Organic wine & food matching: Neal Cabernet Sauvignon & braised lamb with mint gremolata

“When I told my dad we were going to take the company organic,” says Mark Neal, “he drove over to Sonoma and came back with a tray of rotten apples and peaches and said, ‘this is how our grapes will look when you grow organic.’”

Not to be dissuaded, Mark initiated the transition of vineyards owned or managed by Jack Neal & Son – established in 1968, and at nearly 1,900 acres, the largest single vineyard management company in Napa Valley – from conventional to organic grape growing in 1984. Jack Neal passed away in 1994, but not before seeing most of their vineyards accredited by California Certified Organic Farmers (i.e. CCOF) by 1991.

Today, with over 1,800 acres of vineyards fully certified, Jack Neal & Son is by far the largest grower of organic wine grapes in Napa Valley. About 1% of these grapes go into wines bottled under the family’s own label, Neal Family Vineyards (the winery established on Howell Mountain in 2001). Otherwise, the Neals work vineyards for no less than 60 growers, supplying grapes to some 72 wineries.

The sheer size of the Neals’ operation begs the questions: can any vineyard in Napa Valley be farmed organically; and if so, why not? AppellationAmerican.com currently puts the total acreage of grapes planted in the Napa Valley AVA at 43,000; just over 7% of which now has some sort of organic or Biodynamic® certification. “I honestly don’t know exactly why more growers in Napa Valley aren’t organic,” says Neal. It can’t be the cost, because when Mark Neal tracked eight of his vineyards transitioning from conventional to organic farming between 2005 and 2008, he found that “in seven of the eight ranches, the costs of organic farming were lower than conventional farming by an average of $6,000… the ‘high cost’ of organic farming is a myth.”

Like others, Mark Neal was motivated early on simply because “I found the idea of synthetic, possibly harmful residue on grapes and vines unsavory… it’s always been a health concern for my family and for our employees. But really, organic is also simply better for the environment, and I don’t think that on the whole there is any argument over the fact that organic practices tend to enhance the inherent and distinctive aspect of vineyards.”

“Like organic foods,” says Neal, “organically grown wines simply taste better, which is why French organic wines, for example, show up consistently among the top ten best wines in any region, being cited in magazines as the most innovative, interesting and personalized products around.”

The Neals produce elegantly scaled Sauvignon Blanc, Zinfandel, and Petite Sirah, but their true forté is Cabernet Sauvignon, which are world class across the board. Among their stable of seven Cabernet Sauvignons are two each carrying Howell Mountain and Napa Valley AVAs, and one each from Rutherford, Mount Veeder, and Atlas Peak. Our Organic Wine Match of the Day, the 2005 Neal Family, Napa Valley Cabernet Sauvignon (about $45), is a modern day 100% varietal classic: a seamless, velvet textured blend of Howell Mountain, Rutherford, Atlas Peak and Mount Veeder grown fruit. The feel of the wine is thick and viscous, with layerings of sweet black fruit, cedar and peppermint, tinged with smoky, pungent, mocha espresso-like qualities.

There are few things that go as naturally with a smooth Napa Valley style Cabernet Sauvignon like the Neals’ as lamb and mint; since both gamey and green-leafy sensations mingle effortlessly with eucalyptus qualities inherent in the grape. Lamb is expensive, but a great resource for recipes utilizing lower priced cuts of meat is Molly Stevens’ All About Braising. Since you need to buy the book to reap Stevens’ wisdom, for now you might make do with this online recipe for braised lamb shanks with mint gremolata and spring vegetables provided by Bon Appétit. Enjoy!

My best from 2009's Hospice du Rhône

This past spring I attended two massive tasting events: the Hospice du Rhône (May 1-2) in Paso Robles, and World of Pinot Noir (March 6-7) in Shell Beach.

As much for myself as for your possible interest, here are some of the highlights from the Hospice du Rhône – all exceptional wines, worthy of a place in any wine list or cellar – out of about 100 wines tasted, listed in order of my personal favorites:

HOSPICE DU RHÔNE - REDS

2005 Alban Vineyards, Reva Syrah (Alban Estate, Edna Valley)
Holy cow, can Syrah can any more intense, sleek and balanced as this? Black-purplish ruby, followed by nose of smoked bacon and oak, and sweetly scented, concentrated, violet and framboise/berry aromas. Thick, full, unctuous impact; the luscious flavors unfolding in textured layers across the palate.

2007 Paul Lato, Il Padrino Syrah (Bien Nacido Vineyard, Santa Maria Valley)
(Proprietor/winemaker Paul Lato pictured below). Stunningly intense nose of sweet berries, violets, brown (cinnamon), black (peppercorn), and exotic (ginger) spices; the spiced fruit of immense concentration on the palate; big body and tannin smoothed over by silken, sweet sensations.

2007 Baker Lane, Sonoma Coast Estate Vineyard Syrah
Shiny new star producer; the wines made by Steven Canter (who also works full-time for Quivira), and this wine co-fermented with 5% Viognier. Nose is violet/floral scented, with backdrop of smoked meats and crushed berries; juicy, round, thick and full-bodied on the palate; the crushed berry flavors mingling with dark roasted coffee and charred oak underpinnings.

2006 Stolpman Vineyards, Estate Syrah (Santa Ynez Valley)
Ultra-rich, bright and perfumed sweet berry nose tinged by vivid, exotic spices (dried herbs, black and red pepper); super-full, dense, muscular feel, encasing fleshy fruit with finely smoothed textures.

2005 Beckmen Vineyards, Purisima (Santa Ynez Valley)
Beckmen's top-of-the-line Purisima (60% Grenache/40% Syrah) is produced only once every two or three years, when vintage conditions are optimal; and you can see why the ’05 made the cut: it’s massive – a burly yet round, sleek, fleshy concentration of red berries and pomegranate, spiked with smoke and peppercorn. Despite a monumental structure of meat and tannin, the dominant note in the middle and finish is as sweet and fresh as black chocolate covered strawberries… consumed with supple, black leather gloves.

2006 Skylark, Rodgers Creek Vineyard Syrah (Sonoma Coast)
By the sommelier/winemaker team of John Lancaster and Robert Perkins (both still active at Boulevard in San Francisco). Black/purplish ruby; sweetly intense perfumes of crushed berries, dark roasted coffee, cracked pepper and pine needles. Big, thick, plush qualities of the same on the palate; an aggressive, let-it-all-hang-out approach to Syrah.

2007 Paul Lato, Cinematique Syrah (Larner Vineyard, Santa Ynez Valley)
Compared to Lato’s Il Padrino, even more fragrant (violet, lavender and musk spices) and earthy (rosemary/raw meat) in the nose, specked with blackpepper; rounder, more finely finished, silken mouth-feel, with moderate tannin running beneath the sweet/spicy flavors.

2006 Beckmen Vineyards, Purisima Mountain Vineyard Syrah (Santa Ynez Valley)
Ripe, sweet blackberry nose with raw cacao complexity and sprigs of herby mint; thick, dense, full body, buttressed by muscular tannin overlain with the sweet, chocolaty fruit sensations.

2005 Torbreck, Run Rig Shiraz-Viognier (Barossa Valley, South Australia
Thick, balsamic notes of VA only seem to intensify the big, ripe, sweetly concentrated black fruit nose, filled out with dried Provençal herbs; dense, muscular tannins buoy the sweet, concentrated sensations, finishing with a sense of fatted flesh.

2007 Mollydooker, The Boxer Shiraz (McLaren Vale, South Australia)
Dense purple; exuberantly fruit-forward black fruit aromas tinged with smoky oak and mint; thick, layered, round feel, the luscious fruit qualities completely engulfing medium tannins and sweet oak.

2006 Justin Vineyards, Paso Robles Savant
59% Syrah/41% Cabernet Sauvignon. Multi-faceted nose of sweet herbs (rosemary and pine needles), violets, hard spices (clove and star anise), and roasted meats; velvety entry leading to big, round, fleshy body, filled with the sweetly spiced flavors.

HOSPICE DU RHÔNE - WHITES

2007 Domaine François Villard, Deponcins Condrieu (Rhône Valley, France)
As pretty as it gets for white Rhône; nose bursting with apricot and wildflowers; fine, silken entry into medium-full, finesseful body barely containing the drippy, mouth-watering, juicy apricot flavors.

2007 E. Guigal, Condrieu La Doriane (Rhône Valley, France)
Fragrant, super-fresh, juicy peach nose with white pepper and lychee-like spices; full, lush, silky textured feel, the fruit flavors lingering sweetly in round, glycerol textured layers.

2007 Alban Vineyards, Alban Estate Vineyard Viognier (Edna Valley)
Intensely fragrant, flowery nose studded with white pepper spice, honeysuckle, fresh citrus and orange peel; big and fleshy feel, yet the spiced, floral flavors lively enough to dance across the palate.

More great Pinots than you can shake a stick at (World of Pinot Noir 2009)

There are now more great Pinot Noirs being made than you can shake a stick at.

Pinot lovers these days feel like kids in a candy shop at venues like World of Pinot Noir. So as much for myself as for your possible interest, here are some of the highlights from that weekend in Shell Beach – all exceptional wines, worthy of a place in any wine list or cellar – out of some 150 total wines tasted, listed in rough order of my personal favorites (although I loved them all!):

2006 Failla, Vivien Pinot Noir (Sonoma Coast)
Brick red color gives little warning of the huge, sweetly intense, pure, red berry perfume in the nose, and the compact yet gentle, silken, feminine feel positively bursting at the seams with lush, viscous berry flavors, lingering endless on the palate.

2006 Pey-Marin, Trois Filles Pinot Noir (Marin County)
Extraordinary rendering of the newly explored, ultra-cold climate, coastal region between the Bay and Sonoma Coast. Color is pale, transluscent ruby, but the nose is huge – fragrant Pinot perfume laced with smoky-spicy sensations. On the palate, long, lively and silky; the bright, luscious fruit vibrant with mouth-watering acidity and restrained tannin and oak.

2007 Lane Tanner, Julia’s Vineyard Pinot Noir (Santa Maria Valley)
The product of a mature, intuitive winemaker who has mastered her sources. Brilliant crimsom red leading to a sweet, wild berry nose charged up with multiple, pronounced, organic spices (cinnamon, anise and fennel) against a backdrop of smoky oak. Medium-full, meaty quality to the rich, wild berry fruit on the palate, supported by firm, rounded tannin.

2006 Nevis Bluff, Central Otago Pinot Noir (New Zealand)
An intense Pinot fragrance literally jumps from the glass with beautiful sweet berry perfume, harmonized with suggestions of rose petals and charred, spiced meats. Fresh, lively, fluid yet zippy feel on the palate, framing a voluminous fruitiness wrapping around the palate like a velvet glove, underscored by moderate tannin before tapering off into a mouth-watering finish.

2007 Roessler Cellars, Griffin’s Lair Pinot Noir (Sonoma Coast)
Sourced from a colder pocket of the Sonoma Coast, centered in the Petaluma Gap, giving a juicy concentration of dried red berries beneath pure, unfettered Pinot perfumes. Velvet glove feel on the palate, accentuated by a glycerol fleshiness and moderate, compacted tannin, giving a dense, solid feel to the concentrated fruit qualities.

2007 Small Vines, MK Vineyard Pinot Noir (Sonoma Coast)
Another bright, new star producer, fashioning fresh, lovely, pristine Pinots, fragrant with lush fruit and peppery, clove-like spices. On the palate, the intense, focused fruitiness is balanced on a pin – moderated body and tannin filled with deep, concentrated, velvet textured sensations, amplified by a glycerol viscosity.

2007 Small Vines, Russian River Valley Pinot Noir
The “big brother” bottling of Small Vines’ MK bottling is deep, luscious, concentrated red and black berry; the perfumes enhanced by multiple spice qualities (peppermint, cardamom, cinnamon, ginger). Thick, juicy fruit qualities on the palate, undiminished by strong, youthful tannin and toasty oak, finishing with a sinewy, tobacco-like sweetness.

2006 Hitching Post, Perfect Set Pinot Noir (Sta. Rita Hills)
100% from Kathy Joseph’s Fiddlestix Vineyard, Gorgeous, lacy, pure, almost ethereal Pinot and ginger spice perfumes; sweet, velvety entry, beefed up by young, blustery tannin and lively acidic snap, pumping up the juicy fruit sensations nearly wall-to-wall on the palate, and into a long, electrical finish.

2006, Alma Rosa, La Encantada Vineyard Pinot Noir (Sta. Rita Hills)
By Richard Sanford, the original owner of the Sanford & Benedict Vineyard, the first historical planting of Pinot Noir in the Sta. Rita Hills. La Encantada was planted in 2000, and was the first CCOF certified organic vineyard in Santa Barbara County. Gorgeous, multi-faceted black and blueberry tart-like perfumes with dark forest, underbrushy, humus-like undertones; a dense, broad yet svelte mouth-feel held together by sturdy tannin, fleshed out by luscious, almost sweet, floral, crushed berry flavors.

2006 Badge, Sta. Rita Hills Pinot Noir
By Bruno D’Alfonso (formerly of Sanford); brilliant Pinot red; deep, luscious, multi-faceted nose boasting cherry cola fruit and super-spices (smoke and Pinot pepper and mint); and on the palate, plump with glycerol textured fruit, yet broad, meaty, gripping on the palate, flashing sexy, silken fine layers over dense tannin.

2006 d’Alfonso-Curran, Sanford & Benedict Pinot Noir (Sta. Rita Hills)
The new collaborative label by spouses Bruno D’Alfonso and Kris Curran (pictured above -- formerly of Sea Smoke, and now full-time with Foley Family Wines). Intensely fragrant varietal perfume layered with lightly toasted oak and suggestions of dried herb stalks; finesseful and toasty on the palate, the fruit riding on muscled tannin into a long, sweet finish.

2006 Failla, Keefer Ranch Pinot Noir (Russian River Valley)
Flowery fresh and airy, wild berry/rose petal perfume; rich, lively, plush with velvet layers of red berry flavors, finishing long, sweet, gently on the palate.

2007 Costa de Oro, Dijon Selection Pinot Noir (Santa Maria Valley)
Tight yet floral, mildly spiced rosebud of a nose, brimming with juicy red fruit; rounded, fleshy quality on the palate, the plump flavors silky and juicy on the palate.

2005 MacPhail, Sangiacomo Vineyard Pinot Noir (Sonoma Coast)
Another new name fashioning a stable of big-time Pinots with apparent ease. Fleshy black fruit and big, beefy qualities hit both high and low, vibrant notes in the nose. On the palate, a buoyant balance of intense, silky, fragrant fruit layered with broader strokes of a slightly feral meatiness and muscular tannin; yet all wrapped up with the grape’s natural inclination towards levity and finesse.

2007 MacPhail Family, Goodin Vineyard Pinot Noir (Sonoma Coast)
The nose in this cuvée is deep and intriguing; mixing dark berries and cherry with smoky spices and earthy, truffle-lish complexities. Dense and sinewy medium sized body, filled to the top with velvet textured fruit and strong fisted tannin.

2005 Fiddlehead Cellars, Lollapalooza Pinot Noir (Fiddlestix, Sta. Rita Hills)
The crème de la crème of Kathy Joseph’s estate (Fiddlestix, where winemaker pictured above) vineyard. Brick ruby red; the nose is both floral and beef-brothy, touched by sweet, toasty oak; sinewy, medium body with a sense of feminine delicacy, yet brimming with sweet cherry/cola-like fruit and subtle sensations of roasted meat.

2006 Fiddlehead Cellars, Seven-Twenty-Eight Pinot Noir (Fiddlestix, Sta. Rita Hills)
From select blocks of the Fiddlestix Vineyard; tight, yet pure, fragrant, black cherry-like Pinot perfume, merged with peppery and smoky oak spices; fine, medium-full body, perfectly rounded tannin and glycerol adding to a plush, sculpted feel.

2006 Soter Vineyards, Mineral Springs Pinot Noir (Yamhill-Carlton District, Oregon)
The second vintage from the master winemaker’s (Tony Soter) home ranch. Violet tinged ruby giving fair warning of fairly concentrated, tight, compact wild cherry fruitiness in the nose, harmonized with vanillin oak. Even better on the palate; plump and juicy in the middle, packed with well muscled tannin, and strong enough to fashion a long, sweet and intricate finish.

2006 Etude Wines, Temblor Carneros Estate Pinot Noir
Rich, bright, sweet, multi-faceted nose of wild cherry and red berries tinged with light toast and cinnamon sticks; intense, densely packed, fleshy fruit sensations on the palate, solidified by medium tannin and zippy acidity.

2006 Campion, Sarmento Vineyard Pinot Noir (Santa Lucia Highlands)
A densely textured, yet pronounced, curvaceous style of Pinot; the fruit, lush and fragrant in the nose, round and easy in the entry, thickened by firm tannin in the middle, yet fine and delicate in the finish.

2007 Nick Goldschmidt, Boulder Bank Pinot Noir (Marlborough, New Zealand)
Juicy, lush, fragrant nose of red and blue berries mixed with blackcurrant cake; on the palate, the culinary feel continues with soft, round, plump, supple fruit sensations, the spices turning towards ginger and cardamom.

2006 J. Wilkes, Hillside Pinot Noir (Bien Nacido Vineyard, Santa Maria Valley)
Very floral, pretty red fruit (cherry/raspberry) with exotic ginger/peppery spice and vanillin/minty oak; big, zesty, exuberant fruit in the entry, becoming very soft, fine and silky, finishing with a lovely, feminine, balanced feel.

2006 Sinor-La Vallee, Talley-Rincon Vineyard Pinot Noir (Arroyo Grande Valley)
Deep, smoky, aggressive style, punctuated by luscious, bright, intense red berry fruitiness, folded into a medium body fleshed out by snappy acidity and moderate yet sinewy tannin.

2007 Muddy Water, Slowhand Pinot Noir (Waipara, New Zealand)
Very pretty, pure, sweet and airy Pinot perfume harmonized with low-key oak and slightly feral, wild, earthy notes, with a light layering of evergreenish underbrush. On the palate, round and luscious; the fruit manifested in red and blue berry sensations, zipped by lively, snappy acidity. Very varietal, and very “New Zealand” at the same time.

2007 Dierberg Vineyard, Steven’s Vineyard Pinot Noir (Santa Maria Valley)
Unusual (for Pinot), purplish ruby cast, signaling a big, thick, dense house style. Nose of sweet, concentrated fruit and oak, pepper, cinnamon and even celery spices; aggressive fruit and tannin, still nicely tucked into round, fleshy, smooth textures

2006 Dierberg Vineyard, Santa Maria Valley Pinot Noir
Glistening, dark ruby red leading to slightly toasty, kitchen spice inundated nose enveloping sweet, crushed berry aromas; the rich, spicy, smoky qualities continuing on the palate, hitting it full-on with a rich, luscious, brimming, hedonistic feel.

2006 Mount Eden Vineyards, Santa Cruz Mountains Pinot Noir
Brick ruby, understating a pure, pungent, smoky, generously spiced Pinot fruitiness that follows; medium-full, plump and pliant on the palate; the fruit, fleshy, silken, and balanced, before finishing soft and easy.

2006 Le Fenêtre, Le Bon Climat Vineyard Pinot Noir (Santa Maria Valley)
This Pinot does not take a gentle approach, but rather a big, broad, aggressive tannin laden style. Yet the solidity lends a fine contrast to a ripe, lush, bright, fragrant fruitiness, with smoky spices extracted from both fruit and oak.

2006 Chehalem, Oregon Reserve Pinot Noir (Willamette Valley)
This cuvée formerly called Rion Reserve; bright, clear ruby and fine, lush mix of red and black berry aromas; fleshy feel supported by firm, well muscled tannin, sporting fresh, brambly wild berry flavors, long and velvety on the palate.

2007 MacPhail Family, Toulouse Vineyard Pinot Noir (Anderson Valley)
(Winemaker/proprietor James MacPhail pictured above). Pale burgundy red followed by lush, ripe varietal fruit spiced with black pepper, clove and sweet oak. Big (for Pinot), brawny, chewy, rather rough hewn on the palate; these untamed qualities (pretty much the story of Anderson Valley style Pinots) more than compensated by the aggressively spiced, ripe, sweet varietal fruitiness.

2007 Foley Family, Barrel Select Pinot Noir (Sta. Rita Hills)
Shy but sweet strawberry fragrance with smoky oak and tea-like nuances; velvet textured, mouth-watering red berry flavors , finishing long, sweet, gentle.

2007 Cargasacchi, Sta Rita Hills Pinot Noir
Deep ruby color, and even deeper, plummy, smoky, spicy nose, exuding cherry cola-like Sta. Rita Hills style fruitiness; fat, round qualities on the palate, the fruit lush and juicy, supported by firm yet unobtrusive tannin.

2007 Belle Glos, Las Alturas Vineyard Pinot Noir (Santa Lucia Highlands)
Intense, perfumed nose of red berry and cherry, touched up with light toast; long, silky, fine, medium-full sensations with a light acidic smack.

2007 Pali Wine Co., Keefer Ranch Vineyard Pinot Noir (Russian River Valley)
Smoky, aggressive style – woodsy, roasted, meaty sensations complimenting plummy red berryish Pinot fruit. Broad, full, rounded feel; sturdy tannin and aggressive oak wrapped around a plump, generous fruitiness.

2006 Flying Goat, Rio Vista Vineyard Pinot Noir (Sta. Rita Hills)
Sweet, ripe, spiced (like cinnamon dusting) strawberry/raspberry nose; the fresh, flowery, red berry qualities following up in a fine, silky/lacy feel perked up by zippy acidity, sticking to the palate in a long, lively finish.

2006 Jim Ball, Anderson Valley Pinot Noir
Seemingly typical of the Anderson Valley Pinots, an emphatic, aggressive nose, exuding black and red berries mingling with smoky oak spices; energetic acidity pushing up luscious fruit wrapped in toasty/smoky oak, underpinned by firming tannin.

2007 Chamisal, Edna Valley Pinot Noir
From the winery formerly known as Domaine Alfred (re photo of winemaker Fintan du Fresne below) -- bright, focused perfume of red berry/cherry cola, tight grained vanillin oak, and flowery, almost Syrah-like violet notes. Soft, velvety entry into medium weight body; the plush qualities spiced with chocolate and roasted coffee beans, overriding young, narrowing tannins.

Organic wine & food matching: Beckman Purisima & summer grills

I could see for miles and miles at the top of the Purisima Mountain Vineyard, owned and farmed by Steve Beckman of Santa Barbara’s Beckman Vineyards. But the “truth,” according to Beckman, is not “out there,” but in the soil, the grapes, and in the resulting wine; no matter what you may think of the Biodynamic® practices they have been practicing full-on since 2006.

The Beckmans (Steve the vigneron, with his parents Tom and Judy) purchased their 365 acre mountain estate in the mid-section (unofficially called Ballard Canyon) of Santa Ynez Valley in 1996, just a couple of years after establishing their winery on a 20 acre vineyard parcel just over the hill, a couple of hairpin turns away. Vintages from the late ‘90s, produced from grapes from neighboring properties (like the prestigious Stolpman Vineyards) convinced the Beckmans that Syrah and Grenache – yielding ultra-deep and concentrated wines when grown in the shallow, sandy clay layered over mounds of calcareous rock, surfacing towards the tops of these hillsides -- were the way to go with their own plantings.

Steve was first exposed to biodynamics by a college friend and backyard gardener in 1995, but it would be another four years, after meeting a Frenchman named Philippe Armenier (of Domaine de Marcoux in Châteauneuf-du-Pape), before his own skepticism turned the corner to healthy curiosity. The initial decision, according to Beckman, “was the hardest.” But with Armenier’s advisory, 17 trial acres of 100% biodynamically farmed Syrah, planted on Purisima in 2001, turned up “immediate results.” Beckman saw “plants that wanted to grow straight up to the sun instead of in all directions,” and “when we brought in the fruit, we saw increased nutrients in our musts and healthier fermentations.”

But above all, when comparing their Biodynamic® vs. conventionally grown wines, Beckman discovered “wines that I loved… wines that I thought expressed what the terroir of Purisima was about: rich, ripe wines that are balanced and elegant.” Thereafter, the decision was easy; and the Beckmans converted all 125 of their planted acres on Purisima to Biodynamic®.

As we drove by his home in the middle of vineyard, Beckman stopped to give his four year old son a hug, and related this story: “No question, our soils our richer, our roots are growing vertically, and earthworms are a lot happier with what we’re doing. But what really reinforced our conviction that we’re doing the right thing is when my son recently saw some workers in a nearby vineyard wearing chemical suits, and he turned to me and asked, ‘Dad, why are they spraying poison on their grapes?’ So you see why, to me, it’s not biodynamics that are out of whack. It’s the industrial, chemical-based concepts that make no sense at all.”

The Rhône inspired wines of Beckman Vineyards have always been top-notch; and with the recent return of Hawai`i born winemaker Mikael Sigouin (who also produces his own outstanding Rhône style blends under the Kaena label) after a brief hiatus with another winery, this brand is now truly rocking and rolling; as evidenced by a tasting of their top-of-the-line Grenache/Syrah (60%/40%) blend, the 2005 Beckman Santa Ynez Valley Purisima (about $75). Purisima is produced only once every two or three years, when vintage conditions are optimal; and I can see why the ’05 made the cut: it’s massive – a burly yet round, sleek, fleshy concentration of red berries and pomegranate, spiked with smoke and peppercorn; and despite a monumental structure of meat and tannin, the sweet sensation in the middle and finish is very much of dark chocolate covered strawberries, consumed with long, supple, black leather gloves. Capisci?

Doesn’t take a culinary genius to know what food matches this kind of sick bruiser: grilled meats, especially strewn with cracked pepper and sweet/spicy seasonings or rubs. But don’t limit yourself. I like what William Lengeman III says in this intro to Grilling 101: summer grilling often conjures images of testosterone-addled men wrestling slabs of meat, but let’s consider another eminently grillable foodstuff… the vegetable. That’s pronounced VEJ-ti-bal, boys (“veggies” always sounded prissy to me); and when you apply marinades and foils, even pedestrian mushrooms and root vegetables can be hot.

… or in the immortal words of The Who: this is no social crisis, this is you having fun.

Organic wine & food matching: Tres Sabores Perspective and gnocchi with pig's feet & chanterelles

I spent more time with Julie Johnson at her CCOF certified Tres Sabores than any other single winemaker during a recent three week swing through the West Coast this past spring. Why? Admittedly, because I can drink her wines all day or night, everyday. Also, because everything she does, as a grower and winemaker, just seems to make sense. My vinous sensibility is simpático with Tres Sabores.

Johnson farms a 32 year-old vineyard in the heart of the Napa Valley’s famed Rutherford AVA; originally planted to Zinfandel (making killer reds), but to which she added two acres of Cabernet Sauvignon (yielding no more than a couple hundred cases a year) after first acquiring the property in 1987. As a former partner at Frog’s Leap, her instincts were, and still are, organic, but for all the right reasons: this vineyard is also her home, her refuge, her sustenance, and an extension of herself – everything in its place, but in the opposite of a contrived, unnatural fashion.

“The essence of sustainability,” she says, “is that no part of what you do is wholly separate from the other.” So, through Johnson’s windows, you see old, gnarly trunked vines, but also stands of walnut and 150 year old olive trees, zinnias and cosmos among the buckwheat and wild grasses between the rows, tangled blackberry patches around the edges, hummingbirds, bees, sheep, and furtive jackrabbits and noisy, wild guinea hens nesting or scrambling hither and yon.

The active wildlife, according to Johnson, “makes us laugh,” but they also play their part. “Organic farming is not just about not using chemicals… spiders and ladybugs keep pests at bay, cover crops keep weeds in check, but without the wild olives on the hill and the guinea hens and rabbits making their homes, the owls and hawks would have little incentive to stick around and help out when the swarms of starlings come around in the fall.”

Then wherefore the amusing flora and fauna? From our perspective, it’s what comes out in the wine that counts. Indeed, the newly released 2006 Tres Sabores Rutherford Perspective (about $65) is not only an unmitigated masterpiece of a 100% Cabernet Sauvignon, it is tres Tres Sabores: powerful yet with a natural, organic sense of balance and buoyancy. The fruit expression: black purplish; dusty blackberry and dried plum aromas tinged with cedar and red rose/star anise-like spice; medium-full (not gigantic), dense, chocolaty rich on the palate, with a plush velvet feel rounding out wild, ferocious tannins.

