth, they may become banal, harsh, bitter, or lackluster with age. And the same is true for wine! (Okay, I'll stop that.)
This Champagne is like having your high school girlfriend grow up to be a fascinating, quick-witted, measured, mature adult...who's still got great boobs. The Cancave hints at the coming deep and nutty flavors of early middle age, but remains sharp and crisp and lively. This is the kind of wine that makes one feel glad to be alive. Here's to your best girl. Rating: **** 1/2
2001 Kuhn Rotwein Spatburgunder Barrique QbA trocken -- $32
Okay, okay! I take back everything I ever said about German reds. I especially apologize for coining the term "Spitburgunder". This wine has a gorgeous nose, but the palate is where the real action is: chewy, fruity goodness featuring tangy dried cherries and a touch of cocoa. Fine tannins and tart acids fill out the middle. At the end is a rich and slightly bitter finish, not unlike a fine chocolate. An excellent offering. Rating: **** 1/2
2003 Stefan Gerhard Hatenheimer Hassel Spatlese -- $14
Huge, huge, tropical, honeyed elixir. Definitely more pleasurable than being bludgeoned with a caramel-coated pineapple, but not unsimilar. Actually, at this price, you can't afford to miss the bludgeoning. Seriously. Rating: ****
1999 Joseph Rosch Trittenheimer Apotheke Auslese -- 500 mL -- $23
Lots of petrol. ("Smells a bit like the La Brea tar pits", Rebecca said.) Very sweet. Great acids, though. This is a vibrant Auslese. A fantastic balance between acid, sugar, and petrol -- the holy trinity of Reisling. Rating: **** 1/2
2003 Geheimrat J. Wegeler Erben Bernkasteler Doctor Spatlese -- $37
Incredible. This is for all of those people who think that bigger wines are necessarily better. This Spatlese couldn't be described as anything more than medium-bodied, but it's truly magical. This wine is the picture of elegance. The tinkle of effervesence...the balance...tasty fruit flavor...my words won't do justice. Try it your own damn self. Rating: **** 1/2
2001 Domaine Hughes et Yves de Suremain, Mercurey "Les Crets" -- $15
The nose is unmistakably Burgundian. The palate has tomato skin, bitter olive, and other dark, earthy, salty flavors. There's not a lot of fruit, but what would you expect from a $15 Burgundy? I've often said (and I'll say it again) that the reason that you buy a Burgundy in this price range is strictly to reminisce about the great Burgundy experiences you've had in your life. For that, this wine will serve. Rating: ***
OTHER WINES
2000 Domaine Mittnacht-Klack "Schoenenbourg" Tokay Pinot Gris Grand Cru, $24 -- Rich burst of melon, lychee, papaya. Love the style. Performs on a par with price. ****
2003 August Kessler Estate Riesling QbA, $13 -- Green apple skin, nice up-front acid. Fullness and finish are moderate, but for the price this is a good value.****
2003 Fritz Haag Brauneberger Juffer-Sonnenuhr #9 Auslese Goldkapsel 375 mL, $29 -- Very professional Auslese. Well balanced and more harmonious than the Rosch, but not as gorgeous somehow. ****
2004 Schloss Schonborn Erbacher Marcobrunn Kabinett, $24 -- This is good. Rebecca is particularly a fan of this one. Tangerine peel, apple, moderate acid, good fruit.****
2003 Erben von Beulwitz Kaseler Nies'chen Kabinett halbtrocken, $22 -- Honeysuckle nose; light-bodied; soft, feminine palate -- this is a wine for people who, in this day and age, still blush. Pleasant, certainly, but I can't escape the feeling while drinking it that my time could be better spent.*** 1/2
2004 Weingut von Hovel Scharzhofberger Kabinett, $15 -- Sweet and sour, like those sour candy strips that make your mouth pucker because they're coated in some kind of white crystals made of God knows what. Not very deep, but fun -- if you're the sort of masochist that likes sour candy. I am. Serve cold.*** 1/2
2003 Knebel Winninger Bruckstuck QbA halbtrocken, $15 -- Rich burst of fruit, off-dry, light on acid, fullness from sugar. ***
2003 Keller Riesling QbA "von der Fels", $22 -- Good, delicate flavors. Not enough oomph for the $$.***
2002 Schloss Vollrads Spatlese, $23 -- Nice little kick from effervesence, but otherwise less structure than it needs, especially given the cost.***
2003 Weingut Toni Jost Bacharacher Hahn Kabinett feinherb, $15 -- Pineapples grown hydroponically in chlorinated water. **
December 10, 2005 in wine | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack
November 02, 2005
WBW #15: Less than 250 Cases
The theme of this month's WBW, hosted by San Francisco's very own Gastronomie, is small production wines. The goal is to find a wine of which fewer than 250 cases were made.
I had a bit of trouble finding a small production wine at a reasonable price, but eventually I came up with this gem from the Santa Barbara wine region. Just 125 cases were made. As you can see, I bought bottle 897, which I hear is one of the better ones.
Santa Ynez Vally Syrahs are often dark, rich, and compelling. This one is no exception. It's smooth and lush and largely faultless. Despite its softness, it can in no way be described as flabby. But I found myself wishing for a little acid, or some soft tannins, or just a little something something to give the tasting experience more of a profile.
--//--
Huge nose. Menthol and berries at first, and then, after some air, salty Dutch licorice. The palate is smooth and lustrous, with a slick mouthfeel and flavors reminiscent of blackberries, boysenberries, and plums. The 14.5% alcohol is noticable, but under control.
November 2, 2005 in blog_events, wine | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack
October 06, 2005
WBW #14: New New World Pinot Noir
This month's WBW theme is "New-New World Pinot Noir" -- that is to say, Pinot Noir from someplace other than Europe or California. This is a taller order than one might expect. Pinot Noir is a notoriously difficult grape to grow, and finding microclimates with an affinity for it isn't easy.
My first stop was Chile. I holed up with the 2004 La Mision Pinot Noir from Vina William Fevre. Fevre is a French winemaker with large holdings in Chablis. He branched out to Chile in the late '90's. I have a certain impression of (some might say "prejudice against") Chilean wines. They can out-California California. Sometimes they can be super-ripe, over-hot, and structureless. I've had counterexamples, of course, and quality is improving all the time, or so I hear, but I seem to prefer wines from cooler climates generally.
This wine is has an soft, warm, smooth mouthfeel that is characteristic of warm-climate Pinot Noir and a slightly tart sour cherry/cranberry palate, and a bit of an alcohol flare in the finish. This tart-sour bit saves the wine, I think, from being devoid of interest. But this is not the sort of wine that I'd prefer to be drinking. I must concede that it's a fair contender among Pinots in its price range ($9). But I wasn't quite satisfied.
K&L (despite their fantastic selection) didn't have much in the way of Pinots from areas other than Europe, the U.S., and New Zealand. New Zealand wasn't specifically prohibited by our host, but I do feel that choosing a Kiwi Pinot Noir would be cheating somewhat; New Zealand Pinot Noir is better established in terms of its worldwide reputation than California Pinot Noir, so it's difficult to consider it "New-New World"
I thought that perhaps I could satisfy the spirit of the law if not
the letter by trying a bottle produced in an area not normally known
for its Pinot Noir. Not much Italian Pinot Nero makes it to these shores, and since one came recommended by K&L's very helpful staff,
I thought I'd give it a whirl.
A completely different face of the Pinot Noir grape. Minerals! Yes, you heard right. Crisp, tart, and minerally, this tasty wine reminds me far more of a good German Spätburgunder than of anything Burgundian. The mouthfeel is clean and borders on effervesence. The palate is simple and cherrylike -- little complexity here -- but what a joy to drink!
Around the internet:
Here's a fascinating article on the rise of Pinot Nero.
