Touchy...

 Well, corpulent maybe. But I have great respect for wine critics, whatever they may weigh:
 http://fermentationwineblog.com/2012/10/copulating-corpulent-wine-critcs-coming-soon/

Music to my nose...

This from The British Journal of Psychology (Aug., 2012):

…a small number of studies indicate that auditory stimuli can influence perceptions of the freshness of foodstuffs. Consistent with this, the results reported here indicate that independent groups’ ratings of the taste of the wine reflected the emotional connotations of the background music played while they drank it. These results indicate that the symbolic function of auditory stimuli (in this case music) may influence perception in other modalities (in this case gustation); and are discussed in terms of possible future research that might investigate those aspects of music that induce such effects in a particular manner, and how such effects might be influenced by participants’ pre-existing knowledge and expertise with regard to the target object in question.

     In other words, music listened to affects one’s enjoyment of wine. But the question remains – as it often does when choosing, and that’s which wine? Cabernet for Eddie Vedder, pinto noir for Phillip Glass? Or does one pick up components – black fruit, cigar box – more readily in the presence of certain music?

The flying cigar lands again...

Randall Grahm of Bonny Doon is still doing interesting and useful things much of the wine world would rather not. Read:
http://www.nytimes.com/2012/10/10/dining/bonny-doon-vineyards-labeling-policy-draws-little-attention.html?hpw

The novel

    This is the cover of my new novel (some slight variations possible), due out from Thomas Dunne Books (St. Martin's Press) early in the new year. No, it has nothing to do with this blog, but then there is a blog within the novel. Worlds within worlds.
   

    Excerpts to follow, so stay tuned.

The Joys of a Small Cellar

    Collecting wine can be dangerous to your health. I’m not talking livers here, but minds. I know of a doctor who began collecting wine as a hobby, and ended up with an obsession. He rented space in temperature-controlled rooms all over town for his considerable cellar of fine bordeaux, burgundies and ports. He owns more wine than he can ever drink. A lot of what he buys nowadays won’t even mature in his lifetime, yet he can’t stop.

    The big collectors are different from you and me. Consider the case of a man who stored his extensive wine cellar with friends in an exclusive section of a large American city. The friends had three teen-age children who, with their buddies, got into the habit of dipping into the cellar on

unsupervised weekends and popping corks. Being orderly, they re-corked the empty bottles and put them back in the crates. This ritual got them through high school in some fashion – I don’t know about their grades, but their palates should be awesome – and only later did the owner discover that about $50,000 worth of less-than-well-aged wine had gone down somebody’s gullet.

    Here’s the big difference between that, and losing a bottle of cooking sherry to a thirsty guest. In between lies the need for a reasonable assemblage of wine reasonably monitored. The joys of a small cellar are many, and usually subtle. They have more to do with convenience than value, more with generosity than ostentation. With a small cellar, you can produce something special to drink when a friend arrives. You can enjoy wine regularly without having to cart it home every night. You can purchase wine by the case, and thereby take advantage of bargains. As a student of wine, you can have a modest library.

    A small cellar is a relative thing. Two cases of wine are too few, 20 are too many. My definition of a small cellar is one whose contents you can recall, however hazily. You know you have a few cases of bordeaux, and – roughly - which vintages. There's some less expensive cabernet from Chile for immediate drinking, and that mixed case of reduced California chardonnay. Also some pinot grigio in big bottles for parties, and a white Graves for oysters, should they materialize. Only one bottle of port, and some sparklers. You can correct deficiencies as soon as the sales begin.

    A small cellar should, however, contain some surprises. You should occasionally come upon something you forgot was there, a sensation similar to that produced by finding money on the pavement. You originally paid for the wine, but that pain belongs to the past. Or the bottle may have been brought by a friend and put away until the proper time to drink it.

    Gifts are another advantage of keeping a small cellar. How many times have you wished, going out the door to dinner, that you had a bottle of something decent to take along? Having some, wine on hand solves that problem, and offers larger possibilities as well. When my son’s 21st birthday loomed, as everyone’s must, I wanted to give him something memorable, but also usable. He, naturally, wanted cash. In the cellar I had a case of '81 Lynch-Bages, a cru classé from Pauillac. I made copies of descriptions of the chateau and vintage for him, figuring the wine would be ready to drink about the

time his preference for beer ameliorated.

