Don't Judge a Wine by Its Label

When I was growing up, most Americans thought there were only three kinds of wine to choose from—red, white, and white zinfandel, depending on whether one was having meat, fish, or an insulin reaction.

In the last decade and a half, though, the U.S. wine market has exploded, and now even casual wine drinkers may, over the course of a year, experiment with ten or fifteen different grape varieties from countries as diverse as the U.S., Italy, France, Spain, Australia, Chile, and Argentina.

This fact has been both a boon and a burden to the growing world wine industry. For established producers, it has meant greater sales potential but also greater competition. For those just trying to break into the market, it means unprecedented opportunity but also struggling to get consumers’ attention as they scan an ever-swelling sea of bottles on the shelf.

The result? Flashy labels designed to amuse, shock, or even titillate. There is an entire line of wines whose labels look like 50’s horror movie posters, while another bottle boasts a seductive image of Marilyn Monroe. There are in-your-face names like “Fat Bastard,” “Cleavage Creek,” and “The Bitch.” There is even a wine called “Mommy’s Time Out,” whose label depicts a single chair facing a forlorn-looking corner, suggesting, I surmise, that if the burdens of contemporary parenthood become too great, then you can always turn to closet alcoholism for help. How uplifting.

To be sure, I'm not entirely critical of this phenomenon. I know it’s hard to break into a competitive market. But there’s also a cynicism to it, namely, that most consumers will drink just about anything as long as you can get it into their hands. More often than not, then, the wines inside of these clever bottles just aren’t very good.

There are, of course, exceptions. The Australian Shiraz “Boarding Pass,” whose label looks like a plane ticket, can boast a lovely combination of intense, dark berry fruit and spicy complexity. And the impishly-titled Zinfandel “7 Deadly Zins” recently earned a coveted 90 point score from a well-known and influential wine publication.

But most good wines, from old and new producers alike, have traditional, relatively unassuming labels. After all, the bottle is just a vessel in the end. If you really want to find the best wine for whatever occasion you happen to be celebrating—whether an all-out Christmas dinner or just Spaghetti on Tuesday—then buy it from a shop where the staff know what they’re doing and can steer you in the right direction.

They may indeed point you to a fancy bottle that will also look nice on your bookshelves after you drink it. But chances are just as good that you’ll take home an off-white label with black letters. Oh, and also a delicious wine. Let’s not forget that.

Pinot Noir Column

Here's the latest wine column. I'm pretty happy with how it turned out, and I don't even mind the melodramatic overstatement about pinot's potential to inspire poetic reverie. Maybe somebody will read it and discover pinot noir and Keats:

Of all the grapes we’ve written about, pinot noir probably has the most cachet in the U.S. market—a fact attributable to Miles, the struggling writer, wine snob, and fictional main character of the 2004 film Sideways. Miles’ wistful rumination on the delicate beauty of pinot noir elevates it from mere grape to object of literary inspiration every bit the equal of the Elgin marbles or a Grecian urn.

And for good reason. As Miles says, pinot noir is very hard to grow and vinify. It is subject to rot, it ripens unevenly, and one wrong step in the winemaking and you’ve got vintage vinegar. But, when it is treated just right, under perfect conditions, it can produce a wine so graceful and delicate—so full of utterly supple fruit and seductive, earthy flavors and aromas—that, as Miles put it, it is “haunting.”

The bad news is that its mercurial temperament makes pinot noir very expensive, which means we wine lovers of average means will probably only ever get to taste a handful of truly haunting pinots. Fortunately, less-than-literary pinot noirs can, and often do, still taste great. Pinots from France’s Burgundy region can be affordable and still show off the grape’s lively acidity and sensuous, mushroom-like earthiness. Many Oregon pinot noirs (which are often compared to Burgundies) boast invigorating, virtually electric acidity and flavors of black and red cherry, cola, and damp leaves. California also produces many wonderful pinots, ranging in style from full-bodied to every bit as sleek as those from Oregon and Burgundy. And let’s not forget New Zealand, many of whose pinots almost vibrate with mouthwatering grapefruit and other citrus notes.

When you do choose a bottle and get it home, then, you should look for these qualities:

1. The fruit tastes ripe without being overly concentrated or “jammy.” Pinots are about subtlety. Warmer climate pinots may push this rule a bit, but they should never drink like “fruit bombs.” Conversely, Burgundies often have notable tartness, which can be turned into an asset by pairing them with a creamy, earthy cheese like Brie.

2. It has a light- to medium-bodied mouthfeel. Rich, syrupy syrahs may taste delicious, but that kind of heaviness in a pinot will kill any nuance the wine might have had.

3. There is plenty of acidity. Just as a delicate sauce like hollandaise needs fresh lemon juice to wake it up, pinot noir needs acidity to give lift to its subtle flavors. Pinots without enough acidity taste “flabby” and lifeless.

Use these criteria, and with a little practice you’ll be an able and confident judge of your own pinot noir experiences. And should you, in your wisdom, find one that haunts you, you’ll finally be able to wax poetic on something besides that old vase on your mantle.

Any Ideas?

As you know if you've read this blog lately, I've been writing a wine column for some time now--nine months, give or take.

