Loire & More

The Chateau in Angers (in warmer times)

I've been swamped with work since I got back from France in late February, so this post is a tad late.  Apologies, as usual, and all that.  In any case, the rest of the trip went smashingly well.  Aside from a super nasty bug that sidelined me for most of the Loire shows (no Dive this year, sniff sniff), my time in France was super productive (and delicious!).

While in Angers (a beautiful city, I might add), I met up with Jean-Pascal Aubron, our Muscadet producer, who says Bonjour!, as well as Pascal Pibaleau (he was just everywhere this year).  I retasted Pascal's INSANELY good 2012 Gamay, from vines planted in 1964, which underwent 18 days of carbonic maceration (he likes to take things low and slow, looking for depth and quality, not a quicky wham bam thank you Ma'am).  Guess what, Gamay's arriving in late June/early July, so get your palates ready!

Catherine & Didier Tripoz getting all impish

There were some amazingly good meals, some great wines as usual, and visits to producers in Champange and Burgundy (sadly, nothing new from the Cotes de Nuits to report yet, but I keep trying!).  While in Burgundy, I did manage to revisit Catherine & Didier Tripoz, who make our lovely Macon Charnay Clos des Tournons.  The 9 ha walled-in plot is composed of 12 parcels of varying ages, and boy did we get geeky: we tasted each one and it was fascinating to see what they did even when handled in the same manner.  Didier hand-picks each parcel and vinifies each separately since they're differing ages.  Each one offers something unique, so Didier assembles them only once they've done their own fermentations (in steel and cement tanks - no oak here!).

After a short relaxing stay in Paris, it was back to NYC and back to the grind (or I guess the press in this case).  Our business has exploded in the past 24 months, so it was time to tend to things.  I'd have much preferred staying in the vineyards of Europe, but alas someone has to import and sell them here.  And that someone is me (well, I'm one of the someones doing it, but you get the idea). But I still LOVE this job, even if it's super difficult somedays.

Things have gotten crazy.  As of June 2013 we're in 11 states, and pushing hard to grow.  New Orleans has been one of our biggest surprises and biggest markets, we're working with an amazingly awesome team call Uncorked.  Great people, great food, great fun every time I've been down there.  Vermont is also turning into a nice change of pace, and Maine has begun picking up.  It's been a tough slog, there's a lot of competition (especially in NY, it seems like a new importer/distributor is popping up every day - I know of some stores dealing with 65 wholesalers), but the US is thirsty for more.

Which brings me to the next news: we've picked up some great new producers, so look for some new labels in Fall.  One of them is a small Biodynamic producer from the Gaillac region of Southwest France, northeast of Toulouse.  You'll meet Nicolas Lebrun doing some crazy work in his fields, working with indigenous grapes like Duras, Braucol (Fer Servadou), Loin de l'Oeil (white) and Prunelart.  The wines are big and dark and velvety but beautifully balanced with sparkling minerality and long long finishes.  I had a bottle of his basic Gourmand Sec Rouge (Duras, Braucol) that took 7 days before it faded.  This stuff ROCKS.

Look for this label in Fall, coming to a store near you (hopefully!)

Best of all, I am pretty sure this will retail around $16-17, and will be perfect for the cooler weather or BBQs in summer 2014.  I am so excited about his wines it's not even funny.  And I'm getting just as excited for our other new wine, as we're branching out from France and Spain to... Italy!  Ciao Italia!  We found a lovely small farmer Organic Chianti, which again should retail under $20.  More details to come, but we keep looking for new small Organic or Biodynamic producers to import and get to a store near you.

Frankly I haven't been this energized in a while, and planning for Fall and the future is taking up all my time.  If you can't tell, I am really jazzed for what's to come.  Heck, we even hired a COO (granted, I'm cheating a tad, it's my wife, but she is quite the slave driver), as well as a part-time salesperson for the NY market.  AND we're talking to another salesperson.  I guess it's a testament to the quality of our wines that folks are coming to me and asking to rep our wines.

Which is why I've let this blog slide a bit, shamefully.  Once again, I apologize.  Next time you see me, feel free to berate me and if I have an open bottle I'll pour you an extra-large glass of wine.  I promise to do to a better job at this.  Plus I forgot how much I loved writing, though there's no telling if you enjoy reading this.

In any case, more to come, soon...
Cheers!

Beaune… Rhymes with Home

Beaune rhymes with home...
OK, well maybe not that much, but in my mind it does, and that’s all that counts.

Troglodytes on the Loire
I took the sloooooooooooooow train from Angers to Beaune, a leisurely 6 hour ride on a TER (ironically that stands for Train Express Regional, which, I suppose if you weren’t going from one side of the country to the other, it might qualify as). One interesting thing about following the Loire upstream was passing by its renowned chalk cliffs and hillsides, into which intrepid folks had dug charming homes and wineries. I once stayed in one of these so-called “troglodyte” places, in a B&B outside Azay-le-Rideau. My room was an old kitchen complete with bread oven, dug right into the living rock. Super cool.