Diving further in, it’s the sense of restraint, significant layering of velvet over tannic muscle, and the sweet plum and almost Chinese-y spice that identify the Perspective as a classic Rutherford style (as opposed to that of, say, Napa Valley’s Oakville or mountain AVAs) Cabernet Sauvignon; and it’s probably the slightly wild, bucolic edge that specifically makes it “Tres Sabores.”

Ah, perfection. Wait a sec, why not make a meal of it? If you’re up to a challenge, an equally perfect combination of earthy, fatty and creamy sensations that a wine like Perspective can sink its teeth into, here’s a recipe recently shared by Chef John Broening of restaurants duo and Olivea in Denver for

Gnocchi with Pig’s Feet Ragout and Chanterelles (serves 4)
Advisory: best to do this dish in three stages, starting with the pig’s feet, as they need to soak overnight. The next day, make the gnocchi and set them aside. Then bring it on home with the chanterelle laced ragout.

Pig’s Feet
4 pig’s feet, soaked in water
1 tablespoon canola oil
salt and pepper
1 onion, sliced
1 carrot, sliced
2 cups white wine
4 cups chicken stock

Remove pig’s feet from the water and pat dry. Season with salt and pepper. Brown thoroughly in ½ the canola oil and remove to a baking dish. Preheat oven to 300 F. Sweat the onion and carrot in the remaining canola oil. Add the wine and reduce by half. Add the chicken stock and bring to a boil. Pour the chicken stock mixture over the pig’s feet. Cover with foil and bake about 3 hours, or until the meat starts to fall away from the bone. Remove the pig’s feet from the liquid. Strain and degrease liquid. Pick the meat off the pig’s feet (you should get about ¾ cup of meat). Return the meat to the liquid and refrigerate.

Gnocchi
4 Yukon gold potatoes, cleaned, unpeeled
1 cup (about) kosher salt
3 cups all-purpose flour, plus
4 large eggs
1 teaspoon ground black pepper
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

Heat oven to 350 F. Spread about 1-3/4 cups kosher salt on a small baking sheet. Place the potatoes on top of the salt. Bake about 2 hours, or until the potatoes are soft and cooked through. Meanwhile, in a mixing bowl, whisk 2 cups of the flour with 2 teaspoons salt, the pepper and the nutmeg. Bring a large pot of water to a boil. Place a wire pasta basket in the water, and add about 4 tablespoons of salt to the boiling water. Cover the pot until ready to use.

Working while the potatoes are still hot, peel them with a paring knife (holding the potato in a kitchen towel makes this a little easier.). Using a food mill with a fine disc or a potato ricer, pass the potato onto a work surface that is at least 2 feet wide by 2 feet deep (wood and marble are the best for this).

Make a well in the potato and break 4 eggs into the well. Place the mixture in a circle surrounding the potato mixture. With a fork, whisk the eggs together. Using a bench scraper, cut the egg mixture into the potato and flour and gentle knead the mixture until it comes together. Using a little additional flour, knead the mixture an additional 20 seconds.

Cut off a few ounces of the gnocchi dough with the bench scraper and with lightly floured hands roll into a rope about 12" long and 1/2" around. Cut off into equal sized pieces about 1/2 square, pinching each piece at the same time. Roll each gnocchi off a floured gnocchi board (or the back of a fork), and using an offset spatula carefully transfer to a floured baking sheet.

Cook the gnocchi in several batches: using the spatula, carefully lower the gnocchi into the boiling water and cover. When the water comes back up to a boil, cook the gnocchi about 2 minutes, until they puff slightly, and immediately shock in ice water. Repeat the process for the remaining gnocchi. Drain the gnocchi well (make sure they are completely cool in the center before you remove them from the ice water). Place the olive oil in a mixing bowl, toss the gnocchi in the oil, then transfer to baking dish (they should be in a single layer), cover, and refrigerate until ready to use.

Ragout
4 tablespoons olive oil, divided
1 pound chanterelle mushrooms (other wild mushrooms okay), cleaned
4 tablespoons butter, divided
2 shallots, minced
1 cup dried sherry
3 ounces grated Parmigiano Reggiano
1 tablespoon chopped parsley

In a large sauté pan, heat half the olive oil to smoking and add the chanterelles. Toss well and add half the butter. Cook until lightly caramelized. Season with salt and pepper and add the shallots. Sweat 30 seconds. Add the sherry and reduce until thick. Add the pig’s broth and meat and reduce by half. Check for seasoning and set aside.

To assemble dish: In another large sauté pan, heat the remaining olive oil. Brown the gnocchi on one side, in batches when necessary. Add the pig’s feet ragout and bring to boil. Whisk in the remaining butter. Garnish with grated Parmigiano and parsley, and serve immediately.

Organic wine & food matching:: Robert Sinskey Marcien & Maria Helm's braised veal shanks

When Biodynamic® guru Alan York began consulting with winegrower/proprietor Rob Sinskey of Robert Sinskey Vineyards (a.k.a. RSV), the first thing he advised was to “get over the voodoo doo-doo” and find the “practical ways to get it done.” “I was never that heavy into Rudolph Steiner’s spiritual philosophy anyway,” confesses Sinskey, “but what makes sense are the steps that give your vineyard a distinctive personality… if it means planting according to the rhythms of the earth and employing sheep herders to mow the grass, so be it.”

Although Biodynamic® certification didn’t come to RSV until 2007, the original “tipping point” for Sinskey goes back to1990; when he observed one of his Chardonnay blocks in Carneros shutting down and phylloxera strangling the vines. “At that time we were spraying and constantly sterilizing the soil to the point which it had basically become a ‘dead zone,’ showing little sign of life, almost no birds or earthworms to be found. It was our winemaker, Jeff Virnig, who originally brought up the subject one day by asking, ‘wouldn’t it be cool if we were organic?’”

So throughout the ‘90s Sinskey’s goal was to jump-start microbial activity in the soils of his property – 5 acres around the RSV winery in Napa Valley’s Stag’s Leap District, and another 200 or so in the Los Carneros AVA – by ceasing the use of chemical fertilizers, pesticides and the like; and by 2001, when RSV received its CCOF certification, the earthworms and birds were back in multitudes.

Sinskey’s vineyard manager, Debby Zygielbaum, is both meticulous and obsessive in her aversion to, in her words, “better living through chemicals.” “It’s not like we have it easy,” she tells us, while driving us through her “shaggy” vineyards – bespoke with varieties of grass, poppies, ponds, fruit and olive trees, and even a pristine pasture for a bourgeoning flock of sheep – up and down the Carneros hillsides.

“One of our biggest barriers,” according to Zygielbaum, “is powdery mildew, for which 508 (the anti-fungal Biodynamic® tea spray prepared from horsetail) is not enough” – and so she finds it necessary to supplement with some sulphur. “Gophers, mealy bugs, nematodes, you name it, we got it, and we take organic measures to keep things in balance. But at the end of the day, the pay-off for what we do in the vineyard is in the wine: in this day and age of Robert Parker and wines that taste all the same, there’s something beautiful about something that tastes of a place, and I think we’ve got that.”

Which brings us to RSV’s top-of-the-line blend of Merlot, Cabernet Sauvignon and Cabernet Franc, which Sinskey affectionately calls Marcien – French for “from Mars” (or, “you must be crazy”). Says Sinskey, “we call it Marcien because when we first started planting Bordeaux grapes in Carneros (a cold region with shallow clay soils rather than the deep gravel and moderate climate associated with Bordeaux), some people thought we were nuts. But you taste the wine and tell us what you think.”

What do I think? If you’re a wine lover who prizes the elegance and deep, compact intensity of red Bordeaux, the 2005 Robert Sinskey Vineyards Los Carneros Marcien (about $50) will blow you away! No, it’s not “Bordeaux,” it’s Carneros grown Merlot – luscious, velvety, seamlessly textured – knit to the black, wild, plummy, licorice, gnarly tobacco, and smoky room qualities associated with the Cabernet grapes. Since Sinskey also happens to be married to Maria Helm – a great chef, formerly of the San Francisco’s recently shuttered Plumpjack Café –the Marcien’s ideal food context is also key to maximum consumption. The Sinskeys recommend this recipe for braised veal shanks with olives and bay leaves… double-wow!

Wine the Grand Illusion (or The Myth of "Breathing" Wines)

Does price affect the "quality" of wine? Yes, indeed it do.

At least according to results of a study released last year (2008), conducted by Antonio Rangel, Associate Professor of Economics at the California Institute of Technology (re The Price is Wrong). Rangel asked twenty-one volunteers to blind-taste five different bottles of Cabernet Sauvignon and rate their preferences. The taste test was run fifteen times, and the wines presented in random order.

The only information given to the volunteers was price tags. However, two of the wines were presented twice; one with its true retail price, and the other with a fake price. They also presented one bottle that actually retailed for $90 as $10, and still another bottle that retailed for $5 as $45. To top it all off, according to the story, the dastardly researchers scanned the test subjects’ brains to monitor the “neural activity in the medial orbitofrontal cortex – an area of the brain believed to encode pleasure related to taste, odors and music.”

The results? Inflation of the price of a bottle consistently enhanced the subjects’ experience of it, as shown by the neural activity, and the volunteers consistently gave higher ratings to the more expensively priced wines. To quote Professor Rangel, “this study shows that the brain’s rewards center takes into account subjective beliefs about the quality of the experience… if you believe the experience is better, even though it’s the same wine, the rewards center of the brain encodes it as feeling better.”

Why am I not surprised? I’ve been talking about the grossly underestimated power of the mind when it comes to wine evaluation for years. At first, in the late 1970’s when I first got into the wine business and found myself being “mentored” by wine experts as old as I am right now (for the record, I’ve reached the big five-oh), I used to often wonder when we would taste, say, a ten to thirty year old bottle of Burgundy or Bordeaux, and my betters would go on and on about the glorious “bouquet,” the sensual “legs,” the “complex” flavors, and the “neverending” finishes. And all I would be tasting is an old, decrepit, tired wine. I admit often having doubts about my wine tasting prowess, despite Andre Simon’s old adage, “we may all have good taste, but not the same taste.”

By the early 1980’s I found myself with the privilege of attending two, three or four large scale wine exhibitions each year. You might know the scenario: huge auditoriums, hundreds of other wine professionals and connoisseurs milling about, choices of hundreds of different wines to taste. Naturally the biggest crowds were to be found around the tables presenting the most prestigious wines. I remember one year – the 1988 Monterey Wine Festival, to be exact – in which the Heitz “Martha’s Vineyard” Cabernet Sauvignon was being poured, and I had to fight my way to the front for my little sip; and when I got there, the wine tasted awful! Dull, dreary, blah… yet there I was, surrounded by a crowd of people cooing with pleasure in contrast with my dismay. A half-hour or so later, worried that I may have had the bad luck of tasting from a corked bottle, I returned to the Heitz table, maneuvered my way up to the front again, and found my second tasting of the famed “Martha’s” to be no different than the first. In fact, it may have been worse.

And that’s when I decided right then and there, and for all-time:

• Most wine professionals are idiots – no better than herds of cattle – who couldn’t recognize a good, or lousy, bottle of wine if it hit them upside the head
• Well, to cut these idiots some slack – like most human beings, they’re simply swayed by the power of suggestion (and who am I to question anyone’s humanity?)

Indeed, one of my favorite things to do in large consumer tastings over the years was to present two different, but similarly blended, wines of widely contrasting price points, like a $100 Quintessa compared to a $12 Casa Lapostolle “Cuvée Alexandre.” I would blind-taste the crowd, and ask for a show of hands on their preferences; and yes, I have found that for every fifty consumers expressing a preference for a $100 Quintessa, another fifty would prefer the $12 Casa Lapostolle. Granted, you could say that they are “just consumers” who don't know what to look for. But like I said, what's worse is so-called “professionals” who know what to look for, and find it whether it's there or not. I’m happier when I see people who truly know what they like: never what someone tells them they should like. Ironically, it's "ordinary" consumers, not the pros, who are more likely to know what they like.

One of the most controversial wine pieces I’ve ever published was called Seven Ways to Improve Your Wine Life (March 2006). One of those seven topics was on the commonly accepted practice of improving the taste of wine by letting it “breathe.” As my original story went:

“Breathing.” We are often asked, especially in expensive restaurants: “Shall we open your bottle ahead of time to let it breathe?” Well, there are few things as preposterous as the notion that exposure of less than a square inch of wine at the neck of the bottle to the beneficial qualities of oxygen will result in increased quality of the wine therein. Not a chance.

Then there are the sommeliers who offer to “decant” your wine – pouring it from the bottle and into an open glass container – under the assumption that even more dramatic exposure to air will increase overall quality. If you ask me, another myth of the wine world. If anything, a wine – even a thick, heavy, youthful red wine – loses some of its freshness in the nose and flavor when allowed to “breathe” in a decanter.

Yet there are many experts (including esteemed colleagues) who absolutely swear by the benefits of breathing, especially after hours in decanters. If you ask me again, I think it’s because the mind becomes more alerted to sharpening sensations over time (as well it should), not because a wine actually changes for the better. To wit: in one recent Decanter magazine, a report done on a blind taste-test involving some of the UK’s most discriminating wine judges, who could not tell the difference or even establish a pattern of preference or quality level in wines that were decanted minutes before tasting, hours before tasting, or simply popped, poured, and tasted immediately.

If anything, they preferred the latter, and I would concur: decanted wines are no likely to be better than undecanted wines. Then again, if you have a beautiful decanter and you like using it to serve your guests, by all means use it. Quality of wine being such a state of mind, anything you do to make the perception of a wine experience a more positive one can only be good. As long as you understand the mythical nature of “breathing,” which makes the word itself illogical and thus to be avoided.

As it were, I received e-mails from more than a dozen wine cognoscente, most of them “professionals,” and most of them gently admonishing me for my apparent ignorance: everyone knows wines are improved by “breathing!” One reader even implied that I may have made up the Decanter story in question; either that, or there was something wrong with the wines or judges involved.

For the record: the Decanter issue cited in my story is from December 1997 (Vol. 23/No. 4), and the wines used for this tasting were a 1961 Mouton-Rothschild, a 1982 Clerc-Milon, a 1980 d’Armailhac, and a 1990 Mouton-Cadet. Of the six judges on that panel, the best known were Hugh Johnson, Serena Sutcliffe MW, Steven Spurrier and Patrick Leon. I’ve always been confident in my own palate, but I have to admit that even I would probably feel fear and trembling if ever given the opportunity to taste beside this bunch. Bottom line: if Hugh Johnson, Serena Sutcliffe, et al. can fess up to the finding that “opening and pouring wines straight away received by far the most acclaim regardless of the wine in question,” who am I to blow against the wind? Especially when I’ve long known the same thing, woefully unappreciated genius that I am.

My own conclusions, re decanting and oxygenating, after thirty years in the business of buying, selling and serving wine:

• It probably doesn’t hurt to decant a good red wine – be it old or young, a classic growth, an “amusingly naïve domestic” or otherwise – but the benefits are less significant than simply pouring into a good sized, properly shaped wine glass, swirling, and smelling the vapors emanating from the insides.

• Tannins in red wine do soften as they oxygenate in a decanter, but an even bigger factor is your sensory disposition – wines tend to soften and round out more because your palate becomes conditioned to the taste of tannin rather than because tannins undergo actual transformation on a molecular level.

• Aromas and flavors are affected by sensory disposition in the same way – nuances are more likely to sharpen and grow in attraction after a few minutes because the palate and mind become more attuned to them (especially when suggested by fellow tasters), not because a wine has physically “improved” on a molecular level as a result of oxygenation.

• Although great wines have been known to benefit from decanting (pro-breathers: I'm not arguing this point), wines over ten years old are just as likely to recede in quality if decanted more than a few minutes before consumption.

• For any wines over ten years old, the safest thing you can do is either pour the wine immediately from a just opened bottle into glasses, or pour into glasses immediately after decanting.

• Many changes commonly noted in decanted wines are due to temperature, which is a huge factor. Aromatic byproducts of esters and alcohol can vary drastically at different temperatures, as do the effect of tannin and alcohol on the taste buds. Red wines that are medium to high in tannin and body tend to taste tight and hard at temperatures below 60 degreees Fahrenheit, and harsh or rough above 72 degrees. If you prefer the natural, sweet berry perfume of red wines, I would say that the optimal serving temperature for most reds is somewhere between 62 and 68 degrees (well below normal "room" temperatures); closer to 60 for softer reds like Pinot Noir and Beaujolais style wines.

• Beauty is in the eye of the beholder the same way that perception of wine quality is highly individual – know your own taste and preferences!

Never underestimate the power of your own mind, and resist the suggestions of idiots!

Organic wine & food matching: Quivira "Wine Creek" Zinfandel & cheeses-to-die-for

Eating and Drinking Green Makes Sense

So now we that we have choices between organic and non-organic foods, eco-friendly and non-eco stiletto heels, hybrid and non-hybrid cars, etc., why aren’t most of us making the choice to drink green as well?

I suspect that, on an intellectual level, many of us figure that since wine is an alcoholic drink made from grapes, the organic-ness of a bottle is neither here nor there. The truth is far from that.

If you’ve visited vineyards in California or France, for instance, and looked at an organic vineyard that happens to be next to a non-organic vineyard, the differences are quite visible. Compared to organic vineyards, non-organic or “conventional” vineyards always look lifeless, practically dead: all you see is dirt between the rows, since any growth apart from vines is usually zapped with herbicides. In organic vineyards, you see not only wild grasses, brush and trees in and around the vines, and cover crops of herbs, beans and flowers planted between the rows, but also a landscape that is literally abuzz with activity – ladybugs, bees, wasps and spiders hopping between the leaves, birds all aflutter, and even squirrels and field mice (hence the owl huts normally found around sustainable vineyards) scuttling about.

If the vineyard happens to be cultivated in the even more biodiverse, holistic style called Biodynamic® – which requires at least 10% of a vineyard property to be devoted to forest, wetland, grassland, or as “insectories,” plus integration of active farm life – you’re also likely to see chickens scampering between the vines, sheep or goats munching on grass, and cattle (valued for their compost enriching manure) lowing nearby.

There is more than a world, but a universe of difference between an organic and non-organic vineyard. Between a vineyard cultivated with natural compost, monitored by beneficial insects and animals, and sprayed with teas made from herbs, compared to a vineyard hooked intravaneously to liquid fertilizer drips, zapped with herbicides, and sprayed constantly with insecticides. I know wine contains anesthesizing alcohol, but gee whiz: where would you prefer the grapes going into your wine to come from?

Quivira “Wine Creek Ranch” Zinfandel & cheeses-to-die-for

I’m recommending today’s Organic Wine Match of the Day – the 2006 Quivira Dry Creek Valley Wine Creek Ranch Zinfandel (about $34) – not only because it is 100% Biodynamic® grown and produced, but also because it’s one of the greatest Zinfandels I’ve ever tasted (and I came of Zin drinking age in 1976).

For those of you just getting a handle on biodynamics: Demeter USA actually certifies vineyards and wineries in two separate categories: “Wines Made with Biodynamic® Grapes,” and what they call “Biodynamic® Wine.” Quivira’s Wine Creek Ranch Zinfandel qualifies for the latter because not only is it grown biodynamically, it is also vinified with the highest natural standards: primarily defined by use of natural (rather than cultured) yeasts, zero additives (like sugar, tannin and acid “adjustments,” and bacteria to start malolactic fermentation), and restricted use of sulfites at bottling (for dry wines, less than 100 parts per million).

But the most important thing, however, is always how a Biodynamic® Wine tastes, and Quivira’s is an ultimate Sonoma style Zinfandel: thick as pudding, plump as a Christmas goose, and absolutely teeming with lively, concentrated, nostril tingling raspberry fruit, flooding the palate with an amazingly lithe, velvety texture despite a munificence of tannin and typical big Z alcohol (15.5%). Kudos to Quivira winemaker Steven Canter (pictured right).

Although I normally don’t hesitate to throw the Polish dogs, onion studded burgers or sweet/spicy marinated ribs on the grill when I bring up the bottles of Zin from the bottom floor, an epic bottling like the Wine Creek Ranch almost makes you want to save it for the end of a good meal, when you can show special friends and family how even a wham-bam-thank-you-m’am can shine with some well chosen cheeses.

My first choice? Have you ever had a white truffle specked Boschetto al Tartufo with a perfect Zin? Then you haven’t lived. The springy, sumptuous texture of this blend of sheep and cow milk cheese fills in the grains between a big, tannin laden Zin like the Wine Creek Ranch; while the pungent truffle, which overwhelms almost all other wines, adds complexing notes to the wine’s raspberry liqueur-like aromas.

Second and third choices: also from Italy, a Chili Pepper Pecorino’s subtle spice and grassy sheep’s milk edge brings out the peppery varietal spice almost lost in the lusciousness of a Zinfandel like the Wine Creek Ranch; while the deep, caramelized, well aged Goudas, like the Beemster 18 Year Old or Beemster XO, are some of the few cheeses in the world with the strength to carry a big Zin, and with enough natural sweet, crystal textured qualities to underscore the wine’s penetrating fruitiness.

What the heck, why don’t you go for all three of them, and throw in a fun blue veined cheese (one favorite: Holland’s Moulin Bleu) to complete the spread. Ah, life… ah Zinfandel!

Organic wine & food matching: Domaine Vigneau-Chevreau Vouvray and artisanal cheeses

Vouvray is like the girl with the Scarlett Johansson sweetness, Bette Davis wit, and knockdown Grace Kelly beauty that made all the boys in high school too dumbfounded to ever ask out (except for the dumb jocks, who’d never get a yes).

Vouvray is a thinking man and woman’s white wine because it takes brains to see through the flowery, intoxicatingly perfumed qualities of the Chenin Blanc (the required grape of this AOC), and look into the wine’s soul: the effortlessly acidic spine of the fruit grown in the Loire River Valley’s cold yet maritime moderated climate, and the deep, almost poetic substrata of flavor contributed by the soil (layers of flinty stone and clayish limestone over a plateau of solid limestone – the ultimate grape growing medium).

Earlier this month I ran into one California’s more intelligent, and artistically multiplisitc, winemakers named Larry Brooks (a founder of Acacia, former GM of Chalone, and now proprietor of Campion). I hadn’t seen Brooks in about six years, but the first thing he said to me was: “Everytime I see you, I can’t help but think of that incredible wine we shared, what, over fifteen years ago? I’ll never get that wine out of my mind.” Me, too. It was, in fact, a 1989 Vouvray Moelleux Cuvée CC by Champalou – a dessert style Vouvray exploding in a plethora of honey, scintillating acidity and minerality in spades– that will always bewitch both Brooks and me (and undoubtedly, is still doing that to wine drinkers today… I doubt that it would fade sometime soon).

Which brings us to our organic wine match of the day: the 2007 Domaine Vigneau-Chevreau Vouvray Sec Cuvée Silex (about $21; distributed by Andy Lum’s Unity Selections in Colorado). Sec refers to this Vouvray being “dry,” and Cuvée Silex refers to the flinty stones that make up a large part of the vineyard’s chalky soil, contributing a minerally, almost sea-briny nuance beneath the Vigneau-Cheveau’s honeyed apple aroma, wildflower fragrance, and mildly tart, lush, flowing, refreshingly balanced, medium bodied feel on the palate.

There is, in fact, a strong sense of terroir in the Cuvée Silex because this 69 acre vineyard has been cultivated more than organically, but also biodynamically for most of the past twenty years (receiving ECOCERT’S biodyvin certification in 1999); very much akin to the vivid, penetrating expressions of minerality and grape common to other biodynamic producers in France (some famous examples: Maison Chapoutier in the Rhône Valley, Domaine Ostertag and Marcel Deiss in Alsace, and Domaine Leflaive and Domaine Leroy in Burgundy).

Biodynamic viticulture demands turning vineyards into biodiverse farms, and applications of no less than nine specific herb and compost tea preparations in harmony with the natural rhythms of the earth, sun, moon, and seasons, observed as faithfully as the farmers who have followed the Old Farmers’ Almanac for over 200 years. But if there ever was ever any doubt about the efficacy of biodynamic growing, a simple comparison of Vigneau-Chevreau’s Vouvray with any number of other popular Vouvrays would put it to rest.

My culinary mantra has always been to fear no wine and food match: there is a perfect wine for any dish from any part of the world (I don’t believe there’s such a thing as a wine-unfriendly dish – only a lack of imagination and organoleptic openness), just as there is a delicious food match for every wine in the world. But with a wine as pure as Vigneau-Chevreau’s Cuvée Silex, I’d almost want to stick to an equally pristine, terroir expressive food match: like an artisanal, regional cheese. It needn’t be from the Loire Valley, although a Sainte-Maure de Touraine AOC goat milk cheese, coated in a slightly acidic, gunflint-gray ash, offers up an earthy purity of taste and zestiness in perfectly natural balance with this Vouvray’s earthy, crisp edged fruitiness.

Here in Colorado, I’d reach for a raw milk cheese like Windsor Dairy’s Melville; a cow’s milk cheese with a cider washed rind that positively bursts with fat, creamy flavors, with nuances of the native grass and wildflowers consumed by the Brown Swiss cows on this organic farm. Sprinkle a tiny bit of cumin on the Melville, with dabs of honey on the plate, and you’ll have wine and food match that doesn’t come down from heaven, but up from the earth so strongly expressive in both wine and cheese.

Otherwise, fresh, pearly white Chèvres like Colorado’s Haystack Mountain, Tennessee’s Bonnie Blue, Alabama’s Belle Chevre, and Georgia’s Sweetgrass Dairy (I guess you can tell that I’ve spent some time in the South in recent years) will all offer that combination of acidity and earthy, grassy fruitiness to effortlessly match this style of Vouvray. My only caveat: other than ash, steer gently away from logs crusted with pungent herbs or cracked peppercorn. You’ll want an unfettered taste of the terroir in the cheese; and generally, simple accompaniments like figs, champagne grapes, ribbons of dried apricot, or umami rich charcuterie like duck prosciutto and pork rillettes will do just fine.

Organic wine & food matching: Tres Sabores Porque No and pasta with giblets & mushrooms

Julie Johnson, winemaker/proprietor of her own Tres Sabores estate, located at the foot of the Mayacamas Mountains in the prestigious Rutherford Bench AVA of Napa Valley. Original co-founder of Women for Winesense. Former president of ZAP (Zinfandel Advocates & Producers). One of Napa Valley’s pioneers of certified organic grape growing (going back 25 years to her former association with Frog’s Leap Vineyards).

What has Johnson not done? Frankly, I can’t say, as she’s already inspired a generation of women and men devoted, as she is, to producing wines that express the “voice” (i.e. terroir) of vineyards; but even more amazingly, without a drop of self-consciousness, and with a ton of levity.

Perfect example: Johnson’s 2006 Tres Sabores ¿Porqué No? (about $20). The question, why not?, asked because, to Johnson and her cellar crew, it makes perfect sense to blend some of her certified organic estate grown Zinfandel (dominating this bottling) with invigorating if unconventional grapes like Cabernet Sauvignon and Petit Verdot, along with some peppery Petite Sirah, if indeed it all adds up to perfectly delicious, wild, juicy party juice: bursting at the seams with black cherry and purple plum aromas and flavors punctuated by cacao, resiny herb and green chile-like spices, with sticks of cinnamon and cardamom thrown in for good measure.

Yes, there’s more natural flavor stuffed into a finger of ¿Porqué No? than in a gallon of Prego; only, with big, thick, plump red wine (i.e. beneficial alcohol and resveratrol!) flavors, complete with round yet sturdy, viscously textured tannins. How does that song go? Makes me want to shout!

