Drinking those carefully collected and often pricey bottles from the cellar is always a matter for thought, and for me always represents a sort of oenological facinfg down of mortality – we all know that our X number of bottles of this or that favorite bottling will not last forever, but drinking one more of the lot clearly marks another inexorable step toward a sort of vinous oblivion…

Dramatic and hyperbolic? You bet, but you get the idea. I’ve said it before, but it bears repeating: if the wine is ready to drink, and you’ve got the food to compliment it, and the palates around the table to appreciate it, “smoke ‘em if you got ‘em”.

But the wine Jen and I drank here leaves a slightly bigger hole in your heart at its loss than most other prized bottles…The “what” in all this tripe is the RIDGE YORK CREEK PETIT SIRAH 1999. The “why” is all the usual reasons, plus one big kicker at the end…

 First off, though not a micro-production wine, the esteemed Mr. Paul Draper (Ridge’s great and longtime winemaker) didn’t make this stuff by the lake-ful, so there wasn’t a great deal of this stuff to be had to begin with – the fruit’s source is only so big, and only provides so much, and that wasn’t much. The York Creek vineyard, located on Spring Mountain on the western edge of Napa, is a storied site planted to Zinfandel (27 acres), and Petit Sirah (just 9 acres). Many of the gnarled and tough Petit Sirah vines in this special parcel exceed 75 years old, so their yields are naturally low and produce intensely flavored fruit. In short, high quality, low quantity…

Second, nigh on anno domini 2009, let’s be honest, there ain’t much of this stuff that hasn’t long ago been swallowed and returned to earth. Though Petit Sirah, with all its stubbly tannins, does and indeed should be cellared for at least few years for best results, most drinkers (and California wine drinkers in particular) tend to open their bottles sooner than later. I think I might have 2 or 3 bottles left myself, but after that, nada.

So here’s the kicker. For many years prior, the millionaire industrialist Fritz Maytag (both of the cheese and home appliance fame) and the longtime owner of the York Creek vineyard, had contracts to sell York Creek fruit to multiple vintners, one of which was Ridge.  But with the 1999 vintage, Mr. Maytag decided to discontinue all of these agreements to hatch other plans for the vineyard’s produce, so while there are certainly still York Creek wines being made, the 1999 Ridge York Creek Petit Sirah is the very last vintage of a wine that is unlikely to ever be made again. Ridge is still a great producer and going strong, and York Creek is still the treasured site it’s always been, but the permanent disassociation of a gifted wine maker from that blessed place truly marks the end of the line for this fine wine…smoke ‘em if you got ‘em, sure, but with a wine like this, savor every drop.

Maybe there was a strickly “finer” food match for this wine, but in the spirit of American egalitarianism, I threw down a from-the-ground-up hamburger spread.  Like slugging down a Chambolle-Musigny with duck jerky, you say? No way, I say. It was a palate-rocking tilt between heavyweights to be sure, but the blasting spectacle made parting with one more of these heirless bottles made its drinking a bit less an event to mourn, and a little more of an unforgettable meeting…

The beef hides beneath the lettuce

RIDGE YORK CREEK PETIT SIRAH 1999

   

Still a very saturated blackish purple color after over 9 years time. Powerful but complex and ever-evolving nose of soy sauce, blackberries,  dark spices, iodine, dried red flowers, and a touch of black truffle. The palate is clean with smooth tannins and flavors of old leather, black tea, Turkish coffee,  and dried blueberries. Despite a formidable weight, it  finishes with a light “squeaky” acidity. A nearly seamless entwinement of bold rusticity and real grace.

TOM CIOCCO

Much of what most people know about the Basque Country and people have associations with the sea: as fisherman and great fish cooks, whalers, and explorers (one of Columbus’ captains on his first voyage was a Basque). We might think of elegant seaside San Sebastian snuggled up around the white sandy La Concha beach. Or maybe we think of Bilbao, which though not directly on the sea, rests near the mouth of Nervion river only a few miles distant from the Mar Cantabria. Perhaps even the pretty little city of Baiona (Bayonne) on the French side of the border comes to mind.