Streets suffused with history
I arrived in Beaune at 9:30pm and started walking into town. I couldn’t help but grinning immediately: it had been 4.5 years since I’d last been here, and I was happier than a schoolboy on Christmas morning. I didn’t care that it was freezing, I didn’t care that my laptop bag kept falling off my suitcase on the uneven cobblestones, I didn’t care that it was pitch black and there was no one out: I was home.

Place Monge
There’s something about Beaune and Burgundy for me. The first time I visited, I felt like I was coming home, as if I actually belonged here. Maybe in a past life, I was a Burgundian Duke or winemaker (more likely a peasant, but hey, I’d have lived in Burgundy!). To me, this is IT. This is the vinous Holy Land. I do love other wine regions, but my soul belongs here. I don’t know how or why, that’s just the way it is. Your money may vary.

Hey, nice house!
And that, however, is the key word: money. To enjoy these wines, money is what you need these days. Wines from the area have shot up in price as their popularity has increased, which sucks for those of us on a budget. And it certainly doesn’t help that the better ones are made in tiny quantities. Of course, they’re much cheaper at the source, so I took advantage of that… But I was here for work, not play, or at least not that much play.

Love these guys
I was here to meet some new winemakers and visit some old friends at better-known domaines like Dujac, Jadot, and Evening Land/Lafond. Whitney Woodham, a friend from NYC who’s the GM for Evening Land, generously drove me around, and as we passed from one legendary medieval village to another I couldn’t keep the grin off my face. The sun shone on naked vines carpeting the eastern side of the valley as we wandered, and I leaned forward hungrily, trying to drink in all the sights in case I didn’t come back for a while.

Whitney poses in front of the Evening Land offices
My tastings went pretty well, I am happy to report, though there’s a lot of work left to be done, as usual. Pricing is relatively stratospheric, especially to someone used to dealing with much lower price points. With the economy improving and my network of customers asking for better wines, I want a Burgundy. So we’ll see. Keeping fingers, toes, ears, eyes and tongue crossed…

Jadot's chai
I should add that the 2010 reds/whites at the places I tasted were very nice, with pure fruit and exceptional structure, reminding me of slightly warmer, more balanced 2008s. Now that’s a vintage I’m really enjoying for its pure red fruit and bright acidity. As for the 2011s, well, it’s a tough call as they haven’t even gone through malo yet, but there was excellent potential in the ones I tried. Of course, with Burgundy, there's always one rule year in, year out: producer, producer, producer.

Oooooooooh sooooo good
My four days in Beaune flew by in a flash. There were several wonderful dinners with some lovely wines, new acquaintances were made, old friendships were rekindled, and despite the freakishly cold weather (5°F one morning, you read that right) the sun was bright, the sky was blue, and there was a spring in my step. I boarded the slow TER back to Angers with more than a tinge of regret. I promise I’ll be back, Beaune, and sooner than 4.5 years. That, I promise you.

Au revoir ma Belle Bourgogne!
Cheers!
PS: Pictures of Burgundy can be found HERE.

Giddy Wines

 

Giddy wines? What are giddy wines? They are wines that make you sit up and smile, wines that are so lovely and well-made that they remind you why you like wines, and perhaps these particular wines, in the first place. If all wines did that the novelty of finding such a thing would wear off and instead we'd be living in a world where "everyone is special so no one is special." And that would be no fun.

Instead, wines, like life, have their highs and their lows. Luckily, I didn't just find one vinous high point last night (I did give a hint, "wines" in the title is plural), I didn't just find two, I found a whopping three, count 'em, three giddy wines. As you can imagine, I hit the pillow with a grin you could see from space.

I was celebrating a late Thanksgiving with Mom and a friend, and since I detest turkey (I've said it previously and it still holds true), I decided to roast a whole duck. I did this last Thanksgiving and it was a smashing success. Last night was no different, I am happy to report.

We began the night with a bottle of NV Veuve Fourny Brut Premier Cru. If you're looking for fruity, sweet bubbly, this ain't it. It's like drinking liquid steel in a mesh of fine bubbles. It makes your mouth pucker. This is masochistic Champage. I love it.

 

Next, as we sat down to dinner, I poured a bottle of 1998 Domaine Dujac Clos St Denis. One whiff of this and I almost burst into tears. This is the smell that proves the existence of God. Beautiful, muddy cherries wrapped in that underbrush smell (sous-bois in French), a real musk that envelops the senses and refuses to disappear. The wine in the mouth is the same, flowing over the palate and gripping you, refusing to let go, not wanting to be forgotten, a presence, a weightless weight that just seems to dance effortlessly on the tongue. Wow. I think I just fell in love with Burgundy again.

 

To say it went well with the roasted duck, sauteed wild mushrooms and roasted herb and garlic potatoes would be the understatement of the year.