Well, maybe that’s the wine hollering, as I’ve just consumed a bottle along with a dish taken out of Judy Rodgers’ The Zuni Café Cookbook: pasta with giblet-mushroom sauce, echoing the invigorating, chewy yet soft, multi-faceted taste of the ¿Porqué No?. An adaption of Rodgers’ recipe:

8 oz. chicken gizzards and hearts (duck or squab pieces also okay)
½ cup extra virgin olive oil
1 ½ cups chopped mushrooms (white buttons or a blend of wild)
¾ cup finely diced carrots
¾ cup finely diced celery
¾ cup finely diced yellow onions
1 oz. minced pancetta (or bacon, blanched for 4 minutes)
Salt
2 garlic cloves, chopped
1 ½ cups canned tomatoes (drained to about half their juice)
1 bay leaf
1 dried chili (or few pinches of dried chili flakes)
½ cup full bodied red wine (like Zinfandel or Syrah)
A few leaves of fresh Italian parsley, coarsely chopped
Sugar (optional)
1 tsp. tomato paste (optional)
1 lb. pasta (spaghetti or wide egg pasta)
Parmigiano-Reggiano (to taste)

Rinse gizzards and hearts, then press dry between towels. Remove silverskin from gizzards, chop finely along with hearts.

Warm ¼ cup olive oil in 4 qt. saucepan over medium heat. Add gizzards and cook, stirring continuously, until they turn a little golden at edges (about 5 minutes). Stir in mushrooms, carrots, celery, onions and pancetta or bacon. Add few pinches of salt and enough additional oil to coat vegetables. When mixture starts to sizzle, reduce heat to low, cover, and stew for about 15 minutes, stirring occasionally.

Stir in garlic, tomatoes, bay leaf, chili and red wine. Bring to bare simmer, cover, and cook until bits of giblet go from chewy to tender (another 45 minutes or so). Stir occasionally, scraping bottom with flat edged spatula, and adjust heat as necessary to maintain low simmer. Taste for salt.

Stir in parsley and another splash of olive oil. Uncover and simmer a little longer to concentrate brothy juices. Sauce should be shiny, rich, thick and sweet (if taste is tart or lean, add olive oil; if not slightly sweet, add pinch of sugar).

Cook pasta al dente, drain, and fold into giblet-mushroom sauce. Grate Parmigiano to taste.

Organic wine & food matching: Quivira Sauvignon Blancs & fresh herbed pastas

“Trying to uncover what a vineyard is trying to say,” says Steven Canter, winemaker of Quivira Vineyards in Sonoma’s Dry Creek Valley, “is like an archeologist brushing away the sand.”

Plucked by Quivira three years ago from the celebrated Torbreck Vintners in Barossa Valley, Australia, Canter is an American who had come to Sonoma in a roundabout way: first inspired by Kermit Lynch’s earthy, terroir driven imports from France, then wandering the world looking for the vinous meaning of life while picking up jobs as a cellarer in California, Oregon, Italy and South Africa.

The Quivira estate would make a particularly interesting Rubik’s Cube for any winemaker, as it sits on the gravelly, well drained yet fertile loam that has long made Dry Creek Valley a quintessential source of California style Sauvignon Blanc, Zinfandel and Petite Sirah. Planted and replanted over a course of fifty years, according to Canter, “we could see what people were doing in the ‘70s, the ‘80s, the ‘90s, etc.,” and Canter feels that he is just continuing this evolutionary process.

Grape varieties lower in pyrazine (the molecules that contribute the green herbal notes of wines like Sauvignon Blanc and Cabernet Sauvignon) were retrained on heads to make a truer, umbrella-like goblet, establishing the dappled-sunlight combination of protection (from sunburn) and exposure Canter likes to see for grapes like Zinfandel, Syrah and Grenache. Older sections were pulled out and replanted with three times more plant density. A whole half acre was removed to make room for 500 cubic yards of compost, and no less than 120 raised beds were installed for cover crop seeding, herbs going into Biodynamic® teas, and vegetables to supply a number of local restaurants.


Quivira, in fact, became certified by Demeter USA as a Biodynamic® vineyard in 2005, and as part of this holistic concept, you’ll also find large contingents of chickens and goats doing their part; gobbling up pests and mowing down weeds, around and between the rows of vines, carpeted by rye grass, Austrian winter peas, beans, purple vetch, and (in beautiful bloom during our visit in March) calendula. In respect to Biodynamic preparations, Canter has transitioned Quivira even further; to the point where all the herb and compost teas are produced on-premise (including preparations 500 and 501 – from manure and quartz stuffed cow horns, buried in autumn/winter and spring/summer respectively), as opposed to being purchased from the Josephine Porter Institute in Virginia.

Aside from Zinfandel, Quivira’s piece de resistance has always been one of the freshest, purest Sauvignon Blancs this side of France. In Canter’s hands, the Quivira Sauvignon Blanc has evolved into a slightly crisper, citrus fresh white, with more distinctive bottom notes of minerals and stones in harmony with floral perfumes (the softer quality of the Sémillon grape has been eliminated, as this was one of the first sections of the vineyard to go upon Canter’s arrival). In current release are two lots of Sauvignon Blanc:

2007 Quivira Fig Tree Vineyard Sauvignon Blanc (about $18) – Fresh pear, green melony aromas tinged with fresh pea and wet stones; flinty dry on the palate, the melon and subtle pea-like flavors finishing with a citrusy snap in a medium sized (not light, not heavy) body.

2007 Quivira Barrel Complete Sauvignon Blanc (about $28) – From the same grapes going into the Fig Tree cuvée, only partially barrel fermented (40%) in new oak (half French white oak, and half Acacia; the latter from a French cooper, absent the strong vanillin flavor white oak contributes to wine); adding up to a moderately scaled dry white with a subtle creaminess and distinctively silkier texture enhancing the floral, melony, citrusy, minerally qualities found in the Fig Tree.

When it comes to food, Quivira Sauvignons make effortless matches in classic dry white contexts. But when I taste these pristinely fresh whites, I cannot help but think of fresh pasta drizzled with fruity green olive oil and a mix of leafy green herbs, emphasizing the organic qualities in the wines. Here’s an interesting concept I found in the archives of KitchenGardener Magazine: setting the table with plain linguine, and allowing guests to choose their garnishes (choices of chopped, Sauvignon Blanc-friendly chives, parsley and fennel, along with shaved Parmigiano).

The only thing I’d add to the pasta table would be the additional choice of Pecorino Romano, since this sheep milk grating cheese connects with dry whites like Quivira’s on two levels: the natural sharpness of the cheese balancing the crisp edge of Sauvignon Blanc, and the pungent earthiness of the cheese playing up the subtle, stony, leafy qualities of the wine the way Chuck Berry plays his guitar (like a’ ringing a bell).

Southern Oregon Is the Real Deal

A number of Willamette Valley's most prestigious winemakers -- like Ken Wright (pictured below), Lynn Penner-Ash (left), and Laurent Montalieu -- have been crafting Southern Oregon sourced wines for years.

You may think this has been just for "fun," but au contraire: these vignerons are dead serious about their belief that Southern Oregon is one of the greatest wine regions in the world... especially for Syrah.

To quote Pinot wine god, Ken Wright: Southern Oregon's Rogue Valley Syrah is "more Old World than New World, a delineated Syrah -- graphite, cedar, blueberries, raspberries, and very balanced, never over the top..."

Southern Oregon, in fact, is the real deal. For more details on the terroir and notes on current outstanding releases (Syrahs and Pinot Noirs) from this underrated region, please see this story penned by yours truly for the March 2009 issue of Sommelier Journal, and everything shall be revealed!

Organic wine & food matching: Pierre Morey Meursault & coq au vin blanc

For Pierre Morey – the former (and legendary) winemaker of Domaine Leflaive, and proprietor of his own Domaine Pierre Morey in Burgundy, France – farming biodynamically (his vineyards Biodyvin certified since 1997) is a matter of stewardship: turning over vineyards from one generation to another at the peak of health and productivity.

Morey is particularly known for his white wines, with family holdings in Meursault and Puligny-Montrachet in Burgundy’s Côte de Beaune, the original home, and center of the universe, as far as any producer of Chardonnay is concerned. But if you are drawing the conclusion that these white wines espouse enormous body, power and concentration of Chardonnay character, let me gently say: it is in the expression of the terroir, rather than grape, that the wines of Domaine Morey excel. As eloquently portrayed in this film, entitled Generations In Harmony:


Domaine Pierre Morey: Generations in Harmony from Wilson Daniels on Vimeo.

You may pay, for instance, about $94 (suggested retail) for a bottle of 2006 Pierre Morey Meursault, but what you get is not a wham-bam wine stuffed with “gobs” of sweet Chardonnay sensations, but rather a wine of uncommonly delicate, refined balance and texture; everything according to a moderately weighted scale to express fresh, honeyed apples, notes of mineral, slivers of toasted nuts, and a transparent, silken backdrop of mildly charred oak draped over a foundation of polished, stony dryness.

In other words, a taste of Meursault, not Chardonnay.

Coq au Vin Blanc

Which also happens to whet my appetite for this twist of the classic Burgundian dish – usually made with a red wine, but which we make with a white – that we call coq au vin blanc:

8 pieces chicken thighs (mostly) and legs (or one 5 lb. chicken, cut in serving pieces)
24-30 pearl onions
Salt and fresh ground black pepper
6 oz. bacon strips or slab, squared or cubed
8 oz. button mushrooms, quartered
1 tbsp. unsalted butter
1 bottle (750 ml.) white wine (inexpensive Chardonnay will do)
1 medium yellow onion, quartered
2 stalks celery, quartered
2 medium carrots, quartered
3 cloves garlic, crushed
6-8 springs fresh thyme
1 bay leaf
2 cups chicken stock or broth

Cut off root end of each pearl onion and make an “x” with knife in its place. Bring 2-3 cups water to boil and drop in the onions for 1 minute. Remove onions from pot, allow to cool, and peel (onions should slide right out of skin). Set aside.

Blanch bacon briefly in boiling water; drain, and dice or cube. Fry to render fat; remove meat and set aside, and save fat for frying.

Sprinkle chicken pieces on all sides with salt and ground pepper. Place chicken pieces, a few at a time, into a large (1-2 gallon) sealable plastic bag along with flour; shake to coat chicken completely. Remove chicken from bag, and fry in bacon fat, just until crust is crisp. Set chicken pieces aside.

In same pan, add pearl onions to fat, sprinkle with salt and pepper, sautéing until lightly brown (approximately 8-10 minutes). Remove onions from pan and set aside. Transfer chicken into a 7-8 quart enameled cast (like Le Creuset) or cast iron Dutch oven.

Add mushrooms to the same 12 inch sauté pan, adding 1 tbsp. butter if needed, and sauté until liquid is released (approximately 5 minutes). Store onions, mushrooms and bacon in airtight container in the refrigerator until ready to use.

Pour off remaining fat and deglaze pan with approximately 1 cup of wine. Pour this into Dutch oven along with chicken stock, quartered onion, carrots, celery, garlic, thyme and bay leaf. Add all of the remaining wine. Preheat oven to 325° F.

Place chicken in oven and cook for 2 to 2½ hours, or until chicken is tender. Maintain a very gentle simmer and stir occasionally.

Once chicken is done, remove it to a heatproof container, cover, and place in oven to keep warm. Strain the sauce in a sieve and degrease (discard carrots, celery, thyme, garlic and bay leaf). Return the sauce to a pot, place over medium heat, and reduce by 1/3 (depending on how much liquid you began with, this should take 20-45 minutes).

When sauce has thickened, add pearl onions, mushrooms and bacon, and cook another 15 minutes or until heated through. Taste and adjust seasonings if necessary; remove from heat, add the chicken and serve. Serve from Dutch oven with either long grained white rice or lightly buttered egg noodles; and of course, with a classic white Burgundy such as Meursault.
Note: if sauce is not thick enough at the end of reducing, you may add a mixture of equal parts butter and flour kneaded together, starting with 1 tbsp. each. Whisk this in the sauce for 4-5 minutes, and repeat if necessary.

Organic Wine & Food Matching: Domaine Tempier Bandol & smoked pulled pork

Collette wrote of France’s Jurançon: when I was a young girl, I was introduced to a passionate Prince, domineering and two-timing like all great seducers…

My lifelong affair has been with Domaine Tempier’s Bandol rouge, which began in the early 1980s, when I was first introduced to the French imports of Kermit Lynch. In the beginning, I did not understand the compulsion: it was a red wine that always seem to have a spirit – whether it was in the mysterious, earthy, scrubby, leathery notes that often seem to engulf the aromas of berry liqueurs in the nose, or the slightly sparkly, lively, lilting quality in the texture of the wine itself, almost belying a meatiness of tannin and dried grape skin flavor.

Whatever the case, it was like my first love, which happened to be a girl from a Hawaiian plantation – a black maned mestiza, first sighted bouncing up onto the back of a truck, work gloves belted at the waist, jeans snug around the thighs and tucked into dusty leather, steel tip work boots, and (like me) 15 years old going on whatevah. I was tongue tied and discombobulated for weeks; and even long after, incapable of understanding exactly why ordinary conversation seemed as strenuous as swimming in mud.

But conversation with the maddening mestiza did continue for some time, thank you; but with Bandol, the conversation has been going for much longer. It is, after all is said and done, a wine that never seems light or heavy, lean nor fat, zesty but never sharp, delicious with a stew of meat, and delicious with a stew of fish. In short, the perfect lifelong companion.

Many years later, reading the chapter devoted to Domaine Tempier in Kermit Lynch’s classic book, Adventures on the Wine Route, I came to understand why this wine, of all wines, retains its eternal, dusty leathered youth: particularly the fact that it comes from a magnificent vineyard in Provence’s Le Plan de Castellet, close enough to the Mediterranean where the air is pungent with the smell of the ocean mixed with scrubby herbs of the chalky hillsides. How François Peyraud plowed and hoed the field by hand rather resort to herbicides, and fought mildew by spraying the vines (mostly Mourvèdre, with some grapes of the Grenache) only with natural sulfur from the soil of a nearby region so that the terroir could remain pristine and protected from artificial intrusion.

And how Jean-Marie Peyraud, following his father Lucien’s lead, aged the Bandol strictly in large, well used casks (rather than new, small oak barrels) so that the wine tasted of grapes and earth rather than freshly hewn trees, and bottled with absolutely no sulfites so that years after, when drinking Domaine Tempier Bandol, you would still feel like you were drinking directly from the cask, when the wine still tastes like it is just squeezed from the grapes.

Indeed, Domaine Tempier’s Bandol is a wine that really doesn’t age. That is to say, it will retain its deep color and fragrance – in fact, deepen in color and fragrance – even as the years fly by. I kid you not, as this very fact was driven home to me one night (oh, about eleven years ago) when Kermit himself served me a muscular 20 year old Vieux Télégraphe Châteauneuf-du-Pape, followed by a regally scented 20 year old Chave Hermitage, followed by a 20 year old Domaine Tempier… all double-blind (the identities of the wines hidden from me in decanters), and densest, darkest, most fragrant wine of the three was still, after all that time, the Bandol!

But I wasn’t surprised, because I’d already been entangled with Bandol for some time. Now are you getting interested?

Okay, then you must first find yourself a bottle of the 2006 Domaine Tempier Bandol Classique (about $40); which, although is an entry level Bandol (Tempier produces several single vineyard Bandols with even more pent-up energy and power), has all the Bandolishness you need: a nose of sweet berries (sometimes I think cassis, other times framboise) floating over the glass with wispy, invisible clouds of earth (freshly composted humus… perfume to a gardener) and gunflint mixed with a subtle ocean salinity; and on the palate, juicy, rich, medium to full flavors, tugging at the senses like that old, familiar, perfectly agreeable pain (ah, that girl from the fields).

Island Style Smoked Pulled Pork

When Kermit and I tasted that 20 year old Bandol, he and his wife Gail Skoff served up squab and a casserole of scalloped potatoes layered with truffles. Of course, the match was perfect in every way, but not exactly your normal Friday night meal. In lieu of that, I prescribe slow smoked birds, like duck or Cornish game hen. But from many years of experience, I also know that Bandol’s salt and flint nuanced berry qualities are absolutely delicious with Island style smoked pulled pork (what we call kalua pig), which differs from Southern style pulled pork in that it’s not mixed in or served with a vinegary, sweet-spicy barbecue sauce (Bandol doesn’t have the pointedly sweet, berry jam flavors like, say, California Zinfandel to handle American barbecue sauces).

No, for Bandol all you need is a fork tender, steamy pile of smoked pork dolled up with nothing more than rock salt. The ancient Hawaiians traditionally dug a 6 x 4 x 3 foot hole in the ground to make their kalua – the whole pig cooked over blazing hot rocks, covered with banana leaves and burlap, and then buried in the ground to steam a good 24 hours. I’m not suggesting you find your fatted pig, dig up the backyard or drive down to Louisiana for your banana leaves. After many years of living off-island, I’ve devised my own total “lazy man’s” way of cooking Hawaiian style pulled pork, requiring nothing more than time:

5-8 lb. pork butt
¼ cup sea salt (Hawaiian if you can find it; kosher in a pinch)
2 oz. liquid smoke (or ½ bottle of Wright’s Liquid Hickory Smoke)

Pre-heat oven to 350° F. Score pork and place in a big enough Dutch oven. Combine salt and liquid smoke and rub all over pork. Pour water half-way up side of pork; cover with heavy duty aluminum foil and roast in oven, at least 1 hour per pound. The entire house will smell like a smoker, but that’s okay… just open a window and pop a well chilled bottle of Bandol rosé (some say, the finest dry pink wine in the world). Remove pork from water, place in large bowl and shred with tongs or strong forks. Mix in additional rock salt to taste. Serve with steamed white rice, collard greens or spinach, fresh sliced tomatoes, the Bandol rouge, and you’re in business!

Organic wine & food matching: Ca' del Solo Muscat & Dong steamed whole fish

Because something is happening here, and you don’t know what it is...

The 2008 Ca’ del Solo Muscat (Monterey County; about $18) is not just another pretty girl; as lightly sweet, delectable and fragrant a white wine as it is, blooming with notes of tropical flowers (jasmine and frangipani), lychee and white peppery spices (or as the back label describes it, with Nabokovan alliteration, “a musky, melodious, melon-like meditation on minerality”). It also ranks as another battle cry against convention launched by a winemaker who has done more than make a career out of idiosyncrisity – he has made a career out of turning idiosyncrisities into norms.

Ca’ del Solo, for those of you who’ve been around the block, used to be a brand, formulated by Bonny Doon winemaker (and “President for Life”) Randall Grahm, signifying Italian inspired grapes, wine styles, and yes, leetle girl labels. Today, Ca’ del Solo labels bear “crystalline” micro-snapshots of each wine, captured in their petri dish; connected to silver strings that make the crystallizations look more like floating ova than kids’ balloons.

Ca’ del Solo now also stands mostly for Grahm’s recent conversion, like an Kierkegaardian winemaker of infinite resignation, to biodynamic viticulture.

No matter how “loopy” anyone may say biodynamics – complete with the burying of manure filled cow horns in the vineyard, the spraying of herbal teas according to phases of the moon, etc. -- can be, there could be no sobering a reminder of exactly why many of the world’s most respected vignerons have recently turned to the teachings of the Austrian philosopher Rudolph Steiner than the news, reported last week in the Associated Press, concerning allegations of an “organic” company selling fertilizers secretly “spiked” with synthetic chemicals to CCOF certified farms all over California.

Kathleen Inman, winemaker/owner of Sonoma’s Inman Family Wines, wrote me, saying that “it certainly adds another ‘tick’ in the yes column of why moving towards more self-sustainable farming is a good idea.” Inman, who fashions her own liquid fertilizers from worm castings from a nearby worm farm, says “being biodynamic is ideal,” although for now, she is content to make do by supplying her own small organic vineyard strictly from resources she can trust.

Grahm, however, did not simply convert to the full-fledged self-sustainability of biodynamic viticulture. In 2004 he went so far as to divest his wine production company of his two biggest brands, Cardinal Zin and Big House, thus taking his annual production down from 450,000 cases to 35,000 cases (what he called “Doon-sizing”), specifically to finance the development of 120 acres of vineyards near Soledad, California into a 100% biodynamic farm. Ca’ del Solo, the name of the property as well as the label under which these biodynamic wines are being bottled, was certified by Demeter® USA in 2007.

As much as he loved sourcing forgotten, even “ugly duckling,” grapes up and down the California coast to make his Bonny Doon wines (such as his ground breaking, critically acclaimed Southern Rhône style blend, Le Cigare Volant, and his immensely successful Pacific Rim Riesling), Grahm says in the end it “wasn’t sustainable emotionally or spiritual for me.”

This is how Philippe Coderey, the biodynamic guru to whom Grahm turned to direct his vineyard operations, voices Grahm’s revised conception of terroir: “Most conventional wines are fruity… you can feel the fruit, and then, after that… nothing.” By eschewing chemical fertilizers and avoiding things like irrigation, however, the biodynamic grower “is training his vines to go deep into the soil.” Once vines are converted to biodynamic practices that establish a biological and, yes, even spiritual symbiosis with the soil, “you will find inside the bottle of wine the minerality that gives the wine complexity… you’re tasting not only the fruits, but also the soil.” Hence for Grahm, a more fulfilling, transparent sense of terroir.

Dong Festive Steamed Whole Fish

Enough verbiage, what can the Ca’ del Solo Muscat do for you? There are no less than three ways to enjoy this wine, in all its winsome, wise-crackling, perfumed precocity: First, utterly naked, as a well chilled, palate freshening apéritif. Secondly, poured over ice, upon which the wine’s mild sparkle perceptively sighs with pleasure, with a wheel of lime or sprig of mint to bring out the Muscat’s citrus zest and minty freshness of flavors.

Or third, to experience the full, dynamic food versatility of off-dry, buoyantly fresh whites like the Ca’ del Solo, with this recipe for Dong festive steamed whole fish, culled from Jeffrey Alford and Naomi Duguid’s fascinating cookbook/travelogue on the outskirts of China, Beyond the Great Wall:

One 1½ lb. red snapper, cleaned and scaled
¾ tsp. salt
1 tbsp. minced ginger
2 scallions, cut lengthwise into ribbons and then into 2 inch lengths
1 red cayenne chile, seed and cut into thin strips
Generous 1 tsp. peanut oil (or vegetable oil)
5 or 6 Sichuan peppercorns, lightly crushed

To steam fish, you will need a 12 to 14 inch wide bamboo steamer and a wok with a wide pot with a bamboo or metal steamer insert. You will also need a deep heatproof plate (there will be some pan juices) that fits into the steamer and is wide enough to hold the fish (curve fish or trim off end of the tail if necessary).

Wash fish well and dry. Place fish on cutting board and cut 2 or 3 parallel diagonal slashes on each side, cutting down to the bone. Rub all over lightly with salt. Rub minced ginger into the slashes and into the fish cavity. Place fish on plate, and sprinkle scallion ribbons into the cavity and over the fish. Sprinkle any remaining ginger over the top of the fish, and then sprinkle on the red chile strips. Place the plate with the fish in the steamer basket or insert.

Place the wok or pot on the stove and add about 2 inches of water. Place the steamer basket in the wok or pot (make sure water level is below steamer), and bring the water to boil over high heat. Cover the steamer tightly and cook 10-11 minutes, until fish is firm and the flesh in the slashes is opaque and flakes when pulled with a fork.

Meanwhile, just before fish is done (at about the 9 minute mark), heat the oil in a small wok or skillet. When it is very hot, toss in the Sichuan pepper, lower the heat to medium, and cook for 30 seconds. Remove from heat.

Uncover the cooked fish and pour the hot oil over it. Lift the steamer out and onto a work surface, then remove the plate from the steamer. Serve the fish on the plate, with its pan juices, hot or at room temperature. Serve with steamed white rice.

Final remarks: as with any recipe, you needn’t be slavish to this outer-rim style of steamed fish. In Hawai`i for instance, we typically add crushed garlic and rough cut sprigs of cilantro to our steamed fish, and peanut oil is usually sizzled with a dose of soy sauce. Either way, the Muscat’s peppery spiced, citrus fresh fruitiness is the ideal match; the sweetness balancing the chile spice, hot oil and/or soy to a tee, and the tropical flower and fruit qualities reflecting the gingery sensations and digging deep into the delicate white flesh of the snapper… a symbiosis of wine and food terroir!

Organic Wine & Food Matching: Domaine Carneros Brut & Authentic Hawaiian Poke

The French have been making sparkling wine in California for so long, you almost overlook the extraordinary quality of their wines: the closest thing to fine, complex champagne grown and produced outside Champagne, France in the world.

Each of the major firms have made dramatic impacts on the industry: beginning in the mid-1970s, Domaine Chandon with its focus on the three classic grapes of Champagne (Chardonnay, Pinot Noir and Pinot Meunier) grown in the coolest section (Carneros) in Napa Valley; Mumm Napa with its brilliant blending in adjustment to California’s sunnier climes, Roederer Estate for its bold exploration of Mendocino’s Anderson Valley, and now, Domaine Carneros by Taittinger for its French-like sense of long-term sustainablility, moving towards 100% organic grape growing soon after establishing its 300 acres in Carneros in 1987.

Consider this: in the early 1990s it wasn’t quite hip to be green; especially among neighbors who, although they may farm sustainably, still insist on the option of zapping their vines at the first sign of trouble. After receiving CCOF certification in 2008, Domaine Carneros’ longtime President and Chief Winemaker (since 1989) Eileen Crane (pictured above) remarked, “Certified organic viticulture means you can’t just give the vineyard a shot of penicillin when it gets sick.”

Committing to organics, especially in the beginning, is a process, often at the expense of perceived efficiency. Instead of wiping out mealy bugs with chemicals, for instance, you use chickens, who love mealy bugs. “Now, of course,” says Crane, “we have to protect the chickens from coyotes… if you think outside the box, some experiments might not work out, but you learn from them what the next step should be.”

Green consciousness has always been important to Domaine Carneros (the winery also employs solar power, skylights and underground insulation rather than refrigeration), but the evolution has always been one and the same with that of this centuries old French Champagne house’s first priority, which is producing the finest wines. “We believe that you achieve this through healthy vines,” say Crane, while adding, “you want to be part of something that’s not just for the moment… we want people to enjoy their jobs and the vines.”

I’ll toast to that, which brings up our organic wine match of the day: the 2005 Domaine Carneros Brut (about $26); and make no mistake, this is as fine a sparkler made in California, organic grapes or not. In the classic Taittinger style, the highlight is its texture – creamy smooth, like waves of silk caressing the lips – and wispy fragrances of wildflowers, baking apples, rising bread and buttery slivers of toasted hazelnut, extending over a long, zesty palate of distinct delicacy.

Light and lovely sparklers like this certainly don’t need food to be complete; like food, its refined effervescence is resuscitative in itself. But you can also think of the Domaine Carneros in the same way as you would most lighter bodied, dry or off-dry white wines with crisp, sharply defined acidity that freshens dishes like squeezes of lemon. White fish and minerally shellfish (shrimp, crab, oysters and lobster) are naturals, especially in the form of sashimi, tartare, seviche, salsas, Hawaiian poke, or in salads with mild, winey vinaigrettes.

Authentic Hawaiian Poke

Speaking of which, have you ever had authentic Hawaiian poke (pronounced POH-kay)? Even in the Islands, the variations are endless, but I can’t say that most Mainland renditions, done at the hands of “creative” chefs, come decently close to the Hawaiian originals. When in doubt, stick to the simple, original style, in which you can taste the ocean itself.

Although the early Hawaiian fishermen didn’t use soy sauce or chiles (their poke was probably no more than chopped seaweed, rock salt and ground kukui nuts), this is a version considered basic in Hawai`i today:

2 lbs. sashimi grade ‘ahi tuna, cut into bite-sized cubes (poke means “cut piece”)
½ cup soy sauce
3/4 cup chopped green onions
2 tbsp. sesame oil
1-2 tbsp. Hawaiian (preferably) rock salt, to taste
1 or 2 red chile peppers (small Thai types), cored, seeded and finely minced
1 tbsp. toasted sesame seeds
½-1 cup limu kohu (seaweed), blanched and chopped
1 tbsp. toasted macadamia nuts (ground or finely chopped)

Making this is simply a matter of tossing and mixing (chill before serving); and if you do it often, you end up going by feel rather than measurements. Although the reddish-brown limu seaweed is a key ingredient in the Islands, you can enjoy the pure taste of poke style tuna – with which a dry, yeasty, refined sparkler like Domaine Carneros washes over like a hissing, foamy soft wave climbing up a feathery, golden sand Hawaiian beach – without it.