Maritime the Basques surely are, but a fat wedge of the Basque Country has as little to do with the sea as Kansas (well, maybe not quite). The provinces of Alava (part of the autonomous, three province state within Spain called Euskadi) and Navarra (part of the historic Basque lands, but not in Euskadi) also in Spain, and Basse Navarre and Soule in France are in fact completely landlocked. But though oceanlessness is common to these various regions, they are hardly identical.  Alava and southern Navarra possesses a red and ochre yellow craggy and dusty landscape reminiscent of New Mexico, and northern Navarra, Basse Navarre, and Soule is a wild and verdant Pyreneean mountain land split by cold, rushing streams.

So while coastal Basqueland table is all about finned fish, crustaceans, and molluscs, Basques from inland get their proteins from lamb and sheeps’ milk cheeses, pork, and chicken. And because these areas are warmer and less rainy, a broader range of veggies are in heavier rotation as well…

To start, I served two pintxos (as tapas are known in Basque): a minced baked ham, hard-boiled eggs, and shredded lettuce number, and the other derived from the last piece of the previous night’s fish that I re-worked with scallions and pickled green guindillas . The main course was stuffed (jamon serrano and porcini) and breaded chicken breast with a truffled cream sauce, and a real Basque classic called pochas a la navarra - navy beans cooked with a vegetable puree` as a side dish. The wine was an Irouleguy – the French Basque country’s only AOC wine. Similar to the not too distant Madiran region, Irouleguy features the muscular and rustic Tannat grape, usually blended with one or both of the Cabernets (this particular blend is 60% Tannat 20% Cabernet Sauvignon, and 20% Cabernet Franc). The wine was not optimal with the pintxos – had I had a Txakoli I would have popped THAT with this, but alas…but to be fair, the stuff topping the bread rounds were bold enough that the wine didn’t smother them…BUUUUT, with the earthy, peppery beans, and the fairly unctuous chicken preparation, this wine’s stiff structure and woodsy fruit was aces. The pics and the notes:

 

 

 Domaine Brana Irouleguy “Ohitza” 2005

Crimson-rimmed blackish garnet color. Aromas of charcoal, berries, leather, and Graham Crackers. The palate is intense with fine and silky but still prominent tannins, and flavors of  expansive sloe and currant fruit, cracked black pepper, and Chowards violet candies. This place-evoking red is drinking well now, but well stored, it should continue to do so for at least a few more years, and give its final performances with an austere grace.

TOM CIOCCO    

Cacc’e Mmitte di Lucera (KAH cheh MMEE-teh dee loo CHEH rah). That is indeed the right spelling, and too bad too, if you believe that hidden wine regions with a cool array of grapes in the fields should gain some notoriety. If however you’re inclined to believe that such places remain interesting just up until the time that they’re “discovered”, and the money vultures find places to roost, then you’re tickled rose`…I go back and forth. You? But no matter my latest inclination, I always find a reason to at least not deprive myself and those at the table with such fascinating curiosities…my small concession to the personal responsibility crowd…

So Cacc’e Mmitte – WTF? Apparently, the name is a rendering of an expression from the Italian dialect in and near the northern Apulian city of Foggia, close by the growing zone (in and around the town of Lucera), that refers to the act of filling wine vessels directly from the cask, downing them, and re-filling straight away. NOW “Cacc’e Mmitte di Lucera” makes a LOT more sense, right?

So I ask you – who could be irresponsible enough not to at least try to get behind a wine from the absolutely unheard of Daunia region, where the wines must be made from a pretty tweaked blend of 35%-50% Nero di Troia, 25%-35% Montepulciano and/or Sangiovese and/or Malvasia Nera di Brindisi, with the final 15%-30% Trebbiano Toscano and/or Bombino Bianco and/or Malvasia Bianca Lunga? How can you possibly hate on a wine that is always dry and red, but MUST contain AT LEAST 15% white grape juice (the Trebbiano, Bombino, and Malvasia Bianca)? If you don’t drink these very cool wines, that means either more bottles for good guys like me, jerks discover them, and they go up 300%, or nobody drinks them, and they all go out of business. Have you no heart? Do the right thing…