October 6, 2005 in blog_events, wine | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack
March 09, 2005
WBW #7: Obscure Red Grape Varietals
The Italians are always good for a wacky grape or two. Oh, every wine-growing nation has its quirky heritage grapes; grapes that the devoted believe are capable of greatness, if only the world would sit up and take notice. Even in the New World this is the case; Australia has its Chambourcin, the U.S. its Zinfandel, South Africa its Pinotage. Italy must win the crown, though, for the most heritage grapes that few outside of the country have ever heard of. (A little Grignolino, anyone? Some Refosco, perhaps? And when was the last time you had some Sagrantino di Montefalco?) To be completely fair, many of these Italian grapes are unfairly ignored on the world scene. I would welcome an opportunity to demonstrate this. But today is not this day.
(80% Negroamaro, 10% Malvasia Nera di Lecce, 10% Montepulciano)
Plums and anise feature strongly in the nose. Starts off with purple fruit on the palate. Acids are reasonable. If pressed, in a blind tasting (not that I am particularly good at this sort of thing) I might have picked it to be a Syrah of some sort...in the Bizarro World. After a pleasant start, there are several disturbing developments. First, the mid-palate is weirdly spicy and alcohol-hot, and then the finish is like licking sandpaper. I kid you not. We're talking 150 grit tannins here, Sally.
I'm not sure where I picked up this bottle of wine. I don't know how much it cost. I can't imagine it was priced above $8 or $9, and I don't usually buy wines much under $7 -- mostly for fear of winding up with something like this. I may have to find out how much this cost just so I can set my minimum price to $1 higher. Perhaps I am overreacting.
Naturally I could not let this be the extent of my WBW experience for the month. I went to one of my favorite wine stores in the area, Hi Time Cellars in Costa Mesa. and poked around in their extensive collection for obscure varietals...and I came up with this little gem.
Cherry nose, and a bit of an alcohol smell. Fortunately the latter does not carry over onto the palate. Medium body, soft texture, full of bing cherries and unfamiliar fruits. Nice, food-friendly acids, but this wine can't be described as "tart". This is good, as I have a limited tolerance for "tart" wines. (And yet I love sour candy. Nobody said I had to make sense.) The wine has a soft round texture mostly, though there's a bit of tannin on the finish that would easily be mitigated by food. For $20 I wouldn't call this a strong value, but there's no denying that this is a nice wine and an interesting change of pace.
Blaufrankisch is grown mainly in Austria, but it can also be found in Germany, Hungary, Croatia, and even Italy under several other names such as Lemberger, Frankovka, and Frankonia. This wine did not taste like the cold-weather red I might have assumed Austrian reds to be, and this is for good reason. The Osterreich, which grows Austria's best reds, is a bit warmer than you might imagine.
I had a lot of fun with this one. For me, it occupies some space between a Pinot Noir and a Syrah. It's not strange to taste, but it's just unfamiliar enough to me to be intriguing. At this price point I won't be buying it a lot, but I may seek it out again for variety or to be the ringer the next time I'm attending a blind tasting full of know-it-alls. (Which pretty much describes every blind tasting, doesn't it?)
Around the blogosphere:
Lenn of Lenndevours also reviewed a Blaufrankisch for WBW #7...from New York! Tim at Winecast reviewed a Negroamaro that sounds better than the one I had.
March 9, 2005 in wine | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBack
February 16, 2005
WBW #6: South African Reds
After an extended affair with Zinfandel which we will not speak of further, my first true wine love was the California Bordeaux-style blend (the so-called Meritage, which term I despise). Where many Cabernets seemed angry and unforgiving, and most Merlots effusive and obsequious, put them together and the assemblage somehow worked. A union of opposites, like the perfect relationship...in the 1950's. Throw in some Cabernet Franc and maybe some Malbec to correct for any remaining deficiencies and you're ready to go. Why would you even want to try to make a single-varietal wine?
All this Meritage-drinking left me convinced that I was a Bordeaux fan, despite the fact that I hadn't had much actual Bordeaux, and the (cheap) examples I had tried -- mostly what was available at the local grocer -- hadn't made much of an impression. In fact, I came up with a theory: Deep down, we're all either Bordeaux people or Burgundy people. Oh, sure, we may like other kinds of grapes grown in other regions or other countries, but there's really only one underlying question: Burgundy or Bordeaux?
Bordeaux people, I imagined, were from Mars; balanced, scientific, rational people. Bordeaux winemakers were empiricists above all; they created their wines as part of an experimental process of mixing and tasting. Burgundy people, on the other hand, were artistic, temperamental, Venusian prima-donnas. Just like the grape that they so adored, they were notoriously thin-skinned, erratic, and unreliable. They made wine from one grape, and if things didn't go well that year, they had no recourse; they just burned some patchouli and promised to love the vines harder next time.
Myself, I hated Pinot Noir. Based on a couple of inexpensive domestic examples, I'd sussed them all out as thin, acidic wines with bright cherry fruit. What was all the Burgundy hoo-ha about? It wasn't hard to determine which side of the fence I fell on.
In the meantime, I'd had a few actual Bordeaux that I responded strongly to. Although they were a bit more austere than my Meritages, they seemed much more balanced and profound than even the more expensive of my favorites. The red fruit high notes of the Cabernet just rounded out by the fleshy mid-palate of the Merlot, all complemented by a bit of earthy terroir and a just touch of coffee grounds from the oak. By comparison, the Meritages seemed overripe and overoaked and waay too juicy. I continued to appreciate them, but more guiltily. But all of this left me even more convinced that I was a Bordeaux person.
All that changed a few years later over a ten year old bottle of 1er Cru Vosne-Romanee. Its combination of thick, velvety texture, heady perfume, and spice-laden palate was unlike anything I'd ever had before. I was tearfully forced to admit that, despite the fact that I still enjoyed a good Bordeaux now and again, deep down I was a Burgundy person. It was difficult to muster up the courage to come out to my friends. Strangely, they didn't react as strongly to the news as I expected. I guess they love me just that much.
But that's a story for another time. Today we're here to talk about Bordeaux-style blends. I have a nice South African wine here for you to try. Today's wine reminds me of many things I like about Bordeaux -- but in lurid technicolor. And I don't mean that disparagingly.
Barnyard on the nose, but also coffee and spices. Red fruit up front, but with nicely balancing acids. (One thing many New World offerings lack!) Soft, lush mouthfeel betray the Merlot in the blend, but the mid-palate is in no way weak; mocha and spices add flavor interest while acid and tannin lend structure. Tannins are strong but smooth and manageable. Give it a couple of years in the bottle, or have it with a nice steak topped with Stilton. (I prefer to do the latter.) I found this an enjoyable wine to drink, especially the next day, when some of the sharper edges had muted. A strong contender in its price range.
Related items of interest:
If you'd like to know more about the ways that the grapes in the Bordeaux blend have evolved to support each other in the vineyard and on the palate, please read this fantastic article by Bill Nesto, Master of Wine and winewriter.
Here's an interesting (if technical) article on the cultivation of Petit Verdot in South Africa.
February 16, 2005 in wine | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack
January 27, 2005
WBW #5: Wacky Wine Names
This month's Wine Blogging Wednesday, hosted by Chez Pim, is themed "Wacky Wine Names". A little research has led me to the conclusion that it's the Australians who are the indisputable masters of wack. For every Folie a Deux or Frog's Leap we have, there are fifteen Woop Woops, Wirra Wirras, Laughing Magpies, Money Spiders, Mad Fish, Fifth Legs, and Kangarillas waiting in the wings. They're as mad as hatters down there. Face it: in wine or anything else, who can challenge the Aussies for the crown of Sheer Wackiness?