 

Finally, a bottle open the previous night with some seafood pasta, a 2004 William Fevre Chablis 1er Cru Fourchaume. That night it was a slightly honeyed, lemony and minerally wine that was quite delicious but nothing special. What a difference 24 hours in the fridge made... The moment I opened this, I was almost bowled over by the thickness of the aroma. It was like a velvet glove to the nose, full of cheesy scallops and almonds and citrus notes. Wow. At this point, I may have had actual tears streaming down my face.

Yeah, these are the moments we live for. These are wines that make me giddy. Giddy wines.
Cheers!

The Lighter Side of Wine

 

It's been a crazy 10 days or so since the NY Times review came out, so I've been swamped with work and haven't really had time to write. Add to that the fact that I've had a serious case of Writer's Block (high frustration, low creativity), and, well, what you've got is not as much updating of this blog as I'd like. My goal was to have at least 1-2 posts per week, I'm down to 1 every 10 days. Not good.

In the meantime, I've partaken of some wonderful wine dinners and shared some great times. This got me thinking, which is never a good thing, and all of a sudden I find my fingers flying over the keyboard.

Sometimes, people take wine too seriously. It becomes the focus of the meal as opposed to something that should be enjoyed and shared among friends. Two recent events stand out: a picnic in Central Park a few weekends ago (the one Saturday it hasn't been cold or rainy), and a dinner at Peking Duck House last Friday. Both are exemplary of what wine should be, in my mind, at least.

In both cases, we had some wonderful and some not-so-wonderful bottles, yet the main motive was to gather friends together and enjoy each other's company over these bottles. Too many times I've gone to dinners and all we had in common was the wine, and the moment someone stopped talking about them all you could hear were the crickets (yes, even in the city, we have them). That quickly becomes mind-numbingly boring, and I start asking myself, "Where's my gun?" Then I recall that I am in New York, and I don't own a gun, but that bus lane is quite close and a quick leap could free me from this morbid gathering.

Wine is supposed to be fun. Yes, it's all good and nice to analyze and think about it, but at the end of the day, it's a convivial beverage that you are supposed to share with your friends and family. All the analysis should be done at the professional tastings. After that, relax and enjoy yourself. Life is too short to take so many things so seriously.

HAVE FUN.
Cheers!

Comfort Wines

When a death in the family hits you hard, you immediately look for things and people to comfort you. Friends and family come to the rescue, reminding us of how rich we are in real terms, not monetary or material ones. And we turn to those things which inspire and impassion us to help us through the difficult times.

Seeking to celebrate the memory of my deceased aunt, who enjoyed life to the fullest (hmmm... must run in the family), I turned to what I would term "comfort wines". For me, of course, this would be Burgundy and Champagne. However, the stores in this part of the US are sorely lacking in interesting bubbly, leaving me no choice but to open a few of my Burgundies and the occasional Rhône.

My go-to red Burg down in FL is one I stocked up on a few years ago and which has never led me astray: the 2005 de Villaine Côte Chalonnaise la Digoine. Its white counter-part is the 2004 Carillon Puligny Montrachet. Both of these offer huge bangs of pleasure for the buck.

The Digoine was beautiful from the get-go, and as a vehicle for pleasure delivery, this lived up to its promise. It got better as it breathed, with lovely earthy cherries wrapped in a silken, minerally structure that ended with a long finish. Absolutely yummy, and look at that, I've got some more left!

The Carillon was absolutely crispy at first, with an almost quartz-like mineral structure wrapped in lemon zest. As it warmed up, almond skins and green apples rounded it out, giving it a soft wrapping of a steely skeleton with a medium finish. And as it breathed more, and seemed to gather more and more strength on itself, becoming an absolutely swoonaliciously good wine. Damn, that was my last bottle!

Then I found something interesting, something I'd heard about for a long time but had never had. Not that I was really looking that hard, but I had always wanted to taste de Villaine's famed Aligote. This grape usually doesn't make awe-inspiring wines, but, as with all things, something good can come of it in the right hands. Aligote from good producers can be quite nice. And despite the insinuations of those around me, I actually do have an open palate (and mind!).

At first sniff, the 2005 de Villaine Bouzeron Aligote, a somewhat deep golden-colored wine offers hints of wax and white flowers, wrapped in Granny Smith apples, but ripe ones. On the palate, it's got an interestingly waxy mouthfeel, reminding me of Chenin, but with more lemon and ripe apple taste than the Loire's grape. As it breathes, more lemons and some almonds show up to drift in the air above the wine, and similar aspects appear on the palate. The acidity was a bit shrill, but the riper notes kept it in check, and the finish was somewhat long. Not bad, an interesting experiment.

Then, being in FL and right by the ocean, I picked up some fantastic-looking (and eventually tasting) scallops. I also happened upon a bottle of 2004 de Villaine Rully Les Saint Jacques. OK, so it's a cheap tongue-in-cheek play on words. Apparently de Villaine seems to have flooded FL with his wines, and I have had the good fortune to find them all. Anyway, all you French-speakers are nodding, all you others are asking yourselves WTF is he talking about. Well, scallops in French is Saint Jacques, so I had scallops with a wine named after scallops. Sadly, that's about as clever as I get, folks. Shows over.