Like the neighboring, and similarly composed Castel del Monte zone, Cacc’e Mmitte’s “hook” if you will, is the Nera di Troia (also called Uva di Troia) grape – plush, elegant, and with a very charming aromatically floral component on the nose. The Sangiovese and Montepulciano I suspect is used for “ballast” for the often effusive Nero di Troia. The mandate for the white grapes? Not sure, especially this particular group – Trebbiano Toscano is easy to grow, and yields high, but is pretty innocuous, though it never fails to bring some crisp acidity to the mix. Bombino Bianco is a rare-ish southeastern Italian white grape variety that is also olfactorily forward – bordering on a Muscat-y perfume – and is also noted for its pointy acids. Malvasia Bianca splits the proverbial difference between the fist two - it is aromatic, but often comes up a bit flabby.

Unless memory fails me, Alberto Longo’s blend of choice is 50% Nero di Troia, 35% Montepulciano, and 15% Bombino Bianco – a blend that to me really best showcases the most local as well as interesting grape varieties…I served this VERY cool wine with a pasta done in the ”orecchiette (“little ears”) con cima rape” (greens, lots of garlic, red pepper flakes, anchovies and breadcrumbs) style, but instead of using the broccoli rabe, I used some very hard to find black kale (also called “Tuscan cabbage” and/or “Lacinto”) that I scored from the organic stall at the Hoboken Farmer’s Market – and picked post-frost to boot, so they were that much more tender and sweet…The main course was a simple cluster of caper-stuffed pork meatballs in an even simpler reduced white wine sauce with a dish of smothered peppers, onions and tomatoes on the side. The photos and the notos:

Alberto Longo Cacc’e Mmitte di Lucera 2005

Almost translucent slightly browned garnet color. Very intruiging nose of dark flowers, saddle leather, tree sap, and blackberries. The palate is soft and elegant with a relaxed, sophisticated, and sweet fruit laced with cardamom, cinnamon ,and coriander. Great cohesion and correspondence between aroma and flavor with perfectly evolved tannins. As elegant as any great Brunello or Barolo, but with a whooly different exotic and rustic charm.

TOM CIOCCO

 

Smoke ‘em if you got ‘em!

I’ve never understood the notion of hoarding wine. And when I say “hoarding” I don’t mean keeping a large drinking stock on hand, but rather compulsively buying case after case only to fill slots in a 5,000 cellar for its own sake.

There are the usual “collectors” that sack away the usual grossly overrated and overpriced wines, the names of which we all know, but to be fair, most of these guys (they’re almost ALWAYS guys, by the way) like to brag and show off to their friends and colleagues way too much, so they usually DO open them, but not with a special dinner with their nearest and dearest, but rather at their big Super Bowl parties. These are the same guys that decide to open that fourth, rare bottle because a buddy just topped him again with a naked waterskiing story, and because they’re waaaay too shitfaced to think better of it.  All this is bad enough, but believe it or not, there’s worse…

I once had a conversation with a customer during my days in selling wine in shops that consisted of this particular gentleman telling me that he had over 1,000 tip-top shelf bottles that he had no intention of either drinking or even selling off to make a few bucks. No sir, he proudly told me they were for bragging rights only – a way for him to rub his friends and colleagues noses in his abundant wealth and “good taste”. I stared blankly at him and thought “What an asshole.” Essentially, this man is “killing” scores of cases of great wine so he can look like a bigshot – something like a blind man collecting 60s Ferraris, or the swallowing up of racks of 50s electric guitars by someone who can’t play a note. Why bother?

I’ve said it somewhere before, and I’m sure that I’ll say it somewhere again because it bears repeating: If the wine is mature, you’ve prepared the right food to go with it, and have the people at table who can pick up what you’re laying down on one level or another, what the hell are you waiting for?! How many “perfect” or “magical” occasions can you expect in your life? A thousand bottle’s worth? Doubt it. Drink the goddamned wine, will you?! 