Deep, rich purple color. Liqueur on the nose, with a touch of eucalyptus. On the palate: a burst of juicy, dark fruit, then liqueur and a little menthol...which is all blown out of your mouth by an blast of alcohol and tannin. One presumes that this is the "ball-busting" part alluded to in the name, and it is indeed a bit punishing. 15.5% alcohol, and you can taste every bit of it. That is, until it anesthetizes your tongue.
Some people like it rough. Robert Parker appears to be one of those; apparently this wine recieved 91 points in the Wine Advocate. Me, I prefer a little less slap and a little more tickle.
January 27, 2005 in wine | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack
December 01, 2004
WBW #4: New World Riesling
The Folly Of Youth
I wasn't always bullish on white wines. A few years ago, I could be downright hostile. Chardonnay and White Burgundy I treated with grudging respect (any white wine that was worth putting a little oak on couldn't be all that bad, I thought), but anything that might remind one of lemons or grapefruit I held in suspicion, and anything off-dry I outright scorned. Oh, I didn't deny that these styles had their place; something to drink with white fish, for instance (in the case of the former), and perhaps spicy Asian cuisine (in the case of the latter). So I did what any reasonable wine drinker would do -- I drank beer with my Chinese take-out and avoided eating fish altogether.
Riesling I shunned in particular. I think it's because the first wine I drank regularly (back in my undergraduate days, so you know I had plenty of it) was a cheap domestic Riesling. It was some time before I realized just how bad it was: cloying, flabby, ridiculous...I soon fell in with a pack of Sonoma Cabernets and never looked back.
The Road To Damascus
I used to persecute white wine drinkers with some fervor. At best, I felt, they -- like the wines they drank -- lacked seriousness. At worst? Sallow-tongued Fresca-drinkers. After one tasting session at which I mentioned to an acquaintance -- let's call him Ananias -- that his German Riesling might be best consumed while wearing a pretty white cotton summer dress but that I wondered what he wore in the winter, he gave me a suggestion. Well, he made two suggestions, really, but the first one was very unflattering and I ignored it.
The second, however, proved to be very enlightening. He told me about a wine importer on Pier 19 (in
San Francisco) named Dee Vine Wines that specialized in German imports. Their periodic tastings were,
he claimed, can't-miss events, and one was happening the following weekend. If came away from the
tasting without thoroughly enjoying the wines, he said, I could make all the derisive comments I wanted
to.
My comrades in arms and I were very confused when we arrived at Pier 19. Fisherman's Wharf it ain't -- this looks like a working Pier. It's a giant, dark, dank warehouse. The security guard at the entrance looked at us with the wary eye of a man who has learned the hard way not to trust anyone who doesn't have three days' beard growth and a tattoo of an anchor. "You here for the WINE TASTING?" he spat.
We were directed to a section a few hundred feet back that contained -- you guessed it -- a wine store, at the front of which were three tables supporting thirty five buckets of ice between them. For a mere $15 we tasted everything from Kabinetten to Trockenbeerenauslesen, some of the latter of which were going for well over $100 for a 375 mL bottle. Those were fantastic, I must admit, but it was the Spatlesen that really grabbed me. All the richness of a late harvest wine, all of the approachability that a little of sugar can give, perfectly balanced against the steely minerality and citrus of a cold weather white wine. Then throw in the mix just a hint -- sometimes more -- of some funkiness that Ananias had described as "petrol". I now understood what he meant. I was hooked.
My road to Damascus wound up being the Embarcadero. That visit changed the way I drink wine. Oh, I still love my reds, don't get me wrong. But these days I think nothing of cracking open a bottle of white wine instead. Also I am humbler now. And I am no longer afraid to eat fish.
And while my tastes have since broadened to include other great wines such as White Burgundy, Gruner
Veltliner, and even Albarino, my favorite white wine in the world is still a good Spatlese, and I don't feel as though I must cross-dress to enjoy it.
New World Riesling?
All that having been said, I was pretty skeptical of the whole "New World Riesling" thing. I guess I still have ancestral memories of that fatty, sweet, cheap California Riesling I drank in college. But I figured it would be a good opportunity for me to see what the rest of the world is doing with the grape these days. But I still planned to compare it to my favorite Mosels and Rheingaus, where it would no doubt fail to shine.
I didn't have a chance to make it to the wine store before the weekend, however, but as I was cooking a late Thanksgiving meal for friends, I had one of them pick up something for me. He doesn't know much about wine, but I had him relay my preferences and circumstances to the wine store staff, and ask them to give me "something interesting".
What I got was indeed unexpected -- an ice wine from Chateau Ste Michelle. I read the back: 40 brix at harvest, 29% residual sugar. I thought I was in for a flaccid, insipid, sickly-sweet experience. I couldn't have been more wrong.
This clean, sensuous wine is what a grapefruit would be if a grapefruit were erotic. It is honeyed without cloying, and substantial without feeling heavy. Its significant sugar levels are wrestled just into balance by its acid content, resulting in a wine that manages to be both sublime and accessible. Unabashedly New World in style, there is only the merest touch of petrol character to hint at what might have been (or might yet be, with a few years of bottle age). The tasty finish lasts and lasts.
December 1, 2004 in best, wine | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBack
November 03, 2004
WBW #3: Australian Shiraz
[This is my contribution to Wine Blogging Wednesdays, a virtual event that you can find out more about
here. This month's assignment was to taste and report on an Australian Shiraz.]
Australia's Hunter Valley is not well-known to American consumers and retailers. The Australian export market to the U.S. is dominated by South Australian Shiraz, Cabernet Sauvignon and Chardonnay, which consumers of mainstream California wines can easily identify with stylistically. The less familiar (and perhaps less instantly appealing) approach of the Hunter Valley to these grapes results in them getting squeezed out of the American market, and if that is true then there is almost certainly no room in for the highly distinctive (some would say eccentric) Hunter Valley Semillon or Chambourcin. The Hunter's wines are often considered to be second-tier with respect to its southern cousins, and the area is often reduced to a footnote in many magazine articles on Australian wines. As a result, very little Hunter Valley wine is exported, and almost none from its many interesting smaller producers.
But the dominance of South Australian wine can't be blamed completely on incompatibility with mainstream tastes. Truth be told, it can be difficult to make wine in the Hunter. Temperatures often get too hot during the summer, and the area is notorious for getting the sort of early rains which are the bane of the winemaker's existence. (This is one reason that the Hunter is better known for its whites than its reds -- the white varieties tend to ripen earlier and can likely be harvested before the rains start.)
I'm no wine critic, but I did have the opportunity to work on a winery in the Hunter Valley for three weeks last year. In my (admittedly limited) experience, Shiraz from the Hunter is less fruit-forward, less alcoholic, less forceful, and more restrained than its South Australian counterparts. Hence, when it is done well, it can be more elegant. Hunter Shiraz often exhibits red fruit flavors instead of the black fruit flavors that dominate South Australian Shiraz, and sometimes -- though not always -- has a stronger acid profile. The best wines of the valley (in my opinion) also have pleasant spice flavors and a dusty earthiness.
In San Francisco, we did find one of our favorites from the trip: the Meerea Park "The Aunts" Shiraz at The Jug Shop, which has a fantastic selection of Australian wines. (Even so, they don't have that much Hunter Valley wine.) Other than that, we haven't run across too many Hunter Valley bottlings.
But because we wanted to share a bit of Hunter Valley with WBW folks, we took a look around Orange County to see what we could turn up. Almost immediately, we ran across Southern Hemisphere Wine Center, a mere fifteen minute's drive from where we live. They have a fantastic selection of Australian wines, including a few from the Hunter Valley. They do most of their business via mail order, but the small staff at the storefront was friendly, helpful, and knowledgeable.