The column, as you might have guessed, is strictly small potatoes. My co-author and I have abstract plans to establish a blog or a website devoted solely to the column (whereas this is my personal blog), but for now we're a one-newspaper, no-pay operation with no effective mechanism for getting reader feedback. I guess people just don't write letters to the editor complaining that the wine guys are giving Burgundy short shrift. Needless to say, we'd love to know what people are finding interesting, helpful, etc. Even more than that, though, we'd love to know what sorts of topics our readers are interested in so we can write about them.

So I'm asking a favor: if you come here for the wine columns, leave a comment about something you're curious about but haven't seen from us (or, since this is my personal blog, from me). If we don't already have an existing piece that addresses your questions, we'll see what we can do about whipping one up. And if we do have one, I'll post it here.

I may be away from the blog for a couple of days, but rest assured my co-author and I will pay close attention to what you say.

In the meantime, here are our thoughts on Tuscan wines:

Versatile Tuscany Offers Choice of Luxury or Value

When we set out to write the “Italian” column, we quickly realized that there’s not enough space on this whole page, let alone in this column, to do justice to such a huge topic. Italy boasts so many wines and wine regions that just listing them would use more than our allotted column space. Fortunately, wines from one of Italy's greatest wine regions, Tuscany, are widely available—and at a wide range of price points—in the U.S.

Tuscany forms what would be the top half of the shin in Italy’s famous boot shape. Both red and white wines are produced there, but the reds—which will be our focus here—definitely steal the show. Tuscany’s two most renowned reds are Chianti and Brunello di Montalcino. Wines from Chianti Classico (the subregion where the best Chiantis are generally found) tend toward cherry and plum fruit with spice and leather notes adding complexity. They are not generally deep, brooding wines, but rather medium-bodied reds with bright acidity, making them quite versatile food wines. They pair well with anything from rich fish like salmon to grilled red meats. Brunello di Montalcino, on the other hand, tends toward darker fruit, deeper, richer earth and leather notes, and ultra-sensual dried mushroom aromas and flavors. The best Brunellos are truly rare wines, and their price shows it. While you can find a good Chianti Classico for as little as $30, you won’t even find an entry-level Brunello in a wine shop for less than $60 or $70.

Despite the magnificence of Chianti Classico and Brunello di Montalcino, we find wines simply labled “Tuscany” or “Toscana” to the most exciting, especially for the average consumer in search of good values. Wines with this more general label are subject to far fewer restrictions than wines from specific regions like Chianti (where winemakers are limited to certain proportions of certain grapes with specific aging requirements), giving them more opportunity for creativity and innovation. What’s more, while many of these wines—the ones known as “Super Tuscans”—can be very expensive and mind-blowingly good (think Bordeaux, but gamier and more powerful), there are also a number of simple but delicious ones out there. These wines tend to be more New World in style, with more obviously fruit-driven flavors, but they will give you a glimpse of Tuscany’s brilliance at a fraction of the price of its more majestic wines.

As you can see, it’s a struggle just to squeeze a sliver of Tuscany into a column of this size, never mind Italy. If your curiosity has been piqued, however, we encourage you to read more on your own. And if you find yourself needing help with some on-site research in Chianti or Montalcino, give us a call. We work cheap.

Cabernet Sauvignon Column

It's always hard to write an informative wine column in only 450 words (give or take), but this time was almost impossible. Cabernet sauvignon is just too good and too interesting. Difficulty notwithstanding, here's the latest column:

Despite our recently professed love for syrah, cabernet sauvignon continues to deserve its long-held title as the “king of grapes.” At its best, it surpasses all other grapes in taste, texture, and balance, yielding a wine of such stunning depth and impossible smoothness that to drink it is quite simply to experience bliss. At such moments, one feels as if the glass contains pure liquid satin infused with hypnotic currant, plum, earth, leather, and spice notes. Few gastronomic experiences even approach comparison.

Like most wines, cabernet sauvignon is often categorized as “New World” or “Old World.” New world examples tend to be very ripe, full-bodied wines with sweet fruit balanced by herbal and spice notes. While Chile and Australia produce excellent ones, the dominant source of outstanding New World cabernet is California, which produces a dizzying number of world class cabs and has done so for decades. But we’re also extremely excited about Washington state, which now produces several bottlings that are, by most accounts, as good as or even better than California’s most revered legends. In fact, many experts predict that Washington will someday replace California as the United States’ premiere region for cabernet sauvignon.

By far the most famous, and most would say the best, source of Old World cabernet sauvignon is the Bordeaux region of France, where many of the wines are blends consisting of 75% or more cabernet sauvignon. While often winemakers do not list the grapes that make up their wines, a few minutes on the internet will usually reveal the blend. (Incidentally, many U.S. cabernet sauvignons are blends as well; U.S. law requires that a wine labeled with a specific grape name consist of at least 75% of that varietal, leaving room for wines made from other grapes to be added for balance and complexity.) But brilliant examples can also be found in southern France as well as in Italy, where many “Super Tuscans” are composed of a majority of cabernet sauvignon. In contrast to their New World counterparts, these European cabernets tend to favor elegance over brawn, with subdued fruit and more prominent earth and leather notes.

As you might expect, however, perfection comes with a price. High end cabernets often retail for $125 or more. And, unlike syrah, good cabernet sauvignon rarely costs less than $20. But, as we see it, the Holiday season—with its requisite procession of succulent roasted meats and rich cheeses—marks the perfect occasion for splurging on a special bottle. If you do decide to splurge, though, get help. There’s nothing worse (in the context of wine-drinking) than an astringent, overly-tannic cabernet that you just blew $40 on. But, then again, there’s nothing better than a good one.