So, on to the wine. On the nose, beautiful notes of ripe scallops (do those exist? Would I want to taste or smell them if they did? Whatever, it smelled like that), with lemon zest and some red apples, and a slight herbal note. The palate was lean but well-rounded, with sparkling acidity (it felt like little stars going off in my mouth, really neat and definitely interesting). Very Chablis-like, but at the same time not. Very cool.

As this past week has wound down, I've taken to opening anything except for my last Digoine, so now came the Rhône varieties. First up was a bottle of 2004 Domaine Gauby Le Soula Vin de Pays des Côtes Catalanes. Interesting, to say the least. Ripe but not-too-ripe pineapple, bananas, lemons and some spicy hints on the nose. Some fat almonds showed up later as it breathed, adding some dimension and depth. The palate was not as fat as expected, surprisingly so considering where it's from (near the border with Spain on the Mediterranean side). That pineapple carried through, as did the other aspects, but they were all presented on a mineral platter that helped balance the fruitier side of the wine. Very pleasant, though I would have liked a bit more acidity (then again, I am an acid freak).

Next came the 2004 Janasse Chateauneuf du Pape Vieilles Vignes. Ooooh... This is a bruiser right from the get-go, but in that pleasant way that Chateauneuf can be in the right hands. Kirsch liqueur, brambles, cassis, some meaty notes and tons of dark cherries fill your nose, with just a hint of heat. It's a medium-bodied wine despite this, with those aspects carried through onto the tongue in a slightly sweet/ripe envelope and ending with a coffee-esque finish that lasted a while. Again, there was a light hint of heat at the back, which was a bit disconcerting, but still, this was nice. As it sat in the glass, more of the meaty notes came out, as did a harissa, Middle-Eastern spice note, reminiscent of a lamb tagine's smell right from the oven. Yum!

Overall, despite this being a pretty crappy 10 days, I have managed to reconnect with family from far afield, done some business, and tasted some pretty darn good wines. We toasted my aunt, who lived a wonderful life and was the epitome of elegance, both inner and outer. I smile as I write these words, knowing that she was always happy when surrounded by her family and friends. We are here now, surrounding her in memory.
Cheers!

Thanksgiving in Florida

The pre-Thanksgiving lunch
Well, another holiday has passed us by. I hope everyone had a lovely time with friends, family, and the Big Bird.

But I have to admit something: I hate turkey. I really do. Luckily, since I am the one who cooks on Thanksgiving, I get to choose what we're eating. One year it was leg of lamb, but the family complained that it wasn't "Thanksgiving-y" enough, whatever that means. So I relented the following year and made Cornish Game Hens. However, it's nearly impossible to get good quality ingredients where my family is in Florida, so we ended up with Tyson birds. While they were moist and juicy, their flavor was, to put it mildly, vile. Every single bird had a nasty metallic taste to it. This alone should be proof that you must avoid industrially-produced foods at all costs.

So this year, in keeping with the holiday's avian theme, I wandered to the Whole Foods near my mother's place. I was looking for a bird, any bird, beside chicken, turkey, or Cornish Game Hens. To my delight, I found some whole organic ducks, which would satisfy my blood-lust for fatty meat and my family's desire for a bird of some kind.

The Beast awaits its fate
Following a recipe I'd had for a while, I rubbed it with salt, pepper and some herbs, then into the oven it went.


My mother made a lovely ratatouille with the few fresh vegetables she could find in the area. Which meant not too many but just enough for it to taste delicious and look great.

Flipping the bird
After 45 minutes, I turned Daffy over onto his back to let his sinfully delicious fat drain through the whole body, bathing the meat in it.

The duck is done!
Lunch rolled around while we cooked, so I grabbed a bottle of the 2005 A&P De Villaine Côte Chalonnaise La Digoine. I had stashed a few bottles here on my last visit, and good thing too: the store I bought it from had gone out of business! This wine was lovely, with crisp dark cherries balanced by earthy notes on a really silken frame. Just delicious. Happily I have one left for my next trip.


The next day, I grabbed the left-over duck meat, tossed it with some salad and olive oil, and popped a special bottle I'd been saving for our last day: a NV Feuillate Rose Champagne. Gorgeous, creamy cherries and toasty notes filled your mouth, dancing around the little bubbles, with some beautiful acidity to firm things up.

The last lunch
This went quite nicely while sitting on the terrace, overlooking swaying palms, with a soft breeze playing over us. You know, Florida's not that bad after all.
Cheers!

A Night in Macon

The town of Pouilly Fuissé
I left Avignon for Macon, in southern Burgundy, with a heavy heart and a somewhat heavier head (more like a pounding head to be honest). My winemaker, Didier Tripoz, of Domaine Cathérine et Didier Tripoz, picked me up at the tiny train station. I represent their monopole wine, the Clos des Tournons, a walled enclave of old vines (between 30 and 65 years of age). This makes for a lovely, unoaked and full-flavored yet light on its feet Chardonnay that is just making its appearance in the US.