Strong kirsch aroma. Palate is dominated by rich raspberry flavors. This Chambord-like taste is nicely offset by a pleasant tartness. Smooth, velvety texture. Good concentration for Hunter Valley Shiraz in this price range. The finish isn't strong, but strangely, it lasts quite a while. This is a fairly good value. While it paired acceptably with filet mignon topped with stilton, this wine would really shine with duck or goose. Keep it in mind for Thanksgiving!
November 3, 2004 in wine | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack
January 31, 2003
ZAP 2003
I attended the annual
Zinfandel Festival held by ZAP
last weekend, and I'm just now sobering up enough to write
about it.
It wasn't that long ago that I thought the world of Zinfandel. When I was first acquiring a taste for wine, Zins were definitely my favorite. Huge, highly extracted ink-black wines with an aroma you could smell from the next table.
I don't drink much Zin anymore. There are many reasons for this. My tastes have since diversified quite a bit, for one. Further, I usually drink wine with food these days, so I prefer wines that pair better with the food I eat. And ultimately, I think I burned out a bit on the big, oaky, jammy Zins of my youth.
Nevertheless, I'm not completely beyond the charms of a rich, viscous Zin, so I never pass the opportunity to go to Zap. Fifty bucks, all you can drink from hundreds of different Zinfandel producers. That's right, hundreds. This year there were over three hundred different wineries represented.
No wonder, then, that so many people show up for it. The picture you see above is only a third of one of the lines (there are two).
Last year I tried to make a brief note for every wine that I tasted. This is an exersize in folly at an event like ZAP. For one thing, it's a real pain to try to juggle your wine glass, your baguette (they give you one at the door), any cheese or other snacks you might have picked up, your digital camera (if you have to take pictures for your website), and a tablet and pen. As a result, you'll want to context switch as little as possible. Second, ZAP is mostly about fun. After a few tastes, you'll find it difficult to care whether or not the Zin you're tasting merits 2 1/2 stars or three full stars, or whether those are raspberries or loganberries you're tasting, or whether the finish is "moderate" or "full". Finally, after about an hour or two of tasting, your palate will be so numb that your glass could be half full of tar and it wouldn't stop you from having a good time.
So I adopted a different strategy this time:
Only take notes on the wines that really knock your socks off, or are unique in some way. Otherwise, just drink and enjoy.
Stop and talk to people. Talk to the pourers, especially at smaller wineries, where the person pouring your wine is likely to be the winery's owner or winemaker or both. Talk to other visitors. Exchange notes. This is very important, because you don't want to go to the same places year after year, but at the same time, there's too much cruft just to spend the whole day visiting wineries at random. Just a few conversations with right strangers, though, will net you enough suggestions to fill up the rest of your day.
Don't be afraid to spit. There, I said it. Now generally, in wine drinking as in life, I fall on the swallow side of the spit-or-swallow controversy. But if you're going to be on the make for a full three and a half hours, as I was, you need to preserve some of your faculties. And quite frankly, half of the stuff you'll be drinking won't be that interesting. Save the brain cells for the wines that really turn you on.
Give up on making it to all your favorite places. When confronted with the bustling crowds and the bewildering number of wineries, the temptation is to say "Oh -- Foofoo Vineyards. I like their stuff," and head over and taste a wine that you just had a whole bottle of two weeks ago. The best ZAP experiences are the new ones, where you taste something completely unexpected and new. Like I said in point #2, ask around. Ask the people pouring what they like. Ask the people around you. Chances are, you'll run across some great stuff -- maybe even a new favorite!
Spelletich
I had the opportunity to ask Timothy Spelletich how he got into the business. His reply:
Still, Timothy remains optimistic. Things seem to be going well for them, and, as he says, "There's nothing else I'd rather do."
Timothy also had some interesting things to say about making wine in California:
You can read more about the Spelletichs here.
Tres Sabores
Julie Johnson Williams of Tres Sabores must definitely take the Purple Ribbon for Best Concept this year. Ms. Williams owns Johnson Ranch Vineyard in Napa Valley. The fruit from this vineyard used to go into Frog's Leap Zinfandels, which winery she co-owned. Recently Julie, as she puts it, "decided to downsize." She instead gave the fruit to three different winemakers to make three different Zins from. Hence, "tres sabores", or "three tastes".
What a concept! Drinking the three side by side allows one to sample the power that a winemaker's decisions have over the final product. And the wines themselves are great. The only downside is that there are only 700 cases en toto. So seek it out while you can, and buy one of each!
Fun was had by all, or at least by me. Too bad ZAP is only once a year. But if you need your mass-tasting fix sooner, there's always Rhone Rangers, which tastes California wines using Rhone varietals such as Syrah, Grenache, and Viogner. It's somewhat smaller and more varied than ZAP. Don't miss it! Your tongue will thank you, even if your liver won't.
Some excerpts from my tasting notes:
| 2000 | Titus Mendocino Redwood Valley | Red fruit, softer than the Titus Napa Valley of the same vintage. "There's almost a grenadine flavor", says Phillip Titus, who poured my wine. "We added 15% Petite Sirah to darken the fruit a little bit." Only 600 cases of this available (as opposed to 2000 cases of the Napa Valley). They are, remarkably, the same price. | $24 | |
| 2000 | Renwood Grandpere | Red fruit -- raspberries. Higher in pitch and thinner in tone than most of the wines you'll find at ZAP, Renwood's wines (and the Grandpere in particular) offer an interesting alternative. The Grandpere is in this case softer and more approachable than the Fiddletown, which Renwood is also serving up here. The Grandpere doesn't have the same rough kick on the finish that the Fiddletown does; instead it lingers softly on the tongue. | $32 | |
| 2001 | Truchard Zinfandel | The 2000 was not quite as concentrated as I'd hoped for, but I liked the flavor a lot. The 2001 may improve upon it in both categories. Strong cigarbox and spice flavors and smells. This is a cigar-smoking wine if there ever was one. (Note that the price below is an approximation; this wine was not yet released at the time of tasting.) | $30 | |
| 2001 | Spelletich Alviso Vineyard Zinfandel | (Note that this could have also been the Tim & Edie's Vineyard Shenandoah Valley Zinfandel. My notes are unclear on this point.) Huge and weirdly attractive. Spicy -- like a pepper -- as well as sweet, with a strong aroma of nutmeg & other earthy spices. Like having General Tsao's Chicken atop a slice of pumpkin pie. I feel strangely compelled to seek it out. | $25 | |
January 31, 2003 in events, old_site, wine | Permalink | Comments (0)
January 06, 2003
the company party
I'm back in town, back at work, and blogging again. I have a few things to say about the holidays, but I realized that I haven't even had a chance to talk about the Company Christmas Party, which happened the day before I went out of town. I'll start there.
The Company Party
Our company party was remarkable for one reason: the wine. The standard Company Christmas party is dominated by people who, if they drink wine at all, feel perfectly comfortable ordering a glass of "the red", which they will inevitably remark is "pretty good" but "a little dry". If you have any taste for wine at all, you are faced with the unenviable task of choosing between the Talus Chardonnay and the Sutter Home Merlot. (The answer to this dilemma is clear: you drink beer.)
Not so this time. The president of our company is a big Burgundy fan, and he knows his wine. When I told him about The Wine House's 25th Anniversary sale, he went nuts. He and I and another wine fan from the company went together to buy wine for the party. When we got there, he said, "We each have $200 to spend. Go get the good stuff."
Mind you, our company only has 25 employees. Expected attendance at the party was less than 50 people. Not all of them are wine fans. In this circumstance, $600 can get you a lot of great wine.