Thanksgiving Wine Column

This one will be coming out in the Bowling Green Sentinel-Tribune Thursday, so I'm scooping myself (and my co-author).

It's a very revised and expanded version of my first Thanksgiving beverage post on this blog. And you'll notice that I incorporated the advice K8 mentions in her comment. It was good advice.

Choosing Thanksgiving Wine (and Why It’s So Difficult)

Every year about this time, food and lifestyle magazines and TV shows begin the desperate, ritual flailing that is the search for the perfect Thanksgiving wine. Why? Because this industry depends on (among other things) its ability to give good, simple advice, which, when it comes to finding a trusty Thanksgiving wine, is about as easy as writing a one-sentence summary of War and Peace.

That’s why, recently, we’ve seen dozens of wines—practically the gamut of whites, rosés, and reds—recommended as the ideal choice for Thanksgiving. Still, we do have some general advice—beyond, of course, just going with beer or cider (though we wouldn’t fault you for that).

If you can afford it, let your guests choose from a range of wines. Two whites and two reds (one full-bodied, one light-to-medium-bodied in each category) will virtually ensure that there’s a wine available to please every palate. And if you really want to be thorough, throw in a crisp, dry rosé. (Some guests may also want to try different wines with different courses, if there are courses.)

But holidays are expensive, and we understand that you may want to save money by finding one good pairing for the meal. If so, then the first thing to do is to throw taste out the window. You’ll never find a perfect match for the combined flavors of turkey, sweet potatoes (with or without marshmallows), mashed potatoes, stuffing (which itself can contain half of your pantry), green bean casserole, and cranberry sauce.

In place of flavor, we recommend you focus on the weight of the meal. Since it is rich, filling, and rustically-textured (if a Christmas crown rib with demi-glace is a satin gown, turkey with gravy is a flannel lumberjack shirt) a typical Thanksgiving meal can benefit greatly from a streamlined, crisp, and elegantly-styled wine—one with enough acidity to cut through the richness of the food and cleanse your palate between bites.

What wines fit this bill? Just about any style or varietal known for high acidity, if it is done well, is a good option here: sauvignon blanc and riesling stand out as obvious choices for whites, while pinot noir and Chianti (sangiovese) stand out among the reds.

But the best option of all, in our opinion, is one with bubbles, like Champagne, Cava, Prosecco, or a nice Champagne-style sparkler from California. The heady effervescence and almost poignant acidity of a good sparkler will make the whole meal—maybe the whole day!—seem lighter and fresher.

Then maybe, just maybe, you’ll make it through the first half of the Lions’ game before drifting off to dreams of sugarplums and the next holiday’s bacchanalia. And, of course, you can look forward to our column about that one, too.

Another Wine Column

My co-author and I take turns writing our semi-weekly wine column (we each offer feedback on the other's before it goes out). Here's one I wrote that came out yesterday. It's about the ways oenophiles describe the flavors and aromas of wines. Of all the columns I've written, this one draws the most on my training in rhetoric, especially the not to kairos in my discussion of wine tastings as specific moments. Here it is:


Like any subculture, the world of wine that is so dear to us and our fellow oenophiles (that is, wine lovers) can seem—with its rituals and jargon—downright silly to some. Swirling your glass, sticking your nose in it for a sniff, swishing the wine around in your mouth: these practices are, admittedly, easy targets for satire. But no ritual is an easier mark than how we describe the wines themselves, using terms like “barnyard,” “hot dog,” and even “diesel fuel” to capture their tastes and aromas.

And we’re ok with that. After all, if you can’t laugh at yourself, who can you laugh at? We love it, for example, when the über-pretentious Miles, from the film Sideways—you know, the one who won’t drink Merlot because he thinks it’s pedestrian—describes a wine as having “just a flutter of, like, a nutty Edam cheese,” even though we see more than a bit of ourselves in the caricature.

Yet, fun as they may be to lampoon, such descriptions are also deeply communicative. In addition to (and perhaps even more important than) conveying simple sensory impressions like taste and smell, they evoke feelings and moods, suggesting holistic impressions that capture the full range of the tasting experience.

After all, tasting a wine isn’t just about gathering information. It’s also about the ineffably rich texture of a moment—season, time of day, setting, circumstances, company, and of course the wine itself. All these things come together to form a single, unique event. Are the other tasters lighthearted, or are they tired from a long work week? Are you tasting wines from the same region, or are they all over the map? Can you smell the bakery next door? Is it cold outside? Did you wear your new pants? There are an infinite number of factors that affect your perception of a tasting. How could describing a wine as merely “a dry red, full-bodied, with dark berry fruit” do justice to such a moment?

If you’re still not convinced, though, then consider one other reason: some wines are just so special that they defy simple, straightforward descriptions; each sip is an experience in itself. For example, Lance once described a Hungarian dessert wine as “apricot syrup infused with medicinal herbs and cigarette tobacco, which transsubstantiates into sweet pipe tobacco on the improbably long finish. This is Sauternes after reading Kafka.” At that moment he couldn’t have said it any other way or—modesty aside—any better.

So we’ll continue to be easy targets for satire, and we’ll even send ourselves up now and then. But we wouldn’t quit describing wines this way for all the minty, peppery, graphite-laced wine in France.