And for once, I took my own advice. The wine was an older Barolo, namely a wine made by a seriously underappreciated producer called SCARZELLO – more specifically a 1999 vintage Vigna Merenda – Scarzello’s top, single vineyard bottling. There are umpteen histories, reviews, maps, and analyses of the Barolo region and its wines, so I shan’t, turn down that path now, but what I will say is that Vigna Merenda is a particular little corner of the slightly better known Sarmassa vineyard, which if you ask local old-timers and conoscenti, produces wines very simliar to, and very favorably comparable to those emanating from the nearly mythical Cannubi vineyard…

I paired this beauty with a pot-roasted turkey breast with an orange-based sauce, and braised fennel bulbs. Dig it:

There are good food and wine matches, and truly great ones, and I gotta say that this one was closer to latter than former…The notes:

Scarzello Barolo Vigna Merenda 1999

 

Translucent, slightly browned rosey color with a blackish caste. Ever-evolving nose of worn leather, toasted fennel seed, dried cherries, shoe polish, walnuts, etc. The palate possesses a superbly balanced, deep, ”transparent”, even, and velvety mouthfeel that supports woodsy flavors, strawberry preserves, pine tree oil, and tannins and notes reminiscent of fine black tea. The finsih lingers long. A very stately and well-bred wine.

TOM CIOCCO

You might actually know the good Senyor Xarel-lo (pronounced “cha-REH-lo”), but are not recognizing him removed from his usual and more rarified milieu. Senyor Xarel-lo typically dresses himself with a lot more natty “sparkle”, and is almost never seen without his 2 best cronies, Parellada and Macabeo, but here we’ve got him in a rare(ish) “unplugged”, one man show, so go “see” it while you can… Without the strained conceit, what I mean to say is that the Xarel-lo grape variety is usually encountered  in blends with Parellada and Macabeo, and then bubble-fied and called nothing other than CAVA! 

To tell the complete truth, there is actually a rarely encountered (at least here in the U.S.) Catalan wine appellation called ALELLA that is made mostly if not entirely from Xarel-lo, though in Alella the grape is known by the name Pansa Blanca. The few Alella wines I’ve drunk bore a fair similarity to both Portuguese Vinho Verde and Basque Txakoli: lightly sparkling, with ripping acidity, and low alcohol… 

But what we’ve got here is a slightly different approach to this sassy little grape from a way cool producer…Albet i Noya is a large ORGANIC producer (Spain’s largest? – If not THE largest, certainly one of them) located in the Penedes D.O. that makes both traditional Catalan wines from authoctonous vine varieties (including such extreme vinous rarities as Caladoc and Arinarnoa) as well as creative blends of “international” and Catalan grape varieties. Check them out here…

I used the word “sassy” just above to describe this wine, and I’m going to use it again because that’s exactly what it is. Xarel-lo might not be everyone’s cup of wine – texturally it reminds me of a pin cushion: piercing acidity bristling from a soft, round core. Further, Xarel-lo often offers up olfactory sensations of a mixed green salad (with which it is a very reliable companion, by the way) that can be a bit off-putting to those reared on more conventionally fruited and/or oak treated wines (this and all Xarel-lo wines has no affinity for wooden barrels), but matched with shellfish or chicken dishes with strong vegetable components, Xarel-lo is a great companion. 

I served this wine with a pretty traditional Catalan card: a pureed chick pea and mint soup ( with garlic, a bit of pimenton…) and a Catalan classic main dish called “Mar i Muntanya” which is literally “sea and mountain” but properly rendered in English would be “surf and turf”, but the picture of the cross-grilled steak and the lobster tail with the hedge of raw kale and parsley between doesn’t cover it… The one I served was a chicken and shrimp (with bittersweet chocolate and almond paste!) iteration, but the cookbook from which I got it (Colman Andrews’ Catalan Cuisine, The Harvard Common Press) also includes the powerfully strange and elaborate Mar i Muntanya recipes made with rabbit, snails, monkfish, cuttlefish, and prawns, and another with rabbit, pork, sole, and mussels – BOING!?!?!?  These dishes epitomize the gutsy, bold, and often bizarre Catalan kitchen which is directly derived from a melange of Roman Spain’s cookery folded in with north African elements, and a glaze of Italian (especially in Barcelona) and classic French influences from the 19th and 20th centuries…It takes a wine like this one to keep up with (great) food like that!  