And great wine was gotten. Burgundy was easily the most represented region, providing such wines as the 1999 Domaine Lamarche Grands Echezeaux and the 1998 Domaine Thierry Violot-Guillemard Pommard Rugiens. We also had some great Bordeaux whose names I regretfully do not remember. And there was a concession to California Cabs: someone (not me) bought a bottle of Silver Oak.
The big surprise for me came with the crab cakes. I love crab cakes, and ate them almost exclusively that evening, as there seemed to be a limitless supply. But the Burgundies and Bordeaux were an inappropriate pairing. Fortunately, the company president had had a bit more forethought that ourselves and purchased two bottles of a 1995 Puligny Montrachet -- $80 bottles that were on sale for $50 each. Incredible. Especially with the crab cakes. Fortunately for me, no one seemed to be drinking white wine (although I persuaded several people to try it), so I pretty much had it all to myself. I holed up in the corner, snarfing crab cakes and chugging Puligny Montrachet like I was on death row and it was my last meal.
I just wish I knew which Puligny Montrachet it was. On second thought, it's probably best that I don't know. I might start selling off things I need.
January 6, 2003 in events, old_site, wine | Permalink | Comments (0)
August 26, 2002
napa trip log: monday
"Um...what time is our first appointment this morning?" The voice on the other end of the phone was the voice of a man who could barely hold it together.
"We have an 11 a.m. at Cardinale." I said.
"Uh...I don't think we're going to make it," said Eman.
No problem. You sleep in. Rebecca and I will persevere.
Cardinale
I first tasted Cardinale and Lokoya at my favorite wine shop in the world: Vin, Vino, and Wine in Palo Alto (I'd link to it, but if they have a website, I can't find it.) It's my favorite wine store because they did tastings every day, and it wasn't rare to walk into the store and find them tasting wines that cost $120/bottle, like Cardinale or Lokoya. No one else tastes stuff like that. I learned more about what I like in high-end wines -- and medium-cost wines, for that matter -- tasting there for six months than I did before or since, I'll wager. Vin, Vino, and Wine is one of the few things I miss from my days on the Peninsula.
Of course, they weren't tasting Lokoya at the winery. They do occasionally, I am told, but production is just too low to do it consistently. But they were tasting their second label, Atalon, which ranged in price from $25 to $80. Atalon was comprised this year of three Cabernets and three Merlots. Rebecca and I tried the three Cabs, one Merlot, and the Cardinale.
One thing I liked about the lineup is that for both the Merlots and the Cabs it pitted Valley fruit against Mountain fruit, allowing you to compare the two.
[You can read more about the relationship between Cardinale, Lokoya, and Atalon here.]
| 1998 | Atalon Napa Valley Cabernet Sauvignon | Dark, strong Cab. Nice astringency. Dark fruit, gravel, and lead pencil. | $35 | |
| 1998 | Atalon Mountain Estates Cabernet Sauvignon | Brighter in flavor, but has a similarly refined, even tone. Redder, tarter fruit. | $45 | |
| 1998 | Atalon Beckstoffer Oakville Cabernet Sauvignon | I take it from the taste that we're back down in the valley for this. Lush, ripe, dark fruit. Nice, even, controlled structure; not thick but strong. | $80 | |
| 1999 | Atalon Keyes Vineyard Merlot | This is very respectable. Dark, ripe plums. I may like Merlot after all. | $60 | |
Like the Opus, I didn't take any notes on the Cardinale; just drank it and enjoyed it.
The lower scores on the first few wines don't accurately reflect what I think about them. They're low only because it's such a strong field. They're clearly better than any other Cab or Merlot-based wines that we tasted this weekend, with the possible exception of the Oakville Ranch label; I'd have to taste those again with a fresh palate to see. I was tempted to go back through and re-normalize all of my scores to show that more clearly, but, well, I'm lazy and I haven't done it.
These are very classy wines, and I wouldn't be ashamed to serve these to anybody -- not the most shameless Bordeaux Nazi or Old-world wine bigot. I'm not saying they're better than Bordeaux, by any stretch -- just that this is wine that can't be ignored or wished away. Californians can make wine too, dammit, and even if it's a bit more expensive than it should be, it's often good wine, and it's here to stay. Avoid it to your own detriment.
--
Eman and Yolanda caught up with us around noon-thirty. We had an appointment at Truchard at two o'clock, but decided to drop by Artesa, which is also in the Carneros area, before heading over there.
Artesa
Artesa first came to my attention when I ran into Brian at some restaurant in San Francisco. He made me try the wine he was having -- an Artesa Pinot Noir. It was a thick, meaty, oderiferous wine replete with anise and olives. Very strange, I thought, for a Pinot Noir. I bought a bottle or two, and have since had it at a couple of restaurants. I've also had a Chardonnay of theirs that I liked. It had been awhile since I thought about them, but if the quality of their offerings is consistent with my memories of those two wines, I figured the winery would be worth a visit.
The woman at Cardinale had explained the origin of Artesa to us: sparkling winemakers in Napa had plateaued in the late 1990's and were looking to "still" wines as possible areas for financial growth. In some cases they supplemented their line with still wines; in other cases they switched completely over to the production of still offerings.
Such is the case of Artesa, which until 1999 was the Napa Valley branch of the Spanish sparkling winemaker Codorniu. They did extensive remodeling of the facility and did a lot of work to refocus the winery on making high-quality Chardonnay, Pinot Noir, and other varietals.
(You can read an interesting account of the Artesa's transformation here . Other sparkling winemakers that have faced challenges adapting to the U.S. market include Domaine Chandon and S. Anderson , which we visited on Saturday.)
| 2000 | Napa Valley Chardonnay | Pretty fruit smell, but also a nice stink to it. No malolactic, and that suits it. | $23 | |
| 2000 | Carneros Chardonnay | The buttery flavors from the malolactic fermentation seem to undermine the pleasant stink that this wine has going for it. | $23 | |
| 2000 | Russian River Valley Pinot Noir | Strawberry and a little oak. A bit thin. This is not what I'm looking for. | $23 | |
| 2000 | Reserve Chardonnay | Butter, butterscotch, a little funkiness on the mid-palate. Pretty concentrated. This is a good wine. | $? | |
| 2000 | Reserve Pinot Noir | This has a great, silky mouthfeel. I'd like to have this again sometime, see how I feel about it. But it's not like the Pinot I'm looking for. | $? | |
Truchard
Truchard is iconic for my wine-drinking friends and I. We "discovered" them on our trip to Napa together last year. While at dinner at Domaine Chandon, one of our number asked for a Pinot Noir. The waiter recommended the Domaine Chandon Pinot, but we'd all had that already as part of the tasting menu. "You know what?" he said. "Here's something you'll like." He brought her a glass of Truchard's Pinot Noir.
Most of us thought we didn't like Pinot Noir. In particular, we'd decided we didn't like California Pinot Noir. (So young, so inexperienced...) But we took the glass away from her and tasted it anyway, if only to put an end to the gratuitous lip-smacking noises she was making.
It was a revelation to us. Rich and complex, with layers of spice, vanilla, berries, and many other flavors that we couldn't identify. It was creamy, not thin and tinny like the Pinots that I'd come to dislike.
The next day, while Rebecca and I were at a spa in Calistoga and Eman had gone back to San Francisco to go to work, the rest of the group made a day trip to Truchard. They made friends with the family and have since gone back several times. Eman, Rebecca, and I, left out of the loop the first time, have never visited the winery.
It was a great thing to finally get to go. We took the full tour (and we rarely do tours anymore) and tasting, and it was time well spent. The tasting was good, but since I drink their wines with some regularity and had tasted most of what we were served on previous occasions, I didn't take any notes.
The Truchard Family and staff are exceedingly friendly and very generous, and their wines are very, very good. We left Truchard grudgingly, but we needed the time to prepare for the ordeal to come: our meal at the French Laundry.
