The Running of the Winos

 

Recently, I found myself in Pamplona, in the Spanish Basque country, for the Alimenta 2009 exhibit. Of course, Pamplona is better known for the running of the bulls, but we were here for the running of the winos, charging thirstily from table to table to taste and discover what the Navarran countryside had to offer. Like the bulls, I was on a single-minded mission: to find new, interesting wineries using traditional techniques and grapes.

This area has been making wine for centuries, but most of it has been rustic and rough or easy-going and uninteresting. There also does seem to be a significant French influence, as there was in Empordà: the wines were generally higher in acid than those of the more Southern Spanish areas like La Mancha, but this could also be a function of the climate and terroir.

In any case, I did find this tasting somewhat difficult. There were a ton of wineries with over-ripe international varieties (Chardonnay, Cab Sauvignon, Merlot) when they should have been promoting and using their traditional grapes like Viura, Tempranillo, Garnatxa and Monastrell. And let's not talk about the use (or rather, abuse!) of oak...

However, I had a chance to visit the town of Pamplona, so please enjoy these pictures. It's a small but colorful town as you'll see, and we did an organized tour following the path the bulls take (800 meters in 3 minutes, no human can run that fast so the best you can hope for is 8-10 seconds in front of 3 tons of charging, angry meat, then hop the wall).

 

There were enticing tapas bars...

 

Colorful friezes...

 

Cute buildings filled the city around every corner

 

Spanish-style cathedrals (well duh, we were in Spain, right?).

 

Really? Is this place even necessary?

 

City Hall and the square where the St Fermin festival (the running of the bulls) is inaugurated every year.

 

 

The main square of Pamplona, with the hotel where Hemingway spent many nights drinking.

 

Lots of Basque influence too, obviously, as we're right by San Sebastian and the Basque Country.

 

Really tiny buildings too.

 

Oooh, Jamon Iberico!

 

This is the source of the water that Saint Saturnin used to baptize the earliest Christians.

 

The entry to the bullring, seen from the point-of-view of a charging bull. Or wino.

 

A statue dedicated to the brave (Foolish? Drunken?) souls who run during the Feria.

 

In a fit of thorough self-mockery, the artist included himself in his work. He's the guy who fell!

 

Our last dinner, complete with a professional carver and Pata Negra.

All in all I learned a bit about the wines of the region, though they, like most of Spain, have been thoroughly influenced by powerful critics. Many of the wineries have forsaken their roots and are making wines that could be from anywhere. That said, I did find some interesting stuff that was honest and true to its roots, so hopefully I'll be able to work with them.
Cheers!

Girona Flower Festival

 

While in Empordà, we had a chance to visit the famous Flower Festival in Girona. This event, 40 years old now, invites citizens of this lovely ancient city to decorate their homes and streets in flowers and artwork. In addition, people open their houses to the street so strangers can file in and enjoy the work.

 

Even the river gets into the action, with a 3 meter-wide floating flower.

 

In the museums, flowers are appropriately framed.

 

 

In the ancient Muslim bathhouse, we discovered a veritable cornucopia of beauty.

 

 

On the roof, virtual rabbits played in a virtual carrot garden, to everyone's delight, especially theirs.

 

 

 

Here, proof that both the citizens and their mannequins threw themselves into the project.

 

 

 

 

Surveying it all, a modern gargoyle and an ancient one shared the view.

 

 

We were even interviewed by the local news crew, wondering what a large group of Americans with black teeth were doing hanging out drinking beer.

 

Art and beauty in the city were not ephemeral like the flowers, here a metal door beckons hungry travelers.

 

Open doorways invited people to peek inside, though everything was carefully protected by bars.

 

The modern artwork was juxtaposed nicely with the ancient, more permanent one.

 

 

 

 

 

Ever appreciative of beauty, even the French had given something to the city: this bridge, designed and built by the Eiffel company, you know, the folks who brought you that little tower in Paris.