    Small cellars must meet certain standards if the wine is to last even a short time. First, there must be an absence of light, which can ruin wine faster than you realize. If absolute darkness isn't possible, then a shadowy nook is far better than shelves exposed even to a light bulb a portion of each day. Store wine bottles on their sides, to keep the corks moist and therefore airtight. Try to store them away from washing machines and other sources of vibration, which over the long run will terminally discombobulate your wine.

    Temperature is very important – both the degrees, and daily fluctuation. Summer heat can spoil wine left in basements that people assume are cool enough. If the temperature in your basement exceeds '70 degrees, you need an air conditioner, period. Furnaces can produce more heat than

wine and corks can stand, so bottles should  stored far from them, and clothes driers. Whatever the season, the temperature shouldn’t fall below the mid-’50s, and shouldn’t change more than five degrees in a day. Not everyone has a basement.

    In apartments, the cellar requires more imagination. Wine storage units that resemble refrigerators can be had, but most people improvise with closets. Granted, closets are often dark, but they are also often hot and stuffy. If you use one, try to cut off any source of heat to it in winter, and leave the door open to air-conditioning in summer. A little light is less harmful than an August on the Potomac.
    I   know an ardent enophile who lives in a two-bedroom apartment. One bedroom is for him, the other for his wine. There the shades are always drawn; in the winter, the wine is stacked against the outside wall. In summer, he moves it across the room and cranks up the central air-conditioning. 

    There are stranger wine cellars. Some people even keep them on sailboats. I knew one wine writer who maintained a small cellar in the trunk of a car. It didn’t do much for the wine, but it did wonders for her sense of well-being.


soild post, sir! like everything, there is so much bs due to information innundation. thank you for not only cutting though the bs, but adding great color.  PW

Demand an animal in your glass

     …Wine has an animal life. Wine suffers a heaving birth. It has a rough, groping childhood. It develops into adolescence. Then, if it does not sicken, it matures; and in this it is almost human since it does not mature according to a fixed rule but according to the law of its particular and individual personality. The act that gives it personality is the act of fermentation. In this metamorphosis it is changed from fruit into animal; sometimes even into an animal of splendor.

                            William Younger

                            Gods, Men and Wine

Bottle stock: Louis Martini

Fanciers of red wine have a broader choice today than at any time in history, and a better chance of pulling the cork on a well-made, unadulterated product. The problems associated with drinking good red wine, however, are persistent and related: most reds get drunk too young because neither individuals nor restaurants want to cellar wine. Consequently, reds with any age on them are usually too expensive for everyday drinking, and they can engender apoplexy when encountered on a typically pumped-up restaurant wine list.

Wineries could ameliorate these problems by holding back their best reds for a couple of extra years before releasing them, so they would be closer to optimum development. But storing wine is expensive for them, and for wineries, too. Most need to sell all available stock as soon as possible to stay solvent, but there are notable exceptions.

One used to be the Louis M. Martini Winery in Napa Valley, owned today by the Gallo family but named for an Italian immigrant from Genoa who went from selling fish in San Francisco's North Beach in the early 20^th century to making and marketing some of the post-Prohibition wine that put the Napa Valley on the map. Martini was what used to be known in the valley as an "old-time Italian," meaning opinionated and highly volatile, but his vision of the future of California wine was crystal clear.

He invested in vineyards in the Carneros region of southern Napa, later acclaimed for pinot noir and chardonnay, and also bought 600 acres on the westward-facing slopes just over the Mayacamas range, in Sonoma County, one of the most spectacular vineyard sites. It’s still known as Monte Rosso (roughly, High Red) and produces considerable quantities of fine cabernet sauvignon and zinfandel.