August 26, 2002 in napa_trip, old_site, wine | Permalink | Comments (0)
August 25, 2002
trip log: sunday
Opus One
What a way to start out the day! I'd have preferred to do Opus One in the middle of the day, after I'd warmed up, but its location at the very start of our route meant that we'd have to visit it very early or visit it last. Since I knew there was no way my taste buds would be in any condition to appreciate Opus after five hours of tasting, we had no choice but to go there first.
The Opus One winery is located in a giant pyramid just north of Oakville crossing. The giant ziggurat juts out of the ground as if raised by the gods. ("I feel as if I'm headed up to be sacrificed," I heard one woman say as she was traversing the front stairs. "Don't worry, I think they only kill virgins," I almost said, but I bit my tongue. Didn't want to start the day out with fisticuffs. Wine club, not Fight Club.)
As it turned out, Opus was a good place to start out. They only serve one wine, so you don't have to make any choices. The snoot factor is high, but you don't have to stay in the tasting area; you can wander off to the roof of the ziggurat, enjoying views of the valley like the one above.
The winery is remarkably beautiful and peaceful, if a bit ostentatious. There's not much to do except relax, but it's such a great place to relax that we wound up staying there for forty-five minutes.
And we did actually buy some wine there. We don't buy Opus One -- $150 is a bit out of our price range, and we don't have a good place to store something like that for the long haul. But they sell Overture, a non-vintage wine made from the grapes that weren't quite good enough to go into Opus, for $40 only at the winery. Rebecca and I bought a bottle last year and loved it. So we picked up a couple of bottles for special occasions.
Plumpjack
Plumpjack is an interesting facility. The grounds have a weird, whimsical, Alice-In-Wonderland feel -- oversized picket fences with gaps between them far too large to keep anything out or in, huge doors with handles sized for ogres.
Overall, I was somewhat disappointed with their wines this time. I've had previous vintages of their Cab and can recall being far more excited about it. The Syrah was something of a revelation, though. I wonder how widely available it is?
| 2001 | Reserve Chardonnay | Good fruit. "Sauv. Blanc style", says pourer. Long finish. Many tropical fruits. | $38 | |
| 2000 | Syrah | Medium-bodied. A few notes in the high register. Red fruit. A fascinating wine. Best of the lot -- most interesting, at least. | $40 | |
| 1999 | Estate Cabernet Sauvignon | Strong mocha nose. Smooth California cab. Not particularly interesting. | $54 | |
Miner Family
We continued on Oakville Crossing to the Silverado Trail to visit the Miner Family. This visit was one of the best -- if not the best -- of our trip. I'm grateful to Rebecca for insisting that we come.
Both Miner Family and the Oakville Ranch labels are made here. Interestingly, until 1994, the Miners were partners with R. Lewis (patriarch of Lewis Cellars, one of my favorite wineries) in Oakville Ranch. When heleft to start Lewis Cellars, the Miners started the Miner Family label in addition to Oakville Ranch.
| 2000 | Napa Valley Chardonnay | Soft, round fruit flavors. Oaky/buttery, but in a good way. Manages to stay balanced. | $30 | |
| 2000 | Oakville Chardonnay | Excellent. Crisper flavor. A little sassier. | $35 | |
| 2000 | Gary's Vineyard Pinot Noir | Wow. Heady smell. Fascinating flavor. I won't even try to describe it. | $50 | |
| 2000 | Gibson Ranch Sangiovese | Great nose. Very aromatic. Very drinkable. Here's a wine Rebecca and I could easily compromise on. And at an attractive price for weekend consumption. | $20 | |
| 2000 | Napa Zinfandel | Lighter style, peppery. "Food friendly." | $24 | |
| 1998 | Oakville Cabernet Sauvignon | Lots of cassis. Mountain fruit. Call this a provisional rating -- I'd like to give this another try. | $60 | |
| 2001 | Viognier | This is good. Pear, some melon flavors, etc. | $20 | |
The staff offered us a lot of insight into their winemaking. On the Napa Valley Chard: "You'll find mostly pear and hazelnut type of flavors. We stay away from the tropical style." Which is a great thing -- so many California Chardonnays are all about the tropical fruit. The Napa Valley Chard is 100% malolactic and it shows. When we were given the Oakville, our pourer asked, "how much ml do you think this is?" The Oakville was much cleaner and crisper, though there were still hints of butter. "25%," we guessed. "Nope. 100% malolactic. These grapes are from our highest vineyard and have a very high natural acidity. Because of this, they can go through malolactic fermentation and still retain a lot of crispness."
We actually tasted more wines than I have listed, including two great Cabs from the Oakville Ranch label. Unfortunately, I slacked off on the tasting notes. You know how it is -- you get to drinking and chatting...
This was a fantastic experience. The pourers were friendly and knowledgable, and the wines were fantastic. We bought more wine here than at any other winery, and now that we're back home, we wish we'd bought even more!
Napa Wine Company
The Napa Wine Company is actually a "custom crush" facility. It's a company that offers all the services that you'd need to make wine -- from grape crushing and fermenting, chemical analysis, and barrel storage to bottling, labelling, and legal compliance services. This way, a winemaker could make a wine and establish an entire brand without owning a winery at all!
You'd think that a lot of substandard wines would come out of this facility. But the opposite is true. Some of the biggest names in cult California wines -- Colgin, Bryant Family, Staglin -- started here, although they eventually bought their own wineries and equipment. Pahlmeyer is still here.
But the Napa Wine Company is also a winery in its own right. They own some good valley floor vineyards and make use of their own facilities to make several different wines.
I wanted to come here for two reasons. First, I wanted to taste Pahlmeyer. I knew they wouldn't have the flagship available to taste -- it's made in far too limited quantities for that, I imagine -- but I wanted to try the Chardonnay or the Merlot.
Second, I'd had a Pinot Blanc from the Napa Wine Company itself sometime last month that I was very impressed with. Based on the restaurant price by the glass, I was hoping that the bottle price would be around $12, in which case I could hardly resist buying a case.
| 2001 | Mason Sauvignon Blanc | "Best selling Sauvignon Blanc in the Valley." I thought it was pretty boring. But then, I'm not an S. Blanc fan. | $16 | |
| 2001 | Napa Wine Company Pinot Blanc | Yeah, baby. This is what I came here for. It's a good wine at $18; but it would have been a great one at $12. | $18 | |
| 2000 | Pahlmeyer Chardonnay | The other wine I came here to taste. The pourer kept talking about how overvalued it was. But there's something sublime about it. It's definitely in another class. | $60 | |
| 2000 | Del Bondio Syrah | Big time barnyard stench. It's like the chickens and pigs they must have used to make this stuff are still in the room. It's been open all day, but it still tastes fresh. This is what I want from a California Syrah. | $25 | |
| 1998 | Fife Max | I was looking forward to this one, but it's just...odd. Could never see paying this much for it. It's a blend of Syrah, Petit Syrah, and Zinfandel. | $40 | |
| 1998 | Showket Cabernet Sauvignon | "Best Cab in the room," says the pourer. It is good. Rebecca likes it, which is always a plus. But for this price, I could buy a Lewis and go see a movie. | $70 | |
My notetaking continued to deteriorate here. We tasted four or five other wines that I didn't record here because I didn't write anything useful. We had the Tria Pinot and Syrah, the Del Bondio Cab and the Madrigal Merlot, at least. Wish I remembered what I thought of them.
Oakville Grocery
On the way to St. Helena, we stopped at Oakville Grocery and picked up bread, cheese, pate, and other sundries to eat on the way. They have a great selection -- the only downside is that everyone knows this and it gets crowded.
It was only here that we realized how late it was getting. We'd started tasting at 11, and it was already getting close to four o'clock, our scheduled stopping time. And we'd only been to four wineries! Last time out, when we'd rented the limo, we visited eight wineries in five hours.