Finding Value Wine

A friend of mine, Bill Stimmel, and I, write a wine column for our local paper. Since we own the copyright, and since the paper doesn't pay us for the column, I thought I'd post one of our recent columns here. Pragmatically, I want to keep this blog moving forward with new content, but I also hope one or two of you might actually find the advice helpful. If you do, let me know. (And remember, this was originally composed for a small daily newspaper, not for the academic blogosphere.)

Here's the text:

Despite what you may have heard, there is a sea of delicious wines out there that sell for not much money —often less than $10. But there is also plenty of junk floating around in that sea, especially below that magic $10 mark. (Below that point it takes serious skill, care, and luck to craft a wine without unpleasantly bitter or sour flavors.) So how does one find the good stuff?

There’s no foolproof strategy, and the best (and most fun) approach is simply to experiment. If you like a wine you’ve tried, write it down—what grape or grapes it was made from, what year it was made, where it comes from. Then try buying wines of similar prices from the same grapes, region, and/or year. Once you’ve explored some possibilities, making sure to keep a record of your successes, try a different grape or region and start the process again. Pretty soon, you’ll have a nice list of go-to value wines.

But we also know that nobody wants to go through several lackluster bottles just to find a good one. Even a $10 investment is not one most of us make lightly. So here are some tips. They’re not foolproof; you will still run into the occasional dud. But, if you follow these pointers, your odds of discovering great value wines will go up considerably:

1. Look for grapes that tend to yield good wines at lower prices. Grapes with strong fruit character like zinfandel or syrah (also known as shiraz), and grapes with soft, rounded flavors like merlot often do well in simple, inexpensive forms.

2. Try wines from up-and-coming regions and countries. You can find outstanding deals on wines from Chile, Australia, South Africa, and lesser known regions in Spain (two of our favorites are Jumilla and Calatayud).

3. Explore whites. Because white wines tend to contain almost no tannins, it is generally easier to achieve a tasty, unadorned fruitiness with whites. We find chenin blanc especially approachable.

4. Go to tastings. A wine tasting is a perfect way to try wines you think you might like without draining your wallet. Check with local merchants to find out when and where you can find a tasting.

5. Keep your eyes and ears open. What are people at tastings, at parties, and in online forums raving about? You can find some real gems this way.

Of course, there’s nothing wrong with that mass-produced, $6.99 merlot on the grocery store shelf. If you enjoy it, drink it. But also try branching out. We have the most fun when we’re discovering new, exciting wines and learning about the places they come from. We hope you will, too.

Our recommendations:

• Man Vintners Chenin Blanc 2008 ($6.99). Crisp and refreshing, like a Granny Smith apple. Would be a very versatile food wine, to be paired with anything from Thai curry to chicken salad to grilled pork chops.
  
  
• Casillero del Diablo Carmenère 2007 ($10.99). Rich, full-bodied, and spicy, with surprisingly complex flavors reminiscent of blackberries, pepper, and coffee. A steal at this price.
  
  
• Las Rocas Garnacha 2006 ($12.99). A perennial value, with supple raspberry fruit and wonderfully sensual earth and spice notes. The perfect bridge between the “New World” (ripe, rich, fruit-driven) and “Old World” (subtle, nuanced, earthy) styles.
  
  
• Penfold’s Koonunga Hill Shiraz/Cabernet 2006 ($9.99). Big, chocolaty, and bursting with ripe berries, this full-bodied red shows enough balance and structure to stand up to the heartiest grilled or roasted meats and even has some aging potential.
  

Tasting Notes (Feb. 12): Cabernet Sauvignon, Or, Hail to the King

Cross-posted from Grape and Grain.

As much I've been into syrahs lately, I have to admit that cabernet sauvignon is still the one grape that, when it soars to the heights it's capable of, can mesmerize like no other wine, with simultaneous strength, balance, concentration, elegance, and sheer flavor. As (potentially) an "iron fist in a velvet glove," cabernet, when done well, deserves its reputation as the king of grapes.

Now, the notes:

1. Clos du Marquis 2002 (Bordeaux, France; $49.99/bottle)
Still somewhat young at seven years old, this medium-full-bodied Bordeaux (the "second" bottling of Chateau Leoville la Cases) is nevertheless drinking beautifully, with a spicy, earthy nose and gorgeous flavors of black currant, tar, leather, dried leaves, and a hint of wet stone. Balanced and very smooth. Excellent. Rating: 93

2. Cignale 2001 (Tuscany, Italy; $72.99/bottle)
Full-bodied, sweetly ripe, and incredibly sensuous, with almost primordially earthy flavors and aromas of black plum, mushrooms, animal hide, chocolate, and spice. Beautiful. Rating: 94

3. Columbia Crest Reserve Cabernet Sauvignon (Washington; $34.99/bottle)
The first time I tried this wine (last week) I thought it was lackluster, but it was my first sample of the day, and I didn't go back. This time, with some warm-up samples under my belt, I saw this wine's charms: bright acidity and sweet, jammy plum and rhubarb fruit are laced with rich vanilla and lead to a lively, licorice-tinged finish. A bit one-note, but it's a good note. Rating: 91

4. Schweiger Cabernet Sauvignon 2003 (Napa; $49.99/bottle)
Full-bodied and very smooth, with black currant, black earth, spice, and tar notes. Ripe, well-integrated tannins and acidity from the cool Spring Mountain fruit lend a hard-to-resist elegance. Drinking beautifully now, but may not hit full stride for another 3-5 years. Rating: 93