 The notes:

Albet i Noya Penedes Xarel-lo Clasic 2007

Very pale gold color. Nose of minerals, ripe pears, funky, herby notes, and almonds. The wine has a nice and slightly oily texture with apple and pear nectar flavors on counterpoint with a marked “energy”  a mouthwatering acidity, and a zesty lemon peel finish. A clean but bold and slightly off-beat wine.

Tom Ciocco

The Barberas (d’Alba, d’Asti, Monferrato, etc.) are like one of those families you may have known growing up – a big brood: a good looking group, but not stunningly so. A supremely sturdy and reliable family as whole, but with some individuals of real accomplishment liberally scattered throughout, and to the last one, affable and pretty easy to like.

For the drinker, Barbera is usually a good to great value, and is easy to match with all kinds of food. For the grower, it is cooperative and ample-yielding in the vineyard, and its wines maintain a solid, juicy fruit even in very hot seasons. Both sides of the maker/taker divide love it because it responds well to both oak and tank vinification and aging, and because it is just as comfortable in the slicker contemporary wine stylings of today, as well as the funky but but fine fashions of yore. Barbera’s easy-going nature allows for the creation of a broad array of wine styles and sizes, and that allows the Barberas to get lots of dinner invitations…

What we’ve got on the table today is a Barbera d’Alba. Even just within the Alba growing region, there are multiple meso- and microclimates, but as a rule, Barberas d’Alba tend to be the most statuesque, deep and chewy members of the family, and at 14% alcohol, and with an almost freakishly intense color, the Cascina Chicco Barbera D’Alba “Granera Alta” 2005 is not an excption to that basic family trait… 

Though I usually go “regional” when I cook (Chianti with Tuscan, Chateauneuf-du-Pape with Provencal, etc.) the organic dude at the Hoboken farmer’s market had some killer-looking Italian eggplants, the weather was cool enough, and I had the time (4+ hours), so I decided to make one of my, my wife’s, and maybe your favorite early Fall dishes: Eggplant Parmesan! The first course was a pasta (penoni rigati to be specific) with broccoli, oil, garlic, white wine, and black raisins – a dish with a decidedly un-Piedmontese (Barbera is Piedmont’s go-to variety) accent, but which is very bold and vegetal, two pages of flavor on which an acidic wine like Barbera can write beautifully. And then there was the match with eggplant parm. Holy crap. Again, we’re dealing with a fundamentally vegetal dish, but with lots of fats and proteins from the oils and cheeses, the egg and breadcrumb coating on the slips of the nightshade, as well as the sweetness of the tomato ragu`. This flavor bomb allowed the wine to show its tangy fruit and barrel-chested structure, and the wine in turn really revealed the labor that went into the flavor-layering that makes melanzane alla parmigiana the ecstacy-eliciting experience that it should always be. If you are good to the the eggplants, the eggplants will be good to you. And this Barbera, really living up to the family reputation, showed the eggplants the time of their lives. You’ve definitely got to get them together at your place soon.

TOM CIOCCO

penoni rigati with broccoli and raisins

Eggplant Parmesan

 

 

Cascina Chicco Barbera d’Alba “Granera Alta” 2005

Exceptionally bright and vibrant deep crimson color. Evocative nose of cherries, woodsmoke, black currant, dried wildflowers and sandalwood incense. The palate is dense, juicy, and soft but still firmly structured with flavors of pomegranate, melted dark chocolate, black pepper, underbrush and leaves, and black licorice. The finish is full, lasting and complex. Virile.

 

There is no more unlikely place for a would-be hero to spring from than Vulture. The region is rugged, and under-developed. You can’t even see the beaten path from the top of the tallest tree in the region. But thinking about it again in a more mythological way, there might be no better place…The region’s very ruggedness and remote location recall the pantheon of deities of the Greek merchants and their families who colonized this region 2,500 years ago. The name “Vulture” (pronounced VOOL-too-reh) to the English speaker unmistakeably recalls the carrion bird of the same spelling, perhaps sitting on a broken down mansion with lightning flashing behind for extra creepiness, but perhaps it should recall the giant eagle’s daily removal of Prometheus’ liver…OK, I won’t exaggerate, this wine doesn’t rate that level of drama, but I think at their best, they can. 