The moment I saw the vine-covered hillsides, I knew I was home: Burgundy! Even though I was an hour south of Beaune, the regional capital, it felt like I was back where I belonged. The vines’ leaves were turning yellowish with the changing of the seasons, making for a beautiful undulating golden carpet. Absolutely glorious.

A rocky spur overlooking vineyards
We dropped my stuff off at the crappy hotel I was staying in (never, ever, ever, stay in a Balladins motel, it’s downright scary: the bathroom was a solid piece of plastic, so I could take a shower while taking care of business while brushing my teeth – a nightmare of efficiency taken to the extreme), then proceeded to head right into the vineyards. Didier drove us through a beautiful vista of steeply rolling hills covered in those golden leaves, with rocky outcroppings popping up at odd intervals, all lined by centuries-, if not often millennia-old, stone walls. God I love this part of the world. There really is something magical about this region, something timeless that just really stirs the soul.

Didier challenges me to a race up the hill
We visited a new plot that Didier had just bought in the Pouilly Fuissé appelation, angled so steeply that going up was a chore but coming down was an adventure. I swear, this thing must have been at a 45° slope! There, we were joined by his assistant winemaker David, who had helped out with this year’s harvest. After stints in New Zealand and several other wineries, David has settled in as Didier’s helper going forward. He’s really ambitious and eager to increase the quality of the wines, which is always a good thing.

Looking up the slope

Looking down the slope

Lost in a sea of Chardonnay
After driving around the perimeter of the Clos des Tournons , we came to the winery, which is basically an addition to the house’s garage. We began tasting the 2008s from tanks, and I was thrilled to see that this year's Clos des Tournons would be another success, with beautiful fruit backed up by almost stinging acidity and a lovely, rich mouthfeel. We also tasted the Pouilly Fuissé, which holds much promise as well. We made our way through all the wines, from Chardonnay to Pinot Noir as well as Gamay (the grape used in Beaujolais but used here to make red Macon, very rare). Quite nice if I may say so myself.

Didier pours from the tank
After the winery visit, we retreated to the tasting room, where some 2007s were opened for my perusal. I was pleased to see that Didier hasn’t lost his touch, his wines were just as beautiful as I recalled. Then, as his wife Cathérine announced that dinner would be ready soon, he poured me something else, something intriguing, something quite surprising. “This is for our aperitif,” he explained.

Now, I’m a sucker for Champagne, I just love the stuff. I am not a fan of Crémants or other bubbly wines, in general. So I was wary about this.

The wine he was pouring looked like Champagne, a golden liquid with surprisingly tiny, elegant bubbles, it smelled like a Blanc de Blancs, on the palate it was richer, with bracing acidity, yet it wasn’t Champagne: it was his Crémant de Bourgogne. I almost fell off my chair. This was stunning. This was amazing. This was unbelievably delicious.

Using the traditional Méthode Champenoise, Didier makes a sparkling wine from Chardonnay without adding back the liqueur d’expedition, or the base wine plus sugar that most sparkling makers add back to make the wine richer and balance its high acidity. In this case, he doesn’t add it back because, being further south than Champagne, his grapes achieve a higher level of ripeness: in other words, they don’t need the sugar, some of theirs survives the first fermentation.

The result is unbelievable, at least for a Crémant. This is something I’ll be happy to show to my clients very soon.

Dinner was a long, leisurely affair with Didier, Cathérine, their son and David. We laughed a lot and chatted about the upcoming elections (I swear the French were more obsessed with it than we were). Finally, I retired to my crappy motel and tried, unsuccessfully, to fall asleep.

I had an early morning TGV to catch: I was heading to Paris. Yay!

Next: A week in Paris.
Cheers!

Falling in Love Again (yes, Burgundy)

The Village of Vosne-Romanée
OK, enough with my shilling the wines I represent, what about the stuff I only drink on special occasions? What about those once a year splurges where you don't look at the prices and just let your knowledge and love of a particular wine region guide you? Nights where you just say "screw it" and let your palate, heart and soul lead the way? Has that ever happened to you?

It happened to me the other night.

I've been drinking lots of Rhônes for the past few weeks, as various Rhônophiles passed through town. While I enjoy a good Châteauneuf or Cornas as much as the next person, my first love remains Burgundy. And for a while there I was cheating on her, though I could hear her swan song in the distance, haunting me from the back of my head, beckoning me to come back to her.

So the other night I gave in to temptation and joined a good friend at a neighborhood place, where we ordered two beauties that reminded me why I love Burgundy so much. The food was amazing, the service fantastic, but the wines... aaaaah... the wines...