The land - like the Martini winery - stayed in the family for more than half a century before being to sold to Ernest and Julio. The Martinis didn’t have mortgage payments to make, and presumably the Gallos don’t either, but the wine’s more competitively priced than most from fledgling boutiques that have high overhead, or conglomerates with investors to satisfy. That means they can afford to hold some wines back so that people can drink them when the wines are ready.

A case in point might be the current Monte Rosso, not yet imminently drinkable but with distinct varietal character and soft, lustrous appeal. Unfortunately it costs $145 a bottle, by no means outrageous by the standards of high-end cabs, but beyond the concept of “bargain.” The best Martini value these days is their cabernet made from Alexander Valley fruit, far from High Red but at 35 bucks still barely within the realm of a possible deal.

Hands Across the Sea: JCB No.3

     You’re probably thinking four hours is too long for lunch. But there was a lot to do: drink some elegant Raymond Vineyards 2011 reserve chardonnay more akin to good Chablis than an over-oaked Californian, assess three powerful, vineyard select ’08 Raymond cabernet sauvignons from haut Napa Valley appellations - Oakville, Rutherford, and St. Helena – and a graceful blend called Generations, and encounter for the first time a bright, complex blend of French and American pinot noir – that’s right - called simply JCB No. 3.

I can say with confidence that you haven’t tasted the last wine. Also that you should. But first a little ambiance: Raymond Vineyards’ vernal garden setting on the edge of the Rutherford appellation, white Louis Quatorze-ish chairs made of soft, weather-defying synthetics, and a table at which sit the versatile woman responsible for making most of these wines, Stephanie Putnam, and four men – five if you count chef, up and down – including the owner of it all, Jean-Charles Boisset, scion of Burgundy’s third-largest wine producing family and a catalytic force there, in Napa, and abroad.

But first the sustenance: thin slices of heirloom tomato in pungent olive oil, and an all-American medley of succulent protein including bison, and alligator. The latter’s a tribute to the memory of Agoston Haraszthy, the early Hungarian disciple of California wine and so-called Count of Buena Vista who built that Sonoma winery in 1857 and was later - supposedly - devoured by a crocodile in Nicaragua.

Jean-Charles now owns DeLoach and Lyeth, as well as Buena Vista, an iconic property in the throes of renovation. (As we lunch those grounds are being prepared for a production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream in a week, and the pavement’s yet to be laid.) At Raymond Jean-Charles has ushered in changes transcending even the valley’s complicated vision of itself (see The Red Room, 3/23/12). When he says, “I’m bullish on wine,” it’s not the usual hype, but a real – meaning monied – effort for cooperation among counties, countries, and traditions.

Cooperation hasn’t had this much visibility since Robert Mondavi greased the wheels for Opus One with the Baron de Rothschild. The difference today is that Jean-Charles pushes all the envelopes – including the notion of sacrosanct regional integrity. No. 3 is another keyhole onto the new global vineyard, an intercontinental blend of pinot noir – 60 percent from Nuits St. Georges in the Cote de Nuits, and 40 percent from vineyards in the Russian River valley.

The French component was loaded - yes, in barrel – onto a jetliner and flown here for a high-end cuvee without precedent. The wine’s dedicated to twins born to Jean-Charles and his wife, Gina, of the Gallo clan, but the name refers to the ultimate wisdom of blending: “The whole is stronger than its parts.” The wine’s very good, the concept daring, and the reality the best answer yet to the faulty political assertion that French and American cultures aren’t intertwined. (Remember the idiotic “freedom fries”?)

So, go Jean-Charles. Who knows, cabernet might soon be winging into Rutherford from Bordeaux.

Bottle Stock: Smith-Madrone

This crepuscular photo is actually of a bright, lightly oaked 2010 chardonnay from Smith-Madrone, the current release from a now old-line winery up on Spring Mountain in Napa Valley. The name’s charmingly half man, half tree, appropriate since Stu Smith, the founder, is a heavily-bearded, broad-shouldered hold-over from the Sixties, more Doug fir than madrone, though, and as outspoken and unpredictable as ever. I’ve known Stu for many of those years, and written about him, and although we rarely agree politically I respect his integrity and rare refusal to get caught up in the flashier aspects of the high-end wine business. His refusal to sell out – both to trendiness in wine-making, and to big money – redounds to the benefit of all who value self-reliant rural culture, continuity in landscape, and classic wine-making. Smith-Madrone just keeps on trucking: excellent, well-made, relatively inexpensive wines with commendably low alcohol by modern standards. This chardonnay, and the excellent, classically-made 2009 cabernet sauvignon, are both just over 14 percent, and relative bargains in the ever-active NV sweepstakes.