5. Los Vascos Cabernet Sauvignon Colchagua Reserve 2004 (Colchagua, Chile; 16.99/bottle)
Very big, bold, and concentrated, this South American cabernet is not for the faint of heart. Full-bodied, with assertive flavors of blackberry, earthy leather, and (telltale Chilean) baked stuffed bell pepper. A bit rough around the edges, but overall not bad (and a decent value). Rating: 86

6. Vinum Africa 2006 (South Africa; $17.99/bottle)
With a nose of currant, plum, smoke, and pepper, this medium-full-bodied cabernet is super-smoky on the palate, with round but penetrating blackberry fruit and chewy, peppery tannins. Bold, classic South African wine. Think BBQ. Rating: 88

Pinot Noir Tasting Notes

Since I've not had the time or inclination to feed this blog lately, I thought I'd at least cross-post some of my recent tasting notes from Grape and Grain (though with minor tweaking).

Last Thursday (1/22) featured a pinot noir tasting, which was an absolute delight. If you know me, you know how I feel about the Sideways-inspired pinot craze. But there are lots of damn good ones out there--several of which were poured this night. A few were even priced reasonably. (Will wonders never cease?)

Also, I'm experimenting with a 100 pt. rating system. I started doing it for myself as a way to help me better access my memories and experiences of the wines, and I thought I'd include those ratings here to see how they float. Just remember, though--one person's 85 may be another's 92. The trick is to find a taster you relate to and trust her or his opinion (but even then, never blindly).

Now, the notes:

1. Chandon Brut NV ($24.99/bottle)
This is a basic, serviceable Champagne-style sparkler. Better than anything you'll get at most New Years' parties, though not as good as what you might expect for $25. For the money, I'd go with a Cava (Spain) or a Prosecco (Italy). Still, not bad. Rating: 83

2. Labaume Mercurey 1er Cru 2002 ($39.99/bottle)
Smooth and light-bodied, this Burgundy shows pure but lean, tart black cherry fruit with earthy, forest-floor secondary notes. Would be a beautiful wine, but ultimately the fruit is just too thin. Rating: 85

3. Tohu Marlborough 2004 ($24.99/bottle)
This is two-thirds of a brilliant wine: enchanting nose, gorgeous flavors, and no finish. Cherry, cola, cedar sawdust, and earth infuse this refined, medium-bodied, aromatic pinot. For food pairing, think cedar plank roasted salmon or duck stuffed with wild cherries. Rating: 91

4. Styring Signature 2005 ($26.99/bottle)
The beautiful, seductive, Old-World-style nose on this pinot suggests crushed violets, graphite, and musky earth. On the full side of medium-bodied and very smooth, with a solid core of acidity to keep the ripe fruit and deep, rich earthiness on their feet. Finishes with cherry and black licorice. Rating: 92

5. Au Bon Climat Santa Maria Valley 2004 ($39.99/bottle)
This wine's nose is rich and dark, with enticing if subtle nuances of earth, grapefruit, and medicinal herbs. Super complex and almost mesmerizingly smooth, the palate is a riot of perfectly-poised oppositions: bitter but sweet, brooding but upbeat, darkly rich but light on its feet. Gives weight to the normally empty term, a "drinking experience." Rating: 94

6. Kosta Browne Sonoma Coast 2006 ($69.99/bottle)
Unbelievably smooth, this wine features fine, ripe tannins to go with the standard bolt of acidity. The result is an uncommonly-structured, age-worthy pinot (5-7 yrs.) with indulgent aromas and flavors of cherry, fresh strawberry, sweet vanilla, cinnamon, and something like tree bark. Less challenging to the senses than the Au Bon Climat, this pinot is nevertheless expertly executed and (almost) too easy to love. Rating: 94

I'm No Miles

It's the most famous line about wine in recent film history, and maybe in all of film history:

"If anyone orders Merlot, I'm leaving. I am not drinking any fucking Merlot!"

The film, of course, is Sideways, and with these words Miles--the self-loathing writer, Pinot Noir lover, and arbiter of taste for would-be wine snobs across the nation--sounded the death-knell of the Merlot glut of the 90's and issued in the Age of Pinot. (Though in acutality Merlot sales went up after the film's release--go figure.) Nowadays, one can hardly go to a party or a tasting without someone proclaiming, "I'm not a big fan of Merlot. I like Pinots." True, maybe some of them came by their opinions honestly. But I hear that same sentiment uttered often enough to make me think there are lots of wine drinkers out there who just do what the latest screenwriter or best-selling author tells them to do. (By the way, one reason Merlot is so good for any occasion is that it tends to have lush but not cloying fruit and a soft, supple texture, making it easy to drink with or without food.)