The sesame seeds are another nice option; if you find the seeds plain, you can toast them by placing them in a small dry saucepan over medium heat, stirring occasionally until golden brown (about three minutes). Finally, although I can usually do without the macadamia nuts, I’d add it in for the Domaine Carneros because, like the sesame seeds, it offers a nice flavor bridge to the wine’s toasted nut nuances. To toast whole macadamias, spread them over a baking sheet in a preheated 300° F. oven 5-6 minutes, until lightly browned, and… aloha!

Organic wine & food matching: Marcel Deiss Engelgarten & saffroned chicken biryani

In Alsace, a part of France full of famous rebels – like André Ostertag, Charles Schléret, and Zind-Humbrecht’s Olivier Humbrecht – Jean-Michel Deiss (right) has played the role of absolute pariah.

It’s not so much that he took the organically cultivated vineyards inherited from his grandfather, Marcel Deiss, and turned them into biodynamic farms by 1997. The domaines of Marc Kreydenweiss, Zind-Humbrecht, Ostertag and other top Alsatian vignerons are also farmed biodynamically. More than anything, what has rubbed colleagues and local authorities the wrong way has been Deiss’ total disregard of the sanctity of singular varietal bottling; for in Alsace, the finest wines have always been bottled by the names of the great grapes of Alsace – namely, Riesling, Gewürztraminer, Pinot Gris, Pinot Blanc and Muscat d’Alsace.

Instead, Deiss’ finest wines are bottled simply by the name of Marcel Deiss along with the names of their vineyard sources: such as the grand crus Schoenenbourg and Altenberg de Bergheim vineyards, and premier crus such as Burg, Rotenberg, Gruenspiel and Engelgarten. But no mention of any grape on the label.

Deiss himself says that a turning point was in 1993, when a Riesling from his Burg vineyard was criticized for not tasting like a “Riesling.” This prompted Deiss to not just remove the names of grapes from his single vineyard bottlings, but also to start planting as many as seven different varieties in his best vineyards (which, also unusually, Deiss harvests and co-ferments all at once). No more blind following of tradition, he has said, because of obligatory feelings. “I realized that the grape in a vineyard is an ingredient, but not a dish… it is wrong to transform the energy of a unique place into a ‘Riesling’… by having many varieties in Burg I am giving the terroir different letters so it can create sentences.”

Hence, no winemaker in Alsace focuses as much on terroir as Jean-Michel Deiss. As in our organic wine of the day: the 2003 Marcel Deiss Engelgarten (about $45), which is a field blend composed mostly of Riesling, Pinot Gris and Auxerrois. True to Deiss’ intentions, this white wine does not taste of any one grape; but rather, in the words of Deiss’ winemaker Marie-Hélène Christofaro (right), like a “filtering” of wine through the gravel dominating Engelgarten’s soil. Nevertheless, the nose is honeyed, suggesting ripe, juicy, white fleshed stone fruits (peach, nectarine and lychee); and a steely, austere entry gives way quickly to almost sweet, viscous sensations of the honeyed fruit, before finishing with a mouth-watering bang and emphatically stony, faintly bitter, citrus peel dryness.

Peculiar, maybe even strange… yes. Expressive and flavorful… ditto...

Saffroned Chicken Biryani

And you know what I love even more about the Engelgarten? This wine’s electrifying minerality and multi-grape fruit complexity make a match for dishes few other wines in the world are up to handling. No, I’m not talking Asian/fusion sweet, sour, salty, or spicy food sensations. I’m thinking specifically of dishes dominated by the flavor of saffron – that wild, indescribably pure, organic seasoning derived directly from the stigma of the crocus flower.

Of course, being a wine guy, I do have words for saffron. To me, saffon infused foods suggest sea water, citrus peel, burnt hay, roasted clove, warm humus, dusty velvet, sun dried fruit and sex. I know many people say saffron makes them laugh, and many others just smile. Me, I just get hungry, like for this Kuwaiti style dish of saffroned chicken biryani, adapted from Peter Mentzel and Faith d’Aluisio’s Hungry Planet:

2½ cups basmati rice
1 tsp. saffron, soaked 10 minutes in warm water
2 tsp. canola oil
2 medium sweet onions, minced
4 cloves garlic, crushed
½ tsp. fresh ginger, minced
1 whole chicken (about 4 lbs.), cut into pieces
salt (to taste)
1 tbsp. ground coriander
1 tsp. turmeric
3 tsp. allspice
2 tbsp. butter
1 cup plain yogurt
1 medium fresh tomato, diced
1 tbsp. fresh lemon juice

Optional garnishes:
1 medium sweet onion, minced (fried to brown crispness)
¼ cup golden raisins, fried
1/8 cup crushed cashews, fried
¼ cup pine nuts, toasted

Heat Dutch oven pot on stove and add oil; when oil is hot, add onions, garlic, and ginger, and sauté until onions are transluscent. Add chicken pieces, salt, coriander, turmeric, 1 tsp. of allspice, yogurt, tomato and lemon juice. Stir over moderate heat for 7 minutes, taking care to prevent yogurt from boiling. Add water to cover chicken, with salt to taste; cover with lid and cook at high simmer for 45 minutes. Towards end, preheat oven to 350°.

Add rice to pot with butter, saffron and remaining allspice; stir to combine. Cover pot with aluminum foil and pot lid, and cook in oven for 45 minutes. In meantime, prepare garnishes (fry raisins and cashews with onions). Remove pot from oven, stir to combine, sprinkle over garnishes, and serve.

Organic wine & food matching: Paul Dolan Zinfandel & Memphis dry rub barbecued pork

The first two things I need to tell you about the 2006 Paul Dolan Zinfandel (about $19) is that it’s produced by the former CEO/Winemaker of Fetzer Vineyards – one of California’s pioneers of organic grape growing – named, of course, Paul Dolan, and that it is indeed vinified 100% from CCOF certified organic grapes.

The second thing I need to tell you about the Paul Dolan Zinfandel is that it is not to be taken seriously. Which is not to say it isn’t a fine wine, because it is very fine indeed. But it is also a smooth, easy, fruit driven red wine – redolent of peppery spiced, sweet raspberry-veering-towards-blueberry aromas, and soft, ripe and piquant on the palate – guaranteed to lift the spirit and satisfy the soul if (and only if) enjoyed with a sense of levity rather than gravity.

In fact, to put you in the mood, even before you go out and purchase said Zinfandel, I want to assign you this homework – a clip by one of Hawai`i’s comedic legends, Rap Reiplinger, portraying a cooking show host named Auntie Marialani, teaching us exactly how to inspect our red wine (“not too sweet, not too rancid, but ju-u-ust right”) before cooking with it:



Auntie Marialani, as you should have seen, doesn’t quite connect the dots between her wine and dish, but that’s okay. Zesty, buoyantly balanced Zinfandels like Paul Dolan’s do not require a lot of thought: it will match lasagna or spaghetti and meatballs with as much aplomb as it would teriyaki beef and rice, sticky smoked barbecued ribs, fenneled or chili spiced sausages, well aged goudas and cheddars, and even arugula or mesclun salads dolled up with beets or chèvre, shaved parmigiano or crispy cornbread croutons, or just plain blackpepper, olive oil and dabs of balsamic vinegar.

But if I had to choose one match, I would prescribe two bottles of Paul Dolan Zinfandel (one for you, one for me) with a classic style of American dry rubbed pork ribs (my favorite: re this recipe for Memphis style dry rub). Ju-u-st right!

Organic wine & food matching: Vertvs Tempranillo & Hawaiian beef stew

There’s a memorable story in Cervantes’ Don Quixote, told by the faithful Sancho Panza, of the great wine judges in his lineage; particularly, two on his father’s side who were once challenged to identify a wine from a barrel. The first one brought the wine to the tip of his tongue, and declared the flavor of iron. The second one just needed to pass it under his nose before declaring a stronger flavor of cordovan leather. The owner of the wine protested, however, saying his wine was perfectly clean, with no trace of iron or leather. Days later, though, after the wine was sold and the barrel emptied, cellarers found a small iron key at the bottom of the barrel, hanging by a thong of leather.

The story of these men from La Mancha took place at the start of the 1600s, during the same period of time Cervantes wrote his epic tale. Sometimes we forget how old the fine arts – like literature, wine judging, and great winemaking – really are.

There are written records from the court of King Pedro I of Castilla in Spain, for instance, dating Bodegas Iranzo back to 1335. Evidently, the family of Iranzo Perez-Duque is still going strong after over six hundred years, as our organic wine of the day – Iranzo’s 2003 Vertvs Tempranillo Crianza (about $14) – is as bright, rose petal fresh, raisiny ripe and round as any red wine in the world. Doing justice to the Spanish connoisseurs of olde, Doug Frost MW/MS goes further by describing it as “layered and vibrant… soft… a little grippy… red raspberry, cooked cranberries, blueberry hints…” and whom, bodacious mis amigos, am I to argue?

The vineyard plantings of Bodegas Iranzo – in the region of Utiel-Requena, made up of lime-crusted sandy soils in hills some 2,700 ft. in elevation, just off the Mediterranean coast near Valencia – are also fortunate enough to be located in the middle of a National Reserve Park, and for centuries were cultivated naturally, without the use of modern day chemicals or fertilizers. So it was simply natural for this estate to attain, in 1994, one of Spain’s first EU/Agricultura Ecológica certifications; and the first in all of Spain to receive USDA National Organic Program accreditation as well.

Bodegas Iranzo’s fertilizers, as it were, are derived from sheep manure from extensively farmed flocks within the district; and the family has encouraged further biodiversity, since the 1950s, by maintaining a program of reforestation on some 75 acres of surrounding land with native woodland species, as well as the establishment of a nearby flora micro-reserve.

Hawaiian Beef Stew

But all this is beside the most important point for us: the wine makes damned good drinking; full flavored, yet soft and warming on the palate. It’s this kind of wine, in fact, that always makes me think of soft, warming dishes like Louisiana style red beans and rice, or Mexican machaca (shredded beef). But since I’m from the Islands, I have to say that it may be even better with a luscious tomato, carrot and beef studded Hawaiian beef stew, which comes in as many variations as Islanders who cook. This recipe -- adapted from Muriel Miura and Betty Shimabukuro’s What Hawai’i Likes to Eat -- is pretty much basic, but guaranteed deliciousness:

2 lbs. lean stewing beef, cut into 1-inch cubes
½ cup flour
¼ cup canola oil
2 medium sized sweet onions, wedged
1 clove garlic, pressed
5 cups water
2 bay leaves, broken in half
½ cup red wine (or dry sherry)
2 tsp. salt (or to taste)
¼ tsp. black pepper
2 cans (8 oz.) tomato sauce
1 can (13.5 oz.) whole or stewed tomatoes
4 carrots, about ¾ inch chunks
4 potatoes, pared and quartered
1 cup sliced celery

Dredge beef in flour; brown lightly on all sides in hot oil. Add onions and garlic; brown lightly. Add water and bay leaves; simmer 1½ hours, or until beef is tender. Add remaining ingredients; simmer additional 30-60 minutes, or until vegetables are tender. If desired, thicken stew with flour water mixture. Serves 6-8, and strongly recommended with steamed white Japanese rice.

Organic wine & food matching: Gemtree Shiraz & Korean style barbecued shortribs

left, Gemtree's Melissa Buttery and Mike Brown

While organic or biodynamic wines coming out of Australia have been far and between, the movement does exist Down Under; and certification agencies such as Australian Certified Organic (ACO), Demeter in Australia’s Bio-Dynamic Research Institute (BDRI), and National Association for Sustainable Agriculture, Australia (NASAA) have recently stepped up activities, with a number of leading producers (such as Henschke, Burge Family, Elderton, Noon, Wirra Wirra and M. Chapoutier Australia) making the transition to chemical-free, sustainable grape growing as we speak.

In the meantime, a perfectly delicious, biodynamically grown Australian red – the 2007 Gemtree Tadpole Shiraz (about $16) – has been popping up in markets across the U.S., and it has all the deep, black, bouncy, lush fruitiness Shiraz lovers look for in their reds; including an intense nose, suggesting raspberry liqueur, boysenberry jam and a veneer of vanillin oak, plus a soft medium-full body underlined by easy tannins, allowing the Shiraz fruit to gush forth and pleasure the palate.

The intensity of the Gemtree Shiraz is part and parcel of its McLaren Vale terroir; and indeed, for many years the stellar grapes from this 330 acre estate went into cuvées bottled by top brands like Rosemount. The transition from grower to producer started in 1994, when Melissa Buttery, daughter of founders Paul and Jill Buttery, joined the family business as a viticulturist, followed a few years later by Melissa’s boyfriend-turned-husband, Mike Brown, who happened to be an accomplished winemaker.

Always the keen environmentalist, it was Melissa who turned Gemtree towards organic and biodynamic viticulture. Not stopping there, in 1998 she initiated Gemtree Wetlands: taking twenty-five acres in the middle of the property and establishing it as a wetlands preserve in joint venture partnership with the nonprofit group, Greening Australia (South Australia). This arduous, long term project has involved the planting of some 20,000 native trees and shrubs, and the building of six interlinking dams to help regenerate the region and establish a haven for native frogs, birds and animals, while contributing to the self-sustaining aspects of the vineyard.

Korean Style Barbecued Shortribs (Kalbi)

The biggest plus about a good, sturdy, juicy Shiraz is that its dense fruitiness always lends itself to Asian style barbecued meats like no other wine can. A perfect match every time, for instance, is the Korean style of barbecued beef shortribs known as kalbi. In Hawai’i, where I grew up, no self-respecting hibachi homeboy or local take-out joint can make it without mastering the art of Korean barbecue. The good news is that it’s not that difficult, it can be done anywhere, and the fact that this toothsome cut of beef, in moderately sweetened, garlic and sesame seasoned, soy sauce based marinades, tastes absolutely delicious with a lusciously spiced Shiraz.

Everyone in the Islands has his/her own variation (or “secrets”) of kalbi, but here is a good, basic recipe to start with:

3 lbs. English cut (thick) beef shortribs, scored

Marinade:
½ cup soy sauce
¼ cup sesame oil
¼ cup sugar
2 cloves garlic, minced
¼ tsp. salt
¼ tsp. black pepper
3 stalks green onions, minced
2 tsp. toasted sesame seeds

Combine marinade ingredients and pour over shortribs in zip-lock plastic bag (or in shallow Pyrex sealed with plastic wrap); marinate overnight in refrigerator. Broil (or grill) 8-10 minutes on each side until desired doneness.

Organic wine match of the day: Maysara Jamsheed Pinot Noir & Szechuan baby back ribs

When Oregon’s “Papa Pinot,” the recently departed David Lett of Eyrie Vineyards, planted his first vineyard in 1965, he settled in the Dundee Hills just south, towards west, of Portland, where deep, red clay soils on bedrocks of basalt have yielded the type of gentle yet generous, red berryish, fruit driven red wines that have come epitomize Willamette Valley Pinot Noir.

During the past twenty-five years, a number of other little pockets of Willamette Valley have been successfully planted by winemakers, five of which have been identified as sufficiently unique to merit their own official AVA (American Viticultural Region) designation. Among those “other” regions: the McMinnville AVA, located a good twenty miles southwest of the Dundee Hills AVA; closer to the Pacific’s maritime influence, and tucked into coastal mountain hillsides where slightly dryer weather and brighter days are offset by cooler nights and significantly shallower soils than that of Dundee.

From this emerging AVA, McMinnville’s 2006 Maysara Jamsheed Pinot Noir (about $27) stands out as a slightly “different” style of Willamette Valley Pinot Noir: more aggressive, slightly steelier in acid, and more structured in terms of tannin and glycerol than the pretty, fruit driven Dundee Hills wines of old. Yet this is still a cold climate Oregonian, and so the Maysara shares the plump, juicy, wild berry traits of the finest Willamette Valley Pinot Noirs. The meager soils, however, also yield a more pronounced anise and clove-like spiciness in the nose; in the '06, becoming more pepperminty and green leafy/herbal on the palate, intertwined with muscular tannins and almost sweet, marionberry jam-like flavors.

While the Maysara’s intensity is a direct reflection of McMinnville’s terroir, another major factor is the low-impact winemaking and biodynamic viticulture practiced with great devotion by Maysara proprietor, Moe Momtazi (Moe's daughter, winemaker Tahmiene Momtazi, pictured right). It was, in fact, the attraction of staking out a somewhat remote, 532 acre, abandoned wheat farm, free from chemicals for at least seven years, that first attracted Momtazi to the Maysara site in 1997. Explaining why he opted for the holistic approach of biodynamics on the Maysara Web site, Momtazi says that “while organics share the biological agriculture background and methods, it stops short of the dynamic processes, or life force of the farm… biodynamics recognizes and responds to the life force of the living farm, considering the farm a living organism.” Hence, the increased sense of place you can’t help but taste in a Maysara.

Maybe it goes back to when I was a kid and loved to crash my O-gauge Lionel train through redwood Lincoln Log walls, but what I like to do with Pinot Noirs like the Maysara, with its collision of wild, zesty flavors, is match it with Asian or fusion styles of dishes with their own collisions of sensations; like the following reworking of Chef Roy Yamaguchi’s Szechuan style baby back ribs. Don’t sweat the hoisin and chili paste – the hot, vinegary, sweet spices actually accentuate the fruit and star anise-like spiciness of the Maysara, and there is plenty enough tannin in the wine to absorb the fattiness of the ribs and the char from the grill. Have fun…

4½ lbs. baby back ribs (3 slabs)
2 cups hoisin sauce
2 tbsp. minced garlic
3 tbsp. minced ginger
2 tbsp. Sriracha (Thai chili sauce; available in all Asian grocers)
½ cup honey

Cut rib slabs in half and place in a large pot of boiling water. Slow boil 90 minutes, or until tender (meat will shrink down from top of bone to at least half inch). Remove from water and let stand 10 minutes.

To make marinade, combine remaining ingredients and refrigerate.

Preheat oven to 450 degress. Brush ribs on both sides with marinade. Place on a rack on top of a cookie sheet in the oven. Bake 10 to 15 minutes, until shiny. Remove and cool. Cut into pieces and brush with more marinade. Grill on a hibachi or charcoal grill until hot. Serves six, and is particularly great with fresh, steaming white rice!

Organic wine match of the day: Pircas Negras Torrontes

So let me get this straight, you put de lime in de coconut, you drank ‘em bot’ up…

At least that’s what goes on in my mind when I pop a bottle of Argentina’s 2008 Pircas Negras Torrontés (about $10); a luscious white wine made from a grape originally indigenous to Galicia in Spain, but which has evolved as Argentina’s signature, and most popular, white.

¿Por qué no para ti? The nice thing about the Pircas Negras is that it starts off amazingly tropical – suggestions of exotic flowers, ripe papaya and, for all the world, avocado and cream – in the nose, and off-dry (just whispers of sweetness) on the palate. Once past the first sip, slightly lemony, zesty qualities balance out the fruitiness, and the wine finishes pretty much dry, the crisp acidity lightening the easy, tropical sensations. If this weren’t a wine, I’d be tempted to top it with a wedge of pineapple, plastic monkey or umbrella.

Besides being certified organically grown, this wine is also vegan (unlike most wines, not filtered or fined with the use of egg whites, casein, gelatin or isinglass), and is selling quite well in specialty stores in the Colorado Front Range (for online shoppers, re Organic Vintners).

Although this is also a wine that you don’t have to think too deeply about – drink it with anything, or nothing at all – it does make a nice match for a Tahitian style of lime marinated tuna called Poisson Cru (in Tahitian, E’ia Ota). If you’re not totally familiar with South Pacific style raw fish, go a little easy on the lime and coconut milk your first time around. Needless to say, the higher the quality of tuna, the lusher the poisson cru. Otherwise, think of this match – particularly the sun kissed fruitiness, balancing acidity and silken textures in both the wine and the dish – as being as effortless as a dip in a clear, heated, indoor pool (not a bad idea, here in the dead of winter).

Doctor!

Organic Wine Match of the Day: Tandem Porter-Bass Chardonnay

Chard, schmard… if you think all California Chardonnays taste like Kendall-Jackson’s, you’re missing out on many of the world’s greatest wines, my friend. There’s a reason why, for instance, those French judges rated Chateau Montelena’s Chardonnay better than the finest of France way back in 1976, re the in/famous Judgement of Paris (recently part-fictionalized in the film, Bottle Shock): simply put, the Chardonnay grape excels in Californian terroirs.

California vintners have advanced viticultural and oenological light years since 1976. They’ve gone so far, so fast, in fact, that the best of them today are back to where the grape started: with more authentic clones, more sustainable vineyards in cooler climates, and barrel fermenting as naturally as possible in ways pretty much like what’s been done in France for centuries.

Winemakers like Greg La Follette of Tandem Winery are highly regarded among other California winemakers precisely because he takes so many “natural” risks: starting with pristinely grown fruit, and doing as little to it as possible to extract levels of viscosity, muscle, and terroir related minerality many connoisseurs thought possible only in Burgundy where the grape originated.

Behold, the 2005 Tandem Porter-Bass Chardonnay from a mature site (planted over 100 years ago) in the coldest, far western section California’s Russian River Valley, meticulously tilled by both organic and biodynamic standards to yield wines like this: unusually floral (like white ginger and citrus blossoms) fragrances mingling with aromas of wet stones, crème brûlée, honeyed almonds and baking brioche; the creamy, mineral and citrus flavors riding on a tart edged, silken body that is neither light nor heavy, but dense, steely, sinewy in texture.

In other words, absolutely nothing resembling the soft, fluffy, weighty style of wine associated with 99% of other California Chardonnays. Okay, Tandem Chardonnays are rare and pricey ($35-$40), but it gives me an excuse to talk about how Chardonnays like this (producers such as Littorai, Au Bon Climat, Keller and DuhNah make similar Burgundian style wines) match food like nobody’s business. In French sommelier might recommend sweetbreads or chicken like Bocuse’s poulet de bresse or à l’estragon (Julia Child has the best recipe for the latter, the whole chicken rubbed inside and out with butter and stuffed with tarragon), but what about us American philistines?

The idea behind sweetbreads or roasted chicken is to give an oaky, full alcohol Chardonnay a white meat fatty or oily enough to grip. Herbs like tarragon and dill amplify the sweet, creamy notes of well oaked Chardonnays, and sage helps define both fruit and stony qualities of the grape itself. But the one recipe I’ve always found to work best with more crisply acidic Chardonnays from both France and California is Marcella Hazan’s classic Roasted Chicken with Lemon – simple, satisfying!

New Treats for the Organic Wine Lover

By most accounts, certified organic foods now make up about 5% of supermarket sales, and are an $18 billion industry. But why drink organic wines? Like consumers, wine growers have been moving towards organic farming for over a decade for health and environmental concerns, and because it makes sense to farm sustainably for the benefit of future generations and vineyard productivity.

Notwithstanding the somewhat misguided, prevalent consumer view that organic as well as biodynamic wines represent “fringe” elements of the wine production industry, the number of organic producers around the world continues to grow. Why? For the same reasons why all-time classics like Domaine Tempier in Bandol, Zind-Humbrecht in Alsace, Beaucastel in the Rhône, Mas de Daumas Gassac in the Languedoc, and Domaine del la Romanée-Conti in Burgundy have long followed these practices: because it produces better wine in both the short term and the long.

So if anything, producers like Paul Dolan and Ceàgo in Mendocino, Frog’s Leap and Rubicon Estate in Napa Valley, Badia a Coltibuono and Lageder in Italy, and Capcanes in Spain are not just following suit, they are simply catching up with what some of the great producers of the world have known all along. And it’s a good thing.

For a more complete description of organic, biodynamic and vegan delineations, see my earlier post, Organic Wines You Can Seek Your Teeth Into. Some of my most recent “finds”:

WHITES

2006 Del Bondio, Oakville Chardonnay (Napa Valley, California; organic grapes) – If you like organics yet prefer the classically broad, honeyed, toasty oaked, almost tropical fruit style of California Chardonnay, this one has all of that; with, however, a pleasingly tart, zesty edge quite atypical for mid-Napa style Chardonnay

2008 Pircas Negras, Torrontés (Argentina; organic grapes, vegan) – Luscious white made from a grape originally indigenous to Galicia in Spain; floral, tropical fragrances suggesting papaya and avocado; off-dry (i.e. whisper of sweetness) on the palate, with slightly lemony, zesty qualities giving fresh, easy sensations. (Note: “vegan” wines are those filtered or fined without the use of animal products like egg whites, casein, gelatin and isinglass).

2007 Alois Lageder, Benefizium Porer Pinot Grigio (Alto-Adige, Italy; biodynamic) – Very minerally, crisp edged, linear and refined, delicate Alpine style (as opposed to soft, simple, fruity) of the grape; fleshed out on the palate with sweet pear and pippin apple qualities, finishing smooth, stony dry, almost Chablis-like.

2006 Jean-Baptiste Adam, Riesling Reserve (Alsace, France; biodynamic) – An initial touch of residual sugar underlines this chubby, juicy, medium-full, glycerol textured bottling, rich in floral, peachy fruitiness tinged with the fusel qualities of the grape; yet the balance is very fine and buoyant, as the wine finishes clean, fresh, and very nearly dry.

2006 Francois Chidaine, Montlouis Clos du Breuil (Loire River, France; organic grapes) – Whites from Montlouis are made completely from the Chenin Blanc grape, and are classically tart and dry as rocks. This bottling follows the script, before veering off by exuding a supple, succulent, melony fruitiness of thick, densely textured qualities suggesting a countrified, wildflower honey, effectively rounding out the wine’s green apple acidity and minerality.

biodynamic pyramid

REDS

2005 Quivira, Dry Creek Valley Zinfandel (California; biodynamic) – Classic, zesty Sonoma style – pungent, sweetly ripened, jammy black cherry/red berry aromas and flavors – packaged in a snappy, silky, medium-full (closer to medium) body.

2006 Ceàgo, Redwood Valley Camp Masuit Merlot (California; biodynamic) – Classic red berry/black cherry aroma with floral, violet-like perfume; round, fleshy, very polished texture to luscious berry flavors, buoyed by soft tannins.

2006 Cooper Mountain, Reserve Pinot Noir (Willamette Valley, Oregon; biodynamic) – Pretty, feminine nose of sweet raspberry leaf tea with pepperminty nuances; soft, silky, refined qualities on the palate -- very much the delicate "Oregonian" style of the grape once always expected out of Willamette Valley, but seen less and less in these days of full extraction wines -- that are both aesthetically satisfying, and satisfyingly easy to consume. Nice.

2006 Maysara, Jamsheed Pinot Noir (Oregon; biodynamic) – Plump, juicy, wild berry aroma with autumnal spice nuances; the spiciness becoming more pepperminty and green leafy/herbal on the palate, intertwined with rounded berry flavors, medium tannins, and zippy acidity giving a lively, medium-full palate feel.

2005 Höpler, Pinot Noir (Burgenland, Austria; biodynamic) – Spring flower fresh, floral and perfumed; in fact, very fine, gentle, rather feminine in weight (light-medium bodied), the pure red berry flavors extending seamlessly across the palate.

2004 Lageder, Krafuss Pinot Noir (Alto Adige, Italy; biodynamic) – Very serious stuff; showing a Pinot nose of floral strawberry/wild berry fragrance complimented by smoky oak and burnt leafy nuances; rounded, luscious, juicy entry in the mouth, becoming zesty with acidity in the middle, the smoky, spiced berry sensations ringing all the way through a long, lively finish.

2007 Gemtree, Tadpole Shiraz (McLaren Vale, Australia; organic/uncertified biodynamic) – There aren’t a lot of organic wines coming out of Australia, and this one offers all the black, deep, bouncy, lush fruitiness Shiraz lovers look for in their reds; an intense nose, suggesting raspberry liqueur, with a vanillin oak veneer; a soft medium-full body underlined by easy tannins, allowing the Shiraz fruit to pleasure the palate.

2007 espelt, Sauló (Emporado, Spain; organic grapes) – Good and ripe, aromatic blend of Garnacha (60%) and Cariñena, yet solid with slightly drying tannins lending a dense, muscular, medium body presence, the juicy, cassis-like flavors pushing through at the end.