-2000 Henri Boillot Meursault 1er Cru Perrieres
On first wiff, I knew this Chardonnay would be lovely even though it was shy and reticent. Slowly, it unfolded, revealing layers of flavors and depths of complexity that made us swoon. Beautiful lemon, almond skins, soft hazelnuts, green apples wrapped around a stony, minerally core that ended with some lovely acidity in an elegant package, on a slightly oily frame that went on and on. As it warmed up we picked up a hint, and I do mean a hint, of oxydation, but at this level it added complexity rather than distracting from the wine.


-2000 Domaine de la Romanée Conti Richebourg
Oh. My. I need a moment.

Wow. this was just wow. And will be wow for years, if not decades. Right from the moment we first smelled it, this wine made me smile. Bright, fresh Pinot fruits overwhelmed the senses but in an elegant manner, with the barest hints of oak adding to the weightless presence on the palate. This is a wine that fills every nook and cranny of your mouth and doesn't let go, leaving behind that haunting memory that good Burgundy can. Finesse, elegance and power all wrapped up on a silky structure with well-integrated tannins, and with a finish that goes on and on and on...

It's good to back, my love.
Cheers!

La Paulée (in Colorado)- Day Two

Hey, look at that, I geeked out somewhat in my previous post! What a shock (not)!

OK, sorry, but I was really swept up in the excitement of the memory of having tasted some real vinous delights. Most of these are extremely hard to get and shockingly expensive, so having them all at one sitting was a real treat. Especially to this old Burghead.

So I promise I won't go overboard with Day Two... Well, I'll try not to.

Day Two of our little Paulée was a two parter: a lunch tasting of the 2005 Burgundies, and a dinner Burgapalooza of rare old wines. If you aren't aware of it, the 2005 vintage in Burgundy was one for the records. The weather was perfect, the grapes ripened on time, everything was in balance, and as many winemakers have told me, all they needed to do was get out of Nature's way. If you've ever wanted to try Burgundy, look for 2005 Village-level wines: not only will they be abundant and relatively cheap (for Burgundy, approx. $25-50), but they will offer fantastic experiences.

Of course, this will mean you are well on your way to the Dark Side that is Burgundy...


The 2005 Grand Tasting was organized according to the rules of the real Paulée in France: we each brought one Village, one Premier Cru and one Grand Cru of a well-regarded producer. That made for a lot of wine, but we were there to taste, not drink. If I wanted to get drunk, I'd chug some vodka.

This was one of the best 2005 tastings that I've been to in a while due to the level of organization and the generosity of the folks coming. These wines showed beautifully, and the weather gods were smiling on us.

The wines in general were remarkably open and ready to go, except for the Grand Crus. All the wines had an amazing power and lift to them, and, except for the ones that had been clobbered with oak, a gorgeous purity of fruit. Most of that fruit was elegant and well-sown-together, nothing seemed out of whack, I mean even the tannins were fruity if sometimes overwhelming (again, the Grand Crus). This is a vintage to own as much as you can, I hate to say. I bought more after tasting these myself, there is so much upside potential it makes my head spin.

Instead of listing the wines with my impressions, I'll post the names of the producers. Why? Because unlike most wine regions of the world, when choosing which Burgundy to buy, it's all about the producer. Let me repeat that: it's all about the producer.

So, here we go:
-Nicholas Potel= very good wines, true to their place of origin and quite transparent.
-Michel Magnien= not bad, a bit heavy-handed with the oak, but good for folks who like CA Pinot.
-Rene LeClerc= always a reliable if relatively unknown producer, his wines were delightful and quite terroir-specific (something I look for in Burgundy).
-L&A Lignier= descended from the vaunted Lignier domaine after the father Romain's death a few years ago, these wines were killer in all the flights, so good that I went out and bought more at my wife's urging.
-de Vogue= not to my liking in general, these sometimes were a bit clumsily oaked, though when it was good it was very much so.
-Trapet= extremely refined and elegant, lovely.
-Dujac= though I've always liked this domaine, it's more for the hedonistic value than the pure expression of the wines' identity. Dujac has a definite signature in its wines, one that I like. The hedonist in me loves them but the purist in me sometimes shakes his head in frustration.
-Roumier= what can I say? It's Roumier. One of my favorite producers, his wines were elegant, true to their terroir, yet carried themselves with power and elegance all rolled in one. To say the least, Christophe has scored a home-run in 2005 with every single wine we tasted. Amazing.


After the Grand Tasting, I quickly hit the gym (this business is ruinous to waistlines, as you can imagine), then showered and changed for the Grand Finale.

I didn't know what I was in for, this was a true orgy of Burgundian delights. Flight after flight of amazingly rare and old wines whizzed by my inquiring palate, making me swoon in delight so many times it should have been illegal. The food was great too, and the company awesome, but the wines, my God, the wines!

At several points I had to stop and sniff and sit there, realizing I held in my hands vinous proof of God's existence. Starting with old Champagne in magnums is always nice: 1982 Bollinger RD Extra Brut and 1985 Krug, wines I could have enjoyed on their own for a long time. Then the other wines appeared, and all semblance of restraint fell to the wayside. I can resist all things but temptation, after all.