So why should we care? Normally, I wouldn't, but the law of supply and demand says that the more people who want to drink Pinot Noir, the more money wineries, distributors, and merchants can charge for it. That's why you can hardly find a decent--not great, mind you, but decent--bottle of the stuff for under $20. (Well, that and the fact that the Pinot Noir grape is notoriously--and, I should add, literally--thin-skinned and, so, temperamental.) Fortunately for me, I happen to like Merlot (bane of party goers everywhere, it would seem). I also like Cabernet Sauvignon, Cabernet Franc, Zinfandel, Petite Sirah, Syrah, Grenache, Mourvedre, Tempranillo, Sangiovese, Nebbiolo, Malbec, Carmenère, and Pinotage, to name a few of my favorite reds. In fact, the one thing I do come close to wine snobbery about has nothing to do with the price of the bottle, the prestige of the winery, or even the quality of the wine (the evaluation of which is very subjective). Instead, I'm snobbish in my conviction that, if you want to call yourself a wine lover, you should at least try to appreciate a range of colors, bodies, styles, and flavors. Besides, when you don't have a mint to spend on wine, broad-ranging taste is an assett.

Still, I do like a good Pinot. But what I consider to be a "good Pinot" doesn't mesh perfectly with popular or critical tastes. I prefer the softer, rounder, more full-bodied style (the Sanford below is a good example) to the more elegant, crisp-almost-to-the-point-of-effervescence style. (The Beaux Freres below isn't this way in the extreme, but it does flirt with it.) Don't get me wrong--a good Pinot Noir has to have a solid backbone of acidity, and the best ones will be infused with seductive, earthy notes. It's just that the austere snap that makes Pinot so exciting for many wine lovers can, for me, be taken too far.

In sum, I will gladly drink fucking Merlot, along with all the other varietals I mention above (not to mention the gamut of white wines, all of which can be delicious--in fact, I just had an oily, petrolium-laden Alsatian Gewürztraminer that was super fun, though not something I drink often). And, of course, that includes Pinot Noir. To come at wine from any other direction is, to my mind, to come at it sideways.

Now, the notes:

1. Leroy Bourgone 1999 ($44.99/bottle)
This basic Burgundy has a nice, balanced nose of baked plums, dried leaves, damp earth, and spice and has a light-medium body on the palate. A very earthy core is infused with black cherry, licorice, and spice notes, with fine tannins and a long, peppery finish.

2. Sanford Santa Rita Hills Sanford & Benedict Vineyard 2002 ($49.99/bottle)
The nose is ripe, rich, and plummy, with some woody and sweet tar notes. Medium bodied, with a smooth, silky mouthfeel, this Pinot boasts flavors of dark plum and berry, toast, and new leather, all strung on a taught but not overwhelming rope of acidity. The long finish is pure black tea. Spectator gave this one 87; I'd bump it up 5 points. Excellent.

3. Taz Fiddlestix Vineyard 2005 ($36.99/bottle)
This silky, medium bodied Pinot offers aromas of cherry and raspberry cola and a lightly floral perfumed note. Snappy acidity gives lift to flavors of cola, tea, and smoke. The finish is dark and herbal. Nice.

4. Etude Pinot Noir 2004 ($42.99/bottle)
The nose is pure Old World, dominated by wild mushrooms, minerality, and barnyard notes. Medium bodied, with black cherry and plum fruit, mountains of black soil, and cigarette tobacco on the palate. This is a beautifully sensuous, seductive wine.

5. Hartley-Ostini Hitching Post Highlighner 2005 ($44.99/bottle)
Smooth and medium bodied with sprightly acidity, this Pinot offers aromas of straight cola, peppery spice, and flowers, and flavors of sweet dark berries, tar, cola, and a hint of earth. This is a nice, solid wine.

6. Beaux Freres Ribbon Ridge Vineyard 2006 ($79.99/bottle)
Black cherry, toasted wood, and rich perfumed spice aromas give way to a medium bodied palate. Flavors of sweet cherry, red and black licorice, and spice seem to jump around on your tongue, so kinetic is the acidity. As my introductory comments imply, this is not my ideal style of Pinot. But becuase it has some richness for balance, it is a very good example of that style. If you like your Pinots lively, you will love this one.

Tasting Notes: Wopner Edition

In the interest of having new content more regularly on this blog, I've decided to post--if not always, then often--my notes from Stimmel's (local deli/grocery/beer/wine store) Thursday night tastings here as well as at Stimmel's blog, Grape and Grain. They usually pour seven wines--one or two whites, the rest reds, with the occasional sparkler, rosé, or dessert wine thrown in--chosen according to varietal or region ("Syrah around the world" or "Rhone wines," for example). But sometimes they offer a theme-based selection. Last Thursday's theme was "Stimmel's Court," and, res ipsa loquitur, the wines speak for themselves:

1. "The Consultant" Chardonnay 2005 (California; <$20, I think)
Perhaps enrolled in the vitis protection program, this medium-bodied Chardonnay does not show up on the tasting sheet and seems intentionally secretive of its origins. (Even a Google search only turns up the name of the Chardonnay and an "importer"--of this California wine--called Billington Wines.) What I do know is that it has aromas and flavors of apples, butter, smoke, and minerals, with a streak of bitter anise running through the finish. Not bad at all.

2. Shinas Estate "The Innocent" Viognier 2007 (Australia; $24.99/bottle)
If you're not used to drinking Viognier, you might call this wine "stinky." I prefer to call it aromatic, with notes of cantaloupe, peaches, and musk on the nose. Medium-full-bodied, this oh-so-lightly sweet white shines with flavors of sweet peach and pear and a white pepper-laced finish. Lively acidity keeps the wine seeming fresh despite its viscosity. Really nice.