2005 Capcanes, Old Vines Mas Donis Barrica (Montsant, Spain; organic grapes) – A blend of Garnacha (85%) and Syrah, exuding ripe bing cherry fruitiness, with a backdrop of smoky/flinty, minerally/stony, and even faintly gamey qualities; medium-full body filled by smoothly rounded tannins, the earthy fruit qualities pushing through a bracing finish.

2007 Cantine Barbera, Nero d’Avola (Sicilia, Italy; biodynamic) – The underappreciated Nero d’Avola grape yields black colored, yet amazingly soft and lush styles of red wine, and Cantine Barbera’s is choice – teeming with luscious, sweetly aromatic black cherry aromas, following through on the palate in an easy, medium body rounded by ripe tannins and the pure, lively, persistent qualities of the grape.

2005 Badia a Coltibuono, Chianti Classico Riserva (Toscana, Italy; organic grapes) – A pure, nearly flawless expression of Chianti and the Sangiovese grape, beginning with a lush, red berry nose with undertones of forest floor twigs and rose petal potpourri; firm yet silky, densely concentrated yet elegantly composed on the palate, finishing long, almost sweet in intensity.

2005 Clos Roche Blanche, Cabernet Touraine (Loire River, France; organic grapes) – Pure, soft and refined Cabernet Franc based red, defined by an earthy raspberryish nose tinged with cedary wood, the mildest gaminess and a green leafy mintiness; smooth light-medium body unimpeded by tannin or weight, the dusty raspberry flavors lingering on the palate.

SWEET IMPORTED RED

2003 Capcanes, Pansal del Calàs (Montsant, Spain; organic grapes) – While pretty much a rarity, retailing for around $33 (500 ml.), this is such a remarkably unique dessert style wine – big and sweet like Port, but not nearly as heavy or spiritous – that it begs attention. A full bodied (17% alcohol) blend of Garnacha (around 70%) and Cariñena, yet incredibly smooth and well balanced: deep ruby color followed by sweet raspberry/cherry aromas with the slightest touch of rancio (a complimentary oxidation); juicy, succulent, lusciously sweet flavors pushed up by lively acidity, giving flavors of nearly endless exhilaration, as fresh and immediate as sucking directly from the fruit off the vine.

Don Ho Was Right (Matching Champagne with Food)

“I get no kick,” wrote Cole Porter, “from champagne,” which is a shame considering the immense variety and corresponding plethora of pleasures one can get from this singularly unique style of wine.

The difference between sparkling wines and regular “table” wines is in the bubbles. Like the difference between a quick jump in the shower and a long, leisurely, scented, candlelit soak in a frothy bathtub. No wonder women (and men who love women) are forever blowing bubbles.

So let’s flesh this out, beginning with semantics. “Real” champagne comes from an actual region in France called Champagne; and as wonderful as they may be, sparkling wines coming from elsewhere in the world are not correctly called champagne.

A number of California wineries still produce what they call “champagne,” but out of respect for the French we’ll call their products “sparkling wine.” Crisp, fragrant sparklers are produced in France’s nearby Loire River region, and these wines are referred to as mousseaux (French for “sparkling”). The Piemonte region in Italy produces spumante (Italian for “sparkling”), and from Italy’s Veneto comes a lovely, light sparkler called Prosecco (named after the Prosecco grape). The Spanish produce more sparkling wines than anyone in the world, and they call it cava (because their sparkling wines are generally produced underground, in miles and miles of “caves”). But champagne is champagne like a rose is a rose: never duplicated, unless you can move the entire Champagne region – rocks, stocks and barrels – to another part of the world.

Where sparkling wines differ from regular wines is that they are typically yeasty in aroma and flavor, and they have a zestier, mouthwatering sharpness of acidity, whether they are made bone dry, slightly sweet or very sweet. The yeastiness (think of this sensation as being like the scent of rising bread) is a byproduct of how sparkling wines are made: bubbles are produced by a second fermentation in a bottle or tank. Since fermentation is the action of yeast converting sugar into alcohol and CO2, the result is that bubbles along with the fragrance of expired yeast cells are trapped in a bottle, held fast by wired corks or capsules.

So why are France’s champagnes considered the finest sparkling wines? As with all wines, quality is determined by the grapes and region (climate, soil, topography, etc.) in which they are grown. A number of France’s most prestigious champagne houses – like Moët & Chandon, Roederer, Mumm and Taittinger – have established vineyards and set their most skilled winemakers to work in places like California and Australia, but they can never quite reproduce the quality of champagne in France. It is perfectly possible to craft strikingly champagne-like wines – fresh, zesty, yeasty and perfumed – outside Champagne, but grapes grown in Champagne still yield the purest, most finely balanced, penetratingly scented and flavorful sparkling wines in the world.

Hence the pricing of France’s champagnes: in this world of harsh realities, it is difficult to find a basic Extra Dry (slightly sweet style) or Brut (dryer style) brand of champagne retailing for less than $40, whereas sparkling wines from elsewhere in the world are rarely over $40. For the budget-conscious, of course, this is a good thing. For decently fresh and frothy sparklers between $9 and $20, there are many brands of Spanish cava and California sparklers (like the ubiquitous yet reliable Korbel) to choose from. Perhaps better yet, at easily less than $20 a bottle, Italy’s Prosecco represents the most under-appreciated sparkling wine values in the world (those of Adriano Adami, Nino Franco and Zardetto among the best of these imports).

Then in terms of value, what are best sparkling wines you can buy? The answer: it is not so much what is better, but what style of sparkling wine you are buying. I may personally think Krug’s “Grande Cuvée” is the finest bubbly in the world, but who am I to say that Krug outsparkles Moët & Chandon’s famed “Dom Pérignon?” Given the right time, circumstance or even dish, a decidedly un-champagne-like sweet Italian spumante, or even a red colored Sparkling Shiraz from Australia, may be the best for you.

In respect to style, I prefer to break down the sparkling wines of the world into three basic categories:

• Light and Lovely
• Richly Medium
• Bodaciously Full

These are personal delineations, mind you, nothing official. But they may certainly help you sort the differences out in your mind, along with the variations of possible food matches. To wit:

LIGHT & LOVELY SPARKLING WINES

The world’s light, lovely sparkling wines are definitely easiest to drink; marked by silky smooth textures and fragrances promising sweet nothings (although the wine may be completely dry), with yeast infused fruit qualities on the palate intimating similar sensations. The classic example is Moet & Chandon’s fresh, frothy Brut “Imperial” Champagne ($50-$60); and the ultimate example is Moët & Chandon’s “Cuvée Dom Pérignon” ($110-$130), which combines delicacy, finesse and neverending flavor like no other champagne.

In my book, the second most perfect example of the light, lovely style comes out of the beautifully hand etched bottles of Perrier-Jouët’s “Fleur de Champagne” ($110-$130); its airy, creamy textured length almost startling in its sensuousness. In a pinch, you can’t go wrong with Perrier-Jouët’s “Grand” Brut Champagne ($40-$50); but if price is no object, the Taittinger “Comtes de Champagne” Brut Blanc de Blancs “Millesime” ($150-$180) rivals the “Dom” for decadence.

From California, the lusciously creamy, yeast and apple blossom scented Iron Horse Blanc de Blancs ($35-$45) is as lovely as any sparkling wine can be, although you may find a tad more succulence in the Iron Horse “Wedding Cuvée” Blanc de Noirs ($35-$45) or, from California’s Carneros region, the Domaine Carneros “La Rêve” Blanc de Blancs ($40-$50) and the Gloria Ferrer “Royal Cuvée” Brut ($25-$35).

I don’t know about you, but I also have a weakness for sparklers that are just as at home on rooftops with views as they are at weddings in May or with midnight snacks in bed; and for those purposes, Italy’s Prosecco is ideal. A current favorite: the green apple crisp, lithe and limber Adriano Adami Garbèl-Prosecco “13” ($12-$18); the 13 in reference to the wine’s grams of residual sugar, putting its taste right between the light sweetness of traditional Extra Dry and the dryness of Brut sparklers.

Food Matches: Light and lovely sparklers need to be thought of in the same way as lighter bodied, dry or off-dry white wines with crisp, sharply defined acidity. Like squeezes of lemon, with cleansing effervescence, on the palate. White fish and minerally shellfish (shrimp, crab, oysters and lobster) are naturals, especially in the form of sashimi, tartare, seviche, salsas, Hawaiian poke (with chopped sea vegetables), or in salads with mild, winey vinaigrettes. There are two schools of thought when it comes to cheese: light, lemony sparklers can either match the tartness of chèvres and fetas (although it is better to balance the saltiness of the latter with slightly sweet Extra Dry sparklers), or give contrasting zest to the lush butterfat of soft ripened cheeses like brie, double and triple crèmes.

RICHLY MEDIUM SPARKLERS

Many of France’s top champagne houses – such as G.H. Mumm, Pol Roger, Charles Heidsieck, and J. Lassalle – make wines falling squarely in a “richly medium” range: intensity packed with pinpoint balance, neither light, heavy, soft nor austere. In this vein, the Krug Brut “Grande Cuvée” ($160-$200) is the king of them all; every bottle of Krug a miracle of power and elegance.

Another popular champagne house exemplifying the medium weight style is Veuve Clicquot. All the Clicquot bottlings – from the “Yellow Label” Brut ($35-$45) and vintaged “Gold Label” Brut ($55-$75) to the fully saturated “La Grande Dame” ($140-$180) – trap a pungent yeastiness mixed with toasty, smoky, roasting nut-like aromas, and lemony crisp yet meaty textured fruit qualities on the palate.

From California’s Russian River Valley, the J Brut ($25-$35) dishes out slivers of toasted nuts with a sensuously round, creamy feel; but it is Napa Valley’s storied Schramsberg Blanc de Blancs ($35-$45) that shines brightest with amazingly champagne-like aromas suggesting honey on hot biscuits. If you can find any sparkler that combines as much sinewy strength with improbably long, silken textures, please call me collect.

Food Matches: Increased weight, rounder textures and yeasty, smoky qualities allow these sparklers to go beyond fish and shellfish into other white meats like chicken, game birds, rabbit, pork, veal, and even sausages and sweetbreads. Richer fruit qualities embrace both smoked and cured fish and meats, stronger umami components like mushrooms, caramelized onions, confits and nages, as well as richer variations of sushi (from hamachi and maguro to uni and caviars). Indeed, in the wild and carefree 1980’s, favorite matches with Krug Champagne in New York’s Quilted Giraffe were beggar’s purses (tiny crêpes filled with lush beluga caviar and crème fraiche) and wasabi pizzas – good examples of the expansive food matches possible in sparkling wines balancing generously yeasted fruit with classic rapier acidity and effervescense.

BODACIOUSLY FULL SPARKLERS

This style of champagne pretty much puts brute strength above delicacy, although the finest are not without refinements. The legendary Louis Roederer Brut “Cristal” ($180-$230), for instance, is as elegantly composed as any champagne, beneath a roaringly rich, broad, musclebound feel and multifaceted notes of roasting, honeyed nuts and baking breads. You’ll find a similar fullness and nostril tingling yeastiness in the Louis Roederer Brut “Premier” Champagne ($60-$80); as well in the Roederer Estate Anderson Valley Brut ($15-$25) and Roederer Estate “L’Ermitage” ($30-$40) from California.

But undoubtedly the biggest, richest champagnes of all are made by Bollinger. The Bollinger “Special Cuvée” ($65-$85) is unrepentantly thick and unsubtly yeasty, yet layered with lush fruit wrapped in creamy, vanillin, toasted oak spice. The deeply honeyed, buxom, woodsmoky Bollinger “R.D.” ($250-$300) goes where no other sparkling wine in the world dares. Beyond that, aficionados of size and strength can only look to South Australia’s brazenly brawny, purplish, dry yet creamsicle textured Sparkling Shiraz bottlings, such as those of Peter Rumball ($20-$25) and Mollydooker ($45-$55).

Food Matches: The pronounced smoky, vanillin, malty and butterscotchy qualities of these champagnes extend food matches into the realms of smoky white meats roasted with caramelized crusts, oilier fishes like black cod and mackerel, more pungent shellfish like mussels and clams, as well as a freer usage of oils, creams, butters and aggressive court bouillons in the cooking process. With Sparkling Shiraz you can be even more adventurous: use of soy based marinades, hot spices (chilies, garlic and ginger) and sweet berries in the cooking, pungent herbs (tarragon, thyme, and even rosemary) and fungus (shiitake, chanterelles and truffles), gamey poultry (duck and goose), and even leaner cuts of red meats (filets and tenderloins) with caramelized dry rubs and oils respond to this almost surreal style of red/sparkling wine with equal aplomb.

To heck with Cole Porter, let’s go with Don Ho and break out the bubbley!

It's 3 AM, Are Restaurant Wine Lists Answering the Call?

It’s 3:00 AM in the restaurant world. The economy is rattling our windows, costs are obliterating margins, and last year’s projections seem as hopeful as a bride without a first date. The first thing every savvy restaurateur does under these circumstances is not just batten down the hatches, rail in expenses, get focused on advertising and more aggressive with promotions, but also tighten up menus and wine lists.

Of course, everyone knows what a wine list is – the list of wines you can order in a restaurant. Yeah, right. Like “service” is someone taking your order without first saying hello, without telling you the specials or giving intelligent answers, slapping your dishes on the table in no particular order, forgetting to refill your water or to offer coffee, and then taking your money without saying thank you or goodbye.

What do consumers actually look for in a wine list? Seventeen years ago the nation’s most popular wine magazine actually put that question to its own readers – all predominantly strong wine and food lovers – in a multi-question poll. The results of three of those queries:

• 70% of those polled agreed that the “optimum length” of the ideal wine list should be only 20 to 50 selections. So why do many of us in the business still believe in the-bigger-the-better approach to wine lists?

• Responding to the question, “how useful is wine list information in choosing wine?” – 70% of this magazine’s readers described wine lists in the U.S. as “poor” or “fair.” Zero votes for “excellent,” and 9% voting for “good.” Ergo: even knowledgeable wine lovers believe that restaurant wine lists are just not informative enough.

• To the question, “how helpful are lists in matching food and wine?” – 77% rated wine lists as “poor” (mostly) or “fair.” With the rise of exponentially more food consciousness and culinary sophistication during the past seventeen years, do you think consumers today care less about wine and food matching than they did before? Not a chance.

Have things changed much since 1991? I guess. We are seeing more wine lists that address the issue of being more informative by adding descriptions and tidbits of information. We are also seeing a few wine lists that suggest food matches, and even some food menus that suggest wines for specific dishes.

But by and large, the restaurant industry is still generally afflicted by the notion that big wine lists (that is, those with anywhere from 200 to over 2000 selections) are better than small wine lists; whereas the vast majority of consumers probably aren’t impressed by that at all. All they are calling for is a wine list that makes more sense than hieroglyphics, that is more entertaining than a telephone book, and that has something to do with the dishes they are about to eat.

If you're a restaurateur, does your wine list fit the bill? Let’s go through a check-list of some hard questions you'll need to ask yourself in these recessionary times:

1. If your wine list is “big” (say, over 200 selections), is it big for a reason – like giving your guests multiple options of wines that you know taste magnificent with specific dishes on your menu? Or is it big for reasons that your average guests really don’t care about – like, because you enjoy tasting and buying lots of wine, or because you’ve read somewhere how good this or that wine is and what score it’s been given?

2. Do your selections actually differentiate you from your competition in the eyes of your guests, or are you going after the exact same wines found in every other restaurant, grocery or retail store down the street?

3. Like “Charlie the Tuna” in those old commercials, are you selecting wines that represent “good taste” or that actually “taste good?” That is, are your wines chosen to give you the highest percentage chance hearing your guests go, “Wow, that’s the best wine I’ve ever had!” Or are they chosen just to make you look good?

4. Are you writing descriptions for each (not just a few!) selection on your wine list to help your guests make decisions, and also to perk their interest, senses, and ultimately their thirst?

5. When you write your descriptions, are you being helpful by giving the information that guests actually need (i.e. is it dry or sweet; very sweet or slightly sweet; light or heavy; lots of oak, subtle in oak, or pure and fruity...?); or are you just providing long, half-hallucinatory, grocery list-like descriptions cribbed off distributors’ sales sheets (i.e. “grapefruit and apple with hints of leafy herbs, peaches and cream, and crispy, pan fried passionfruit”).

6. In your descriptions, are you throwing in other interesting tidbits to stimulate guest interest; like the name of the winemaker (if it’s a prestigious winemaker), the wine’s growing region, the significance of the growing region, or one or two dishes that taste absolutely wonderful with that wine?

7. In your wine list categories, are you being creative by dividing them up by taste (like “dry, full bodied whites” as opposed to “light, slightly sweet whites”), by food suggestions (“crisp, dry whites for oysters and shellfish,” or “big, full bodied reds for steaks”), by special interest (“organic & biodynamic whites,” “exotically scented European whites,” or “wild, wacky Southern Hemisphere reds”), or any which way you can to make your list uniquely interesting?

8. Are you still offering just a measley five or ten selections (or less than 10%, 20% of your selections) of wines by the glass despite the fact that in most restaurants today over 50% of wine sales are by the glass?

9. If you’ve found some truly unique and delicious wines that go great with some of your dishes, are offering them by the glass, or do you expect your guests to take giant leaps of faith and buy full bottles just on your say-so?

10. If you’ve found numerous truly unique and delicious wines, are you giving your guests the opportunity to have fun with them – like, the chance of tasting two or three next to each other with one dish, or at a bar just out of curiosity – by offering them by the glass in 2 or 3 ounce portions on top of 5 or 6 ounce “full” portions?

11. Are you tasting your staff on a regular basis (at least once a week) on all the new and exciting wines you’ve found in mandatory meetings in order to make sure every selection on your list counts (and also to make sure your hard work as a hunter of uniquely fine wines isn’t for nought)?

12. Are you testing your staff on a regular basis (at least once a month) to make sure they’re awake and taking notes during the wine meetings?

Do you query your staff – and even taste samples of prospective wines with them – to find out what your guests are really saying about the wines on your list; in order to not only make intelligent decisions but also to garner the maximum support of the people who are actually doing the selling and serving?

13. Are you standing pat, or are you continuously growing to keep up with the increasingly sophisticated tastes of your guests and the evolution of your menu; in order to keep yourself and your staff on your toes, and loving what you do?

14. Above all, are you bringing back the fun of wine to your guests, and taking pains not to insult their intelligence or underestimate their thirst for new and exciting wine experiences?

So how is your wine list answering the call as a recession buster? Or shall I say… ring, ring!

Marc Kreydenweiss Talks About Biodynamics for Future Generations

Stunningly lush and compelling film by Wilson Daniels on the reasons for biodynamic grapegrowing:


Domaine Marc Kreydenweiss: Close to Home from Wilson Daniels on Vimeo.

Thanksgiving That Dudes Can Abide

It's time for my yearly rumination on the Biggest Meal. From the perspective of undoubtedly many a wine professional – spending Thanksgivings at tables with as many as a dozen different bottles of wine at a time (the most ever for me: some five dozen with Greg and Gary Butch’s families at their restaurant, Elizabeth on 37^th in Savannah) – I think I can do this.

But first, about our quarry:

• In kindergarten we learn that turkey is a native American bird that Pilgrims hunted with oft-times depicted (and oft-times erratic), flaired blunderbusses (precursors to the shotgun – imagine the damage Dick Cheney could do with that). As new parents joyfully discover to this day, turkeys are also kids’ favorite things to draw (just trace spread fingers, add feet, and color to your heart’s content).

• A large percentage of 16^th century Europeans, when first presented with the North American turkey, thought it of eastern origin (or else, they thought America was part of Asia). Thus the French called it coq d’Inde (the “cock of India”); which, maddeningly enough, they do to this day. Good reason, I suppose, to boycott French wine every Thanksgiving (not...).

• Even before the first Jamestown Thanksgiving (circa 1620), the turkey was a favorite of European nobility. In 1549, for instance, Catherine de’ Medici served 66 of them in one feast. Considering her historical influence on French cuisine, it’s a wonder that a later monarch didn’t say les laisser manger coq d’Inde.

So considering the longstanding Italian and French connection, I suppose that wine lovers have been pondering the question for some time: what wine with turkey? A few years ago some of my hipper friends were tooling around with deep fried Cajun recipes (d’Inde frite, as Paul Prudhomme maddeningly calls it); something to do with 12 gallon pots (or industrial drums) filled with sizzling lard or something even more polyunsaturated. For safety reasons I think you should consult The Prudhomme Family Cookbook before proceeding further.

But what wine with a ten pound fryer? Well, if you’re a Prudhomme you might say that it doesn’t matter as long as it’s served in a wide mouthed mason jar (when K-Paul’s in New Orleans first opened house wines were served like that). But if you happen to live in the swampy Southeast, or a place perpetually sunny like Texas, Southern California or Hawai'i, I suggest correctly stemmed wine glasses filled with something white, cool and refreshingly fruity like a German (or better yet, American) Riesling. Crispy fried skins practically scream for crispy white wines; and besides, cooking out in the open air (deep frying turkey under cover is an invitation to local fire departments) can sometimes work you up a sweat, so no-fuss, light and easy Rieslings make all the sense in the world.

Riesling with deep fried turkey may be a gau-ron-tee (as my favorite Cajun cook, Justin Wilson, might have put it), but what wine with the classic roasted turkey stuffed with bread, sage and other herbs? The traditional turkey, in other words. After all these years (and I hate to break this to my hipper friends), I have to say that the best match for saged bread stuffed turkey is the traditional, super-oaked, big, bouncy California Chardonnay. So you “hate” Chardonnay? Get over it. It doesn’t have to be uncool. Bruce Neyers, for instance, makes creamy oaked Chardonnays that are just as cool as any white wine (Neyers’ winemaker is Ehren Jordan, for Pete’s sake – a hipper-than-thou winemaker if there ever was one).

I’m also partial to Chardonnays by Tandem (owned by Greg La Follette, original winemaker and architect of Flowers), DuNah (also crafted by La Follette), Au Bon Climat (by the incroyable Jim Clendenen), Chasseur, Ramey, Roessler, Keller, Patz & Hall, Mer Soleil, and Babcock. Dudes, these Chards abide. All barrel fermented with generous oak, it’s the richly textured (and yes, smoky-charred) qualities derived from this process that embellish the taste of herbs and roasted flavors in the skin and natural gravy of traditional turkeys. And if the turkey is roasted in a charcoal grill or hibachi, even more so a match for good ol' smoke-of-oak Chardonnay.

Have you heard of Marcelle Bienvenu’s paen to South Louisiana cooking, Who’s Your Mama, Are You Catholic, and Can You Make a Roux? Check out her oyster-rice dressing, complete with chicken livers and gizzards. Stuff your turkey in similar fashion, sprinkle some chili flakes over the skin. Start at 425 F. at midnight, take it down to 300 F. and let it crisp up all night long; rest it in the morning, and dish it out at noon. The perfect vinous foil? Here, I go for something a little lighter, but no less flavorful, than a Chardonnay: Pinot Gris, baa-by (in the fall we all start to talk like Dick Vitale). I’m talking about lush, creamy textured styles of Pinot Gris with just enough acidity to titillate the taste of an oyster stuffing: those of California’s Babcock, Handley and J Wines immediately come to mind; and from Oregon, WillaKenzie, Soleña, Cristom and King Estate. What the hey, you can do almost as good with Pinot Grigio from Italy (if it’s by Zenato, Tiefenbrunner, Kris, Lageder or Felluga); or from Alsace, France (if you’ve also forgiven the French, the Pinot Gris bottlings of Ostertag, Deiss, Weinbach or Zind-Humbrecht).

Then there is any one of the even more richly stuffed styles of turkeys: like cornbread with chile peppers (or ham hocks or collards), wild rice with wild mushrooms (or truffles, for the congenitally spendthrift), or with assertive breads like sourdough and brioche (mixed with lardons, celery, combinations of chervil, sorrel, tarragon, etc.). This is where red wines become the higher percentage match, although I say this with the eternal caveat: turkey can be a dry bird, and so red wine choices probably need to be lighter in (potentially) palate drying tannin. This means that you’re better off with soft tannin reds like Beaujolais from France or anything made from Pinot Noir, rather than anything palate-jarring like Cabernet Sauvignon or even Merlot.

California Zinfandel and Syrah (or Shiraz from Australia) can be robust with tannin, but I say they have the advantage over Cabernets and Merlots with richly stuffed turkeys because of their sweet toned, often jammy fruitiness (particularly good when you mix in the inevitable cranberry relish).

But Pinot Noir remains the easiest yet most elegant match. Which Pinots am I enjoying these days? From California: La Follette’s Tandems (he produces a stable of exotically spiced, cool climate, Sonoma Coast Pinots) are tops on my list, followed by Kathy Joseph’s irresistible Fiddleheads (she makes great ones sourced from both Oregon and Santa Barbara), Au Bon Climat (ABC's "Isabelle Morgan" my all-time favorite), Belle Glos, Melville, W.H. Smith, Keegan, Failla (Ehren Jordan’s), Patz & Hall, Flowers, Etude, Babcock, Pessagno, Papapietro-Perry and Merry Edwards. From Oregon, I’ve always liked those of Foris and Rex Hill for value and accessibility, Ken Wright, Soter or Penner-Ash for sheer purity of Pinot-ness, and Cristom, Hamacher, Gypsy Dancer, Beaux Frères, Domaine Serene and Chehalem for pure power (in the refined, wild berryish Oregon vein, of course).

Wine shoppers, start your engines – and enjoy the holidays!

When In Rome (or Maui)

When in Rome, everyone knows, you do as the Romans do – including eat, and drink, and hang around outdoor cafés from early afternoon to the wee hours of the morning.

When in Rome, you drink Frascati. When in Florence, it’s more likely Chianti; in Pamplona, probably Rioja; in Strasbourg, Riesling or Pinot Gris; and in Paris, Chinon, Saumur-Champigny or Beaujolais. But why? It’s cultural, it’s tried-and-true, and why fight it? Man gotta eat, after all; and as Woody Allen once said (about cavemen), “frequently there must be a beverage.”

There is, of course, a lot to be said for the natural regional wine and food matches of the world. We don’t really make our own wine in Hawai’i, but we do have an enormous range of foodstuffs at our disposal. This is, after all, the “melting pot of the Pacific”; and since this pot is very much global and multi-cultural, so are our choices of wine – from everywhere, with an everywhereness. Globally inspired wine and food matches as good as anything in Rome or anywhere else in the world.

So if you do ever find yourself in the Hawaiian Islands, do keep some of these tried-and-true matches in mind when you order up some of the local delicacies:

• "Poke" style raw tuna (with soy, sesame oil, sweet Maui onions and chili pepper): classic, spicy fruited Pinot Noirs (from Oregon, California, New Zealand or France); or Zweigelt or Lemberger from Austria

• Flash seared raw tuna in wasabi mustard sauces: French Champagne; Italian Prosecco; or most dry California sparklers

• Lomi lomi salmon (chopped salmon, tomato and green onions): dry yet fruity rosés (Bandol, Tavel or Marsannay from France, Rosé di Regaleali from Italy, or California’s SoloRosa); off-dry German Rieslings (halbtrocken or QbA); Verdejo from Spain; or Portugal’s Vinho Verde

• Spam Musubi & Sushi (most varieties): dry rosé (Southern French, or California pinks made from Pinot Noir); France’s Beaujolais (especially grand cru); or softer, moderately priced Pinot Noirs (Oregon, California, or Austria)

• Huli-huli chicken (rock salted and grilled halves): almost any good California or Australian Chardonnay; or Pinot Gris from Oregon, Alsace or Austria

• Kalua pig (roasted, smoke flavored, rock salted pork): more intense, off-dry German Rieslings (especially kabinett); deeply fruited California Zinfandel or Petite Sirah (especially from Lodi or Sonoma); or Garnacha from Spain

• Beef stew (tomatoes, potatoes, carrots, celery and onions): soft, velvety Merlots (California, Chile or Italy); Spain’s Rioja, Ribera del Duero, Priorat, or Mencía; silkier styles of Sangiovese (especially Chianti, Carmignano or Rosso di Montalcino); Bourgueil, Chinon or Cahors from France

• Mahimahi (dolphinfish) in lemon butter sauces: Austria’s Grüner Veltliner, creamier textured (i.e. lightly oaked) California Sauvignon (a.k.a. Fumé) Blanc; lighter, crisper, minerally style Chardonnays (from Mendocino or Santa Barbara, Oregon, Washington St., or Mâcon in France); or Italy’s Arneis or Gavi

• Miso butterfish (marinated black cod): dry style Rieslings (Alsatian, German trocken, and dry styles from California or Australia); Spain’s Albariño; most dry Champagne or méthode Champenoise sparklers; or most ginjo sakés

• Grilled or broiled salmon with ponzu sauces: crisp-edged Sauvignon Blanc (especially Sancerre or Pouilly-Fumé from France); France’s Picpoul, Muscadet, Montlouis or Savennières; Italy’s Tocai Friulano or Pinot Grigio

• Korean style short ribs of beef (i.e. kalbi; soy/garlic/ sugar/sesame seed marinades): spicy, aromatic Australian Shiraz or Cabernet-Shiraz blends; or California Zinfandels (bigger the better)

• Teriyaki beef or pork (sweet soy/ginger marinades): richer, ultra-premium Pinot Noirs (California or Oregon); Argentine Malbec; or rounder, softer Cabernet Sauvignons (Australia, Chile, or low to medium priced Californians)

Surf's up!