This time, we'd spent more time at each winery and (on average) had more wine at each one. Last year we were concerned primarily with reds and often didn't try the white offerings. And this year, Eman's industry connections ensured that we were poured a lot more wine than last year.
We decided to go an extra hour with the driver and hit one last winery.
Berenger
By the time we made it to Berenger, I didn't care about tasting notes.
| 1999 | Private Reserve Chardonnay | Creamy, buttery, blah blah blah. Well executed, near as I can tell. | $35 | |
| 2000 | Sbregia Ltd. Res. Chardonnay | No notes taken. | $40 | |
| 1996 | Alluvium | Believe it. | $30 | |
| 1994 | Knight's Valley Cabernet | This is really good -- I'll admit it. Very California Cabernet, with just a touch of stink. Maybe I should have bought a bottle of this. | $35 | |
Bouchon
Bouchon is Thomas Keller's other restaurant in Yountville. Bouchon is more of a brasserie or bistro, featuring dinner options such as Croque Madame alongside more traditional entrees like Roasted Chicken and Steak Frites.
One distinguishing feature of Bouchon is that it has a full raw bar. We decided to start with that, ordering the "Grand Plateau", which is comprised of one lobster, eight shrimp, eight clams, eight mussels, some unspecified amount of crab, and sixteen oysters. The lobster, crab, and shrimp are served cooked but cold; everything else is served raw.
I haven't had a great many oysters in my life, so this was very entertaining for me. The sixteen oysters were of four different types, which divided nicely into our group of four.
With the seafood, we had a half bottle of 1998 Schramsberg Blanc de Noir. It was a good pairing, I thought; I'll consider having champagne with any seafood platters or raw seafood I have in the future. (Champagne and sushi?)
Having successfully navigated the first course of the meal, I proceeded to make an egregious error in the second half. That's right, I ordered the steak.
It's one of my personal policies: when you're dining out at an expensive restaurant, Never Order The Steak. One reason is that making a good steak is not the hardest thing in the world. I'm not saying it's easy. I know it's not -- I've screwed up plenty of steaks in my lifetime. But most of the time that's just due to negligence. If you're willing to go out and get a good cut of meat and take a little time out and watch it cook, as long as you follow a few simple rules, you'll wind up with a pretty good steak. A steak doesn't exactly tax the capabilities of the chef or the kitchen staff. When I want a steak, I cook one myself. It's virtually effortless to do, and two times out of three I wind up with something nearly as good as I might get in a restaurant.
The main reason, though, to Never Order The Steak is that one well-cooked steak is very similar to another. Now hold on a minute -- before you get up in arms, I'm saying this is true relative to "The Lamb" or "The Duck" dish that's on the menu. By comparison, "The Steak" is generally a concession to weakness, a dish that's put on the menu expressly for wimps who are frightened off by the thought of Cherimoya and Fennel Puree and dullards who are afraid to ask what the long French word du jour on the menu actually means. They need to put the safety net somewhere for these people. If someone is afraid to order The Steak, what the heck will make them feel safe? Their mom in the kitchen? As a result, chefs don't seem to express themselves very much with The Steak.
And that's the main reason I go out to eat -- to "listen" a very experienced individual express themselves to me through their food.
But sometimes I get suckered in. Occasionally it's the promise of a unique preparation that turns out to be not so unique after all. Most of the time, though, it's just that I have a hankering for steak. I'm always happiest when I don't listen to it. That's what I have to keep in mind.
This time was no exception. You know, it was a pretty good steak. Can't fault it. But it was just a steak.
August 25, 2002 in napa_trip, old_site, wine | Permalink | Comments (0)
August 24, 2002
trip log: saturday
This is a record of the three days Rebecca and I spent in Napa Valley. We stayed at the Lavender Inn in Yountville. My friend Eman and Yolanda, a friend of his, joined us on Sunday. The vacation culimates in a visit to the French Laundry on Monday evening.
It was nearly three o'clock by the time we'd checked in and gotten settled in our hotel room. That left us just enough time to take the hotel bikes out and hit a few wineries before closing time.
A brief discussion with the staff indicated that our best bet was to head across Yountville Crossing to the Silverado Trail. Yountville Crossing is about a mile and a half long -- just right for a casual bike ride by two mostly-trim-yet-somehow-very-out-of-shape foodies looking for wine. We didn't have a specific agenda -- we decided to go as far as we could before the wineries started closing.
Goosecross Cellars
The first winery we came across was Goosecross Cellars, the entirety of which was contained in a small associated winemaking/tasting facility adjunct to a large house. Despite its small size, the tasting facility itself was very polished. The staff was very friendly and knowledgable -- the latter, no doubt, because they consisted of the winemaker, his wife, and others who were perhaps involved in the winemaking process.
Goosecross' wines are like toys. I don't mean to patronize. What I mean to say is this: They have big, bold, and sometimes unusual flavors; they're polished and accessible; they are sometimes proportioned in ways you don't see in the "real world" but which make total sense in their own universe; and, most importantly, are a whole lot of fun.
| 2001 | Sauvignon Blanc | Sharp and fruity. I thought it was unremarkable, but then, I'm not a big fan of Sauvignon Blanc. | $16 | |
| 1998 | Chardonnay | Very smooth, buttery, and rich. Apple pie flavors. | $23 | |
| 1999 | Chardonnay | Bolder smell, lighter color than the 1998. Mild aftertaste. | $23 | |
| 2000 | Chardonnay | Even lighter in color. More butterscotch. Finish is not as bold as '99, but more pleasant. | $23 | |
| 1999 | Sangiovese | Full-flavored, but sprightly. Many different berries, spices. I'm a fan. | $32 | |
| 1999 | Syrah | Definite barnyard stink. (I love that smell!) Tastes of anise, black cherries, and earth. A bit lacking in the finish. | $30 | |
| 1998 | Drinkable, but unremarkable. | $44 | |
Rebecca and I are "interviewing" Chardonnays on this trip. Neither of us are generally big on white wines, but I'm trying to eat more fish these days, so I'm trying to learn to appreciate them.
We started with all the hallmarks of novicedom in the white-wine arena, including a preference for oaky, malo-lacticized Chardonnays and a distinct lack of appreciation for crisp, minerally Sauvignon Blancs (which would really go better with the more delicate fish dishes), but that's changing. I'm starting to feel that some of the Chardonnays I used to prefer are a little "flabby"; that is, they lack structure, typically provided by acid in white wines, to counterbalance the creamy oakiness. One gets the impression one is eating a pat of butter.
We liked these Chardonnays enough to want to buy a few. My initial impression was that I liked the 1998 the best. But I kept thinking: "When I get this home, will it taste flabby to me?" I think it might, and I think that in the long run, I might like the 2000 better. But: they want to clear out the 1998s and have marked them down to $15, so that pretty much settles the issue of which to buy.
In the end, I'm not sure how much of a value Goosecross is. Outside of the marked-down Chardonnay, how much wine would I buy at those prices? Would I buy the Syrah for $30 when I could have the Joseph Phelps Le Mistral instead for less than $20? Not exactly a fair comparison, since the former is a full retail price and the latter is a discounted wine store price, but which would I choose even if they were the same price? The Phelps, but I'll admit it -- it's closer.
Anyway, it's immaterial. The truth is, I have to have at least a few of these; it's the particular combination of quality and novelty. It may not become my regular weekend wine, but... hey, who am I fooling? I don't have a "regular weekend wine".
Goosecross is exactly the sort of winery I want to visit when I come to Napa. It's new to me, it's small but polished, and they have some fun wines.