3. Shinas Estate "The Guilty" Shiraz 2005 (Australia; $24.99/bottle)
Another nice wine from Shinas, this is pretty textbook Aussie Shiraz, with blueberry, pepper, spice, and tar aromas and flavors. The only departure is a hint of bramble as well, giving it a slightly wild, adventurous edge.

4. Shinas Estate "The Verdict" Cabernet Sauvignon 2005 (Australia; $24.99/bottle)
This full-bodied red has a lovely nose of black currants, earth, violets, and just a tiny hint of barnyard. On the palate, sweetly ripe black currant starts the show, only to give way to a disappointing greenish/woody note. After a couple sips, however, this off green wood taste morphed into a more pleasant hoisin-like quality (for me, anyway; who knows what it may do for you). An interesting wine, though the other Shinas Estate offerings in this lineup outshine it by a considerable margin.

5. Orin Swift "The Prisoner" 2005 (California/Napa Valley; $36.99/bottle)
This Zinfandel-based blend is a perennial favorite at Stimmel's tastings, and with good reason. A tantalizing nose of blackberry, black plum, bramble, and pepper gives way to a gripping, full-bodied palate, offering flavors of sweet blackberry liquer, peppery spice, mocha, and red and black licorice. "The Prisoner" is big and rich but exquisitely balanced. I love this wine.

6. Ahnfeldt "Quid Pro Quo" Blend 2003 (California/Napa Valley; $69.99/bottle)
This full-bodied, Merlot-based, Bordeaux-style blend has a nice nose of plums, flowers, earth, and leathery spice. On the palate, it shows very nice flavors of black currant, spice, licorice, and a hint of mushroom-y earth. Gripping but fine tannins and good fruit mean this wine will age gracefully for at least another five years.

7. Chateau Les Justices Sauternes 2003 (France; $52.99/bottle)
This may not be the steel trap of a Sauternes that the 2001 Chateau D'Yquem is, but it has its charms nonetheless. Aromas and flavors of pineapple, lemon curd, and smoky jasmine vibrate on a taught string of acidity, with an intriguing menthol note emerging on the long finish.

Franc the Tanc

(Cross-posted at Grape and Grain)

In the movie Old School, Frank "The Tank" Ricard is in the inner sanctum of cool, being one of the three people responsible for founding the fraternity of misfits whose antics drive the film's plot (and most of the gags). Nevertheless, Frank--who's lots of fun but lacks solidity of character (to say the least; that's like saying NW Ohio lacks mountains)--continually takes a back seat to the other two members of the inner sanctum: the staid, reliable Mitch and the boldly charismatic entrepreneur Beanie. But, by the end of the movie, Frank has been given a few chances to shine on his own. Sure, he may not always come through, shooting himself in the neck with a tranquilizer gun or setting himself on fire while dressed in a cougar suit. But every once in a while, he rises to the occasion, stunning critics with a heartfelt rhythmic ballet routine or mystically channeling his inner wonk to school James Carville in the finer points of U.S. biotech policy.

So it is with Cabernet Franc. Like Frank, Franc is also in an inner sanctum, being one of the three indispensable red grapes of Bordeaux. (We'll leave number four, Petit Verdot, for another post.) And, like Frank, Franc always takes a back seat to its two friends, the staid, reliable Merlot and the boldly charismatic Cabernet Sauvignon. After all, when's the last time you had a glass of Cab Franc? Compare that to the last Cab Sauv or Merlot you've had, and you'll likely get the point. And there's no doubt that Cab Franc, on its own, sometimes lacks solidity of character, perhaps showing flashes--or should I say streaks--of brilliance but not able to sustain a full, developed flavor arc, which is what makes it such a good blending wine. (That may also be what makes the grape insecure and prone to saying things like, "Took the restrictor plate off to give the Red Dragon a little more juice. But it's not exactly street legal, so keep it on the down low"). But every once in awhile, it truly sings on its own, with supple fruit, deep, seductive earth and leather notes, and an intriguing floral quality that places it among the most irresistable wines you're likely to come across. And when that happens, there's only one term to describe drinking such a wine. Yep, you guessed it: old school.

I'm Back

I bet you thought my hiatus would turn into a permanent shutdown of the blog, right? I admit I'm coming back later than I said, but summer is always like that: you always think there's going to be more time than there is. Anyway, there's a brief lull in chapter submissions for the edited collection, so I thought now would be a good time to dive back in.

Actually, I've been blogging quite a bit, but it's all been over at Grape and Grain. In exchange for posting my notes from the Thursday night tastings at Stimmel's (the wine/beer/bakery/grocery store by my house), I get to taste some of the most amazing wines in the world--wines like Chateau Haut Brion, Ridge Monte Bello, Robert Mondavi Reserve Cabernet Sauvignon, D'Arenberg Dead Arm Shiraz, and Jaboulet Hermitage La Chapelle, to name a few. The only problem with the setup, in fact, is that tasting wines like these on a regular basis makes it harder to get excited about those good-but-simple $12.99 Aussie fruit bombs that I can actually afford to--and often do--buy. But I'm not complaining.

But I digress. Not only is this blog not defunct, it is actually very, very funct. I'll try to post weekly, or at least a couple times a month. I'm not sure yet whether I'll cross-post my tasting notes. (If I were to, this blog would, by virtue of their frequency, become primarily a wine blog, but maybe that wouldn't be a bad thing.)