How can one refuse a 1955 Charles Vienot Chambertin Clos de Bèze that is still lively and full of vigor? Or a flight full of Domaine de la Romanée Conti Romanée Saint Vivants alongside a 1988 DRC La Tâche? The La Tâche was itself proof of God's existence, an ethereal beauty full of Asian spices, light red fruits and this mouthfeel that made me sit back and sigh.


Then, the flight that made me a believer: 1991 Emmanuel Rouget Cros Parantoux, 1988 Joseph Drouhin Grands-Echezeaux, 1988 Maison Albert Bichot Grands-Echezeaux Domaine du Clos Frantin, 1991 Emmanuel Rouget Echezeaux. The book-ending Rougets were so hauntingly beautiful that all I could do was sit and go back and forth, smelling each one, my head dizzy with the complex aromas they were offering. Such power, such lift, such grace and elegance, oh my God I think I can still taste them... Sigh...

When Burgundy is like that, it's a scary yet exciting and soul-stirring experience. Yes, there were many more wines, but these were the ones that stayed in my memory. Heck, they've gotten their dark little tentacles wrapped around my soul and are making me smile even as I write these words.

While the wines were fantastic, it was the people who really made this worth the cross-country flight. We would never have all met if it weren't for this passion of ours, and for that I am thankful. The generosity shown this weekend left me speechless, as most of these wines are stratospherically expensive and incredibly rare. Thank you to everyone for sharing!
Cheers!

La Paulée (in Colorado)- Day One

La what???

La Paulée (pronounced Paul-ay) is the festival in Burgundy that marks the end of the harvest. For three days, winemakers party their exhausted butts off. This being France, there is an inordinate amount of wine drinking, cigarette smoking, and other assorted depravities.

This festival now also takes place in New York and San Francisco, where it is an excuse for collectors to bring out their best wines. The ensuing Bacchanalia would make even the most ardent hedonist blush. In any case, this past year, due to a skiing accident, a good friend in Colorado had to skip La Paulée de SF. Instead, he decided to hold a mid-summer Paulée at his home outside Denver.


So about 15 invitees swooped in from all over the country to taste through a boatload of Burgundies. We really were in God's country, the views were stunning, the air crisp and dry as opposed to the oppressive and heavy heat in NYC.


The first night we tasted through a selection of wines from the vaunted Chevalier-Montrachet vineyard. This very small Grand Cru vineyard has only about 18 acres under vine and is located in the town of Puligny-Montrachet. It makes gorgeous Chardonnays in the right winemaker's hands. However, there are only about 20 producers currently making Chevalier Montrachets, so it's tough to find sometimes. A well-made Chevalier will have a distinct spiciness, more than likely due to the stoniness of the vineyard. You find more finesse than power here, an elegance that is difficult to find anywhere else. These aren't your average Chards, that's for sure.


Here is what we tasted, with my impressions alongside:

Flight 1

* 2004 Vincent Girardin Chevalier-Montrachet-
Wow, gorgeous purity.

* 2002 Vincent Girardin Chevalier-Montrachet-
Delicious, rounder, more accessible, softer than the 2004.

* 2002 Henri Boillot Chevalier-Montrachet-
Beautiful, enormous power and concentration balanced by acidity and finesse.

* 2001 Domaine Ramonet Chevalier-Montrachet-
Somewhat oxydized, but Ramonet's signature spearmint aromas managed to break through (I have no idea why, but his wines have a slight hint of spearmint to their aromas).

Flight 2

* 1999 Etienne Sauzet Chevalier-Montrachet-
Unbelievable, absolutely unbelievable, this kept getting better and more nuanced as it breathed over the course of the evening.

* 1995 Louis Jadot Chevalier-Montrachet Les Demoiselles-
Oxydized.

* 1995 Georges Deleger Chevalier-Montrachet-
Horribly oxydized.


Flight 3

* 1993 Domaine Leflaive Chevalier-Montrachet-
Very good.

* 1993 Domaine d'Auvenay (Lalou Bize-Leroy) Chevalier-Montrachet-
Unfreakingbelievable. Seriously. This proves God exists. You could chew this wine (that's a good thing, trust me).

* 1992 Verget Chevalier-Montrachet-
Delicious, but hard to taste after the 1993 D'Auvenay.

Flight 4

* 1985 Domaine Leflaive Chevalier-Montrachet-
Quite good.

* 1978 Domaine Leflaive Chevalier-Montrachet-
After an inital funk blew off in the decanter, this was quite good and honeyed.

* 1982 Louis Jadot Chevalier-Montrachet Les Demoiselles-
Corked.


Now we moved onto the other wines for the post-tasting dinner.

Flight 5

* 1985 Moët & Chandon Champagne Cuvée Dom Pérignon-
AWESOME, just absolutely awesome, a wine to let sit and breathe. This was, sadly, my last bottle, but we enjoyed it a lot. It was a fantastic match for a mushroom bisque, I might add.

* 1990 Veuve Clicquot Ponsardin Champagne Brut La Grande Dame-
Another delicious wine, this wasn't nearly as complex as the DP.