Wine writing: blogs with legs

Whatever happened to legs? They never lose popularity in the flesh, continually evolving in women's fashion magazines, but they haven’t been seen in wine criticism for a generation, even in the pages of what are the vinous equivalents of W.

Once upon a time you could look around a restaurant and see someone holding a wine glass up to the light, appraising the little rivulets running down the inside after the wine had been swirled. Good legs were sturdy droplets that made their way slowly. But this became a sign of cluelessness, replaced by instant apprehension of fruit on nose and palate, a sign of what I think of as compote explosion syndrome: Bordeauxs moved from cherries and cigar boxes to more exotic descriptors, chardonnay filled up on the page with figurative peaches and pears, pinot noir with strawberries and even kiwi.

The fruitiness of the enterprise of wine evaluation lent itself beautifully to the numbers game and the famous and now increasingly dubious 100-point system. If a rating between 90 and 100 meant "outstanding, a wine of superior character," and a 80 to 89 meant "very good, a wine with special qualities," and a 70 to 79 "good, a fine example of its type, may have minor flaws," and a 60 to 69 "average, drinkable wine of acceptable quality," anything below that – presumably two-thirds of the world’s wines – not worth swirling or drinking.

But how can a wine be truly assigned an absolute numerical equivalent? It can’t, and in trying to finesse that basic fact other subjective and often syntactically silly descriptors are added, like masculine and feminine, big-shouldered, febrile, and plush (an overly soft throw-pillow?). And how can anyone justify relegating that terrain south of 60 a wasteland? Many such table wines are not "flawed" but merely simple, pleasant, and merriment- but not necessarily hangover-inducing.

The fact is that a wine ranking is highly subjective, sometimes specious, and often used for little more than promotion. It’s one thing to rate a wine according to a regimen - assigning points for color, clarity, bouquet, body and finish - and another entirely to swirl, sniff, taste, and then to toss off a digital bouquet without telling us what the numbers are based on.

Wines are often much closer in quality than the ratings make them appear. But numbers sell wine - and occasionally wine publications. A woman told me she gave a party and served only wines that ranked 95 or higher in either The Wine Advocate or The Wine Spectator. “It was a wonderful party," she added, but couldn’t remember the names of the wines or what they tasted like.

Clearly numbers drinking contributes to snobbery and ignorance, and it creates a false sense of contention. Wine producers may be in competition, but wine is not, gets along very well with itself and with people who trust their perceptions and don't insist upon a rating by Moody's (another discredited entity in our on-going disillusionment with most things financial) for everything that crosses their palates.

Legs, fruit compote, and numbers were all trends of wine analysis, as was the now-hoary tradition of wine writing with attitude. That once meant flowery prose, mostly from Brits. Nowadays it often means spirited – as in lively and opinionated – writing from wine bloggers, an independent and inherently anti-establishment troupe that has re-invigorated wine criticism and wine musing and is the latest development in the universe of wine appreciation.

There are hundreds if not thousands of these men and women, a welcome phenomenon in the ever-changing relationship between human beings and what they drink. And wine bloggers are gathering for their annual convention in August, this year in Portland, Oregon. I’m looking forward to joining them.

Okay, how about this one?

Very cool and eye-catching, even better if that watercolor was crafted with wine. Jim Caudill


You trying to look like James Joyce or what? Anon.

Hey, I just hopped over to your site via Stumbleupon. Not something I would normally read, but I liked your thoughts none the less. Thanks for making something worth reading.