S. Anderson
S. Anderson is another small, family-owned winery on Yountville Crossroad. Culturally, though, they're worlds apart from Goosecross. For one thing, they appear to take themselves a wee bit more seriously. For another thing, they focus on sparkling wines. I'm not sure the two things are unrelated. In my experience, sparkling winemakers are 42% more pretentious than those that make still wines. It must have something to do with long-term exposure to carbonation.
Anyhow, the S. Anderson people are just fine. I think they just feel a little oppressed. Just get them talking about how Americans only drink sparkling wines on special occasions and you'll see what I mean.
But the wines...the wines are excellent. This was definitely worth a stop.
| 1997 | Napa Valley Brut | Tangy, tasty, creamy...wow. | $28 | |
| 1997 | Napa Valley Blanc de Noirs | Interesting. Very clear for a Blanc de Noirs. I don't like it as much as the Brut, but it's good. | $28 | |
| 1999 | Estate Chardonnay, Stag's Leap | The first Chardonnay I've ever had that tasted like Champagne! Lemon zest finish. Interesting. | $25 | |
| 1999 | SLD Cabernet Sauvignon | Cassis smell. Tastes "sweet". Good ashiness. Very smooth. | $30 | |
| 1997 | Cherubim Chardonnay | Not too sweet, which is good. Big-time coconut. Interesting idea. Would be better served cold. Cool bottle. | $20/500ml | |
The Cherubim is a Chardonnay-based dessert wine. I'm not sure if it is late-harvested or simply made to retain some residual sugar. Either way, it's not overly sweet. It's redolent with vanilla and coconut. It's an interesting idea. I wish they'd served it colder, so I'd have a better idea whether I liked it or not. It's priced attractively for this sort of thing.
Their Brut Rose is another novel wine. They took their basic Brut and added just a touch of Cabernet and Merlot before they barrelled it. I've never heard of this being done before. Unfortunately, they didn't have any available for tasting. I should have bought a bottle just to satisfy my curiosity; it's only $32.
The staff occasionally lapses into pretension. (Although I must admit it was fun to watch our pourer spit every time she said the words "Charmat method".) Even so, they had some interesting insight into the world of Champagne making. "The idea behind Champagne is complexity without weight," she began, and she launched into an informative discussion of how this philosophy influences the way they make wine. I'd definitely recommend a visit to S. Anderson if you're near Yountville.
Silverado Vineyards
Finally we made it to Silverado Trail and turned right. We weren't sure what wineries were nearby, but figured we'd try to hit at least one more. We passed Robert Sinskey and Stag's Leap Wine Cellars but opted not to go to either as we'd hit both on our last trip to Napa. We were just about to turn around when we saw a mansion on top of a hill and a sign that said Silverado Vineyards .
And it was a big hill. We, out of shape as we are, didn't even try to ride up it. Probably safer that way, anyway, as the 4:50 vultures -- people who swoop into the nearest winery to try and catch a last tasting before everything closes -- were on the wing, whipping up the hill in their Lexuses and Infinities like they were in the Indy 500.
Here's the view from the hill:
Silverado Vineyards is a large, elegant complex at the top of a tall hill on the Silverado Trail. The tasting area was large and very busy. (They seemed to be hosting some kind of event upstairs.)
We'd planned to get the reserve tasting, but through some misunderstanding with the unfriendly pourer, we got the regular tasting instead.
| 2000 | Sauvignon Blanc | Smells like wildflowers. Heady. | $14 | |
| 2000 | Chardonnay | Smells like France. Tastes like California. | $20 | |
| 1998 | Sangiovese | Heavy tannins for a Sangiovese. Juicy. Tongue-drying finish. | $18 | |
| 1998 | Merlot | Tastes like a Merlot. Liquid, fruity, unstructured. | $25 | |
| 1999 | Cabernet Sauvignon | Not my style. This is not a bad wine, but it's refined to the point of boredom. | $35 | |
As you can see, I wasn't particularly impressed with their wines. The same is true of the service. Our pourer was reticent and unfriendly. He was busy, for sure. But it's important to handle your customers with grace even when you're busy and it's almost time to close.
The most incredible wine
We made it back to the hotel just in time for the afternoon "teatime". Just what we needed: bread and cheese, crudite, dessert, and ... wine! We loaded up and sat down in the courtyard to eat.
Both wines were served from a carafe, so we didn't know what kind they were. I took a sip of Rebecca's (white). It was very bad. I felt like I should know the style...but I couldn't place it. Then I tasted mine -- the red one. It was horrid . Some kind of off-dry red wine gone horribly awry. I couldn't drink it.
I went back in to get some water and I saw a patron asking for a corkscrew from the woman at the front desk. When she couldn't find one, the patron asked, "Well, what did you use to open those?"
The woman blushed. "Those came out of a box," she said.
Wow. Now that takes balls. To serve wine out of a box to patrons who have come to Napa Valley to visit some of the best wineries in the New World.
I think I may need to send them an email.
Biking around had exhausted us, so once we made it back to the hotel, we crashed out on the bed, relaxed and watched television. Fortunately our dinner reservations were late, so we had plenty of time to recover before heading out to eat at Bistro Jeanty.
Bistro Jeanty
Bistro Jeanty is one of my favorite places to eat in Napa Valley. Generally I try to eat at new restaurants every time I visit, but I keep coming back to Jeanty. (Ironically, they opened a new restaurant in San Francisco early this year, Jeanty At Jack's and I still haven't been.)
Jeanty serves, they say, "regional homey French cuisine". I don't know what kind of French homes have three different pates in their repertoire, but I must say, I love Jeanty's menu. I'd consider ordering nearly everything on it. There should be a restaunt menu metric, the Orderable Quotient, that is determined by dividing the number of menu items that you'd consider ordering by the total number of menu items. If there were such a thing, Bistro Jeanty would have one of the highest Orderable Quotients for any restaurant I've visited.
Naturally this makes choosing what to eat difficult. I considered the possibilities for my appetizer. On the one hand, there's the Tomato Soup en Croute. After my last visit, I made tomato soup for months in an attempt to reproduce theirs. It's my benchmark for all tomato soups. On the other hand, there are the three pates, including a Foie Gras pate. There's also a Lamb Tongue and Potato Salad that I'm curious about. And then there's everything else.
There were so many eatable appetizers that Rebecca chose to get three appetizers as her meal. I went for the more traditional approach.
[Appetizers]
Croutons de Foie Blond [Orion]
Tomato Soup en Croute [Rebecca]
These are both great dishes. It's still my favorite tomato soup. The pate was delicious and served in a generous portion. If I had to complain about something, it would be that the poached pear served with the pate wasn't quite up to the task. Nothing wrong with it; it was just rather bland when put up against the pate.
Rebecca had the 1999 Miner Family Chardonnay with the soup. We both recognized it to be a great Chardonnay for us and decided to go to the winery the next day.
I had the Tria Pinot Noir, which I liked very much as well. Fortunately, Tria is tasted out of Napa Wine Cellars, which we already had plans to visit.
[Entrees]
Lamb Cheeks with Fennel and Pasta [Orion]
Croutons de Foie Blond [Rebecca]
Beet, Mache, and Feta Salad [Rebecca]
The lamb cheeks were superb -- tender and succulent. The sauce made me want to lick the plate. I had some Napa Valley Cabernet Sauvignon with the meal; it was good, and went well with the lamb, but ultimately didn't make an impression.
The only disappointment was the salad. As you probably know if you've been reading this site for any length of time, Rebecca has long had a thing for mache, and recently we've both unexpectedly developed a thing for beets. But the salad was less than the sum of its parts. Texturally, it just didn't come together.
Nevertheless, it was a good meal overall. Neither of us had room for dessert, so we paid up and headed home, concluding a fabulous first day in Napa.
August 24, 2002 in napa_trip, old_site, wine | Permalink | Comments (3)