I’m also not going to lie to you. The northeastern corner of the Basilicata region doesn’t look anything like an Addams Family re-run, nor can one shake hands with, or have one’s picture taken next to Bacchus or Ceres, but as I said, it is a very remote and mountainous zone studded with extinct volcanos (the real derivation of the “Vulture” name, referring to Vulcan, the Roman god of fire and volcanos), and where there are/were volcanos, there are mineral rich/organic matter-poor soils, usually situated at fairly high elevations. And what all that represents is a big slice of the perfect set of conditions needed to grow vines to make great wines. And that goes double for Aglianico, a grape variety that adores volcanic soils (the other (known) great area for Aglianico is in Campania (Taurasi) which is also a region with a long history of vulcanism). 

After some recent genetic mapping work, it was found that the strain of Aglianico from Vulture is quite distinct from that found in Campania, and indeed I have always found Taurasi to be darker fruited and more terse and tightly woven, with Vulture Aglianico often showing a more elegant and finesse-oriented character. The vagaries of terroir defintely come into play here, but the differences in the two sides of the Aglianico brood are perhaps an even bigger factor…

So with the Cantina Venosa Aglianico del Vulture 2003, I dished up a VERY southern Italian (though not strictly Lucanian (what they call people and things from Basilicata – long story…) menu of orecchiette with broccoli rabe sauced with an oil/pasta water sauce with lots of garlic, pounded anchovies, bread crumbs (gotta be homemade!), and red pepper flakes, and a pretty traditional plate of stuffed braciole with some broad beans from my neighbor Maria’s garden – grazie, Maria! This is an old school wine and the old school menu was just the right thing: the peppery, earthy, hot and dusty flavors of the wine had the fortitude to stand up to the brashness of the pasta, as well as the shredding beef and hard-cooked eggs inside, with the dark wine sauce from the braise…Some more specific words on the wine, and a few photos…

TOM CIOCCO

 

 

Cantina di Venosa Aglianico del Vulture 2003

Cantina di Venosa Aglianico del Vulture 2003

 

 

Slightly browned and deep dusty garnet color. Evocative nose of baked earth, dried fruit, black cherry, toasted fennel, leather shoes, and a hint of violet. The initial texture is satiny, leading into rustic and peppery but not unpolished tannins, and flavors of pomegrante molasses, dried tomato, and fig paste. Finishes a bit short, but there’s a nice rustic complexity while it lasts.

Far be it for me to become a rose` wine wet blanket – no way – just the opposite – I LOVE rose`(and rosado and the occasional rosato and pink wine too). A central theme regarding rose` that has been repeated many times, but bears repeating nonetheless, is that rose` goes with everything – anything from poached fish (with a strawberry soda-colored Loire Cabernet Franc rose` for example) right up to and maybe even including a grilled T-bone (with a muscular, first-rate Monastrell-dominated, Carignan-singing-backup rosado from Spain?).

But if the obverse says that rose`does indeed go with any food, then the reverse is that its amazing versatility can also make rose` a sort of oenological “jack of all trades and master of none”, which is perhaps one reason why rose`is rarely considered to be a “great” wine style, even by those who rightly drink the stuff by the case-load and push it on every other Summer partymaker that will listen…

Think about it – “great” wine styles: Dry red? Bordeaux, Barolo, Burgundy, Rioja. No need to continue there. Sweet red? Port and Banyuls. Dry white? Burgundy again, multiple Rhein Riesling zones, Savennieres. Sweet whites? Like dry reds, almost too many to name: Trockenbeerenausleses, Moscato di Pantelleria, Picolit, Malmsey Madeira, etc. Sparkling wines? Duh.

But rose`? Many folks, including yours truly, will sing the praises of Spanish Garnacha rosados and Provencal rose` blends, but ask any pink advocate to name even one great rose` wine, and you will hear a whole lotta nuthin’, almost guaranteed (the late, great Edoardo Valentini’s roses do come to mind but these roses can just as easily be called bizarre as great).

And this situation sets one to thinking…If dry reds AND dry whites AND sweet reds AND sweet white wines all have among their ranks wines that some if not many drinkers consider to be “great” styles, why is rose` out of the club? Is there something about rose` wines’ uncanny versatility, as I suggested above - an unwillingness to “commit” that limits them – or is it that no one has ever actually tried to make a “world-class” rose`? Or something else entirely?