* 1996 Saint-Chamant Christian Coquillette Champagne Brut-
Fun to try, more yeasty and toasty than anything else, but not bad. Not great though, and definitely not in the league of the others.

Flight 6

* 2005 Louis Jadot Bonnes Mares-
Very extracted, almost CA Pinot-like. Not to my tastes.

Flight 7

* 1999 Domaine de la Romanée-Conti Richebourg
Wow. Absolutely wow. I get it now. I let this wine breathe for a while and it kept unfolding and opening up, a real wine for the ages and yet more proof that God exists. Wow.

* 1993 Domaine A.-F. Gros Richebourg-
Excellent also.

* 1971 Charles Vienot Richebourg-
Delicious too, it belied its age with a surprising youthful energy.

Flight 8

* 1990 Frederic Esmonin Ruchottes-Chambertin
Nice and ripe.

* 1990 Domaine Robert Chevillon Nuits St. Georges 1er Cru Les Vaucrains
Fun to drink.

* 1993 Dominique Laurent Mazis-Chambertin
Surprisingly good, as I usually don't like Dominique Laurent's wines, he tends to go overboard with the oak.

Flight 9

* 1993 Domaine Méo-Camuzet Vosne-Romanée 1er Cru Aux Brulees-
CORKED. Argh!

* 1993 Louis Jadot Bonnes Mares-
So so, not great, not bad, but should have been better.

* 1993 Domaine Jacques-Frederic Mugnier Musigny-
Not bad, but not nearly as good as it should have been. Freddy's one of my favorite producers. Sigh.

Flight 10

* 1972 Hospices de Beaune Beaune 1er Cru Cuvée Nicolas Rolin Bouchard Père et Fils-
Served from mag, this also belied its age with a youthful vigor. Delicious if a bit simple.

* 1972 Maison Leroy Gevrey-Chambertin 1er Cru Champeaux-
Really good. Fruit was interesting and strong. Expressive in a unique way.

* 1964 Gros Frere et Sœur Clos Vougeot "Musigni"-
Ooooh, delicious, still very much alive and proof that old Burgundy rocks.

* 1969 Jaffelin Chambertin-
Blah, not much going on.


We ended the evening around midnight with some stinky cheeses and a 1970 Grahams that was quite good too. But after all that Burgundy, it was tough going to Portugal. What a day it had been, and we were looking forward to Day Two and its Grand Tasting...
Cheers!

Happy Birthday Mrs. Vinotas

The Table is Set
It's Mrs. Vinotas' birthday, so time to open a birth-year wine and cook some yummy things. Plus, it's been a great week work-wise, I managed to get two more wines (my Cotes du Rhône and my Minervois) into the biggest market in the US: New York, baby! If you can make it here, well, you know the rest...

As per the wife's request, I picked up some lamb chops from the local butcher, some tiny potatoes from the nearby farmer's market, and some spinach from, well, let's face it, I'm lazy, the nearest store.

The lamb chops are ready
The menu was pan-seared lamb chops with herbs, steamed spinach and baby potatoes roasted in duck fat with garlic, shallots and onions.


What's the best way to start any nice dinner? Champagne! To satisfy our need for bubbly, I picked up a bottle of NV Champagne Gonet Medeville Blancs de Noirs, a producer I'm not familiar with. This 100% Pinot Noir was quite nice, with peach, sour cherries, dark toast notes, and hints of licorice. The acidity was quite nice and the wine was big enough to hold its own against seared lamb chops, an impressive feat.

1973 Paul Chanson Corton Grand Cru
When I met her, I turned my wife to the Dark Side that is Burgundy, and now that's all she wants to drink. To say the least, I am thrilled. So as I cooked, I popped, or tried popping, a 1973 Domaine Paul Chanson Corton Grand Cru. The cork was stuck, and all the corkscrew kept doing was dig up cork. Frustrated, I finally had to push it into the bottle, at which point decanting was essential, unless we wanted to chew our wine. So what to do? Usually, I'd cover the opening with some cheesecloth and decant the wine. I couldn't find any cheesecloth, so I just decanted it, at which point of course my wife found the damn stuff. So I covered the top of the decanter to filter any cork bits that might try to intrude into my glass.


And how was it? Not bad, not great, it slowly breathed and opened up, and certainly seemed to develop with the lamb. Lots of sous-bois, as you can imagine (that's that lovely forest-floor aroma), with soft, dark cherries, leather, hints of iron, a soft mouthfeel, and a somewhat unbalanced frame that ended in a short, slightly sour finish. While this wasn't dead, it wasn't great. Then again, 1973 wasn't a very good year in Burgundy (or anywhere else except maybe Champagne).

Dessert was semi-homemade vanilla ice cream (what's semi-homemade? It's ice cream I bought at the store near the house but served at home) in a fresh crêpe. No dessert wines as we have an early-morning flight for a weekend of vinous depravity.

Happy Birthday Sweetie!
Cheers!