Denver, My Kind of Restaurant Town

No doubt about it, metropolitan Denver, and the industriously growing five counties surrounding it, is one of the most significant in the nation – population nearing 2.5 million (21^st in the country) – but not so intricate that even a newcomer couldn’t get the hang of it fairly quickly.

It’s like Manhattan in reverse; broad and muscular rather than tight and deep, but still very much negotiable. Only here, you get around by car rather than taxi or subway; and there’s a space for every vehicle, like a chicken for every pot. The Western American’s dream – that shining city, on a 5,280 ft. hill.

Like all well-planned towns, the oldest section, Downtown Denver, still rocks as the epicenter of business and play, from the moment the sun rises over the plains in the east ‘til long after it sets over the Rockies in the west; the latter always beckoning with its bevy of bejeweled slopes and tony resorts, kicking up the icy white spray and green of the visitor dollar.

If you want to know why the growth has been so homogenous, with few dead spots both physically and historically, you need to look at Denver’s history since its incorporation as a miner’s saloon town in 1861. The Pike’s Peak gold rush, followed by silver speculators, pretty much expired by the 1890s, but by then our fruited plains had borne a livestock industry that still goes strong today. It may not have looked like it during the recently televised Democratic convention, but Denver is still a “cow town,” and the National Western Stock Show taking place every January is still the country’s premier livestock event of the year – and a shot in the arm for the local food and beverage industry, usually doing business under a foot or two of snow, while the only big-time games in town are the steady Avalanche and the perpetually unfulfilled Nuggets.

The upshot being, Denver is where the beef (plus bison and lamb) is at, surrounded as we are by about 1.3 million head of cattle on some 13,100 independent ranches (64% of them still less than 50 head in size, many practicing sustainable methods). Besides crystal clear water (life tastes so good when it doesn’t all have to come from bottles) and crisp mountain air, we do have vibrant springs and color-coded falls, sandwiching several spurts of 90 degree summer days; consequently giving us generous amounts of locally grown vegetables, fruits and artisanal cheeses, overflowing our farmer’s markets, where you can see a good number of our more savvy chefs trolling about among the friends, neighbors, and good looking strangers (the average Denver citizen looks more like a marathoner than a joe-sixpacker, as disgusting as that may sound to other inveterate foodies and drinkies).

Forty or so years ago the oil and gas industry began to make its impact on the Denver economy; and by the time that faded in the late eighties, the diversification we see today – including the high-tech and software, financial, renewable energy, bioscience, aviation and aerospace industries – were already starting to drive the average per household income (about $52,000) well over the national average. Ergo: a bustling restaurant industry.

So where is Denver at? As someone who’s lived, and opened restaurants, in cities as far flung as Honolulu and New York – and in between, from La Jolla through San Francisco to Seattle, Chicago through Memphis to Austin, and Philadelphia through Baltimore, Atlanta and to both sides of Florida – I can say this with authority: the average Denver restaurant-goer expects, and receives, a knowing level of sophistication, yet is not so tyrannical as consumers in so-called “restaurant towns” (i.e. San Francisco, Chicago and New York) in respect to self-imposed standards (or illusions). In other words, we just like to enjoy our food and drink, and we’re open to just about anything.

We have, to begin with, a solid core of our own “celebrity” (if you will) chefs, driving companies from modestly sized multi-units (like Kevin Taylor’s Restaurant Kevin Taylor and Prima Downtown, and Palettes in the Libeskind designed Denver Art Museum; Frank Bonanno’s revisionist Italian Osteria Marco and haute American Mizuna; and the stunningly inventive cooking done by Jennifer Jasinski at her Rioja and the more brasserie-like Bistro Vendôme), to single, postage stamp sized stores (like Patrick Dupays’ authentically bistrot Z Cuisine, pictured right; Wayne Conwell’s deftly executed Sushi Sasa; Teri Rippeto’s perpetually seasonal Potager; and the almost soberingly pure distillations of flavor done by John Broening at duo).

But what if, like me, your jaded palate would just as soon dispense with the “walls of fame,” ego laden (even if unintentional) menus and affectatious wine lists, and you just want to eat; even if the silverware is mismatched, the tables and chairs just as distressed as your hair and jeans? Lots and lots of that in Denver, too. Starting with the neighborhoody Tables in Park Hill, and Table 6 tucked in a hood just north of Cherry Creek: both doing just pure, fresh cooking, sans attitude. For straightforward plates of charcuterie, confit and cheese, I opt for either Le Central on Lincoln, or French 250 in Cherry Creek.

For Japanese country-comfort food, there’s Domo; and for the comfort of the authentic Japanese sushi bar, there’s Sushi Den in the burbs along Pearl St., or Sonada’s in LoDo (“Lower Downtown”). For an oyster bar selection as fresh as anything on a coast, there’s Jax Fish House; and for coastal Mexican seviches, fresh fish tacos, and the largest selection of tequila north of the border, there’s Lola in the emerging, young-professionals neighborhood of Highlands. Finally, for the most unpretentious dining of all – microbrews, fried foods, dips and messy sandwiches – the Wynkoop Brewery Company has been going full steam in LoDo since 1988; although the scene is even more hardcore local, and frenetic, at Three Dogs Tavern in Highlands.

Seeing that almost 35% of Denver’s population is Hispanic or Latino, we happily eat that way, too. For me, burritos are properly made with all the off-meats in the world, and El Taco de Mexico in the ArtDistrict on Santa Fe delivers exactly that. For taqueria aficionados, Tacos y Salsas #3 on the “other side” of the freeway along Federal is the way to go. Tamales lovers (i.e. me) absolutely swoon over those of La Casita; and for piping hot, pillowy, honeyed sopapillas, we turn to Little Anita’s. For indubitably killer carnitas smothered in green chili, you have to drive a half-hour north of LoDo to Lafayette to find Efrain’s; and for that gots-to-have Saturday morning urge for a menudo chock-full of tripe (and less hominy), you need to drive half-hour south to Lone Tree to sit at Los Arcos.

Then there are fusions; which when done right, are possibly the funnest foods in the world. I’m originally from Hawai’i, and thank goodness there’s L&L in the workingman’s hood of Aurora for my periodic fixations on manapua (Chinese pork dumpling), kalua (shredded, smoked pork) and laulau (steamed kalua and butterfish wrapped in taro and ti leaves). For more elaborate, yet casually inclined, experiences of East-West/Hawaiian style fish, noodles and sushi, there’s Kona Grill in the Cherry Creek Shopping Center, or Hapa across the street. If you still fancy the Latin/Asian fusions that were the rage at the turn of the millennium, the tuna tataki, lobster potstickers and seviches at Zengo are exhilarating. Finally, if some say South American cuisine is in itself a New World fusion, Café Brazil is where to find it.

Like that of many towns, Denver’s Southeast Asian population supplies us with the grocery stores essential for our home cooking; and Denver’s pho restaurants, fortuitously, take the backseat to no other’s. Having tried most of them (something of a feat, since there are at least 99 of them), I can say that the most consistently sustaining are those of Pho 79, with four locations covering the north, south, west, and far-west sides of town; although the combinations of jellified fish and gelatinous meats at Ha Noi Pho on Federal are probably untouchable.

In respect to Korean barbecue, Denver may not be L.A. or Honolulu, but connoisseurs of kalbi (marinated shortribs), godenguh gui (crispy broiled mackeral), bibimbap (rice, eggs and bulgogi, i.e. thin sliced beef) and bancan (a bewildering array of complimentary side dishes, including kimchi and spiced tofu) can find everything they need at Soe Jong Kwan (for civilians, called House of Korean BBQ) in Aurora for either lunch (incredible deals) or dinner.

Denverites, of course, are cow-towners at heart, and so the big breakfast is important to them. For bleary eyed techies, though, breakfast spots open at 3 PM or 3 AM are also absolute musts, and they always know where to gravitate: either the classic Denver Diner or the venerable Pete's Kitchen (continuously packed since 1942) -- both open 24/7, and consistently satisfying whether you are trashed or not. Despite a tempting number of originally conceived pancakes, at the urban-cool Snooze, down the street from Coors Field in LoDo, I usually end up with the Niman Ranch pulled pork benedict (extra hollandaise on the side); or barring that, the crabcake benedict at Toast in the old town of Littleton off Santa Fe Drive. It may not be hometown bred, but you have to grant that the Dutch Baby pancake (not to mention the mile-high Spanish omelette) at the Original Pancake House is unbeatable; and for chile rellenos with eggs or huevos rancheros, Sam’s No. 3 (flipping eggs in Downtown Denver since 1927) always meets my needs.

But wait, there’s more… but let’s cut this off with this final word: steakhouse. If anything, Denver is the place for honking red meat. When I was first escorted around the town ten years ago, one of my first duties was to visit Buckhorn Exchange – Denver’s oldest continuous restaurant (since 1893) – where among the specialites, you can savor buffalo prime rib and rocky mountain oysters (i.e. buffalo bull’s testicles). If your taste is more mainstream, however, Elway’s (owned by the hometown hero) has been doing such a bang-up job in its first location in Cherry Creek, that they recently opened up a second store Downtown in the Ritz-Carlton. Otherwise, all the national brands (Fleming’s, Ruths’ Chris, Del Frisco’s, Capital Grille, et al.) are here, and performing quite well, thank you. My favorite: Sullivan’s, as much for its handy-dandy LoDo location a block from Coors Field as its tuna tartare (my “perfect” bar food) and prime rib Sundays.

Organic Wines You Can Sink Your Teeth Into

WHY DRINK ORGANIC WINES?

Like organic foods twenty, thirty years ago, wines produced in organic, biodynamic, as well as vegan and sustainable fashions are emerging out of the fringe elements of commercial taste, and becoming more significant by the day. Like all wines, they give us pleasure as alcoholic beverages, make our food taste better, and sweeten our outlook on life. But exactly what are the differences that make these wines worth our attention, possibly more than non-organic wines?

First, organic, biodynamic, vegan and sustainably produced wines, meet many of our growing needs in respect to health issues. It’s funny that many of us feel the need for organic foods, but maybe not so much organic wines. But if you’re ready to make that leap, you might be pleased to know that there’s lots of good quality stuff out there for you.

Second, organics represent worthy efforts of winegrowers and winemakers to produce their products with a sense of environmental responsibility through a multitude of practices aimed at everything from soil and energy conservation to community health and safety concerns.

The third and perhaps most important factor, particularly for those of us who buy more on the basis of quality: organic and biodynamically produced wines have the tendency to distill purer expressions of grape and terroir by the very nature in which they are made; that is to say, mucked up as little as possible.

If anything, the supernova speed in which the world of wine has expanded in recent years has resulted in the inevitable: a boring, dreary sameness. Twenty years ago it was assembly line Chardonnay and White Zinfandel, fifteen years ago industrialized Merlot, and during the past decade or so the proliferation of just-another- Cabernet and Shiraz, Syrah, schmiraz… one after another, all tasting the same. Lord help us if this starts to happen with Pinot Noir

But one thing about organic and biodynamic wines: there is a tendency towards uniqueness rather than sameness. When you grow and make wine from the premise of exerting the least amount of intervention that might blur the distinctions of grape and site, you almost cannot help but produce something different, almost every time.

Before we start talking about some of the best and more interesting organic wines out in the market today, let’s explicate the basic distinctions among the various, often overlapping categories:

Wines Made From Organic Grapes

These are wines made from grapes farmed completely without the use of pesticides, herbicides or synthetic fertilizers, soil fumigants, or other chemicals. In the U.S. certified organic grapes must meet standards established by the USDA’s National Organic Program. In California even stricter standards are set by California Certified Organic Farms (CCOF); stipulating requirements such as no bio-engineering or iodizing radiation, and encouraging the use of composting, cover cropping and beneficial insects.

Organic Wines

Organic wines not only must be made from 100% organically grown grapes, they must also be vinified totally without the use of added sulfites. The USDA’s NOP (National Organic Program) specifies that even naturally occurring sulfites (found in every wine, organic or not) must be under 10 parts per million.

Biodynamic Wines

Biodynamic wines are not only farmed organically, they must meet even higher standards of sustainability by following specified preparations that help connect the “dynamic” relationship between everything in the universe, biological and spiritual. Most of these principles are based upon the homeopathic farming methods established by an Austrian philosopher named Rudolf Steiner in the 1920s; and today, certified internationally by The Worldwide Demeter Association (in the U.S., by the Demeter Association, Inc.). While many aspects of biodynamic viticulture (like the burying of manure stuffed cow horns in the vineyard) might seem a little loony, contemporary proponents are very comfortable with most of its practicalities; such as use of on-site produced compost and manure, the emphasis on ecosystem diversity, incorporation of animal life, and even cultivation according to “natural” cycles (i.e. solar and lunar calendars).

Vegan Wines

Wines meeting Vegan standards must be vinified without the use of animal products; particularly filtering and fining agents such as egg whites, casein (a milk protein used to soften wine), gelatin (removes bitter phenolics) and isinglass (derived from fish swimbladders). Instead, Vegan wines are typically clarified by non-animal products like bentonite clay.

A QUALITY (RATHER THAN GREEN) REVOLUTION

In California there are now some 12,000 acres of vineyards certified by third party organizations like CCOF (less than 5% of the state’s total), and nineteen wineries certified for Organic Wines. It is worth noting, though, that well over 90% of vineyards up and down the West Coast are probably farmed sustainably, without any certification. The days of routine, rampant use of chemicals are long gone, and practices like cover cropping to establish organic mulching and foster beneficial insects have become pretty much standard practice.

A number of certified organic growers, like John Williams of Napa Valley’s Frog’s Leap, are as blasé about the organic monikers as non-certified growers. Explaining why he has never marketed his immensely popular wines as “organic,” Williams says “my bottom line is wine quality, not the organic movement’s ‘save the world’ agenda… grapes from clean, healthy vines just make the best possible wine, and that’s what I’m after.”

Qualification for Organic Wines – the total shunning of sulfites during the fermentation process or to stabilize wines at bottling – is another step Williams finds unnecessary. “Although we are constantly trying to use less, we just haven’t found wines made without sulfites that consistently excite us… nor do we find compelling evidence that the minute use of this natural ingredient should be troubling to anyone for reasons other than philosophical.”

While über-growths such as Spottswoode, Rubicon, and Araujo have gone through the rigorous three year certification process required by CCOF, other highly lauded producers farm organically as a matter of course, not cause. Shafer, for instance, has long been a champion of sustainability and bio-diversity; but if a serious disease is detected, according to Doug Shafer, he reserves last resort options such as low-toxicity herbicides like Round-Up. Bruce Neyers’ home estate in Conn Valley (east of Rutherford in the Napa Valley AVA) has been farmed 100% organically since 1998, but the only reason his vineyard is not certified is because it borders a non-organic vineyard.

Up on Sonoma Mountain Patrick Campbell of Laurel Glen also farms organically, but tells us he flatly refuses to seek certification because:

• “In the case of severe mildew or rot pressure, there are no reliable organic remedies – this pressure is not normal, of course, but can happen in unusual weather conditions – and simply losing crop for adherence to organic principles is not an option for me.

• “Organic has become a marketing concept.

• “I don’t like the idea of getting commercial benefit for doing the right thing.

• “Most importantly, sustainability is a far more significant and global statement of environmental concern than organic, and this is what we promote. Organic farming can, for example, use up a lot of fossil fuel or human health.”

During the past month I have been making a concerted effort to taste as many organic, biodynamic and vegan wines as possible, and have found as many winners as losers – in other words, a pattern no different than with any other wines. The following are the ones I found most exciting; wines (all retailing between $10 to $50) I’d drink anytime, any day, anywhere:

AMERICAN WHITES

2007 Frog’s Leap, Rutherford/Napa Valley Sauvignon Blanc (organic grapes) – Crystal clear, fresh, green melon aroma with herby, grassy undertones; lemony crisp entry, become round, soft, long and slender in the middle, finishing with a light lemon and honeydew fruitiness.

2006 Paul Dolan, Mendocino Chardonnay (organic grapes) – Ripe, slightly tropical fruit aroma with creamy oak embellishments; medium-full, crisp and fruit-forward on the palate; finishing soft and lush.

2007 Frog’s Leap, Napa Valley Chardonnay (organic grapes) – Subtle but fresh, deftly delineated nose of stony minerality, crisp apples, slivers of toasted oak and subtle, tropical, pineapple-like fragrances; on the palate, an unusual crispness of lemon and apple flavors, a vanillin oak texture, and balanced, medium-full body, finishing lithe, multifaceted.

IMPORTED WHITES

2007 Holmes, Sauvignon Blanc (New Zealand; organic grapes) – Classic New Zealand nose – green herby, slightly peppery, and grapefruity fresh – followed by crisp, fine, silky, lemony dry and refreshing flavors.

2007 Mont’ Albano, Pinot Grigio (Friuli Grave, Italy; organic grapes, vegan) – Stony, yeasty nose with lemony perfume; good and dry, finely textured, crisp, minerally flavors, lingering light and easy; pass the antipasto.

2007 Meinklang, Grüner Veltliner (Austria; biodynamic) – This would not be the biggest, most complex Grüner Veltliner you might find on the market; but ounce per ounce (just $12 retail), you won’t find a better buy; fresh lemon and lime on the palate, with a distinctive flintiness in the nose and on a light, breezy palate; finishing lightly tart, utterly fresh.

2006 Domaine Ostertag, Vignoble d ‘E Riesling (Alsace, France; biodynamic) – Vivid lime, flinty minerals and hints of toasted almonds in a flower perfume; the citrus and minerals dominating in a medium-full body, with a long, mouthwatering zest, without being tart or sharp.

2006 Domaine Guillemot-Michel, Mâcon-Villages (France; biodynamic) – As pure and lascivious a Burgundian style Chardonnay you will find; a nose of sweet, yeasty apples with slightly tropical, honeyed notes; the green apple qualities becoming emphatically stony on the palate, lightened by fresh, lemony crispness.

AMERICAN REDS

2007 Organic Vintners, Mendocino Pinot Noir (organic grapes, vegan) – Totally clean, lush, pure, sweet berry jam aroma with vanillin oak and peppermint leaf nuances; unabashedly soft, lush, juicy qualities on the palate; ready to drink now, while still young, plump and palpitating.

2006 Frey, Masut Vineyards Sangiovese (Mendocino; organic wine) – Black cherry/rhubarb pie nose with cracked peppercorn and peppermint spices; soft, fruity entry and good, zesty, spicy middle; finishing light, with easy tannins; nothing special, although a pasta in tomato primavera might prove otherwise.

2006 Frog’s Leap, Napa Valley Zinfandel (organic grapes) – Compellingly rich, aromatic, sweet raspberry nose; luscious, jammy, zesty, bright berry fruitiness in a silky smooth, medium sized body; not “big” in size, but perfectly big in terms of its classic Zin profile.

2005 Parducci, True Grit Mendocino Old Vines Petite Sirah (organic grapes) –The Mendocino Wine Company (owner of the Parducci as well as Paul Dolan labels) applies both organic and biodynamic growing regimes. The color here is black and blue, and the nose deep and intense; studded with blueberry, blackberry, roasted coffee, toasted oak and sweet, balsamic-like nuances. Thick, bouncy, juicy qualities on the palate; the aggressive fruitiness wrapped in vanillin and dill-like oak, plumped out by slightly chewy, wham-bam tannin.

2004 Saracina, Mendocino Syrah (organic grapes) – A literal larder of twiggy herbs, hard spices, violets and liqueur-like blackberry sweetness in an aggressive nose, filled out by toasty oak; dense, full throttled weight and tannin, punching out sinewy, smoky flavors, finishing with more bang than finesse.

2006 Casa Barranca, Arts & Crafts Red (Central Coast; organic wine) – Proof positive that zero-sulfite wine can be fresh and clean on top of unfettered; classic Merlot fruitiness and framework (blended with 25% Cabernet Sauvignon); plump red fruit and smoky oak nuances in the nose; perfectly rounded, fleshy, velvety feel on the palate, finishing with a luscious, drink-now fruitiness.

2006 Frog’s Leap, Rutherford/Napa Valley Merlot (organic grapes) – Merlot always should be (but not always is) like a plush, sinking sofa of black cherry flavor, and this Frog’s Leap has that in spades; the round, juicy flavors softened by restrained vanillin oakiness, filling the palate; or rather, bouncing merrily across with sustained poise and energy from beginning to end.

IMPORTED REDS

2006 Ventura, Syrah (Lontué Valley, Chile; organic, vegan) – Sweetly floral, violet-like nose punctuated by peppercorn spice and a whiff of leafy herbiness; on the palate, rich, round and easy medium-full body, with good flesh and fruit-forward qualities.

2006 Nuevo Mundo, Cabernet/Carmènére Reserva (Maipo Valley, Chile; organic grapes, vegan) – Dense, purplish ruby and a rich, juicy, spiced berry nose with jalapeño-like potency; medium-full, fleshy feel with rounded tannins at the center, carrying the sweet berry and peppery flavors into a pliant finish.

2008 Pircas Negras, Malbec (Famatina Valley, Argentina; organic, vegan) – Big nose, bursting with brambly raspberry/blackberry fruitiness; snappy feel and medium weight, the luscious fruit driving through a lip smacking finish; and finally, to boot, a stupidly good (about $12) price.

2006 Kawarau Estate, Pinot Noir (Central Otago, New Zealand; organic grapes) – Intense, billowing nose of crushed cherries, spiced fragrances, and toasty French oak; firm, youthful tannins hanging on along with a beefy, round, red fruit qualities, but falling away as the deeply extracted flavors penetrate through a long, zesty finish; genuinely world class quality.

2007 Weingut Michlits, Pinot Noir (Burgenland/Osterreich, Austria; biodynamic) – Lovely, lush, juicy nose, redolent of fragrant wild strawberries; burst of juicy, persistent Pinot Noir fruitiness on the palate; soft yet firm and lively with acidity – like a black haired waif in skintight dress – without being lean, rough, hard, or tart.

2006 Meinklang, Zweigelt (Austria; biodynamic) – Bright, purplish pigments and sweet raspberry/blackberry nose, direct, expressive, and fairly intense; soft, fruity entry couched in soft tannins, the flavors finishing fresh and easy.

NV Organic Vintners, Tinto (La Mancha, Spain; organic grapes, vegan) – 100% Tempranillo; richly aromatic, with black fruit and licorice, with an earthy, smoked meatiness; rich, soft flavors propped up by moderate, rounded tannins, finishing long, almost sweetly fruity.

2005 San Vito, Chianti (Toscana, Italy; organic grapes, vegan) – 100% Sangiovese; super nose of honeyed red berries and a pungent, earthy smokiness, suggesting fresh, oily, extra-dark roasted coffee beans. On the palate, the strawberryish fruitiness punches through the smoke, zapping the palate with fresh, easy, buoyant qualities.

2005 Erbaluna, Nebbiolo (Langhe/Piemonte, Italy; organic grapes, vegan) – Savory spice nose, with fennel and cranberryish fruit; snappy, medium sized body, firming tannins framing flavors of zesty berries and dried, spiced, caramelized beef.

2006 Scagiola, Frem Barbera d’Asti (Piemonte, Italy; biodynamic) – Deep, vivid, dark ruby color leading to a compact, concentrated blackberry/black cherry nose; deep, dense, thick on the palate with slightly hard tannin edges offset by almost sweetly concentrated flavors; good, lip smacking (but not sharp) acidic zip, prolonging the sweetness on the palate.

California's Cabernet Franc Master

Now is the time for all good men (and women) to come to sensible assessments of Cabernet Franc. Cabernet Franc? You mean that that green, underripe grape?

Hey, look at it this way: Run-of-the-mill Cabernet Sauvignon is usually about as pleasurable as sandpaper. Average quality Sauvignon Blanc tastes either like asparagus or cat pee. Low-level Pinot Noir can be pret-ty thin, and don’t even get me started on the dreary droves of Merlot and Chardonnay still flooding our markets.

My point: average quality Cabernet Franc (like cold year Chinons, Bourgueils and Saumer Champignys) can indeed be light, herbaceous, a little tart. But in good years, they can be glorious, even lofty: redolent of floral, cassis, and dusty, raspberryish fruit; dense and multi-textured on the palate.

From the gastronomic perspective, we’ve always had a field day with good Cabernet Franc; with its aromatic quality expressively similar to Cabernet Sauvignon (Cabernet Franc making up half of Cabernet Sauvignon’s clonal lineage), couched in a markedly softer tannin and lower weight structure. In other words: a red wine with the flavor interest of Cabernet Sauvignon, but without the big, hard qualities that relegate Cabernet Sauvignon’s food spectrum pretty much to fatty red meats. As with Pinot Noir -- and softer styles of Zinfandel and Tempranillo -- you can enjoy Cabernet Franc with any red meat plus the entire range of “other” white meats cooked in any fashion. Throw in some grilled asparagus, roasted peppers, or sautéed haricots with herby butter sauces, and you’ve got another match “made in heaven.”

A fellow winetwo.netter recently forwarded me a New York Times story (A Great Year Lifts an Unsung Region) that lists a number of Chinons from the exceptionally lush and ripe 2005 vintage now out on the market. Indeed, upper level ‘05s like Charles Joguet’s Chinon Clos de la Dioterie are not just exponentially more intense, they are destined for Bordeaux-like longevity (ten, twenty year wines).

But enough about the French. There are a number of accomplished Cabernet Franc producers in California; and right now, the acknowledged master of the grape is undoubtedly John Skupny of Lang & Reed (his brand named after his two sons).

In early September I spent a morning with Skupny which began with a walk through the Sugar Loaf Vineyard, located at the southeast point of Napa Valley just off Silverado Trail. Skupny is excited about this growth, which will form the base of his reserve quality Cabernet Franc, bottled as Premier Étage, in 2007 and 2008. Like the Madrigal Vineyard located further up the valley near Larkmead Lane, which formed the heart of Premier Étage in the ‘96 to ’06 vintages, the schist crusted Sugar Loaf (a hillside with almost no clay loam) is an exceptionally well drained, low vigor site: the key factor minimizing excess canopy and cropping, leading to more varietal perfume and minimal herbaceousness in resulting wines.

Indeed, a barrel sampling of the ’07 Sugar Loaf showed a wine of enormous, almost syrupy thick, framboise-like raspberry concentration, plus a rounded girth supported by muscular tannin. Serious stuff.

But enough heavy breathing. What is in or coming down the pipe as we speak? My notes on Lang & Reed’s current and upcoming releases:

2006 Lang & Reed, North Coast Cabernet Franc – Skupny’s North Coast cuvées (100% Cabernet Franc) are vinified for unabashedly immediate accessibility, and are sourced primarily (90%) from higher elevation (up to 2,000 feet) vineyards sitting on sparse red soils. The nose is perfumey – red berry laced with savory – with mild, herbal, green leafy distinctions. On the palate, medium-full and soft and silky, the berry qualities lingering with notes of sun dried cherry and pungent kitchen herbs.