 

It looked like a Spanish, one-river version of Venice, with narrow, brightly-colored buildings, all neat and proper on one side, all festooned in garlands of flowers on the other.

 

 

We ended our day at Mimolet, where we enjoyed a fantastic meal of local foods, finishing up well past midnight. The next day we would all head back out into the world, with fond and flowery memories of our time in Empordà.
Cheers!

Random Bad Translation Pic of the Day

This is what happens when someone doesn't even use the Internet for translation (I mean, Google Translation HAS to be better, right?) For the record, even though I was in a duck mood, the thought of "Thigh of Hopeful Duck" was a little sad, so I opted for the "Mask of Pork" (pork cheeks).


I was a little worried about the "scum", but it turned out to be creme Chantilly. No harm, no foul, no scum. Still, I went for the apples braised in Catalan cream (a bit cinnamonny but good).
Cheers!

Empordà, Spain

Where?

Yeah, I said the same when I heard I was going there. It’s in the northeast sector of Spain, just south of the French border (heck, I could walk there from where we were). Even though I (and most people I spoke with) had never heard of it, it’s also Spain’s oldest wine-growing region. The Romans came here 2,000 years ago, planted vines, and never looked back.

Looking at the Pyrenees towards France
Today, it’s a fascinating area of rolling foothills and winding roads. The northerly Tramontana wind blows constantly, and like the Mistral in France, has a tendency to drive people mad. Also like the lands just north of the border, there is a large amount of slate in the ground, giving a nice mineral note to the wines while making the vines really work for their fruit. The area achieved DO (Denominacion de Origen, say it with the “th” sound replacing the “c”, so it’s pronounced Denominatheeon; go ahead, I’ll wait) status in 2006, and after this trip, it’s easy to see why.

First, a disclaimer: I am usually not a big fan of many (not all, so don’t get all up in my visage about this) Spanish wines. I find them over-ripe, over-oaked, low-acid, and basically over-done. And the prices for some of these ooze monsters aren’t exactly easy on the wallet. Heck, some of the cheapest Spanish wines I’ve tasted have been the best because they weren’t whacked with tons of oak and extracted to high Heaven (or Hell).

So while I kept an open mind about this trip, I was a bit skeptical.


However, after three days of tasting and visiting wineries in the (quite beautiful) region, I am convinced there are well-made wines to be found in this area. In general, the wines expressed a sense of terroir that I sometimes find lacking in other Iberian wines. They all had a relatively high amount of acidity, and while some were over-oaked, most were balanced. Most of the wines exhibited a lean earthy minerality in their mid-palate that I found refreshing, and a nice amount of acidity to balance the big fruit they get there. The main sticking point for me was, for the most part, price.

I found familiar and not-so familiar grape names on the bottles: Chardonnay, Sauvignon Blanc, Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, Tempranillo, Torrontes, Macabeo, Samsò (orginally, I thought this was Cinsault, as the two are pronounced exactly alike, which led to a somewhat Abbott and Costello-ish routine with one winemaker until we cleared things up. Oh, what is it? Carignan, as they can't call it that here as a DO in Spain is named Cariñan and the authorities don't want any confusion...). However, some grape names were in Catalàn, a dialect that when spoken sounds half-Spanish, half-French, all said with a Portuguese accent. Interesting, to say the least.

So as I said, I found some interesting things that I'll follow-up with in the coming days. We'll see...
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!

The Muscadet has Arrived!

Well, just in time for Spring's warmer weather and amid all the bad news about the economy and the world, some good news, at least for me and for lovers of well-priced, well-made Muscadet. Jean-Pascal Aubron's 2007 Muscadet de Sevre et Maine sur Lie Grand Fief de l'Audigere has finally arrived in New York. The wine distributor T Edward Wines has picked it up and is now distributing it throughout the Tri-State region.

And, better yet, the reaction at a pre-arrival tasting was so good that T Edward actually reordered it before it had even landed on US shores!


So, if you're curious as to what it tastes like, look for this label, and feel free to let me know what you think. You can also find more info about it HERE.