Listen, I’m not in any way saying that the world is howling for a potentially life-changing, $60 bottle of rose`, or that making one is possible, remotely saleable, or even desirable, but it still strikes me a bit odd that to my knowledge, no one has ever even tried it. Why not? It makes more sense than pet rocks or paying money for cellullar ring tones, but that’s just me…

But all kidding aside, I don’t really have an answer for my question - Why isn’t  there at least one mind-blowing rose` out there somewhere? Is it because the notion of mind-blowing rose` can be likened to the idea of manufacturing a absolutely sublime stick of chewing gum, or am I just ignorant of the Domaine Romanee-Conti of roses? If anyone has a theory, actually knows why, or just wants to fling poo, write to me below…

What brought the all the above to mind was the fairly innocent construction of a dinner of a chilled rice and vegetable salad, and chicken breasts in a cream/dried tomato/shallot/tarragon sauce and braised radishes that I served with a certain little pinky called the J. Mourat “Collection” Rose` 2007. This VERY cool blend of Cabernet Franc, Pinot Noir, and Negrette springs from the southwestern-most slice of what can be called the greater Loire Valley, namely the Lay Valley in the Fiefs Vendeens.

I’m not going to hit you with any surprises here - I invented the recipes to match the wine, which I had had several times before, so everything went together swimmingly, – VERY nicely – the wine is unique, fresh, quite complex, and a great value – Don’t not get me wrong, I REALLY DIG THIS WINE, but like every other rose` ever(?) no real “WOWS” either from the wine directly, or even as a result of a perfect food match…Again, why? Not possible? Not necessary? Never been tried? While we hammer out an answer to this question that plunges to the very core of humanity here are the tasting notes and some of Jen’s best camera work to date:

TOM CIOCCO

J. Mourat “Collection” Rose` Fiefs des Vendeens 2007 

Color of lightly smoked salmon. Fresh and pretty nose of strawberries, white flowers, almonds, beeswax, and blue curacao. The mouthfeel shows a discreet and clean, round acidity, and the first motions of swallowing bring an olfactory explosion of crisp sour cherry flavors, watermelon juice and a touch of fresh grass. A VERY charming wine.

a cold rice salad

  

 

I have talked and briefly written about this wine here and there several times before, so I am clearly being redundant, but I’m self-reporting at the outset, so I don’t feel so bad…And since it is my favorite California white going away, and I harbor a sea-deep affection for the general cut of its jib, I’m feeling even better about repeating myself.

So without further apologies, I present you with the Pine Ridge White. You can read more about this wine here. Actually, I’m not sure if that is its official name, which may be “Chenin/Viognier” since that’s that stuff in the bottles, but whatever it’s called, I think it’s fab.

Why? So many things…Let’s see…First, it’s just plain well made. It’s good, honest wine: balanced and versatile but with real character. Second, it’s not basted with buttery oak. It may be premature to say so, but I think that California (and the whole world in the end) has learned that oak barrels should be used to complete a wine not fundamentally alter it, and that’s good news for drinkers, producers, and trees alike.  As a result, the consumer tastes grape variety or varieties as well as “place” more clearly, the producer saves money on all that cooperage, and so the drinker saves money in turn.

THird, it’s a truly complimentary blend of grapes that’s unique to Pine Ridge. Both Chenin Blanc and Viognier are French grape varieties, but the former is one of the Loire Valley’s signature vines, and Viognier is a fussy specialty from the northern Rhone (from which the best examples can cost as much as a good pair of shoes), so the chances of seeing them together in the same bottle in France is something rapidly approaching zero. But in California, and the New World in general, winemakers are free from Europe’s traditional regional norms, so these “fantasy blends” become possible. This type of freedom gives a winery the opportunity to develop a proprietary or signature blend from any grapes that they like, and that work in their vineyards with little else to limit their vision for the wine. Why more New World winemakers do not recognize and take advantage of this situation is still baffling…