Eats: French Blue in St. Helena, Napa Valley

Attractive décor and lots of locals (including Carl Doumani, owner of Quixote, one of the most pleasingly provocative wineries in NV, designed by the late Friedensreich Regentag Dunkelbunt Hunderwtasser, lunching inside with a friend). Outside can be noisy due to the trucks on Highway 29, but the place is popular: a former reporter from the St. Helena Star, a couple of winemakers, etc., all under big umbrellas. My companion found her shrimp and corn bisque with lime chili cream tasty if a bit thin, and the mouse-like shrimp presentation new and interesting. My grilled California sea bass with heirloom summer beans and cherry tomato jam was delicious if a tad over-done, my 2010 Bonny Doone white Le Cigare Volant (an Arroyo Seco Rhone listed under “Exotic Whites”) perfect. I would have shot the whole thing with my iphone but the NV matron at the next table said she deplored such behavior.

So what do you think?

      Here's one of the covers proposed for my new novel. (The generous quote from Tracy Kidder is slightly off, since the novel's not about Napa Valley, but there are certainly similarities with many valleys in California where great wine is made.) There will be other covers suggested, and I'm interested in readers' reactions.

   The cover invokes "suspense." A bit sensual too. Paul Worsterberg 
   This is provocative but if it contains some humor, which I suspect it does, black might not be the best color for a cover. Bill Fontaine

... and more Italian

Thanks for sharing! I would love to try all these amazing wines!
                                                         Jasmine

A reader's favorite Italian

You didn't discuss my Italian white wine grape of choice, vermentino. Grown up and down the Ligurian coast, and in Sardininia and elsewhere. What could be better after a hike in Cinque Terre than a bowl of pasta with pesto and a cold bottle of vermentino wine! Does the Nose know this grape variety? JT

Some Italian maybes

    Confusion could be best exemplified by an American wine drinker (including me) looking at a shelf of Italian whites. The awesome variety of grapes, regions and vineyards in Italy induces stunned myopia; often the only focus is price. In fact, the price of Italian white wine is usually right.

    For years Americans too sophisticated for Lambrusco and too thrifty even for Macon-Villages depended on inexpensive Italian whites to float hot-weather brunches and dinner parties. Some thought Italy produced only two wines: Bolla and I Folonari. The former came in a skinny green bottle, tasted good, and didn’t cost much. The latter came in a bigger bottle, was a bit rough on the palate, and cost less. Bolla and Folonari are, of course, producers, not grapes.

    The popular soave is made near its eponymous town in the foothills of the Alps. Traditionally dry, undemanding and perfectly respectable, it’s made from the garganega and trebbiano grapes, with maybe a little riesling in the blend. Pale in color, refreshing when the weather’s otherwise, soave has fallen to increased sophistication among wine drinkers, but there are still some very nice ones around that are exceptional cheap.

    Another Italian white that Americans used to drink in great quantities is frascati, much of which tasted like improved ice water and was really cheap. Frascati, a town in the Alban Hills outside Rome, was an important producer of the Castelli Romani's traditional table wines, but frascati doesn’t travel well. Made primarily from the malvasia grape, it tends to oxidize, and for years was mostly consumed by Romans who mixed it with other beverages -including water and Coca-Cola.

   Better wine-making practices dramatically improved frascati, as they did so many other Italian wines. The trebbiano grape is a strong presence in many an Italian bargain. A good value today among everyday Italian whites is still Bianco di Pitigliano, a dry, lively wine made from trebbiano and a number of other grapes of Tuscany. Also from Tuscany comes vernaccia, a grape as old as Italian wine-making and still one of the most reasonably priced.

Vernaccia di San Gimignano, named for the walled city, is excellent summer fare - light, with a slightly bitter edge. It goes well with fish, and makes a good aperitivo on a hot night.

   What has become the Italian standby, pinot grigio, is fruity and also lends itself to summer drinking. In its more substantial versions pinot grigio is a fine accompaniment for distinctly flavored dishes. But for the more ambitious I recommend the whites made in the vicinity of Collio, in the northeast corner of Italy. Although they cost more than the wines already mentioned, they offer more complexity. Tocai friulano (no relation to either Hungarian tokay) is the favored white of Collio, fragrant but dry, with good acidity.

... and concluded (back to the bottle)