And, not to tease, but some Big News coming soon...
Cheers!

Judging vs Tasting

This past weekend I was invited to be a judge at the Concours des Vignerons Independants, the Independant Winemakers' Competition, in Paris. As you can imagine, I was very honored. But then again, I'll take any excuse to go to Paris. Even for just 4 days.

Some of the most distinctive wines are being made by these small, often family-run wineries. Most of them are really representative of their terroirs and true to the art of wine making. But, there is still an unacceptable amount of crap being produced, and this weekend I saw the good, the bad and the (really) ugly.

I also got to thinking about the difference between judging a wine and tasting a wine. While it may not seem like there are any, I found there were some subtle differences in the way I looked at the glasses before me.

 

The format was blind tasting, with two tastings in the morning and two in the afternoon. We were told what regions we'd be examining (in my case, 2007 Chablis 1er Cru followed by 2007-08 Brouilly/Chiroubles, then 2007-08 Saumur whites and 2006-07 Anjou reds on Day 1, then on Day 2 2007 Cotes du Rhones all morning followed by 2007 Petit Chablis and 2007-08 Beaujolais Village/Brouilly in the afternoon) but the bottles were hidden in sleeves. We had to give our impressions of the color, the nose and the taste of the wine, with a final comment and grade (based on 20, using the French system and not the 100 point ratings preferred in the US). Lastly, we had a maximum number of wines that we could recommend for a medal (gold, silver or bronze to be determined at a later competition).

 

Everyone there was in the wine business in France, whether as active members of professional tasting clubs (of which there are surprisingly many, and which are amazingly well-organized, in contrast to those I frequent in NY) or as members of the wine trade (making, distributing or selling it). And I was happy to see that my palate was quite similar to my table-mates (in general), though there were some times where we had divergent views, as would be expected. It was at this point that I began to see the differences inherent in a judging as opposed to a tasting.

 

A judging, as the name implies, looks for the qualities in a wine. But drinking wine is, after all, a subjective experience. What I might consider a "good" wine might be considered "bad" by someone else. So it's not as easy as it sounds. I had to fall back onto my own personal standards of what makes a good wine, which I enumerated a long time ago here. Luckily, most of the other judges tended to agree with my scoring, though they did think that I was a harsher grader than they were (if a wine was undrinkable, it got a 0/20, no matter how great it looked).

 

I found myself doing the same things I'd do at a tasting, but it was all very scientific and cold and less, dare I say, soulful. At a tasting, I'm judging the wine, yes, but I'm also looking for those qualities of wine which make it enjoyable, pleasurable, as well. At a tasting, I can go back to a wine and watch it evolve, but at a judging, it's one after another and God forbid if the wine needs more time to breathe. In fact, there were times when we'd go back to a wine only to find it had changed dramatically, for better or for worse. At a judging, time is a factor, but usually tastings are during dinners so the only constraint is how much liquid remains in the bottle. In addition, I'm comparing the intrinsic value of each wine to see which is "better" and more deserving of both a better grade and a possible recommendation for a medal. So, there are some mental gymnastics going on as well, not something I'm very good at, admittedly.

See, I told you this wasn't as easy as it sounded.

And the results, you ask? Well, the 2007 Chablis 1er Crus were delicious if young, as you'd imagine, and the 2007 Cotes du Rhone were just glorious. The Brouilly and Chiroubles were OK, the Petit Chablis nice but lived up to their names (Little Chablis), the less said about the Anjou reds the better, the Saumurs were quite nice if young (tons of acidity in the 2008s), and the Beaujolais Villages/Brouilly were awful, awful, awful. I don't know who the producers of any of these were, but the medals will be handed out in Colmar, Alsace, at the end of the month. Perhaps one of the wines I recommended will be there, who knows?

In any case, it was an interesting weekend, I met many wine people, ate some great meals, drank some lovely wines, and enjoyed Paris as it's meant to be enjoyed.
Cheers!