Fourth, both of these grapes super-cool on their own – Together? Totally awesome! But really, Pine Rigde could have decided on a crushingly pedestrian, market-driven and frankly just plain stupid blend of Chardonnay and Pinot Grigio for example. I’ll yawn as soon as I’m done laughing.  A Chenin Blanc/Viognier blend comes to the table with story to tell that everyone present hasn’t heard a thousand times. It opens noses and elicits discussion…

Last, but not least, this wine is an excptional VALUE – another thing for which California is not well known, but a concrete example that it is indeed possible! This wine comes in at about $10-$15 in most wine shops in the U.S., and only the nothing-but-grand-cru-white- Burgundy-snobs on one side, or your Aunt Tessie that puts Sweet and Low in her white Zin because its not sweet enough as it is, would not like this wine. It’s a wine that’s within any drinker’s budget that offers a unique range of flavors without being strange or a “connoisseur’s wine”.

And just as this wine represents a creative and unfettered expression of New World wine making, I felt similarly liberated regarding preparing a menu to suit it. Jen was away, and she hates Guacamole, and I love it, so I whipped up what turned out to be a “mock-guac” (I couldn’t find any ripe Haas avocados, so I had to settle for the Florida variety sooo…) and some shrimps that I sauteed and then combined with some leftover dilled-and-tomatoed, etc. green beans that I doctored with a few more herbs, et al., and a hunk of good Italian bread. I gotta say, the wine did real justice to both dishes – the aromatic, fat, aspects of the Viognier really worked well with the avocado’s richness, and the Chenin shone beautifully through the greeness of the beans, and hooked up big time with the crustaceans’ sweet chalkiness – a descriptor/sensation often noted in many Chenin Blanc-based wines too… And with the notes, I’M OUT!

TOM CIOCCO

shrimps and green beans

Pine Ridge White 2007  – (80% Chenin Blanc, 20% Viognier, un-oaked)  

VERY pale gold color with greenish reflections. Direct nose of pineapple, lime, pear, wet stones, and a hint of lillies. The wine is fairly full and dense in the mouth with clear flavors of  honeydew melon, white prune juice, and peach and pear nectars. Despite the fair richness of the wine, the acidity is correct and pretty. The finish is quite long, intense, and clean.

As I sat sipping a glass of Malbec with dinner the other night I was thinking that though I love Malbec solo and don’t necessarily feel it to be inherently “lacking” for the most part, there are lots of critics and members of the drinking public that feel that Malbec lacks that last bit of crackle to stand alone…

And then the one time “it” grape, but now unfortunately “C” list variety Merlot came to mind…same deal here: In the very best conditons, excellent if not superb (see Petrus) as a stand-alone variety, but more often than not better in mixed company…

And then Mmmmontepulciano bubbled up. I am also a big fan of unblended Montepulciano, but the perception remains that straight Montepulciano isn’t much more than ”pizza/pasta” wine. I think that that assessment is a bit off base for several reasons, but I also have to admit that a few of the very best Montepulciano performances I’ve witnessed came co-starring with Sangiovese in a Rosso Piceno from Marche…

Mmmmazuelo too! (I thought) Though perhaps better known by the moniker Carignan, this same vine variety is known in Rioja as Mazuelo or Mazuela, where it is BLENDED with the nobler Tempranillo, among other things, but the Sardinia and the Sardinians, some of whom claim the variety as theirs, have a way with pure Carignan (Mazuelo) wines that is hard to challenge…

What about Malvasia? Charmingly aromatic, but usually needs a little discipline from a more acidic variety to highlight its best features…But if it’s the Malvasia del Lazio sub-variety we’re talking about, no other varieties need apply…

And Mmmmonastrell for that matter – even most big bad Bandols have get a shot or two of Grenache to inject a little levity into Monastrell’s otherwise sanguine demeanor…but then again, there are a few old, heavy-hittin’ producers who still like their Bandols inky black and go 100%…

Ultimately, I don’t know where the hell I’m going with any this, but it is a little odd that all of these M grapes are renowned vinous minglers, comfortable and even at their best in a chorus of grapes, but remain for some drinkers, grown in certain terroirs, and from the cellars of certain gifted winemakers, prime examples of stand-alone, noble varieties…Mmmmmm……

TOM CIOCCO