2007 Lang & Reed, North Coast Cabernet Franc – The ’07 is riper, richer, rounder, juicier, and meatier textured than the ’06, while also expressing a slight “corruption” (Skupny’s word) of Brettanomyces, manifesting itself as more like roasted, gamey meat as opposed to barnyard. If you enjoy such natural, earthy notes (and I’d surmise that lovers of Loire River grown Cabernet Franc would), shout hallelujah and pass the biscuits. The fruit quality is plummy, carrying good weight, mixed in with red berries; and typical of Skupny’s North Coast bottlings, soft and round in tannin, and eminently quaffable.

2003 Lang & Reed, Napa Valley Premier Étage Cabernet Franc – You learn something everyday; and that morning it was the translation of premier étage: “first floor,” which in France is on what we consider the second floor. Hence, Lang & Reed’s next-level-up cuvée, sourced from lower yielding vineyards, to which Skupny applies partial whole berry fermentation and varying lengths of post-fermentation maceration to dial up color, aroma and volume. The ’03 is extraordinary: super-plush raspberry fruit, coated in velvet, draped across a cedary oak backdrop. Tannins are notably thick and sculpted, but layered well beneath the almost chocolaty sweet berry flavors. Skupny also attributes some of the increased pigmentation and viscosity of the ’03 to the addition of 2% Petit Verdot; and if you’ve favored earlier vintages of Premier Étage, you may be pleased to know that the ’03 represents an evolving departure from new oak (cooperage is entirely one to two year old barrels, mixing softer, sweeter Burgundian wood with Bordelaise).

2004 Lang & Reed, Napa Valley Premier Étage Cabernet Franc - The relatively tight drinking quality of the ’04 is precisely the reason why Skupny holds back his reserves a heck of a lot longer than even Cabernet Sauvignon producers. While less effusive than in the ’03, the nose is flowery and perfumed (raspberry and violet); medium-full to full on the palate, showing a densely packed, piquant berry profile fused with toasted oak, finishing with briary twists of tobacco and tannin. Excellent now, but undoubtedly finer drinking in another year.

2004 Lang & Reed, Napa Valley Right Bank - If you dig the dense yet scrumptuous qualities of Saint-Émilions like La Mondotte and Canon-la-Gaffelière, you'll flip over this, Skupny’s first ever Bordeaux style bottling. Napa Valley sourced Cabernet Franc (53%), Merlot (30%), Petit Verdot (9%), Cabernet Sauvignon (8%), yada yada... the important thing to know is that Skupny has crafted a blend that is so tender, so dense yet soft, succulent and unerringly balanced, all you can think is wow... this is what blending is all about. Aromas are of concentrated black cherry and blackcurrants, with minty/herby nuances at the center. Vintners talk about tannin management like politicians about cutting spending; but Skupny has truly gotten a handle on the tannin molecule: lots of it (nothing puny about this wine), yet perfectly round and seamless. With only 170 cases made, get it while it’s hot!

Extreme Winemaking by Tandem's Greg La Follette

When it comes to winemaking, you can’t be an extremist without having two feet set firmly in the ground; or terroir, to use the all encompassing wine word for ecosystem specification.

Greg La Follette is cut from the same cloth as other extreme winemakers whose work is measured not only by what they put in the bottle, but also by the waves they generate while doing it. In France, I think of Lucien Peyraud, André Ostertag and the recently departed Didier Dagueneau as consummate extremists; casting shadows over even their more respected peers with their bold winemaking tactics.

The modern era of California winemaking was pushed along – willingly, and at times unwillingly – by the fighting spirit of Martin Ray, the prescience of Joseph Swan, and the energy of André Tchelistcheff (under whom La Follette studied at Beaulieu); and in recent years, by oft-times prickly icons like Randall Grahm, Jim Clendenen, David Ramey, and Manfred Krankl.

There are many more, of course, of varying degrees in all parts of the wine world. The common thread describing all these vintners making their living at the edge: contrarian methodology conducted on the basis of what’s worked in the past, but lost in the present mostly due to fear factors.

For La Follette – who arrived to the point he’s at today after somewhat more mainstream successes at Hartford Court and Flowers – it’s about taking pristine raw material from largely cold climate sources (Sonoma Coast, Carneros, Russian River Valley, Mendocino, and north facing slopes of Sonoma Mountain), and applying his self-styled “Euro-centric” instincts to risk-taking measures that retain (rather than “extract”) every last drop of flavor and texture a grape can give. In a story in Wines & Vines, for instance, La Follette talks about the science of fermentation he learned at Davis; particularly what happens when yeasts are stressed (consequentially, assorted sulfides and mercaptans; i.e. skunk, rubber tire, cooked cabbage, etc.): “I thought, cool! I gotta try that.”

And so the arsenal of experiential techniques La Follette throws at his wines each year at Tandem – established in 2001 as a dual winery/custom pad in Sebastopol – includes high stressing of native (as well as inoculated) yeasts, passive oxygenating (when wearing his Chardonnay hat, La Follette calls himself a secret member of the “Brown Juice Club”), as well as deliberate sub-sensory level sulfide production. Steps such as depriving yeast of nutrients, says La Follette, “is like being a coach… you force your athletes to a certain level beyond what they thought they can do.”

In other words, forcing wines to dig down deeper to assert themselves. The results? Chardonnays with levels of viscosity and terroir related minerality you never thought possible in California grown Chardonnay. Pinot Noirs with more spice, more perfume, more feral or animale notes than hitherto suspected in the grape.

In the wines of Tandem, sometimes these elements soar out of control; like La Follette’s 2006 Auction Block Pinot Noir, which exudes a heady cacophony of gingery spice, tropical flower, rhubarb and roasted beef that is more likely to confound, rather enthrall, the vast number of Pinot lovers of today; akin to what Dylan did to folkies at Newport in ’65, or the way Miles Davis’ Bitches Brew alienated the jazz crowd in ’70.

In other cases – like the way the tropical and cardamom spices are embedded in densely compacted, plummy varietal fruit in his 2006 Sangiacomo Pinot Noir – La Follette takes you to an exhilarating edge, without throwing you off into realms uncharted.

But when all is said and done, La Follette is still basically (to use that overheated term) a terroirist; albeit, a molecular one (to borrow a description by Tim Teichgraeber). In early September 2008 he took me on a tour of North Coast terroirs; and letting the wines themselves describe the scenery along the way:

2006 Tandem, Manchester Ridge Mendocino Ridge Chardonnay – Manchester Ridge is a spectacular high elevation (2,900 ft.) vineyard on the first ridge in from the Mendocino coastline; planted to the old Wente clone as well as the new Dijon 809 (a floral variation of Chardonnay musque). Knife edge acidity is the natural offshoot of this remote (accessible only by miles of logging roads), cold climate site (grapes picked in the third week of October), and La Follette challenged it with natural yeast and minimal battonage (once-monthly lees stirring during barrel aging). The result is a wine of fresh, unfettered perfume (more of meadow wood flowers than pineapple), a subtle creaminess just hinting at honey and butterscotch, and unusually long, extended, smooth, even keeled flavors (not a tart or rough edge to be found).

2002 Tandem, Porter-Bass Russian River Valley Chardonnay – Porter-Bass is a mature vineyard (its Zinfandel block over a 100 years old), biodynamically and organically farmed by Sue Porter and Dirck Bass; its Wente clone Chardonnay picked at a ton or less per acre. La Follette inoculated with a strain to bring out delicate, white flowery notes of the grapes; and at after over five years in the bottle, the wine is still crystal clear (shimmering pale gold), with floral, minerally, and roasted/honeyed almond components riding on a mildly tart edged, silken textured, medium-weight body. Definitely a finesse style; and yes, you can say Burgundian, but more in terms of its snail’s pace evolution and steely structure than actual aromatics (apart from its stony subtleties).

2006 Tandem, Sangiacomo Vineyard Sonoma Coast Chardonnay – In ’06 rains caused about 15% rot in this vineyard; and La Follette tells the story of Sangiacomo harvest crews picking with an assortment of rain covers and sorting tables jimmy-rigged right in the field; followed by more hours of sorting at the winery done by Greg, his wife Mara and their kids. Despite the labor, perfectly presentable, honeyed tropical fruit notes (wrapped in mildly toasted oak) of “noble rot” show up in the nose; and on the palate, the touch of botrytis seems to have also added an even more viscous texture to bright, citrusy crisp, tropical flavors (sweet apple tilted towards pineapple and passionfruit), and the wine finishes with the classic Tandem touch of silk draped over steel beams.

2006 Tandem, Auction Block Sonoma Pinot Noir – Although this Pinot is dominated by Sonoma Coast, Sonoma Mountain and Russian River components, the icy-climatic Manchester Ridge Vineyard probably adds to the wildly uncouth, dancing, ringing perfume of this multi-source cuvée. And boy, does it hop. Two weeks after my visit with La Follette, I placed this in a double-blind tasting with a group of seasoned Denver oenophiles, and the contrast with Pinots from Oregon (including a sumptuous 2005 Domaine Serene Two Barns from Dundee Hills, and a remarkably finesseful 2005 Cristom Louise Vineyard from Eola-Amity Hills), California (a typically aggressive, big, meaty 2003 Peter Michael Pisoni Vineyard from Santa Lucia Highlands), and France (wines, complete with Burgundian tar, smoke and rubber boots, such as a 1994 Pierre Damoy Clos de Bèze and 1998 Robert Arnaux Nuits-Saint-Georges Les Poisets) couldn’t have been more dramatic. Even the drapery gives you warning: deep purplish center transitioning to glistening crimsom and brick at the rim. As if the Auction Block’s color and fragrance aren’t exotic enough; its juxtaposition of the softest silk and zesty, mouthwatering acidity (La Follette calls this textural contrasting “levitating”) also puts it on a totally different footing (or should I say planet?) from the eleven other wines we was compared it to. However which way you look at it, this isn’t just pushing envelopes; it’s reading and eating it, too!

2006 Tandem, Silver Pines Vineyard Sonoma Mountain Pinot Noir – On a northwest facing, 1,000 foot slope exposed to a wind gap shooting up from the Petaluma Gap, this clay encrusted vineyard has been producing dense, broad, almost brooding styles of Pinot Noir; its fruit quality veering towards black plums (away from red berry perfumes) with smoky, woodsy, slightly resiny, feral notes (La Follette calls the nose “slutty”); but all of this mitigated by a slipping, sliding, fleshy pliant feel – pure pleasure on the palate. Given La Follette’s procedurals, a stunning explication of terroir and grape siting.

2006 Tandem, Van der Kamp Vineyard Sonoma Mountain Pinot Noir – This 1,400 elevation site (highest in the AVA) is, evidently, the source of the oldest plantings of Pinot Noir in Sonoma County, continuously farmed by the Van der Kamp Vineyard for over forty years. Like the Silver Pines, it also offers dramatic distinctions of terroir: beginning with sweet, dark berry fragrances tinged with scrubby, herby aromas hinting at French roasted coffee; and going further with a round, beefy mouth-feel combining sinewy muscle and a lush, velvet texture, filled out by dense tannin and punctuated by snappy acidity. Everything we like about the grape firmly in place, but within the unique context of a place.

2006 Tandem, Sangiacomo Vineyards Sonoma Coast Pinot Noir – Nota bene, although Sangiacomo is known mostly as a Carneros AVA, La Follette’s source is from a newer parcel located well west of Carneros, exposed to bone chilling winds charging through the Petaluma Gap. Very much identifiable with Sonoma Coast and the restrained yet penetrating style of Pinot Noir associated with it. Here, I also think La Follette puts it all together: exotic Pinot spice (cracked peppercorn and cardamom) mixed with wild berry, plum and caramelized fig; and a permissively sleek, sexy, vibrating mouthful of lush, almost sweet flavors bolstered by firm yet perfectly rounded tannin. Ah, this is what Teichgraeber means by “molecule man.” Indubitably not Pinot Noir for the timid, much less the mainstream. But once you’ve come to terms with La Follette’s world, how can you resist?

Double-Blinded by Illuminating Pinots

Double-blind tastings are always so broadening. All prejudices, except for the ones that persist in your mind (or sensory memory), are thrown out the window. Let the chips fall where they will: if you taste something you like that you previously didn’t, or vice-versa, there you go…

Here’s a tasting of ten that I did with a group of hardened Denver oenophiles last week (09/19/2008). Granted, we all knew what wines we personally brought to the table, but not what each other brought (making this a 90% double-blind tasting). How the chips fell, in order of my preference:

1. 2005 Domaine Serene, Two Barns Dundee Hills Pinot Noir
Domaine Serene was always a producer I’ve always had mixed feelings about; and before the unveiling I “identified” this wine as Californian. Which goes to show how blurred the lines of distinction between contemporary Oregon and California Pinot Noirs have become – Oregon grown Pinots showing the deeper colored, riper, fuller bodied characteristics associated with California Pinots, and California grown Pinots showing more of the restraint and finesse long associated with Oregon Pinots. The Two Barns’ deep, purplish ruby cast at the center had me immediately thinking “big extract Californian.” But no matter, because this was also an extremely fine, yet meaty textured wine; the nose tight but sweet and concentrated in wild berry aromas; and on the palate, full and notably fleshy, with generous but round, pliant tannins tucked well between the meaty layers.

2. 1998 Domaine Robert Arnaux, Nuits-Saint-Georges Les Poisets
All the Burgundies in this tasting were significantly older than the West Coast Pinot Noirs; but take it for what it is: we empirically know that Burgundies evolve slower than West Coast Pinot Noirs anyhow, and so this probably evens things out in terms of fairness issues. A rich ruby center rimmed by bright brick tones follows up with partially evolved charred, smoky earthy qualities, enveloping sweet, berryish Pinot Noir aromas tinged with yeasty notes. On the palate, the wine is dense and juicy, still tight with round, compacted tannin on top of lush fruit flavors. But no question about it: very distinctly Burgundian; bearing earthen characteristics that couldn’t possibly be construed as New World.

3. 2005 Cristom, Louise Vineyard Eola-Amity Hills Pinot Noir
Maybe it was the aggressive qualities of most of the wines in this tasting that made me partial to this cuvée by Cristom; a producer whose Pinot Noirs I have found to be tough and oft-times disjointed in past vintages. Whatever the case, there is nothing but the opposite – understated intensity, and a tender, velvety, long and languorous feel – about this Cristom (think Audrey Hepburn with smoke and elongated platinum cigarette holder). The nose is sweet and floral, with crushed berries and cassis; on the palate, medium to medium-full in weight, the fruit becoming plummy, and the tannins fine and textured.

4. 2006 Tandem, Auction Block Sonoma Pinot Noir
This was not a group favorite, and I can’t say I blame anyone. Tandem does not produce demure Pinot Noirs; and this cuvée – dominated by grape sources from the cold climate extremes of Sonoma Coast, Sonoma Mountain and Russian River – is wildly uncouth, dancing around with ringing perfumes and a cacophony of spices: a jarring contrast with every other wine in this tasting. Even the color – deep purplish center transitioning to a bright crimsom rim – gives fair warning of the heady, flowery, exotic fragrances (ginger, cardamom, rose petals, ripe berries and toasty oak), and the juxtaposition of lacy silk and zesty, mouthwatering acidity, lengthening the intensity of pungently spiced fruit in the finish. Call it a brother from another planet – love it (like me), or leave it!

5. 1985 Louis Jadot, Nuits-Saint-Georges Les Boudots 1er Cru
This was the overall group favorite, and why not? It was almost miraculous in enduring freshness, and its soft, round, delicate, melting qualities epitomize the unmistakably discreet charms of gracefully matured Burgundy. I gave it high marks for finesse, but fewer marks for complexity. Color is brickish brown with an orangy rim; the nose, of sweet rose petals and charred leaves, with subtle, engaging animal notes flowing between the soft, lingering flavors.

6. 2005 Domaine Serene, Evenstad Reserve Willamette Valley Pinot Noir
Here’s the rub: there were actually two bottles of this same wine inserted into the tasting; and purely by coincidence, they ended up being served one after the other, confounding some of the tasters (who wouldn’t be? – it was like kissing twins, and not knowing which one). As it were, the two bottles weren’t exactly alike – one bottle tasting bigger, but finishing with a slight smack of alcohol. But both were rich in deep, youthful, violet toned red color as well as sappy, black cherry/red berry aromas. On the palate, an aggressive style of Pinot Noir (again, more “California”): broad, sinewy, and slightly tough with tannin. This is the style of Domaine Serene I’ve always felt sends mixed signals: there is varietal perfume aplenty, but a rather unvarietal pugnacity in the delivery (like a good man in drag). But if this is what you like, it can be your greatest Pinot in the world.

7. 2003 Peter Michael, Pisoni Vineyard Santa Lucia Highlands Pinot Noir
This unrepentantly aggressive (and yes, very much Californian) Pinot Noir received a number of “first place” votes; and in fact, there is plenty to sink your teeth into: particularly, lush, textured, mouth-filling fruit qualities belying its full-tilt sensations. I like the intensity, as well as its roasted meat, feral nuances; but couldn’t quite get behind its sweet-ish notes of volatile acidity (in this wine, giving warm, balsamic-like notes) which, granted, lifts the Pinot perfume, but slightly above the threshold of my personal (mind you) preference.

8. 1994 Domaine Pierre Damoy, Clos de Bèze Grand Cru
It has always been wrong to compare traditionally elevated, terroir focused Burgundian growths with plainly fruit driven American Pinot Noirs. That said, the round, velvety textured quality of this wine takes the back seat to few Pinot Noir based wines; but both tight tannin underpinnings and pungent, earthy, brie-like aromatics put it on the opposite end of the varietal scale from soft, fruity styles. I thoroughly enjoyed this wine, and felt that it was such a shame that I was sipping it alongside other wines rather than with, say, a good, roasted cut of veal in a silky wild mushroom demi-glace.

9. 2003 Nicolas Potel, Clos de la Roche Grand Cru
Medium ruby color, followed by moderately rich, spicy sausage and low key berry notes, tinged with a slight gaminess tagging its Old World lineage; and like a lot of Old World growths, the feel is lean, narrow, and slightly tart edged; all good qualities, but in stark contrast with the lusher, rounded textures of most of the rest of the wines in this tasting.

10. 1995 Comte Armand, Pommard Clos des Epeneaux 1er Cru
Brick ruby and low key Pinot perfumes tinged by interestingly resiny, almost piney nuances as well as, alas, slightly dirty notes veering towards TCA (but not quite there). On the palate, a firm, lean-beefy texture giving mildly tart, sweet Pinot fruit sensations of moderate intensity.

September Surprise - Shiny New California Gems

Just back from a wham-bam four day trip through the North Coast (Sept. 2-6), and uncovered some brand new gems -- always the best part of these visits! No necessarily in order of my preference, since each of the following absolutely bowled me over:

2004 Lang & Reed, Napa Valley Right Bank
I haven't been this excited about a new release since Van Morrison's Stoned Me (many moondances ago, as it were). If you've loved winemaker/proprietor John Skupny's Premier Étage Cabernet Francs -- and yes, the scrumptuous qualities of Saint-Émilions like La Mondotte and Canon-la-Gaffeliere -- you'll flip over this, too. Napa Valley sourced Cabernet Franc (53%), Merlot (30%), Petit Verdot (9%), Cabernet Sauvignon (8%)... yada yada... the important thing is that Skupny has crafted a blend that is so tender, so dense yet soft, succulent and unerringly balanced, all you can think is wow... this is what Bordeaux style blending is all about. Aromas are of concentrated black cherry and blackcurrants, with minty/herby nuances at the center. Talk about tannin management -- Skupny has become a master of perfectly round and seamless tannin molecule, with lots of it (nothing weak or bony about this wine). In the end, just delicious, and undoubtedly as food versatile as any of these types of wines can be. Only prob: only 170 cases made (get 'em while they're hot!)

2005 Neyers, Conn Valley ÂME Cabernet Sauvignon
Everyone knows Neyers makes great wines -- impeccably crisp, minerally, detailed Chardonnays, powerfully plump Zinfandels, endlessly deep Syrahs, and the luscious possible Merlot. But now you can add 100% Cabernet Sauvignon to that list: the ÂME, just unbelievable. Not just big, thick and concentrated like you would expect out of Cabernet Sauvignon from hands of masters (for the record, Tadeo Borchardt has recently taken over the reins as winemaker from Ehren Jordan, who remains a consulting partner), but also seamlessly smooth and textured. Liquid velvet, in the manner of speaking. 400 cases were coaxed out of Neyers' home vineyard (less than a ton per acre) planted in 1996 -- decomposed basalt, granite and gravel on a harrowing 40 degree slope, 800 foot elevation, close spacing, low unilateral trellising, organically farmed, and then crafted in the Neyers style (indigenous yeast, 30 day maceration, zero filtering...). Âme means "soul" -- and Bruce Neyers has truly captured the soul of the Cabernet Sauvignon grape -- although the name is also an acronym for Bruce's three kids. Whatever the case... bravo, Bruce!

2005 Cedarville, El Dorado Syrah
It's been about ten years now since Cedarville burst upon the scene with their high elevation (2500 feet), mountain grown Syrahs and Zinfandels. The good news is that they're better than ever, which is saying a lot. If you're looking for a California grown Syrah that truly captures the perfume, meat and zest of, say, Northern Rhone reds -- that is, without the coarse, raisiny qualities typical of most California Syrahs -- then the crumbly granite, sandy soils in El Dorado's Fair Play sub-AVA is the place to find it. The Cedarville's nose is of classic Syrah spice -- peppery violets, with roasted coffee, grilling meat and burnt leaf nuances -- and on the palate, the feel is big and velvety, the dusty, iron fisted quality of the Fair Play terroir mingling with sweet sensations in the finish. Like Neyers' new Cabernet, soul-satisfying.

2005 C.G. de Arie, Southern Exposure Shenandoah Valley Zinfandel
No visit to California is complete without the discovery of another starry Zinfandel. I've been skeptical of Amador County Zinfandels in general the past ten, fifteen years, and so it's gratifying to find one that retains all the luscious, cinnamon-and-clove spice for which the foothills originally made its reputation, but without the rough, varnishy, over-oaked flaws that are all too common in wines from that region. The operative term in the C.G. de Arie is sumptuous (as opposed to "big" or "bruising"); sweet berry jam and clove and peppercorn-studded orange peel mixed in with the varietal spice, and on the palate the wine is dense and full, yet with more emphasis on the round, lush qualities of the grape. This is good, smart winemaking because nothing is done to get in the way of the pure taste of the grape, which is plenty good without the excess bells and whistles.

Albariño, the Gastronomic Grape

USAGE, COMPARISONS, DISPUTED ORIGINS
I first began working with Albariño in Hawaii in the mid-‘90s, finding its combination of tropical perfume, dryness, citrusy acidity and minerality to be a perfect match with dishes incorporating the briny tastes of island fish (especially moi, onaga and opakapaka) and fresh sea vegetables (like limu and ogo). Albariño responds particularly well to tart ingredients (especially in seviches and adobo style seafoods); and the use of vinegars and citrus juices is certainly common enough in the Southeast Asian as well as Japanese (re ponzu) cuisines contributing to the state’s cross-cultural culinary heritage.

Recently I also spent a year on the coast of Georgia, where I didn’t have nearly as varied a culinary culture to work with; but typically medium bodied Albariño worked for me in many a multi-course/wine event as a good ‘tweener – bridging the gap between, say, an appetizer served with lighter white and a white meat course calling for a fuller bodied white like Chardonnay. For example, we might start a meal with grilled Wild Georgia Shrimp washed down with a light, snappy champagne, progress to a zesty Albariño with blue crab cakes and sweet corn relish, before moving on to a heavier Chardonnay with a butter fried fish or creamed chicken and mushrooms (and eventually, of course, to Low Country barbecue and collard greens with a big, luscious Zinfandel or Petite Sirah).

In this respect, as a between-wine, Albariño serves a role similar to Pinot Gris, Grüner Veltliner, and dry style Rieslings. But there are differences advantageous to Albariño: Albariño is markedly crisper than Pinot Gris, with a more expansive, readily appealing stone fruitiness (i.e. peach, apricot, nectarine-like). A good Grüner Veltliner can be just as perfumed and minerally as an Albariño, but is also typically more acidic and austere. Both Riesling and Albariño are flowery and citrus scented; and in fact, in some quarters Albariño is still said to be a clone of Riesling supposedly transplanted by twelfth century German monks (with which the regularity council in Spain’s Rias Baixas strongly disagrees, contending that the grape is indigenous to Galicia). Be as it may, even the sharpest Albariño is rarely as tart, or fusel oil-like, as a dry style Riesling; but rather, typically creamy, even buttery in texture in a way Riesling never is.

In recent years Albariño has also been likened to a “light-weight Viognier,” which is not just insulting, but absurdly inaccurate. Despite its Viognier-like floral fruitiness, the minerally notes typical of Albariño are almost never found in Viognier. Classic Albariño tends to be lighter in weight than a Viognier, and is also decidedly zestier in acidity – two qualities giving it a distinct advantage over Viognier in terms of seafood versatility (which is not to say Viognier is not as food-worthy – it’s just different, asking for more aggressive, meatier matches in a fashion closer to Chardonnay than Albariño).

To deepen your understanding of Albariño, you do need to get a feel for its native Rias Baixas in Galicia, occupying the northeast corner of Spain directly north of Portugal along the Atlantic. Unlike the rest of Spain (associated with dry, hot landscapes) Rias Baixas is green and verdant; which also means heavy rainfall, high humidity, temperatures rarely above 86º F., but almost never below 50°. Albariño makes up close to 95% of Rias Baixas’ plantings (about 7,500 acres total) simply because it is the only grape with thick enough skins and high enough phenolics to thrive in these severe conditions. Although vineyards were traditionally trained on pergolas to circulate air and avoid rot and mildew, modern day trellising and opened canopy management is prevalent today.

Like all great wine regions, Rias Baixas is a convergence of climate, soil and grape adaptation. Of its five recognized sub-zones, the finest is Val do Salnés, a gently rolling, alluvial basin situated at the northern end of this DO (Denominación de Origen). This is also the coolest, wettest section of Rias Baixas, but Albariño responds positively to Val do Salnés’ well drained, rocky, pervasively granitic soils (even trellis posts are made out of granite rather than wood). In Rias Baixas, Albariño’s lime/peach fruitiness, flinty minerality, and occasional salinity (derived from the sea salt saturated air) are as much reflections of the grape as terroir.

AMERICAN BREAKTHROUGHS

So how has Albariño fared in the U.S. thus far? In the mid-‘90s Louisa Lindquist (wife of Bob Lindquist of Qupe) planted the first commercial block of the grape in the Ibarra-Young Vineyard in Santa Ynez Valley, but Havens Wine Cellar produced the first bottling – a ’99 made from a two year old Carneros/Napa Valley planting (the first vintage of Lindquist’s Verdad Albariño was a 2000).

Both Lindquist and Michael Havens were inspired by the relatively cool, coastal, Rias Baixas-like climates of their respective terrains, and the results have been both brilliant and uneven. Early vintages of Havens have captured intensely honeyed, lime and pear-like aspects of Albariño; but on the palate, the grape’s intrinsically high acidity, tough skins and dark seeds have been borne out by sharp, grapefruity, mildly bitter, ultimately austere sensations.

I’ve liked the Verdad Albariños a lot: similar to the Havens bottlings but even lusher in the nose – juicy pear and traces of minerality tinged with orange/lemon essences – and on the palate, the zesty, mouthwatering flavors possessing everything but the rounded, viscous, textured qualities Rias Baixas grown Albariños seem to attain with ease.

In 2000 I paid a visit to Abacela in Southern Oregon’s Umqua Valley; a hillside vineyard dedicated to Spanish varieties (although a source of intense Syrahs as well). Proprietor Earl Jones had just planted his first block of Albariño on a north facing slope, but I’ve since showcased some of his Tempranillo (strikingly original, dense, leathery, liqueur-like concentrations) in my restaurants.

But here in 2008, the plantings I’m most excited about are those of Markus and Liz Bokisch in Lodi. The Bokischs are major grape growers in the region; farming some 1,300 acres, mostly in the hillier eastern end of the AVA, the grapes (a good proportion of it Syrah) going to some 115 different wineries. 50 acres of Bokisch Ranches are planted to Spanish grapes; and out of that, about 7 acres end up under the Bokisch Vineyards label.