For now, though, here's something comp-related I've been thinking about. In my Intro to Composition Studies seminar for new comp/rhet PhD students, I have in the past earmarked a week's worth of readings for looking at the "New Abolitionist" debate. The debate proper hasn't seen much action since the early 2000s, and its high-water mark came in the mid-to-late 1990's (one might point to the 1998 publication of Crowley's Composition in the University as signifying that moment). But one of the most powerful reasons for wanting to abolish the universal fyc requirement--the notion that "general writing skill" is a myth, that writing is so embedded in particular systems of activity that it cannot be usefully abstracted--is still very much in play. (Not to mention the idea that "literacy" itself is not a very useful concept, which, if you find it convincing, has grave implications for the teaching of writing.) So much so, in fact, that I feel certain that the lack of overt debate in our most visible forums about the desirability of the universal fyc requirement only signals the debate's dormancy, not its extinction.

Still, I want to introduce my students to today's discipline (not that that doesn't, obviously, involve some history), and we do have a close look at socio-historic theories of writing that posit it as concrete and particular rather than abstract and generalizable. I wonder whether we might not spend our time better by looking more deeply at, say, embodied rhetorics, or network studies' growing impact on writing studies research (both of which get playing time, but not enough for them to really break a sweat).

Any thoughts?

Nice to be back.

Tasting Notes

As of this week, I'll be officially posting wine tasting notes on Grape and Grain, the wine and beer blog for Stimmel's market. While I wait to be added as a site administrator for the blog, I thought I might as well cross-post my notes here. The theme of the tasting was "Around the World."

1. Faively Bourgogne 2005. (France/Burgundy; 100% Chardonnay) $21.99/bottle
The first thing I noticed about this very interesting (and good) white Burgundy was that it smells like movie popcorn, with a combination of toast and butter aromas. On the palate the wine is buttery, with sour apple fruit and just a hint of smoke and minerality. Good acidity for pairing with food.

2. Chateau Gigognan Clos du Roi Chateauneuf-du-Pape 2003 (France/Rhone). $49.99/bottle
This red is very different for a CdP, but if you give it a chance I think you'll like it. Rich and full-bodied, with flavors of black olive and brine followed by pronounced black licorice on the long finish.

3. Justin Orphan 2005 (California/Paso Robles; blend of cabernet sauvignon, merlot, petite verdot, and petite syrah) $24.99/bottle
Simple but good, with bright, ripe cherry fruit and lots of vanilla. A bit on the oaky side for my taste, but lots of people will love this easy-to-drink red.

4. Planeta Syrah 2004 (Italy/Sicily) 39.99/bottle
Very nice wine. Loads of black currant and dark berry fruit with well-integrated herb, black pepper, and salt/blood flavors. With efforts like this, it's no surprise that Sicily has recently begun to get international attention for its wines.

5. Numanthia Termes 2005 (Spain/Toro; Tinta de Toro) $39.99/bottle
Wow. Robert Parker gave this wine 94 pts., and I think he's right [edited: it was the 2004 vintage that RP awarded 94 pts]. Deep, rich, lush, and powerfully tannic, this very young red is already elegant and smooth--hedonism in a bottle. Still, I'd wait five, even ten+ years to drink it. If you would ever consider spending $40 on a wine, make it this one (which easily drinks like a $100+ wine).

6. Tait Ballbuster 2006 (Australia; 80% shiraz, 10% cabernet sauvignon, 10% merlot) $17.99/bottle
Very ripe, concentrated dark berry fruit, layered with earth, minerality, and a touch of oak. More complex, and more enjoyable, than the average Aussie "fruit bomb."

7. Churchill Vintage Porto 1997 (Portugal) 76.99/bottle
I don't usually fall in line with "expert" opinions, but the Wine Spectator's description of blackberry and lead pencil are right on. Richly-textured, dense, and lightly sweet, with still-discernable tannins.

Thanksgiving Wine Cider

Every year around this time many Americans perform the ritual, paroxysmal flailing that has come to be associated with the search for the ideal Thanksgiving wine. And here's a list of wines I've seen or heard recommended (mostly by experts) in response just this year:

• Beaujolais nouveau
• Beaujolais villages
• Pinot Noir
• Côtes du Rhône
• Barbera
• Rioja
• Zinfandel
• Rosé (sangiovese-based)
• Merlot
• Syrah/Shiraz
• Cabernet sauvignon
• Sauvignon blanc
• Riesling (dry)
• Riesling (sweet)
• Champagne/sparkling white
• Chenin blanc
• Chardonnay
• Viognier

Either Thanksgiving dinner is the most wine-flexible meal of all time, or there simply is no perfect pairing (other than the one that tastes good to you). I think it's the latter. Which is why I'll be serving this on Thursday:

Tasting Notes

I tasted several nice wines last night, including a very interesting Malbec that smelled like meatloaf and tasted like green peppers, herbs, and burned leaves, but this sangiovese from Napa Valley stood out. If you had told me beforehand, in fact, that it was a Chianti Classico Riserva, I'd have believed you without hesitation:

Winery: Gargiulo Vineyards (Napa Valley)
Wine: 2004 Aprile Super Oakville Blend
Grape/Blend: sangiovese (96%), cabernet sauvignon (4%)
Price: $40 (suggested retail)
Aroma: cherry and oak
Body: medium to medium/full
Taste: chocolate-covered cherries, candied spice, oak
Overall: complex, with a pronounced flavor arc and a sustained finish
Assessment: Very good