There’s some salient history behind the Bokischs’ devotion to Spanish grapes. In the late 1990s Markus was charged by Joseph Phelps Vineyards to source Rhône varieties for the winery’s Vin de Mistral line. It was while driving back and forth between Napa Valley and Lodi that Markus became inspired; the Sacramento-San Joaquin River Delta reminding him of the Delta del Ebro in Spain where many of his close relatives still live (although Markus was raised in California, he spent many childhood summers in Catalonia). After leaving Joseph Phelps, Liz and Markus moved to Spain to work in the Spanish wine industry; before returning to California in 1995 to start their own grape growing business.

Hence, the Bokisch brand specializes strictly in Albariño, Garnacha, Graciano and Tempranillo. The reds are solid and still evolving – their velvety Graciano (a companion piece to Tempranillo in Rioja) showing the most complete qualities – but it is the Bokisch Albariño that really shines. Early vintages of Bokisch Albariño were estate grown blends from two of Lodi’s sub-regions: one from a three acre “mother block” (behind their home) falling within the Mokelumne River AVA, a flat site sitting in relatively deep, silty alluvial loam typifying Lodi’s oldest growths; and the other from their Terra Alta Vineyard falling within the Clements Hills AVA, in a slightly higher elevation, sloping, shallow (three feet), volcanic gravelly loam over hard clay, typical of eastern Lodi where it transitions into the Sierra Foothills.

Since the summation of degree days in Lodi is low Region IV – a warm Mediterranean climate, resembling center-of-Spain more than to Atlantic coastal Spain – it has been interesting to see how the originally cold-climate adapted Albariño has adjusted to this part of California. In the 2007 vintage the Bokischs split their production into the two appellations, Mokelumne River and Clements Hills. My notes, gathered at their dining room table this past June:

2007 Bokisch Vineyards, Clements Hills (Lodi, California)
This bottling is a success because it retains all the fresh, natural acidity associated with the grape without excess sharpness, as well as the lithe, flowing, creamy textured feel that distinguishes Spanish grown Albariño. As you would expect, the warmer climate yields a distinctly Californian tropical accent in the nose – flower and mandarin orange mixed with sweet apple and apricot-like varietal notes – and the body veers into a full rather than medium range. Otherwise, the flavors are crackling crisp, mildly grapefruity, pushing the apricot qualities into a long, lush finish.

2007 Bokisch Vineyards, Mokelumne River (Lodi, California)
To counteract the deeper, more moisture retentive soil, the Bokischs’ Las Cerezas Vineyard is a high density planting (5’ by 5’ spacing); this competitive environment yielding intense varietal fruitiness along with slightly fatter, almost buttery textured qualities (none of the Bokischs see any oak). Orange/tangerine aromas are tinged by tropical flower and pineappley fragrances; and on the palate, these qualities turn citrusy and apricot-like, finishing lightly tart, soft and easy.

SIX FROM RIAS BAIXAS

This past June I also had the opportunity to taste six Spanish Albariños in one sitting; a process revealing some pleasing variations of style and distinctions. All are excellent, but in order of my preference:

2007 Albariño de Fefiñanes (Rias Baixas, Spain)
Imported by Fran Kysela MS, Palacios de Fefiñanes makes a sleek yet razor sharp, subtly intense style, starting with the full varietal armament of minerals, wildflower, and peachy stone fruitiness in the nose. Zesty, medium weight, sinewy and steely on the palate, releasing crisp apple/pear sensations in the finish.

2007 Martín Códax (Rias Baixas, Spain)
Based in the Salnés Valley, this bodega produces Albariño under three labels; its value priced Burgáns, in particular, being a softer, deliciously peach infused example of the grape (and a great introduction for first-timers). The ’07 exemplifies the more complex bottlings under the Códax label; beginning with fruit forward peach and nectarine aromas harmonized with citrus, with violet/lavendery notes in the backdrop. Tart edged and medium bodied on the palate, the lemon and peach qualities mingling with subtle yet distinctively minerally sensations.

2007 Paco & Lola (Rias Baixas, Spain)
This firm is owned by a cooperative of some 400 growers concentrated in Val do Salnés, and distributed in the U.S. by Jess Jackson’s Sovereign Wine Imports. The advantage is that their winemaker culls only the growers’ best fruit (less than 30% of production) for this bottling, which portrays more lavender and violet scented, distinctively kitchen herby (basil leafy) sides of the grape, with a vibrant, citrusy tart fruitiness finishing light and easy. About 10,000 cases yearly.

2006 Morgadio (Rias Baixas, Spain)
Adegas Morgadio is a 50 acre estate imported by Steve Metzler’s Classical Wines, who pioneered the distribution of handcrafted Spanish wines in the U.S., beginning in the late ‘80s. The vineyard lies in the sub-zone of Condado de Tea; situated further from the Atlantic coast, a cooler, less humid, more rugged higher elevation (up to 750 feet) terroir than Val do Salnés, and producing a somewhat lighter yet lively, fragrant style of Albariño. The ’06 is honeyed, nearly tropical in the nose, with tangerine and lime nuances; crisp, creamy textured flavors finishing fresh and clean.

2006 Adegas Valmiñor (Rias Baixas, Spain)
Kysela’s “value” import, this is a more strongly chalky mineral style of Albariño, its subtle pear/apple and wildflower notes tucked beneath the stony profile. The feel is lightly tart, and the body on the light side of medium; lime, chalk and anise-like flavors finishing light and easy on the palate.

2006 Don Olegario (Rias Baixas, Spain)
This Val do Salnés family estate produces a denser, sharper style than what many Albariño drinkers in the states may be accustomed to. Whipped cream and lemon prevail over hints of white peach in the nose; on the palate, a citrus tartness leads off, followed by dry, stony, almost licorice-like qualities, but finishing with a touch of sweet apple laced with lemon.

Is Lodi Making California's Best Zinfandels?

I suppose that before I go making bold-faced statements like Lodi is making the best Zinfandels in California today, I should at least qualify it. So if you will,

1. In recent years I simply have not found Zinfandels from anywhere else in the state that have been as consistently good, i.e. Zinfandel-ish, in the $12-$19 retail price range as those from Lodi. In the restaurant business, where I’m coming from, this means wines I can sell for $6-$9 a glass, which is where most guests are now comfortable. Ergo: as drinking wines, Lodi Zinfandels rule.

2. Even in the ultra-premium $20-$40 retail price range, during the past five, six years I can’t say that there are more Zinfandels of truly exhilarating quality coming out of any other one, single AVA (i.e. American Viticultural Area) than there are in Lodi. Don’t get me wrong. True, in the sub-regions of Sonoma (significantly, the Dry Creek, Sonoma, Russian River and Alexander valleys) as well as in the Napa and Contra Costa counties, producers like Ridge, Neyers, Rosenblum, Turley, Robert Biale, Carol Shelton, and Grgich Hills (just to name a few of my favorites – lord knows, there are so many more) continue to make incredible Zinfandels. But it seems that recently in every vintage, I count about five or six bottlings from each coastal AVA that I really like; whereas I usually find a good dozen and a half Lodi Zinfandels that really turn me on. Conclusion: Lodi is starting to dominate.

3. What do Zinfandel lovers really look for in great Zinfandel? After over thirty years of drinking, buying, selling and writing about the wine, I think I’ve got it down: they want heaps of blackberry/raspberry aromas and flavors – nice and ripe, but not too raisiny or pruney – with interesting doses of peppery spice. They don’t mind big tannin and alcohol (14% to 16%) or zippy acidity, because they know that this is all part of the package; but they don’t want any of that to get in the way of the varietal flavor. Many Zinfandel lovers like discernibly sweet and/or smoky oak qualities; and many more, not much oak at all – these are matters of personal taste and brand style, unrelated to regional factors. Point being: the aforementioned ideal qualities practically define Lodi grown Zinfandels across the board. To use the parlance of today, if it’s all about terroir, Lodi’s terroir generates the flavors most Zinfandel lovers look for with an organic ease, and almost ridiculous consistency.

4. Last but far from least, it’s the fruit forward, intrinsically balanced, spice scented qualities of Lodi grown Zinfandels that make them some of the most food versatile wines in the world. As multi-food friendly as most Pinot Noirs – I kid you not. I’ve found few wines that are as much at home with beef and pork roasts as they are with Asian (soy marinades) and American (dry rubs) barbecues, chile spiced ethnic cuisines, and even seafoods from smoked oysters to grilled salmon. I’ve found delicious matches for Lodi Zinfandels in cheeses from pungent white truffled Boschetto al Tartufo and well aged Beemster Goudas, to Chili Pepper Pecorino and blue veined chèvres (like Holland’s Moulin Bleu). For further thoughts on Zinfandel/food matching, please see my Not Your Daddy’s Zinfandel.

Enough dissertation. What makes Lodi such a big deal as a growing region? First, the Lodi terroir – starting with its Mediterranean climate, strongly influenced as it is by direct proximity to the Sacramento-San Joaquin Delta, which draws cool air from the San Francisco Bay even in the dog days of summer. Recent research puts Lodi’s U.C./Davis climate classification (a measurement of average temperatures over 50° F. during the growing season) in low Region IV, similar to the Napa Valley floor between St. Helena and Calistoga. Not conducive for Pinot Noir, less than ideal for Chardonnay, but just fine and dandy for Zinfandel and Petite Sirah (the latter, Zinfandel’s most natural blending grape); not to mention, Mediterranean varieties like Syrah, Carignane, Grenache, Viognier, and even Albariño, all thriving in Lodi today.

The second most significant aspect of the terroir where Lodi’s best and oldest Zinfandel plantings are located is its alluvial deposits of deep, fertile, yet extremely well drained sand and loam. Although modern vineyard technology calls for the control of irrigation, ample rain and soil moisture retention does allow for some successful dry farming. The point being, Lodi’s vines suffer neither thirst nor excess vigor (unlike vines planted in the clay loams of large sections of, say, Napa Valley and Sonoma County).

In fact, few connoisseurs of California wine are aware of the fact that Lodi’s porous soils have always been an inhospitable environment for the infamous phylloxera louse that destroyed most of the world’s vineyards at the end of the nineteenth century. This explains why some 5,000 acres of Lodi vines still grow on their own root stocks, representing one of the largest stands of ungrafted Vitis vinifera in the world (you find similar situations in parts of Chile and South Australia). The important thing, though, is that many of Lodi’s finest Zinfandels do indeed come from ungrafted, phylloxera resistant vines fifty to over a hundred years old; and it’s these kinds of thick, gnarly trunked, head pruned bushes that traditionally yield wines Zinfandel lovers love most: with colors black as night, and flavors that are ultra-rich yet balanced, even at high octane tannin and alcohol levels.

So now am I getting your attention? Let me go further by remarking that right now there are about sixty wineries operating in Lodi today (ten years ago there were only about twenty-five), and more than half of them have extremely nice tasting rooms tucked amongst those ancient vines; although you can also enjoy complimentary tastes of many of the wines made by wineries without their own tasting rooms at the Lodi Wine & Visitor Center, adjoining an incredibly romantic, cushy hotel called Wine & Roses (that song about being stuck in Lodi again? – these days you wanna be in Lodi when you’re tired and worn).

What is even more remarkable is the fact that out of those sixty wineries, some forty of them are owned by families with roots in Lodi going back four, five or six generations to the nineteenth century. In fact, you can say the same thing about most of Lodi’s eight hundred or so independent growers, who for decades have furnished the grapes going into “North Coast” as well as “Sonoma” and “Napa Valley” wines (and in recent years, the bulk of Robert Mondavi’s Woodbridge wines).

One of the greatest of Lodi’s recent success stories is that of Michael-David Winery, owned by sixth generation Lodi fruit, vegetable and grape growers, Michael and David Phillips. There’s not a state or major city in this country where you cannot see Michael and David’s 7 Deadly Zins or Earthquake labels in the finest restaurants, retail stores and hotels, but this has occurred only within the past five years. The brothers are fond of recalling the family history; especially during Prohibition when they used to ship fifteen different grape varieties across the country, along with the instructions, “How Not to Have the Grapes Turned Into Wine.”

In fact, if you make the ninety minute drive to Lodi from the Bay Area, the first thing you need to do is stop at the Phillips Farms Fruit Stand on Hwy. 12, just east of the I-5. It’s more than a local produce stand, but also a complimentary wine bar, a “farm café” (killer breakfast and lunch burritos), and source of the juiciest, plumpest fruit pies (weighing about ten pounds each) this side of the Rockies. Don’t leave Lodi without one.

Then there is the Lodi ZinFest, a culinary experience taking place in a tree shaded oasis alongside Lodi Lake in May of each year. Before, during and after last month’s ZinFest I had a chance to taste several dozen of Lodi’s best, taking a baker’s dozen home with me to Colorado to examine even further (easy as chicken pie, of course). In order of my favorites:

St. Amant, Marian’s Vineyard Old Vine Zinfandel 2006 – I feel almost guilty extolling this wine, there was so little of it made (240 cases); although you’ll find access on the St. Amant Web site. The Marian’s Vineyard is an 8.3 acre block of the Mohr-Fry Ranch, consisting of own-rooted vines planted in 1901, and today cultivated in accordance with the strict Lodi Rules for Sustainable Winegrowing – a certification for farming practices going beyond just pest management, promoting practices enhancing biodiversity, soil and water health and human safety. There are no winemaking secrets here; just meticulous vineyard practices, and picking at peak ripeness (27.8° Brix), the 105 year old vines yielding a measly 1.5 tons/acre. An insanely purplish color gives fair warning of a perfumed, multifold concentration of berries (blackberry veering into blueberry), and an explosive, meaty presence of those jammy fruit qualities on the palate; round, succulent and mouth filling. The alcohol may seem over-the-top (16.4%,); but with nary a rough or sweet-ish edge, this wine is amazingly unPort-like, except for its phenomenally dense, layered feel.

Macchia, Voluptuous – Maley Vineyard Old Vine Zinfandel 2006 – If, like me, you’ve always preferred a more finely textured, even keeled, “claret” style of Zinfandel (although I’ve always hated the reference to Bordeaux – this is Zinfandel, for Pete’s sake), Tim and Lani Holdener’s Lodi grown Zinfandels are the ones for you. The Maley Vineyard is one of the region’s more venerated sites (a major component in Michael and David Phillips’ monster Zins, for instance), and it’s artisanal practices like block selection based upon clonal preference (Tim prefers smaller cluster clones), obsessive monitoring of deficit irrigation and canopies, cropping (less than 3 tons/acre), hand picking and sorting, micro-batch fermentations (strictly 4’x4’ containers), hand punching, and at least 50% new wood (French/American hybrids) that add up to the differences in a Macchia. If it sounds like the Holdeners make Zinfandel like Pinot Noir, that’s exactly what they’re doing: handcrafting Zinfandels not just for intensity, but also for as much elegance as any other wine type. The Voluptuous blasts off with a sweet berry jam wrapped in spicy, toasted oak aromatics; and on the palate the wine is lush, full, yet silken smooth, long and buoyant. Hard to imagine a more graceful style of Zinfandel from anywhere in the state.

Valhalla Cellars, Mohr-Fry Ranches Old Vine Zinfandel 2005 – Valhalla is one of Lodi’s new kids on the block (est. 2001), but they’ve obviously learned quickly. This is one of the more elegant renditions of the Mohr-Fry: huge nose – roasted coffee, cigar box and black pepper spices lighting up jammy blackberry aromas – and on the palate, lush flavors densely packed into a full body, amplified by rounded tannins and finely nuanced oak. Wow.

Macchia, Luxurious – Rous Vineyard Old Vine Zinfandel 2006 – If you think Lodi is all about fat, overripe wines, this is another Macchia wine that puts that myth to rest. Sourcing from one of Lodi’s oldest vineyards (100+ years), Holdener coaxes a nostril tingling mélange of floral (violet-like), sweet blackberry, plump cherry and polished oak aromas out of these grapes; and on the palate, the wine is zippy and juicy (without being tart or raisiny), and satiny smooth, the vanillin oak and lush, lively fruit mingling in an extended finish.

St. Amant, Mohr-Fry Ranch Old Vine Zinfandel 2006 – The section of the Lodi Rules certified Mohr-Fry Ranch where this cuvée was culled was planted in 1944; and although the wine is as hugely round and luscious as St. Amant’s Marian’s Vineyard Zinfandel, the slight difference is a nose tilted more towards a raspberry/black cherry pie (a sky-high one, at that), and a more velvety, sensuous, fruit forward feel (classic “Lodi”). But make no mistake: this is an intoxicatingly full throttled style of Zinfandel by any other measure.

Earthquake, Lodi Zinfandel 2006 – Michael-David’s original reserve cuvées, bottled under the Earthquake label, came from vineyards planted around the time of San Francisco’s 1906 earthquake; and 40 to 100 year old plantings (including good portions of Syrah and Petite Sirah) have continued to be the major components of their yearly blends. The ’06 achieves the powerful, multi-spiced, smoked/roasted meat qualities that have made the brand’s reputation. In other words, there is vanillin/toasty oak aplenty, but more than compensated for by palate-saturating volumes of raspberry/blackberry fruit, infused with thick yet always supple tannins. Never for the faint of heart; but then again, you couldn’t call it Earthquake if it was.

Macchia, Outrageous – Norma Ranch Old Vine Zinfandel 2006 - Another single vineyard bottling, selected from rows of 80 to 100 year old vines, meticulously managed to produce less than 2.5 tons/acre. The nose is indeed “outrageously” redolent of almost pure blackberry – wrapped in vanillin oak, penetrating the senses – and those ultra-rich flavors are polished to an uncommonly fine, silky finish. Like Angelina Jolie, a knockout in more ways than one.

m2, Soucie Vineyard Old Vine Zinfandel 2006 – m2 is Layne Montgomery and Chris Matheny, whose first crush in Lodi was in 2004. But they’ve started off with a bang, sourcing from the Soucie Vineyard, planted in 1916. I don’t know how much of this is this vineyard’s classic Lodi terroir, or how much of it is winemakers smart enough to leave well enough alone. But the wine is focused and dramatic, leading off with sweet berry fragrances highlighted by kitchen herb spices, then following through with juicy, silken textured flavors that seem to expand and intensify as it sits on the palate. For an exceptional third vintage: bravo!

Klinker Brick, Old Vine Zinfandel 2005 – Artfully blended from thirteen vineyards by this fifth generation family, who started farming in the area at the turn of the twentieth century – this wine shows the classic Lodi profile: jammy, sweet berry nose brightened by black pepper, allspice, and smoky oak fragrances; entering the palate with lush, fruit forward flavors, filling out a fleshy yet sturdy, medium-full body.

Peltier Station, Old Vine Zinfandel 2006 – Another relative newcomer (est. 2002) already producing super-charged Zinfandels; bursting out of the glass with wild blackberry, black cherry and peppery spiced aromas; medium-full, soft entry, becoming dense and velvety in the middle, the supple tannins sustaining the spiced berry flavors through a balanced finish.

Jesse’s Grove, Westwind Zinfandel 2005 – Jesse’s Grove is home to some of Lodi’s oldest plantings (the family still cultivates 120+ year old Carignane vines, yielding fantastical wines, tasting of the essence of framboise and red licorice); and their Westwind Zinfandel, vinified from 60 to 120 year old vines, envelopes the senses with thick, viscous, raspberry/black cherry fruit, layered over pungent vanillin oak. This is big, brazen, aggressive stuff, mind you; packing more of a punch than your average Lodi Zin.

Klinker Brick, Old Ghost Old Vine Zinfandel 2005 – 93 year old vines giving up less than a ton per acre, like those of Klinker Brick’s Old Ghost block, can be pretty prickly – dense to the point of obstinacy, and not at all like the lush, juicy style prevalent in Lodi. But if you can appreciate tannic muscle, you’ll certainly savor the intense, sweet berry/peppery spice concentration rising from this vinous codger. In a sense, this bottling reminds me more of some of the hillside plantings from the coast (like the Zinfandels of Monte Rosso, Howell Mountain and Storybook Mountain) than Lodi; and as such, it just might be more to your liking.

Macchia, Mischievous Old Vine Zinfandel 2006 – Of the nine or ten different bottlings of Zinfandel Macchia makes each year, Mischievous is their blend of up to five different old vine sources. In fact, it has usually been one of their most attractive cuvées; the ’06 being no different – an extremely bright, prettily scented wine showing deep seated, sweet berry Zinfandel aromas and flavors. It’s on the palate where this wine really shines – lively, zesty, finely textured qualities within a medium to medium-full body, with artful, spiced oak touches and firm yet unobtrusively rounded tannins. Lovely.

Jesse’s Grove, Earth, Zin & Fire 2006 – From vines averaging 40 years of age, this is crafted in an irresistible style, and is probably the finest $16 Zinfandel in the world. A two day cold soak prior to fermentation does the trick; front-loading gobs of blackberry jam varietal fruitiness, judiciously seasoned by the grape’s natural black pepper/clove-like spice. Soft and giving on the palate, but by no means a small thing (big 14.8% body), this is a quintessential, multiple food-friendly type of Zin that Lodi excels in.

Ugly Ducklings at the 2008 Santé Restaurant Symposium

One of Randall Grahm’s longtime favorite descriptions for the under-appreciated wines of the world is ugly ducklings. Another is heterodoxical.

In the restaurant business, we’ve simply called them “hard-to-sell” wines. The opposite might be Chardonnay, Merlot and Cabernet Sauvignon; although I daresay in many restaurants today Pinot Noir has replaced Merlot and Cabernet Sauvignon as the most popular red, and red wines in general are outselling whites, even in the hottest days of summer.

So what’s the big deal? Well, if you’re a restaurateur (or retailer) competing in a highly competitive market and have half a great notion to swing just slightly ahead of the curve – responding to market trends like Pinot Noir and reds outselling Merlot and whites as it all happens, rather than after the fact – then I think it behooves you to re-adjust your thinking on under-appreciated wines or grapes, even if Grahm’s verbal shticks have never rung your bell.

In the culinary world the ugly ducklings are indeed rearing their now-beautiful heads, and the signs are everywhere. You don’t have to look far. Take salads: or the one with edamame, mandarin oranges, toasted almonds and orange glazed chicken in a sesame ginger dressing – now offered at every McDonald’s across the U.S.A. What the eff? I’ll tell you what’s happening: if Americans like the taste of what they’re eating or drinking, they’re now buying it – no matter what it’s called, what it’s made of, and whether or not they know what they’re consuming.

It is not a stretch to say that American wine drinkers in general are more sophisticated than other consumers in culinary matters; and as such, predisposed to vinous heterodoxy, despite their ignoble, light beer and White Zinfandel guzzling past.

Let’s put it another way: our wine and food production industries have always known Americans are predictable, and easily swayed by advertising and fashion; but no one really said they were stupid. Sooner or later they catch on to the fact that edamame is a vegetable, Pinot Noir a fine wine, that Champagne comes from France, and Priorat and Prosecco also make mighty fine drinking.

All just a matter of time; but today, it seems, a lot sooner than before.

One of the best places for wine and culinary professionals to go every year to bolster their IQs is Manchester, Vermont, where the Santé Restaurant Symposium takes place. As wine and restaurant industry shows go, Santé magazine’s yearly thing is a low key affair (it’s Vermont, after all); but as industry shows go, it is also always a high impact affair: a powerful gathering of some of the most cerebral wine and restaurant professionals in the business, sharing information and sensory experiences among themselves. Not exactly the stuff of Devil Wears Prada. More like Sommeliers Sip Mencía, or Chefs Dig Micro-Greens – at least from what I saw in a couple of seminars.

Needless to say, this year’s Santé symposium (June 1-4) uncovered numerous wines of deliciously new import (and isn’t “deliciousness” the way we all identify all new wines and foods worth attention?) that would never have occurred to many of us in the business of selling wine and serving food twenty, ten, or even just five years ago. But then all ugly ducklings, as you might recall, turn into things of beauty.

And as it were, I took good notes; re:

UGLY DUCKLING WHITES

MandraRossa, Fiano 2007 (Sicily, Italy)

When I first sipped this white wine my mouth was watering for a salad of Asian pear, chèvre and mesclun in a honeyed vinaigrette. In retrospect, I think I might go further, dreaming of slivers of pungent Époisses de Bourgogne slathered in wild honey, or else foie gras with a rhubarb or strawberry chutney – all foods that ideally match the combination of scintillating acidity and honeyed, tropical fruitiness natural to the Fiano, a long overlooked grape known more to the ancient Romans than to Italians today. Winemaking has come a ways since Pax Romana, and modern day vineyard and winery technology applied by the highly respected Planeta family probably manufactures a purer expression of varietal fruit character: in their MandraRossa Fiano, lavender, lemon, and honeyed perfumes tinged with resiny, thyme-like notes; the slightly sharp, lemony dryness buoyed by a honeyed, white grape fruitiness on the palate. The best part? An average retail price of only $9 to $11. Sip up!

Bodegas Aura, Verdejo 2006 (Rueda, Spain)

Doug Frost MS/MW says he usually finds “stony dust” and pear-like perfumes in white wines made from Spain’s native Verdejo grape. I usually find more citrus – lemon and orange peel – mingling with the minerality; and in the Bodegas Aura ($17-$20 retail), the citrus is augmented by both dried peach and slightly green-leafy, herbal nuances. Very fresh, pure (unfettered by oak), and pleasing. The body is light-medium in weight, and the citrusy flavors are crisp without being sharp, dry and silky textured. An effortless match with a salad of bacalao (Portuguese style dried salt cod) in a mild vinaigrette, as it would anything with mildly tart sensations (seviche, adobo, ponzu salmon, Southeast Asian stir fry, etc.). Verdejo, in other words, is a wine for the type of multicultural foods we all love to eat today.

Martin Códax, Albariño 2007 (Rias Baixas, Spain)

Whites made from the Albariño grape have been a relatively recent, and most welcome, sight on many wine lists today. Some liken it to a “light-weight Viognier,” which is not just insulting, but also absurdly inaccurate. The Albariño makes flowery scented wines (like Viognier as well as Riesling), but with stone fruit (i.e. peach or nectarine) as well as flinty, minerally notes that you almost never find in Viognier. Classic Albariño tends to be lighter in weight than a Viognier, but is also decidedly crisper in acidity – two qualities giving it a distinct advantage over Viognier in terms of seafood versatility (which is not to say Viognier is not as food-worthy – it’s just different, asking for meatier matches). In any case, the Martin Códax ($14-$16 retail) has consistently been one of the more multifaceted Albariños in the American market these past few years, showing not just peach and lemon/citrus perfumes, but also lavender and violet-like fragrances, the varietal minerality manifesting itself more within a refined, tart edged length of medium body. A wine that practically screams for grilled oysters, flash seared certified American Wild Shrimp, or white fish in herb infused oils or vinaigrettes; and why resist?

Sella & Mosca, Terre Bianche 2003 (Sardinia, Italy)

Made 100% from Torbato, a white wine grape of ancient lineage, introduced to Italy and South-West France from Spain (where it is no longer cultivated) several centuries ago. If you prefer a crisply dry white that tastes more of terroir than fruitiness, this may be for you. Laura De Pasquale MS describes Torbato’s fruit character as being like apple skin and peach; but in the Terre Bianche, the nose is more of sweet lavender and orange peel, with slightly saline/briny, chalky notes, driven further on the palate in a zesty, light-medium body, smoothed over by a silky viscosity and traces of vanillin oak. At $19-$22, a relatively good value; exceptional if you prize palate-slaking, European qualities.

UGLY DUCKLING REDS

Domini 2004 (by Jose Maria de Fonseca; Douro, Portugal)

Now that Port has fallen slightly out of favor in the U.S. market, look out for more new, robust, vigorously flavorful, outrageously well priced table reds coming out of Portugal, made from the same grapes that go into classic Port. In the case of the Domini – a blend of Touriga Franca, Touriga Nacional and Tinta Roriz, retailing between $12 and $18. Black color and opulent nose – sweet black fruits in a box of vanillin oak – and if you dig a little deeper, a taste of leather and stony, granitic terroir on the palate, merging in a fleshy, medium-full body, thickened by round, polished tannins.

Quinta do Crasto, Touriga Nacional 2005 (Douro, Portugal)

Touriga Nacional is perhaps Portugal’s most revered grape, and this bottling drives it home: vivid purplish ruby leading to even more vivid,